#he is pretty practical so i don’t think he likes too much like. material gift giving | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mendeshoney · 1 year ago

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take me back to eden (part 2/2)

Summary: Andrei’s retired, Assistant GM of the Carolina Hurricanes, and a little lonely, so he decides to be a little like Edward Lewis.

Part One.

Pairing: andrei svechnikov x f!reader

Part 2 Word Count: 22,150

Warnings: nine year age gap, older man x younger woman, basically “pretty woman” with andrei, love at first sight(Ish), he falls first, she falls too, he falls harder, sugar daddy vibes, angst, fluff, smut, penetration, finish inside, unprotected sex

December

You two decided you can’t possibly wait until it gets closer to Christmas to celebrate together, so you celebrate ahead of time, wanting to spend as much time together before you leave to go visit your family and he leaves to visit his family.

He takes you out to dinner and a movie, something lowkey and relaxed before you both head home to exchange gifts before bed.

You’re waiting in his living room after you showered together, relaxed in cotton shorts and an old Hurricanes shirt of his, wet hair freshly brushed (by him, of course, how could he not?) and smelling like the honey and almond lotion you put on your body before bed. You’ve even got those little under eye patches on your face, and he doesn’t think there’s a single thing you could wear that would make him believe you were anything but drop dead gorgeous.

He’s going first, so he grabs your gift from a hidden spot in his office before trailing back out into the living room, sitting on the ground in front of the couch in his sweatpants, his naked torso resting back against it. The gift box in his hands feels simultaneously like it’s too much and not enough all at once.

You grin excitedly, holding your hands out and he places the box carefully in your palms. “Can I open it now?”

“Of course you can,” he laughs, and you let out a small squeal, carefully peeling away the wrapping that definitely did not take him twenty minutes to figure out, eyes gauging your reaction as the wrapping falls away and you lift the lid off of the box.

He got you a brand new sketchpad to draw in, one bigger than the current journal you have, along with pencils, charcoal, and colored pencils, and a tote to keep and carry them all in. It felt…so simple, buying them for you, he wasn’t sure it was enough.

But then you’re putting the gift box aside and launching yourself at him from your spot on the carpet, tackling him to the plush material and peppering kisses all over his face as you whisper “Spasibo” over and over into his skin.

He’s laughing like a maniac by the time you both sit back up, and you frame his face with your hands, eyes wet with happy tears. “Thank you, Andrei. It’s the best gift I’ve ever received.”

“You’re welcome, malyshka. I’m happy you like it.”

The kilowatt smile that spreads across your face is worth it, and you bend to kiss the tip of his nose. “I love it. Now you have to open your present.”

“You are my present, almaznyy,” he says quietly, thumb rubbing the remaining happy tears off of your face. “The only present I’ve been selfish enough to give myself. I don’t need anything else. I don’t want anything else.”

You smile softly, shaking your head. “Too bad, we agreed on getting each other one gift. This is mine to you and you have to open it.”

Before he can protest, you’re scrambling up and off of him and running off to…somewhere in his house. He thinks it’s the sunroom? But then you’re running back into the living room, and you’ve got a box and an envelope in your hands, and you’re placing them in front of him very carefully.

He narrows his eyes at you playfully, but you just stick your tongue out at him. Andrei scoffs, “That’s cute, almaznyy. Get it out of your system now.”

“Will you just open it, Andrei?” You practically whine, and he laughs.

“Which one first, the envelope or the box?”

You glance at both before you point to the box, and then he’s removing the wrapping, carefully opening the lid and lifting the tissue paper.

When he dips his hands inside, he feels something ceramic, and then he’s lifting it out of the box.

It’s a white bowl with a circular lid, and on the lid is an extremely accurate, hand-painted Carolina Hurricanes logo. Both sides of the jar have your perfect cursive on them, the word “sakhar�� on both sides in Cyrillic script.

Sugar.

He laughs out loud, and your smile widens, a soft and breathy laugh leaving your lips.

“Very cute, malyshka, I love it.” He says, leaning over to give you a kiss, but you press a finger to his lips, shaking your head.

“Nuh uh, open the envelope next, and then you can kiss me if you still love it.”

He obeys, gently setting the sugar bowl between his legs before opening the envelope and pulling out a voucher.

It’s for a place called “The Spinning Wheel” in Raleigh, a pottery making and pottery painting studio. The voucher indicates a reserved time for a couple of days from now, in the evening for a “Wine and Wheel” event, and then a pending time for a second session called “Wine and Design.”

He’s quiet for a moment, soaking it in. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you fiddling with your hands, and you clear your throat, clearly anxious about his reaction. “I uh…that’s where I painted the sugar bowl for you. The owner of the studio is someone I met through Eden. She opened it when she left, and told me about these events. Usually they’re sold out, since a lot of couples tend to do it, but she managed to save us a spot. I checked your game schedule, and you’re free that night, so I thought…well,” you laugh, a nervous sound. “I thought it might be fun? To do it before we leave for the holidays.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, too stunned at what he’s holding in his hands, and then words are spewing from his mouth, far too fast for him to process. “Are you asking me on a date?”

Now it’s your turn to be quiet, but it only lasts for a few seconds before you burst out laughing, not in a mocking way, but in a delighted way. He knows your delighted laughs anywhere, and it brings him comfort.

“I guess I am,” you admit, and his heart pounds uncontrollably in his chest.

You’re asking him on a date.

A date!

You’re the one planning to spend time with him, and you’re basically asking him on a date.

He feels nothing like the thirty two year old man he is and instead like he’s a teenager all over again. It’s absolutely perfect, and not just because he gets to go on a date with you, but also because he knows how much you love art, and he just wants to do anything that's going to make you happy and make you think of him.

He carefully moves his gifts aside, careful not to knock over the bowl or ruin the voucher, and then he’s grabbing you by your ankle, dragging you over to him and into his lap, hands descending into your wet hair and pulling you down for a kiss.

You relax into him, hands resting on his shoulders and opening up for him the way he loves, allowing him to ease the kiss into the right side of filthy, one of his hands escaping from your tresses to band around your back so he can turn you both, laying you on the carpet.

Your lips form into a small smile that he continues to kiss, and then you’re giggling, and he laughs, pulling back a little. “What is it?”

“If I knew you were going to kiss me this much I would’ve hung mistletoe.” You tease.

Andrei shakes his head, “I don’t need to use a silly plant as an excuse to kiss you, I’ll do it anyway. As many times as I want.”

“Sounds good to me.” You say, but when he bends his head to kiss you, you stop him again, pressing a finger to his lips.

He groans in frustration, pretending to nip at your finger before resting his forehead against yours. “What is it?”

“You didn’t give me an answer.” You whisper, and when he raises a brow in confusion, you smile shyly. “If you’d go on a date with me.”

He groans, a happy one, pressing his lower half into yours. “Almaznyy, the answer is always going to be yes. If it’s not, I want you to start planning my funeral, got it?”

You burst out in laughter, and Andrei swallows your happy noises as he kisses you, feeling like a believer in Christmas miracles for the first time in his life.

A few nights later, you’re at The Spinning Wheel, both of you sitting on your own stools with a pottery wheel in front of you. There’s a side table on either side of him just like there is for everyone else, one side holding a glass of wine and a plate of tea sandwiches, and the other side holding a bowl of water and a couple of supplies for people to use to shape or trim their pieces.

There’d been a quick demonstration by Hallie, your former co-worker at Eden and current owner of the shop, showing everyone how to center the clay and then eventually morph it into either a vase, a pot, a bowl, or a plate, and everyone had also been shown how to make a lid if needed. It all looked so easy, yet Andrei felt a bit like he was a baby again - learning to skate for the first time and falling on his ass every third step.

You however, of course, had been doing great, and after his third attempt at trying to center his clay and failing, he sits up with a frustrated noise, dipping his hands in the bowl of water before wiping it on the towel resting on his thigh. He reaches for his wine glass, content to just drink and watch you enjoy yourself.

It’s like watching a good player step onto the ice for the first time. The way you expertly move and maneuver yourself and the clay, similar to the way a good player glides across the ice, handling the puck like it’s an extension of themselves.

He doesn’t know how long he watches you for. His eyes skate over your hair gathered in a ponytail, stray strands falling out and framing your face, watches the way your brows pinch together in concentration and how your lip gets trapped between your teeth when you’re focusing particularly hard. He observes you, sipping on his wine until you’re sitting up from where you hunched over the wheel, wiping your forehead carefully with the back of your wrist, and then you’re glancing at him with a small smile.

Andrei returns your smile, gesturing to your mini hexagonal vase. “Nice job, malyshka.”

“Thank you,” you beam at him, then look at his wheel, and back up to his face. “Are you taking a break?”

He shakes his head. “Giving up for now, I can’t center it.”

You scoff a little, like you don’t believe for a second there isn’t a thing he can’t do, abandoning your wheel and instructing him to put his wine glass down, ordering him to switch places so that you’re both sitting on opposite sides of his wheel, but now your foot is in control of the pedal. You grab the clay from the board and size it down to match the little vase on your wheel, slapping it to the center once it’s kneaded enough.

He gathers a little bit of water on the sponge like Hallie told them to, squeezing it onto the mound before tossing it back into the bowl and putting his hands on the clay. You place your hands atop his, beginning to guide him through the motions.

“Press tight, like this,” you say, and Andrei obeys, welcoming the guiding pressure of your hands on his as he sneaks glances at you.

“You’re good at this,” he notes.

“My brother’s the sculptor, really.” You respond, voice soft in the loud room, moving his hands to squeeze at the clay a little more, bringing it upwards. “He taught me about pottery, even bought me my first pottery wheel. I liked it, for a time, but drawing always felt more natural to me.”

“How long did you do it for?” He asks, watching as you bring your thumbs to the center of the clay, slowly forming a hole

“Pottery? Maybe five years.”

He nods absently, pinching the sides of the clay with you. “Why’d you stop?”

One of your shoulders lifts in a shrug. “I lost the joy in it when my brother started acting more like a teacher and less like a brother about it, so I just stuck to drawing.”

He nods, then swallows. Hesitates. “You’re not close?”

“Not so much,” you admit. “He’s still my brother and I’ll always love him, but we lead different lives. Can you grab that wood rib?”

Andrei frowns in his head because he wants to ask more about your family. You already said you weren’t missed by anyone back home, and still seemed reluctant to head back for Christmas. A strained relationship with your brother explains some things, but not everything, and he wants to know everything he can about you.

About his almaznyy.

Still, he follows your lead and drops the subject, doing as you ask, grabbing the wood rib as you shut off the wheel, then placing your hand on his. Together, you shape his small vase into a similar fashion to yours, and then grab the wire cutter to separate both your vases from the board, placing them on a little stand for them to be fired on.

After that, Andrei’s content to continue watching as you make little matching lids, poking holes in them and presenting them to him with a shy smile. “They can be salt and pepper shakers,” you say, “to match your sugar bowl.”

And who is he to ever say no to anything you suggest? To deny planting more parts of you, of the two of you, in his house?

A week later, you both head back to The Spinning Wheel to paint your salt and pepper shakers.

You insist on the fact that they don’t have to look perfect, and though Andrei disagrees, he lets you persuade him into blindly choosing random colors to paint the shakers with, and the two of you sit for another hour and a half painting them.

Another week and a half later, when you’ve gone back to Manhattan and he’s getting set to head out to San Jose, he goes back to The Spinning Wheel and picks up your matching salt and pepper shakers.

To anyone else, they probably look hideous - a mishmash of turquoise, yellow, pink, and green, but to him, they look so cute and silly, and he takes them straight home, where they quickly become the most out of place things in his completely lavish, state of the art kitchen, right next to his new sugar bowl.

January

He wakes up to his two year old niece, Mila, jumping on his chest, babbling her demands that her uncle wake up and entertain her.

“Mila,” her mother calls from the doorway. “That’s enough honey, let’s let Uncle Andrei get ready and then he can spend some time with you okay?”

Andrei brings Mila close to his chest and presses a kiss to her temple, before lifting to hand her off to Sara.

“Mama’s made breakfast,” Sara says as she leaves. “It’s ready when you are.”

“Thanks,” he calls after his sister in law, before she shuts the door to the guest room behind her and Andrei falls back against the pillows.

He’s been here at Evgeny’s house for about a week now, enjoying some much needed time with his family celebrating the New Year and Russian Christmas. Not that he doesn’t miss being with you, but he hadn’t realized in the whirlwind of being swept up in your orbit that he had kept in touch with his family, but hadn’t really paid attention.

Evgeny and his mom still regularly sent him photos of Mila, his two year old niece, and Luka, his three month old nephew, but he didn’t realize how big they’d gotten since he’d last seen them, so it was nice being able to just be with them before they got too old to care or think he was still the cool uncle.

He grabs his phone on the bedside table, answering some emails and responding to meeting requests for when he’s back in Raleigh next week. The team has been doing so well over the last couple of months, making his days pretty even keel, and with the All Star Game approaching next month, things are probably going to start picking up again, especially as the team makes a push for the postseason.

The second he reaches the bottom of his inbox, he’s texting you, asking if you’re up and if he can call or FaceTime with you.

You answer by FaceTiming him first, and he smiles wide, swiping the green button and feeling peace settle in his bones when your face lights up his screen.

“Privet krasavitsa,” he says, voice still raspy from sleep. Hi beautiful.

You blink, laughing a little. “I’m sorry, did you need a second to wake up?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’ve been up for a bit.” You nod, and he takes note of the plain white walls of your room. “You with your family?”

“No,” you say, a strange tone in your voice. “I’m at my apartment.”

“Oh,” he says, a small crease forming between his brows. “Everything okay?”

You flash him a half smile. “Yeah, better now. What about you? How are things going with you and your family?”

“Good,” he says, settling back against his pillows a little more. “It’s been good to see them again.”

“That’s good, I’m happy you’re having a good time.”

“Wish I could’ve brought you, almaznyy,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing over the screen, pretending he’s caressing your cheeks. “I miss you.”

You smile softly at him, eyes alight with fondness. “I miss you too, Andrei.”

“After this,” he starts, feeling a little hesitant. “Would you want to come back to Raleigh with me? You don’t have to, obviously, if you’re busy.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “No Andrei, I’m not busy. I’d love to go back.”

“Good,” he says, releasing a relieved breath. “I liked having you there.”

“I like being there,” you agree. “With you.”

“I’ll be back next week on Wednesday.”

“Then I’ll be there Thursday.”

“It’s a date, almaznyy,” he says quietly. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

You smile softly at him, shaking your head. “I won’t.”

The day after you come back to him, Andrei has to go into the office at PNC Arena, but he ends up being able to head home early. He picks up lunch for the both of you on the way from your favorite bistro, along with roses, and pints of your favorite ice cream and all of your favorite toppings.

When he pulls into the driveway and heads inside, he toes off his shoes, surprised to find that the house is quiet, and he goes about putting the ice cream away, setting your lunch on the counter, and resting your roses in a vase.

He listens for you, but when he doesn’t hear the shower running, or any sign of movement from the living room or dining room, he sighs happily to himself a little, knowing he’s probably going to have to play your little game of hide and seek. He sheds his blazer, resting it on the counter before starting on his little diamond hunt.

The usual spots you’re in come up empty. You’re not in the kitchen or else he would’ve seen you as soon as he got home. You’re not in his office, the living room, the sunroom, or relaxing out back on the patio. He knows you wouldn’t be in any of the guest rooms, because he’s made it clear you have no business in there since you’re not a ‘guest.’

You fought him a little on that, because technically you are a guest, but all it took was him threatening to put your name next to his on the deed to the house and a few kisses to get you to see it his way.

He makes his way down to the basement instead, and pauses in the small living space to decide which way you could have gone. He doesn’t hear any noise in the entertainment room to his left, so he opens the door to his right that leads to his home gym, and immediately stops in his tracks, eyes fixed to your body and his entire attention and focus on you.

You’re laying on one of the yoga mats, your headphones in and doing what looks like yoga in front of the mirrors along the wall.

A smirk on his face, Andrei crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the doorway, content to just watch you through the mirror. You’re in a sports bra and tighter than should be legal bike shorts, and you’ve got your eyes closed as you listen to music and work through the movements.

You’re currently in a low forward lounge, your forearms resting on the mat as your head hangs a little bit. It makes your ass look amazing, and all he can think of doing is heading over, pushing you down on all fours, tearing those shorts off of your body, and taking you in front of the mirror till you beg for more.

Actually, that’s exactly what he’s going to do. He’s just biding his time now, waiting for an opening to touch you.

His brows raise a little in anticipation as he tilts his head, watching as you switch legs effortlessly, lunging on your other side. When you bring your extended leg back in, and move into a bridge position, then downward dog, his pants tent at the view of your full ass staring at him, and he loosens his tie a little, unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up his arms until they rest at his elbows.

You press backward, extending your legs a little, and your head hangs, eyes still shut as you mouth along to the music in your headphones, and then for a second, he thinks he can hear the song change, and when it does, your eyes open slowly, and then you’re looking at him from your spot upside down.

He smiles when you blink in surprise, your body faltering a little, but still staying put, and then you’re smiling, letting out a nervous laugh.

“Hi,” you mutter out, reaching one hand up to remove your headphones and put them to the side.

“Hi almaznyy,” he practically purrs, openly checking you out.

You move slowly until you're kneeling again, sitting up as you look at Andrei in the mirror with your hands on your thighs. “What are you doing home so early?”

Home. He loves how that word sounds on your lips.

“Got out early, so I thought I’d surprise you. I even bought us lunch.”

“Oh,” you say with a smile, “Well, let me just clean up and shower and I’ll-”

“No no,” he’s quick to interrupt, finally moving from his resting spot against the doorway and entering the home gym. “I think you’re gonna stay there for a little bit longer.”

You hold eye contact with him in the mirror as he comes up behind you, tilting your head at him curiously. “Am I?”

“If you want your presents, then yes.” He says firmly, getting onto the mat and settling on his knees behind you. He wraps his arm around you from behind, his hand coming to rest at the base of your throat. You both watch as his hands gently stroke at the skin there before trailing to where the strap of your sports bra rests against your shoulder.

“What kind of presents?” You ask, your breathing starting to deepen, chest rising and falling as he continues to touch you, running his fingers across your collarbone.

“The kind you like.” He says, “The sweet kind.”

You pout a little at him in the mirror. “That could be anything.”

He leans down, pressing his lips gently to the shell of your ear. “Then I guess you’ll just have to trust me then, won’t you?”

Slowly, he brings both of his hands to the middle of your back and presses down gently, murmuring “On all fours, almaznyy.”

You obey, moving forward until you’re resting on your forearms, shins to the ground and ass high in the air.

Andrei tries to maintain a modicum of decorum and works very hard not to drool at the beautiful heart shape of your ass.

“Krasivyy,” he murmurs. Beautiful.

He grabs at the waistband of your bike shorts, pulling them down your legs slowly like he’s unwrapping the perfect gift, pulling them off and carefully folding them before placing them beside him on the floor. He helps you out of your sports bra next, careful to fold that too before placing it atop your shorts and lowering you back down on all fours.

He palms your ass cheeks in his hands, spreading them until your pussy opens up to him like a rose, and all he sees is sweet, shiny pink staring back at him.

“Andrei-” you call out, but you’re cut off when he buries his face into your core from behind, a loud cry leaving your mouth instead.

He licks you for a little while, content to just taste you for his own pleasure. It’s noisy and messy, and he can tell when you start to squirm that you’ve had enough of his teasing. You push back into his face, searching for more friction, more of his mouth on you in the places he knows you need, but he squeezes your flesh tighter in his hands, keeping you where you are so he can devour you until his heart’s content.

It’s only when you start to shake in his hands, your breathing coming out in little whines, that he feels his heart twist a little bit, and he pauses to speak against your skin.

“Do you want to come?”

He meets your eyes in the mirror, watches as you blink slowly, blissed out and yearning, and you nod, your lower lip captured between your teeth.

Andrei rises up on his knees then, removing his tie and he wags his finger at you in the mirror, beckoning you to sit up.

You do, rising up and allowing Andrei to maneuver you until your hands are behind your back, wrists crossed over one another at the base of your spine. He secures his tie around your wrist, making sure it’s not too tight that it digs into your skin, but that it’s still tight enough for you to move your arms a little in case you get uncomfortable.

Slowly, he helps lower you down until your cheek presses against the mat, and then he’s unbuttoning his dress shirt, removing his belt, and unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. He pushes them down to his thighs, followed by his boxer briefs, and he hisses a little when his cock springs free and hits his belly, feeling far too sensitive.

He locks eyes with you from your place on the mat, watches you watch him as he strokes his cock a couple of times before running the head between your wet folds. You whine a little when the head of his cock catches on your entrance a couple of times, then the third time it happens, he finally pushes in, watching in amazement as his cock disappears inch by inch until he’s fully seated inside of you.

Your mouth is open on a silent cry, back arching and pressing into him, almost like you’re trying to get him deeper.

Andrei’s never taken you like this before. He much prefers looking at you the whole time, enjoys watching you and taking in all of your facial expressions, the way your body moves and responds to him.

There are perks to this though.

Like the fact that as he pulls his hips back and pushes back in, he can watch you take him over and over again, completely fascinated by the way you grip him. Or the fact that when he starts to fuck you in earnest, your hands start to squirm, so used to reaching up and tugging on his hair or leaving scratches down his back, his chest, his abdomen. He gives you one of his hands to hold onto, the other remaining secure on your waist so he can pull you back onto his cock and keep things to the pace he’s setting.

He also really likes the fact that you keep your cheek pressed to the mat, making sure he can see every single expression on your face as he drives into you over and over, getting you closer and closer to your orgasm that it makes him pump his hips to fuck you deeper, just a little harder, and loves how your thighs smack together against his with the change of pace.

You cry out his name, and then your eyes are screwing shut, bottom lip trembling, and Andrei squeezes your hand in his, pulls you onto his cock over and over as more whines spill from your lips.

“Come for me, almaznyy,” he says, leaning over you to whisper in your ear. “Come for me while I fuck you in front of this mirror.”

Your eyes fly open then, head turning a little to meet his gaze in the mirror, and he watches you, watches for that blissful expression to cross your face at the same time that your pussy clenches down on his cock, so impossibly tight, and then you’re whole body is shaking under him, a silent cry leaving your lips as your orgasm floods through you.

It’s so beautiful, such a gorgeous thing to watch, that he’s coming inside of you, body going rigid as he pumps his come deep inside, feeling you clench pulse against him as he does.

As your orgasms subside, Andrei carefully removes the tie from around your wrists, watching as your arms fall limply to your sides. He gently rests over you, gathering his thighs close to yours as he rolls you both onto your sides, careful to keep himself inside of you as he goes.

He reaches up, brushing your hair away from your neck to press a kiss there, murmuring “My almaznyy.”

You hum, completely content in his arms, pressing your body further back against his. “Does that mean I get my presents?”

Andrei barks out a laugh, wrapping his arms around you to keep you close. “Like I could ever say no to you after that.

Later that night, you’re sitting on the barstools in front of his massive kitchen island, eating the ice cream Andrei bought straight from the tub.

You grab the can of whipped cream beside you and dollop a little on both of your tubs, grabbing the caramel drizzle next and swirling it around. He smiles, tacking on a “Spasibo almaznyy” before he digs back in.

“What does it mean?” You ask him after a beat, and Andrei’s too caught up in watching the way you lick your ice cream off of your spoon to register what you’re asking. You laugh when you notice what he’s looking at, and nudge him a little with your shoulder. “Hey!”

He blinks, snapping out of his daze. “Huh?”

“What does it mean?” You ask again, and his brow furrows.

“What does what mean?” He says, taking a lick of his ice cream, and feeling satisfied when your eyes track his mouth.

But you don’t get caught up in it the way he does. “What you always call me, ‘almaznyy,’ what does it mean?”

He laughs, tilting his head. “You haven’t Googled it yet?”

You shrug, “I would have, but I’d rather hear it from you. What does it mean?”

“It’s a nickname,” he explains, which is technically half true. It’s his nickname for you.

“What does the nickname mean?” You push, bending your head a little to steal a lick at his ice cream. He feigns upset for a split second before he’s smiling at you again.

Even when he’s trying to be fake mad, he just can’t do it.

Belatedly, he wonders if this is what it will be like if you two ever do fight, if he’ll just take one look at you and the anger dissipates from his body.

He has a feeling that’s probably what will happen.

He can’t seem to say no to you, can’t seem to feel the need to deny you anything.

“Andrei,” you pout.

His thumb rubs at your bottom lip. “It means ‘diamond,’ malyshka.”

Your mouth drops open in a soft ‘O’ and Andrei feels his skin heat. “Where’d you get that from?”

Andrei shrugs, gathering another spoonful of his ice cream but feeding it to you instead. “It just seemed fitting, I guess.”

After taking a moment to swallow the chocolate off his spoon, you raise a curious brow at him from your barstool. He waits for you to say something else, but you don’t, instead digging back into your tub, and the two of you continue to finish your ice cream, exchanging dollops of whipped cream and caramel sauce.

A thought pops into his head to prop you up on the kitchen island and put the whipped cream and caramel to good use, but he restrains himself.

He feels it then, the normal electric tension between the both of you feels…different now. It feels both like something more, and then it also feels like…like there’s a newly growing space between you. It’s small still, but not small enough for him to ignore.

Andrei thinks it has something to do with your time at home over the holidays, but he’s a little too afraid to ask. He can’t seem to get more than a few sentences out of you about your personal life, or the part of your life involving your family, and he doesn’t want to disturb the peace you’ve both managed to settle into now that you’re back together.

Belatedly, after you’ve both showered the day away and he takes you against the tiled wall of his shower, pressing ‘almaznyy’ to your skin between heated kisses and strokes, he lays in bed, with your naked body wrapped up in his arms, and he hopes whatever he’s feeling is just his imagination.

February

With the All Star Game going on in Denver the weekend of Valentine’s Day, Andrei suggests taking you away for the bye week in the schedule. He doesn’t use Eden’s services to book a single thing, paying for the trip himself.

He flies you both out to Malibu for the week, booking a beach house on AirBnB with a view of the Pacific coast. You spend the first day settling in, buying a little bit of groceries to make some meals at your AirBnB instead of eating out all the time. Andrei would gladly drop whatever amount of cash it took to feed you at any restaurant of your choosing without complaint, but he also enjoys cooking together with you, so he realistically doesn’t mind either way.

The second day you spent going around Malibu playing tourists, and on the third day, which is Valentine’s Day, Andrei surprises you by taking you on a date to LACMA.

You’re wearing this pretty white dress, your hair falling around you softly, and all he can seem to do is watch you when you stop to look at each and every piece that interests you.

There’s something about the way you seem to immerse yourself in the art, how you manage to focus on the things he can’t see, like it’s a secret between you and the piece in front of you, and Andrei’s content not knowing. He’s happier to just be in your orbit, to observe you and enjoy the way you turn back to him with a happy smile, reaching for his hand and towing him toward the next piece you want to look at or into the next exhibit hall.

You’re currently looking at a Grecian style bust, the sunlight creeping in through the vast windows behind it, casting a heavenly glow on you and illuminating your silhouette under your white dress.

He can see it then - you’re not wearing a bra, and the lace of your underwear calls to him like a beacon.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop craving you in every way imaginable.

As you back away a little from the statue, Andrei approaches you from behind, and your body presses against his. He smiles as he wraps his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” You ask, looking at the bust.

“Extremely,” he murmurs, eyes on you.

You turn in his arms then, chuckling softly when you notice where his eyes are, and you rise up on your toes, pressing a kiss to his lips. “You’re not even looking at the art, Andrei.”

“I am,” he insists, and when you go to back away, Andrei’s arms wrap around you and keep you close. A small gasp escapes as he pulls you against him, and then backs the two of you against the wall in a tucked away corridor, hidden from the main exhibit. “The art is all I’m looking at, almaznyy.”

He reaches beneath your dress, finding where the fabric rests at the juncture of your thighs, pulling it to the side and running his finger through your wet folds. You gasp again when he brings his finger up to your clit, circling it a little, before his finger’s dipping back down and sinking into you to the knuckle.

He moves his finger in and out slowly, watching the way your face shifts into that blissful expression he’s come to adore so much, and his free hand comes to rest on your waist, guiding you to follow his hand, to take what you need. “It’s okay, you can take it, I want you to.”

“Andrei,” you breathe out, trying to keep your voice down as your hips move in time with his hand, “What about the rest of the museum?”

“Fuck the museum,” He murmurs, lips brushing against your temple as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. “You’re the most important work of art in here, almaznyy.”

Now that you know what your pet name means, your eyes twinkle in delight at him, tilting your head to the side to willingly provide him access to your skin, and Andrei doesn’t wait any further, pressing his lips to your neck and gathering the bottom of your dress, pulling it over your ass to rest around your waist.

“Take me out,” he demands.

Your eyes widen a little, pupils blown out. “Here?”

“Here.” He confirms with a nod. “Now. Take me out, malyshka. Don’t make me ask you again.”

Fumbling, your hands shake a little as you unbutton his jeans and lower his zipper, and Andrei lifts one of your legs up, tucking his forearm under your hamstring and opening you up to him.

The second his cock is free from its restraints, he’s thrusting his hips forward, notching at your entrance and using his free hand to cradle your face in his hands. “This is okay, right?”

You nod, swallowing a lump in your throat. “Be quick.”

He pushes the rest of the way in, burying himself to the hilt and crowding in closer, pressing your body back against the wall. He fucks you in quick, deep, and brutal strokes. It’s the least romantic he’s ever been with you thus far, the most careless, and he’d think to be concerned about it if it weren’t for your fingernails digging into his shoulders from where you’re holding on to him for dear life.

Heavy breathing is all that can be heard between the two of you, and he tracks the way you’re biting down on your lower lip, trying to stifle your moans, and he buries his face in your neck, sucking bruises into your skin and inhaling the sweet smell of your perfume, his thumb rubbing in soothing motions on your cheek.

“Close,” you whisper, digging your nails in, and he tilts his hips in a way that angles your hips up a little more, and then he’s pressing in a little further, and your back arches off the wall. “Yes, please!” You cry into his ear.

Andrei drives into you in a frenzied pace, eyes on your face and watches your eyes glaze over, can hear the stutter in your breath, and he’s moving his hand from your cheek to cover your mouth when you finally squeeze down on him, body seizing against his and his own body locks up, the orgasm nearly buckling his knees, but he keeps steady, doesn’t move a single inch as he fills you up and your body’s shaking comes to a cresting halt.

He takes a couple of seconds, letting you calm down and catch your breath before he’s carefully pulling out of you and pulling your underwear back in place, pressing kisses to your forehead as he sets you down on both your feet and helps you rearrange your clothes. He tucks himself back into his pants and lets you fuss over making sure he’s put back together as well.

Once the lust filled haze finally clears from his mind, he leads you out of the hidden corridor and back in view of the floor to ceiling windows, feeling the awe return when the sunlight immediately casts the heavenly glow back on you.

“Show me more,” he says to you softly, tilting his chin towards the next exhibit hall.

With a smile, you take his hand, then take him to look at more paintings.

Later that night, after you’ve had dinner, dessert, and more dessert in the shower, you lay on his chest and he wraps one arm around you, the other folded behind his head as he stares at the ceiling.

It occurred to him as the two of you were in the show that it’s already been six months, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this - having you here, sharing his time with you, being intimate with you - and his mind runs rampant.

There’s so many things he knows about you, but still so many he doesn’t. There’s uncharted territory in his map of you, and he wants to amend that.

Immediately.

So he takes a deep breath, steeling himself, and throws caution to the wind.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but…” His voice trails off, running his fingertips gently over your naked spine. “How many clients do you have?”

He doesn’t know if it’s the wine from dinner, or the fact that he gave you three orgasms back to back in the shower and completely wore him out, but you actually answer him, and it takes him by surprise. “In the past, when I was working for Eden to get through school, I had a total of five clients the entire time. Two were short term, one for about nine months and the other for a year. The other three I saw on and off again pretty regularly over the four years.”

“Some of them saw you when you were eighteen?” Andrei asks, concern etching his brow and lacing through his voice.

You snort a little, lips brushing against his chest as you speak. “They weren’t…it wasn’t like that. They try to match the ages up correctly, or as correctly as possible. And we can say yes or no if they bring them to us and we don’t feel comfortable.”

“Well that’s a relief,” he mutters.

Your fingers drum on his chest as you continue. “The first client I started with at eighteen had just turned twenty one. He was some trust fund baby, but shy. Needed a date to his ex’s wedding to make her jealous. They’re married now, actually, her marriage to the other dude lasted all of a year. But she had my client in her wedding party, and he needed to play the long game for a little to make it seem like he’d moved on.”

“That was nice of you,” Andrei replies, genuine. “Very kind.”

“It was what he paid me to do,” You say with a shrug, then he can feel you smile. “They asked me to be at their wedding, once they got their shit together. It was kind of nice.”

He nods, then swallows past the lump in his throat. “And the others?”

“I met the guy I was seeing for a year when I was nineteen, a couple of months after I finished the job with my first client. It was a lowkey thing, he just needed a friend really. He was going through a bit of an identity crisis. Once I told him we could just…be friends, and that he didn’t have to pay me anymore, we stayed in touch.”

“Oh,” Andrei says. He’s not jealous. Not suddenly suspicious of this unnamed guy who-

“He’s my brother-in-law now.”

It’s silent for a moment, and then Andrei laughs, jostling you on his chest, and then you both end up laughing, you throw an arm over your eyes as you giggle, and he turns on his side, wrapping you up in his arms and pulling you closer. “I’m sorry,” he says between laughs. “I just-”

You nod, nose brushing against his chest as you do. “I know, it’s okay.”

He scoots down the bed a little so he can nuzzle his face into your neck. “I just want you all to myself,” he murmurs into your skin, punctuating his statement with a soft kiss.

“You have me,” you assure him, combing your fingers through his hair. “I’m right here.”

He nips at your neck. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” you nod. “I meant what I said.”

Your statements hang in the air, and he sighs. “What about the others? The ones you saw off and on?”

“Two of them were twenty three, and the third was twenty five. They were businessmen from London, young tycoons, and they were trying to expand their business to America. They mostly just invited me out to different charity events, galas, functions, you name it. It was convenient that the three of them were best friends, so they often coordinated who's date I was and when and where, and most people who knew them knew that they liked to share. But they didn’t, not with me anyway, in the sexual sense. I just played arm candy and hung out with them until they eventually were able to acquire the merger that they needed.”

Andrei hums. “They still in your life too?”

You nod. “They were, for a bit. They actually gave me the normal job I told you about after I graduated. Once they opened their office in Manhattan, they hired me as an assistant to one of them, and I’d see the other two every now and again, but we didn’t interact much other than the occasional check in. They all sent me a Christmas card, though. It had a check for ten grand in it.”

A surprised noise leaves his throat. “That’s generous.”

You laugh a little. “I’m pretty sure it was a ploy to try to get me to come back and work for them, but I just put it in my savings.” He hums, and then you go quiet, pushing him a little.

Andrei raises a brow. “What is it?”

“I don’t know if they tell you this, when they send you my blood panel results. But at Eden, it’s a rule that if you sleep with your clients, you have to report it, and then we have to tell our clients so they’re aware.”

He doesn’t know if he likes where this is going, and he ignores the green flame of jealousy sparking in his body so he can say “Okay.”

“I’m not sleeping with anyone else, Andrei.” You tell him. “And I’ve never been with anyone else. You’re the first and only client I’ve ever had sex with, the only one I’ve felt comfortable with, the only one I’ve had a connection with, the only one I’ve felt safe with.”

And that…well that fucking turns him on.

All the way on, like…rock hard again in seconds.

But even more, it unlocks something within him that has his entire world screeching to a halt.

You might not be all the way in, but he is. Especially now.

He’s in love with you.

He is undoubtedly head over heels in love with you and -

His movements are lightning quick as he tackles you, pulling you on top of him so he can kiss you fucking senseless.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that you knew exactly what you were doing to him by admitting something so…so….so fucking svyashchennyy.

Sacred.

After a minute, you giggle, and press smaller kisses to his lips, and then his jaw and neck as you climb off of him, resuming your spot beside him. “Alright alright alright, your turn.” You say, drawing circles with your fingertips on his chest. “Tell me something about you.”

He pauses for a second, trying to pull up something, anything, something interesting to tell you, and he starts to worry when too many things pop up at once, but then he zeroes in on the bracelet on your wrist, the one attached to the hand that’s touching him, and he smiles a little.

Gently, his fingers circle that wrist before capturing your hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. “I guess you could say I have a pretty obvious love language, or two, maybe. Acts of service and gift giving. It’s mainly because I didn’t have…well…anything, growing up, really. It was tough, back home. So the second I signed my first professional contract here in the states, I bought my mom a car. I got her all the gifts I’d always wanted to get her, and I still do it. I guess…I know what it’s like not to have anything, feeling like even the smallest of things isn’t enough to express how I feel, so I try my best to do it all the time. Like with this.”

He runs his finger over the bracelet. The one you haven’t taken off once since he put it on you, the one he feels signifies that you’re his, even if you’re not.

“I felt…appreciative. Before we even met, I was appreciative that you chose to agree to meet with me. I just wanted to get you something that said thank you, that I felt lucky.”

Your brow furrows, and he can see there’s words in your eyes, things you want to say, but instead, you cup his face in your hands, and pull him closer to you, capturing his mouth in a gentle kiss.

“I’m the lucky one, Andrei.” You whisper between kisses. “Your heart is worth its weight in gold, never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

His heart beats in his chest and he surges forward, rolling you onto your back as your kisses turn slow, sensual, and then he’s settling between your legs and slipping inside of you, making you come on his cock and his mouth over and over again until you’re both absolutely exhausted, and the night turns black outside the windows.

As you finally drift off to sleep in his arms, he belatedly realizes that while he got to talk to you about your past clients, he still didn’t know how many clients you have now, and there’s still a few gaps in his knowledge about you that he feels are more like gaping holes.

Selfishly, he doesn’t want you to have anyone else, no one other than himself, and he makes a note as he drifts off to sleep to fix it when you both get back to Raleigh.

The following week, when Andrei arrives at his office in the morning, he dials the number always listed at the bottom of the emails from Eden, and after speaking to a receptionist, waits a few moments before a woman’s voice comes to the phone.

“Hello, Mr. Svechnikov, this is Ava Price, CEO and founder of Eden. How may I assist you?”

Andrei drums his fingers on his desk. “I’m calling to ask you about my…um, my companion,” he says, trying to sound as professional as possible.

“Of course sir, is there a problem?” Ava asks, a touch of concern in her voice.

“Not necessarily. I just wanted to inquire about her employment contract with you.”

There’s a pause, and then Ava clears her throat a little. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Svechnikov, has your companion mentioned that there’s something wrong with her employment contract? As you know, all of our companions are employed with us voluntarily, and they may come and go as they please.”

“I know,” he insists, trying not to sound pushy. “I wanted to ask…to ask if you could tell me why she came back? She had mentioned that she left for a little, and then came back because she wanted something else. Is it money? Is she in debt? Is she in trouble?”

Another long pause greets Andrei’s ears, and his nerves start to twist and flutter uncomfortably in his belly.

“I’m afraid that’s your companion’s business. Listen, Andrei, I’ll be frank with you. Even if I was at liberty to discuss something like that, I don’t know that I would, given that it seems evident to me that your companion clearly has yet to tell you her actual name. That tells me that you may not be as close as you think you are. So I’ll ask this, why exactly are you inquiring about her employment contract?”

Andrei gathers the courage he had the other night, when you were wrapped in his arms and he swore to himself that if he tried hard enough, he could make this real. Could make the two of you real. “If it’s about money,” he begins carefully. “I want to pay for it. Whatever the amount, I’ll pay if it means you release her.”

“You want to buy her out?” Ava asks, incredulous. “That’s not necessary. As I said before, all of our companions work for Eden voluntarily. As generous and heroic as your interests are, there is nothing to ‘release’ your companion from. She is free to leave on her own volition, whenever that may be.”

Andrei blows air out of his nose. “I understand.”

“If I may, Mr. Svechnikov, I’ll do both of us a favor and pretend this conversation never happened, but perhaps it would be best for you to bring up your concerns with your companion directly.”

March

Andrei glances at himself in the full length mirror of his walk in closet, adjusting and readjusting his suit.

Tonight’s the Cane’s Bash, the organization’s renamed Casino Night, and it also happens to be his birthday.

You’d arrived in Raleigh this morning after having to return to Manhattan briefly for what you told Andrei was “personal business,” and he tried his best to not make assumptions or draw unnecessary conclusions about what that “personal business” might actually be.

Not that he thinks you’d lie to him, but there’s still gaps, things he doesn’t know, and after his phone call with Ava, he seems to be dwelling on that more and more lately.

You’re in his bathroom getting ready, and he can hear you humming along to the music playing from your phone on a low volume. If he leans back a little, he can see you in the mirror, finishing up with curling your hair and dressed in a baby pink silk robe, the black dress you’re wearing tonight hanging on the back of the bathroom door.

“Almost ready, almaznyy?” He calls out, stepping out of the closet and into his bedroom. He heads toward the nightstand on his side of the bed, grabbing for his watch.

“Yes malysh,” you call out, the music in the bathroom cutting out. “I just have to slip on my dress.”

“Your heels are by the front door,” he reminds you, fastening his Rolex onto his wrist.

“Yes dear,” you call back, voice teasing.

He chuckles to himself, shaking his head.

Gaps and his phone call with Ava aside, he feels happy that things still feel completely natural with you, and it’s so easy for him to slip into this domestic role. There’s a part of his brain that wants to pretend this is just a regular old date night for the two of you, and he’s getting ready to take you to dinner just because.

If he allows himself to get lost in his imagination, he can picture that this is something he’d prefer to do weekly with you - taking you on a date just because, coming home and telling you to get ready, surprising you with dinner and a movie or taking you somewhere fancy. He’d be proud to show you off, proud to take you around with a rock on your finger that screams “she’s mine.”

But he can do this for now…right?

When you finally step out of the bathroom in your black dress, your hair curled and smile wide, almost as if you’re asking him “What do you think?” his entire world narrows down to just you.

And now…now he feels like he has to tell you.

He wants to own up to his call with Ava, and wants to confess to you that he wants this to be more than what it is.

“You look beautiful,” he says, holding his hand out to you.

You go to him easily, allowing yourself to be swept up into his arms and accepting the kiss he presses to your hair.

“Okay, let me just get my bag and we can go,” you start, going to pull away, but Andrei pulls you closer instead, bending his head for a kiss, which you grant him easily.

He puts his all into it, holding you tightly against him, kissing you like this might just be the last time, just in case you don’t like what he has to say, in case you get angry with him for going behind your back to talk to Ava.

When he pulls away, he swallows. “Almaznyy, I-”

“Andrei,” you cut him off suddenly, taking a step back and out of his immediate space. “There’s something I have to tell you and it’s kind of important.”

Andrei tilts his head, a little surprised. “What is it?”

“I went back to Manhattan to try to find you the perfect birthday gift,” you confess, eyes on your feet as you speak slowly, almost like you’re trying to make sure you’re choosing the right words to explain yourself. “But in the end, nothing I looked at or found made sense or seemed like the right thing to give you. So in the end, I thought of something, and it’s not much at all, and probably a really lame gift. I mean, I hope it’s something you want? Or like. But I didn’t know if you…well, here.” You turn, going into the nightstand on your side of the bed and pulling out a wrapped, rectangular box with a little bow on it, then turn back and extend it to him.

Andrei smiles, accepting the gift and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He undoes the wrapping carefully, taking the lid off of the box and removing the tissue paper to reveal a carefully bound book.

He opens it with gentle fingers, and when he sees the first page, his breath is almost stolen from him.

It’s a drawing.

Your drawing.

Of him.

He recognizes the setting almost immediately. It’s of him, sitting on that bench in front of The Met, the coffee cups in his hands as he waits for you. He’s looking off to the side, searching, and Andrei can feel his mouth drop open.

“But…how…” His voice trails off in disbelief, looking up at you.

You’re blushing, a shy expression on your face. “I was watching you,” you admit. “I was sitting down a little bit away from the museum, waiting to see you, and then I saw you sit down, and I just…I sketched you, really quickly. It’s not the best, but I just thought…”

You take a deep breath, glancing down at your bare feet. “I thought that I missed you, and maybe if I drew you, then I wouldn’t miss you as much after you left.”

“You have dozens of pictures of us, almaznyy.” He points out kindly.

“It’s not the same,” you start to say, but then Andrei flips to the next page, and your words die on your lips as Andrei takes in the second sketch of him.

This one is of him in a suit, sitting with his knees on his elbows and a serious look on his face, hands clasped under his chin. He recognizes it immediately, and laughs a little. “Is this from the game? At the Garden?”

You nod. “You came up on the jumbotron a couple of times during the third period, when the score was still close. So I sketched you then too.”

Andrei can’t speak, can barely breathe at what he’s looking at.

He’d wondered about the sketches in your journal. Had thought about what you’d drawn over a dozen times, had thought about all the possibilities of what you’d sketched when you sat in the corner of his office and in your spare time.

Never in his wildest dreams did he think you were drawing him.

As he flips through the rest of the book, there are at least a dozen more on the small A5 paper, of him bent over his laptop at his home office desk, on the phone and writing something down, on the phone and facing the window in his office, looking outside.

There are others too, intimate ones he didn’t think you were around for. Of him standing at the counter, sweatpants hung low on his hips, torso naked, his reading glasses on as he brewed a fresh pot of coffee for you after a particularly long night of fucking.

He remembers it well - being surprised that he’d woken up before you did, surprised that he didn’t have to embark on his usual scavenger hunt to find you each morning, even though it’s one of his favorite unofficial games with you.

There’s another of him sleeping on his back, one arm bent behind his head, the other cast out and left open atop your pillow on your side of the bed. The sheets are gathered low across his hips, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen himself look so at peace.

“These are beautiful, almaznyy,” he murmurs quietly, and he thumbs over to the next drawing of him, one where he’s in the closet getting dressed, his back facing you, your view probably from your side of the bed.

It’s then that his eyes catch on something in the bottom right corner, and he brushes his finger over it.

It’s a signature.

Yours.

When he sees it, he flips back through toward the beginning, putting a pause on looking through the rest of the sketches for now, and finds the signature in the same spot on nearly every page.

Andrei lifts his head and finds you staring at your feet, a worried look on your face.

“Almaznyy?” He calls. “What’s…what’s on the bottom of the pages?”

Your mouth opens, then closes again, and you take a deep breath, eyes still on the ground for a second longer before you’re looking up at him with an expression that reads determination, hope, and just a little bit of fear.

Then you say a name.

And nothing else.

But then it clicks.

It’s your name.

You just told him your name.

And before he can even fully process it, he’s repeating it, the letters and syllables sounding and feeling perfect on his lips. He says it to himself a couple of times, then whispers it into the air between you, and when you hear it, you smile a little.

Fuck the gaps.

Fuck Ava.

Fuck all the nonsensical shit that isn’t just him and you, and this, and ‘us.’

The next thing he knows, he’s carefully setting the journal to the side, shooting up from his sitting position and surging forward, pressing you against the door and seizing your lips in a blistering kiss that steals the breath from his lungs.

It’s the best birthday present he thinks he’s ever received, and temporarily, he manages to forget about Ava, forget about the gaps, and just focus on you.

He introduces you to nearly everyone, using every opportunity he has to say your name out loud now that he’s earned the privilege of knowing it.

Now that he knows a little about your background, it explains how comfortable you are in environments like this, how you manage to be friendly to all of these people around you and make them like you when they only just met you.

It fills him with pride in a selfish way, and he can feel himself walking a little taller, can feel his ego inflating every time someone mentions to him how wonderful you are and how lucky he is.

I know, he wants to say. She’s a diamond isn’t she?

When you make your way back to him after someone’s wife pulled you aside for a brief chat, he wastes no time in draping his arm around your waist and all but hauling you to his side, pressing a kiss to your temple, murmuring your name against your skin. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, you look handsome tonight.” You return, resting your hand atop the possessive grip he has on your waist.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see another couple approaching, and gets ready to put on his best Assistant General Manager face, when he hears you squeal, and then someone else squeals, and you’re out of his arms and a couple of steps away from him in a second.

He turns his head to where you’re hugging a young woman with long black hair, and she’s squeezing you back particularly hard as the two of you speak to one another in a stream of rushed but happy noises he can only assume are words.

Eli’s standing not far off to the side of the brunette, watching her and you with a curious brow, and all at once, Andrei’s stomach bottoms out.

The brunette…she couldn’t be from Eden…could she?

When the two of you part, your hands on one another arms and keeping you slightly embraced, there’s a bright smile on the other woman’s face as she listens to something you say, her eyes casting over to Andrei for a brief moment. The next thing he knows, you’re excitedly leading her over to him, and Eli follows behind, the curious look still on his face.

“Malysh,” you say, smiling brightly at him. “This is Charlotte, one of my oldest friends. Lottie, this is Andrei, my boyfriend.”

Charlotte.

He remembers.

The one who introduced you to Eden.

Great. So she’s definitely Eli’s date.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says. He sticks out his hand with a smile, shaking Charlotte’s hand politely before taking a step towards you, allowing you to rest against him.

Eli approaches from Charlotte’s other side and wraps a hand around her waist, leaning into her side. “Small world,” he says, glancing quickly at Andrei. It makes his back teeth clench.

Charlotte introduces you to Eli, who shakes your hand, and from a few feet away, Andrei can clock Olly and Mason watching the four of you with interest, abandoning the blackjack table they’d been hovering over and beginning to wander toward you.

He goes to pull you back to him, to pull you away and bring you anywhere else, but then Olly and Mason approach, and they’re asking Charlotte about you, and then you get pulled into a conversation.

It’s fine, realistically, he knows that. And he’s content to just sit back and watch you, drinking from the beer he’s been nursing for the last half an hour.

He’s so tuned in to you that he doesn’t notice Olly approaching him from the side until he’s resting a hand on his shoulder, and Andrei turns, brows furrowing. Olly gestures with his head toward the doors leading to the hallway, and he nods, following Olly out and down the hall to a quieter, more secluded spot.

“Something on your mind, Huntington?” Andrei asks, leaning against the wall and folding his arms.

Olly frowns slightly, stepping forward and speaking lowly. “I know.”

Andrei can feel his heart thump uncomfortably hard in his chest. “Know what?”

“I know about your girlfriend,” Olly says, gesturing his head back toward the way they came. “I know she’s from Eden.”

Silence engulfs the hallway, and any explanation Andrei may have had completely vanishes.

Olly’s the one who breaks it, resting a hand on Andrei’s shoulder. “I promise I won’t tell a soul. Neither will Mason or Eli, we all swore.”

“They know?” Andrei chokes out.

“They guessed when Charlotte spotted your girl from across the room. I was the only one who knew. You used my name as a reference on the site. They sent me a voucher for a thousand dollars for it.”

Andrei feels like he could punch himself in the face.

He completely forgot he’d even done that in the first place. So much had happened in the last six months, he’d almost managed to forget what brought you to him.

“I swear I won’t tell, Drei.” Olly repeats, squeezing his shoulder. “I won’t and they won’t. Your secret is safe with us.”

“Thank you,” is all Andrei can say. He’s still in shock, he thinks, still caught up in why he’s suddenly so bothered by all of this, and then it hits him.

His conversation with Ava.

He’d been so caught up in his present from you that he’d forgotten to tell you about his phone call with Ava.

And how he’d planned to ask you to leave Eden and be with him. Actually be with him.

Olly nods before leaving Andrei alone in the hall, and he takes a few minutes to try to collect himself.

This is neither the time nor the place, but he makes a promise to himself to bring it up with you once the two of you get home tonight.

After a few minutes, he makes his way back out to the Bash, and spots you almost immediately with Charlotte and two other men who aren’t anyone on the team or from the organization, and certainly not anyone he recognizes. You’re tucked away from a majority of the party for the most part, and there’s no one around, but Andrei doesn’t like what he’s seeing at all.

You’re arguing with one of the men, the other trying to remain between you both to stop your heated verbal disagreement, and Charlotte is trying to pull you away.

There’s a fierce look on your face, a hard set to your jaw that Andrei’s never seen before, and you’re spewing a slew of what Andrei hopes are venomous words at whoever decided tonight was the night to piss you off.

As he approaches, he remains slightly out of sight of the four of you, and when your heated conversation makes its way to his ears, his stomach begins to twist again, and he isn’t sure if he can handle it this time.

“Admit it! This is about your inheritance!” The man you’re arguing with spits.

“This is not about my inheritance. As far as I’m concerned, the terms are bullshit and I don’t want it.”

“Then why are you here? With Andrei Svechnikov of all people?!” The man demands, and your face hardens.

“He’s my boyfriend, and you don’t get to say his name if you’re going to be a fucking asshole.”

“Maybe you two could stop this and have this conversation at a more apt time?” The other man asks, and Charlotte nods.

“I agree,” she says, then turns to you, saying your name softly. “Let’s go find Andrei.”

“What are you even doing here?” You demand, ignoring both Charlotte and her ally in trying to calm you down.

The man’s face hardens. “I’m here because Sam’s company is a sponsor for the Hurricanes. The company got invitations to the Bash, and they sent Sam as a representative.”

You scoff. “You expect me to believe that a national company sent a representative from their Manhattan office as opposed to an office based here in Raleigh? Or closer?”

The man, Sam, steps closer to you then. “The Manhattan office is the closest. It’s not that big of a deal, I swear.”

“Well then I suggest you support your husband and his company, and leave Andrei alone.” You spit, turning to follow Charlotte back to the Bash, until the other man speaks again.

“I would, except I’d hate to miss out on the opportunity to tell Andrie that my sister’s a gold-digging whore.”

The silence that follows his statement is heavy, charged, and dangling on the precipice of an all out brawl.

Fitting, that if there was a fight, they’re in PNC Arena, so it isn’t like there isn’t blood on these floors already.

Andrei’s included.

But then the words settle into Andrei’s veins and twist their way around his heart like barbed wire, squeezing painfully.

Sister.

Gold-digging whore.

This man you’ve been arguing with is your brother. And if Sam is his husband, then that means…

Sam’s also your former client. The one you helped through his identity crisis.

And of course if he married your brother, then your brother has to know you’re working for Eden, which explains his hostility.

Your brother thinks that you’re here as an employee, that his little sister is toting around here as a prostitute.

Which…as much as Andrei doesn’t want to admit it, is pretty much what is happening.

And moreover, your brother thinks you being here and working for Eden is…some ploy at an inheritance?

He’s so lost it’s ridiculous.

Andrei doesn’t understand, but he also doesn’t want to hear anything else, especially if your brother intends on hurting you like this.

Before he can convince his brain to make his feet move, you’re whipping around so fast and lunging at your brother.

Andrei’s feet kick in then, but thankfully Charlotte catches you around your waist, pulling you back as Sam gets between you and your brother.

“Joshua,” Sam hisses.

Ah. Joshua.

So now Andrei’s potential brother-in-law had a name.

Potential being the key word, because if he continued to speak to you like that, or god forbid, made you cry, Andrei would punch his lights out here and now and Joshua would not be invited to the wedding.

Andrei finally makes it to your group, grabbing you from Charlotte and parking you directly behind him.

“I think you need to walk away,” Andrei says to Joshua. His voice is deadly calm, and he’s sure his face looks pretty similar. He’s had a long career to fine tune it, and it’s worked for him pretty well a time or two. He towers over your brother by about six inches, so it would be a fair fight, if your brother did know how to fight, but Andrei really doesn’t want to fuck up his potential brother-in-law the first time they meet.

“She’s got you fooled.” Your brother spits, fighting against his husband’s hold. “Whatever spell she’s got you under? Break it yourself. She’s not worth it.”

“Wrong.” Andrei says, stepping forward, looking Joshua dead in his eyes. “She’s worth everything.”

“Even if it means she uses you for an inheritance she can’t have unless she lures some poor sucker into her trap?” Joshua spits.

Andrei’s blood boils, and his hands curl into his fists at his sides.

Maybe you’d forgive him for one punch. Just the one. Right?

Sam shoves at him, pointing in the opposite direction and saying “Joshua. Walk.”

“You’re such a little bitch.” Charlotte says from where she’s comforting you from behind Andrei.

“Listen to your husband and walk away.” Andrei says. It’s his last warning, but Joshua doesn’t need to know that.

“Or what?” Joshua challenges, shoving against Sam’s hands from where they’re pushing at his chest.

“Or we’ll make you.”

The five of you turn your heads to see Olly, Mason, and Eli standing off to the side, and Andrei recognizes the look on their faces all too well. He’s seen it enough when he played with Olly and Mason, and seen it on all three of them nearly a dozen times so far this season.

They’re ready for a line brawl if they’re needed.

Joshua seems to do the wise thing for once and weigh his odds, which don’t bode well for him anymore. Finally, he decides to listen to his husband, and Sam ushers him away quickly, but not before sending a very sorry look to you, Charlotte, and to Andrei.

Andrei turns to you, finding you locked in Charlotte’s embrace and vibrating with anger. Olly, Mason, and Eli get closer, Eli resting a comforting hand on Charlotte’s shoulder and Mason and Olly coming to Andrei’s side.

“You guys okay?” Mason asks, casting worried looks between Andrei and you.

Andrei nods, patting Mason and Olly on the back. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Need us to kick that guy out?” Eli asks, gesturing towards where Sam and Joshua disappeared.

“Almaznyy?” Andrei asks, and you cast a glance at him, the expression on your face nearly breaking his heart. “Do you want them to leave?”

You let out a heavy sigh, but shake your head. “Leave them. He’ll keep his distance now.”

“He’d better.” Olly scoffs. “Don’t worry, if he tries anything else, we’ll be there.”

“Thank you,” you murmur.

After a couple of minutes of reassurance, Andrei sends the four of them away, then finally turns to you, a frown on his face.

He’s quiet for a second, trying to figure out where to start, and he doesn’t plan on it being “What was he talking about?”

Your eyes flick up to Andrei and your nostrils flare. “He just likes instigating, that’s all.”

“I can see that,” he agrees. “But what did he mean? About an inheritance?”

The gears in his head start to turn, and as much as he doesn’t want to admit it…it makes a little bit of sense.

It explains why you’ve never divulged as to what you would get out of you being with him. It wasn’t like you were always with Eden, and this was a normal gig for you - you’d made that clear on the first night. Yes, your heart was pure and you genuinely seemed to want to help him, to enjoy being with him, but…

But if it had all been for show…

You didn’t want his money, you said that much too. It would make sense if you didn’t want it because you were bound to have your own.

But none of that could be true…could it?

“There is no inheritance.” You tell Andrei, unwavering. “None that I stand to gain.”

He’s quiet for another moment, brain running a mile a minute.

Between his phone call with Ava, who refused to divulge anything, and then his conversation with Olly, and now your brother showing up, he’s not exactly had the best few weeks.

But this…this isn’t making anything better.

His silence stretches for too long, he realizes belatedly, because when he doesn’t say anything, you take a small step back from him, and he feels it. Feels it like the first crack in the pavement.

“You don’t believe me,” you say with realization, voice hushed and a little pained.

Andrei feels his gut twist uncomfortably. “I want to,” he says softly, “but you’ve never told me what was in this for you.”

“I did,” you insist. “I’ve said it. You just haven’t listened.”

Your words ring in his ears, but he doesn’t understand. He works to find something, anything to say to you, to try to…patch up whatever is happening, but nothing comes out. And with more of his silence, he can see you start to shut down in front of his eyes, putting up walls that have never been there in the entirety of your relationship.

“Let’s…let’s just go back to the event.” He offers, “Get some drinks, get some food in you, okay? I think I’m just in shock, that's all.”

You don’t believe him, and he can tell by the way you walk ahead of him, not waiting for him to follow.

You’ve never done that before.

Andrei follows after you, joining you from where you’ve found Charlotte and Eli again, Olly and Mason hanging around. When he gets closer, Olly rests a comforting hand on his back, and Andrei welcomes it, uses it like an emotional crutch and tries to put his best Assistant General Manager face on.

He wraps an arm around your waist that you don’t lean into like usual, and instead of the bright and bubbly person you’d been at the beginning of the night, now you’re just the right amount of nice and kind to the people who come up to you.

The little group of four hovers around the two of you protectively, and Andrei sees Sam making it a point to keep a wide berth between Andrei and Joshua.

You don’t make any conversation with Andrei, answering his questions only with a shake of your head for ‘no,’ or a small nod for ‘yes,’ and the longer it goes on, the more Andrei can’t take it.

Even from the beginning, he’d never experienced such distance between the two of you, and now, the very same night you gave him your name and he was prepared to lay his heart on the line, he’s starting to lose his grip on the best possible thing that’s ever happened to him.

He needs to get you home, and now.

Just when Andrei’s getting ready to excuse the two of you from the current group you’re speaking to, Skyler approaches, along with a couple of Andrei’s former teammates you met earlier in the night.

Sebastian, Marty, Martinook, and Jarvy seem a little liquored up and happy, and Sebastian pats Andrei on the back as the others hover around Charlotte and her three shadows.

They start talking about the current season, and then it eases into a conversation about the “glory days,” and that is definitely Andrei’s que to get you the fuck home.

He is not listening to this conversation.

But then, because the universe hates him, and he always seems to move too slow, he gets dragged into it.

“Right, Svechy?” Marty asks, and whatever was said, Martinook seems to agree with it.

“Of course he could!” Jarvy says. “Are you kidding? He could lace up and play tomorrow.”

Andrei winces internally.

Der'mo. Shit. This cannot be happening.

“Nah, he’s better using that brain for the front office, right Andrei?” Sebastian asks, ruffling Andrei’s hair.

Andrei scoffs, annoyed, and he can see you staring at him from beside him.

Dvoynoy trakh. Double fuck.

“What do you mean?” Charlotte asks, seemingly on your behalf, her eyebrows furrowed as she glances around.

Eli must be able to sense the rising discomfort, because he wraps an arm around Charlotte’s waist to lead her away, and Mason and Olly look ready to jump in again.

“I have post-concussion syndrome. That's why I had to retire early.” He blurts out, figuring it’s better that it comes from him than from the others.

They don’t know what they’re doing, not really, and they’re not trying to be cruel.

“Oh,” Charlotte says. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Andrei says, and he can feel you. He can feel your eyes staring into the side of his head and can feel you beginning to inch away from him.

“He found out after we won the cup last year,” Skyler adds. “He had to make the decision in the off season when he should’ve been celebrating. But we made sure we celebrated a little bit, didn’t we?”

Andrei smiles, a weak laugh leaving his chest.

It’s partly mortifying that he’s being singled out like this, albeit unintentionally, and also wholly embarrassing because he doesn’t want you to think less of him, or pity him the way everyone else had for a while.

The conversation goes on about the epic parties that had occurred last summer, and it eventually teeters out, but not quick enough.

However, this time, you’re the one who’s helping to usher him home, to get him out of the venue and say his goodbyes. You don’t say goodbye to Sam or Joshua, but you do say goodbye to Charlotte and Eli, and Olly and Mason as well, thanking them for being helpful earlier.

Once the two of you are in the car and on the way home though, Andrei’s waiting for it, waiting for you to make a comment about the injury, but it never comes.

You turn to him just as he turns the car off in his driveway, reaching across the console and resting your hand atop his on the steering wheel, and he steels himself, not really wanting to get into this conversation right now, and-

“Are you okay, Andrei?”

He blinks, head swiveling toward you. “Me?”

You nod, a pout to your lips as you frown. “Yeah, you. Are you alright? I can’t imagine people talking about you like you’re not there is fun for you.”

“I…” he’s dumbfounded. “I…I guess not, no.”

“I’m sorry they did that to you,” you say, squeezing his hand.

He blinks again. “You’re not…mad?”

You tilt your head, bewildered. “Mad? Why would I be mad?”

“I didn’t tell you,” he says, fumbling through his words as his hand joined with yours falls to his lap. “About the injury.”

“Andrei,” you say carefully. “I Googled you, remember? I already knew about the injury.”

Akh blya. Oh shit. He’d almost forgotten that too.

“Oh yeah,” he mutters. “You did.”

“C’mon,” you say, gesturing your head toward his house. “Let’s go inside. We have a lot to talk about.” You squeeze his hand before climbing out of the car, and he follows you, leading you into the house before shutting and locking the door behind him.

As you’re taking off your heels, and it settles in his bones that the two of you are finally alone, the heavy weight of the evening feels like too much to bear for a second longer, and the words pour out of him all at once.

“Olly knows.” Andrei says. “About us. That you’re from Eden.”

You pause, putting your heels on the floor, looking at Andrei with a confused expression. “I mean, I figured as much. I thought Charlotte would have told him.”

“No,” Andrei admits. “He knows because of me.”

“You told him?” You question, slightly surprised.

“Not exactly.” He says, and takes a breath. “I found out about Eden through him. Well, through Olly, Mason, and Eli. When I signed up, I used Olly’s name as a reference to expedite the registration process. I didn’t know it would notify him that I did.”

You nod, following along, but it’s clear you’re still unsure as to where this is going. “Okay.”

“He’s technically not supposed to know. No one is.”

The silence that ensues drives him crazy, starts an uncomfortable throb under his skull, and you’re just staring at him, shell shocked, and all you can say is “Oh.”

He plows forward, needing this off his chest. “After I made my decision, things just…sucked. It seemed like once I said I was stepping away, everyone else moved forward and I stayed behind. Sure, they gave me the Assistant GM job almost right away, but it didn’t…it didn’t help. I guess I felt lonely, and abandoned. That’s…that’s why I looked into Eden, to stop it all.”

“I…” you begin, and he can see your brain trying to work to understand what’s happening. “I don’t know that I get it, Andrei.”

If everything was coming out, if he was coming clean, he had to do it now.

“My brother brought up how I was by myself, all the time, and then I heard Olly and Mason talking about it with Eli, so I said fuck it and signed up. I just wanted to feel less lonely, less alone. I kept seeing my friends moving forward while I felt stuck, and I didn’t want that anymore.”

He takes a deep breath. “Everyone around me was getting married, having babies, and I had nothing because I didn’t have time for anything else. My whole life changed in the blink of an eye. I thought I had years left of my career, and then I didn’t, and I had nothing. I wanted someone who could give me something, someone who could fit into my schedule and just…give me anything. It didn’t matter who it was, I just needed someone.”

Your breath is stolen from you in a whoosh, the room going dead silent, and then Andrei realizes his mistake.

It didn’t matter who it was, I just needed someone.

Someone. He said. Someone, meaning anyone.

Not you.

Even after he told you anyone else wouldn’t have been good enough.

He sees it, the moment his words sink into your skin, and he curses himself. “That’s not - I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No,” you say, quiet as a mouse. “I understand.”

Andrei’s heart sinks. “Almaznyy-” he starts, and then you wince.

You wince.

Fuck.

He’s about to lose you. He knows, and he can’t seem to derail this train fast enough.

Your name falls from his lips in a plea, and you shake your head, wrapping your arms around your middle protectively. “It’s alright, really. Clearly we both haven’t been honest about our motives. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either,” he insists, taking a step toward you, reaching for you.

You take a step back almost immediately, and Andrei freezes in his path, hand falling limply to his sides. “I think,” you start to say, voice shaking. “I think I need to go back to Manhattan, Andrei.”

“Okay,” he acquiesces, hands fisting at his sides. He can’t really leave Raleigh, not right now, but if it means being with you and making sure that this, that the two of you are okay, he’ll do it, he’d do anything for you. “Okay, just let me pack and we-”

“Alone,” you clarify. “I need to go back alone. I think - I think we need some time to just…let things cool down. I think we need some space.”

He swallows the puck sized lump in his throat. “Okay.”

You turn away, heading to the bedroom to pack. He stands there, frozen to his spot with his heart at his feet, tongue twisted.

He doesn��t know what to do. He’s never been good at this part - what to do after fighting with a girl he cares about. He isn’t sure whether he’s supposed to run after you and beg you to stay, or just…stay here and do nothing, even though he wants to do anything but nothing.

In the end, it’s all he can do. Just stand there and wonder how this night started off with such relief - him being ready to tell you he was in love with you, you completely derailing his plan by finally telling him your name - and ended in such a fucking mess.

A car pulls up outside, the headlights bouncing off the walls through the front windows, and then you come out of his room, duffel bag and suitcase in tow. You don’t say anything to him as you approach, just rise up to kiss his cheek, and then you’re out the door, taking his battered soul with you.

READER’S INTERLUDE

“Are you sure about this?” Ava asks. “You agreed to the booking for this weekend already. That will be your last one?”

You’re sitting across from her in her office in the Manhattan skyscraper that houses Eden’s offices, and you’ve never felt more sure about something in your life.

You have to do this.

You have to quit Eden.

In your email inbox, you’ve got an email waiting from Felix, Chris, and Morgan, waiting for the greenlight from you so they can rehire you and move you to London to work in their main office.

It’s a stark contrast from where you were six months ago.

When you’d gotten the email from Eden all those months ago that you had a potential assignment, you jumped on it immediately, wanting to get this whole scheme over with.

You’d loved working for Eden back in school, loved the girls you met, loved working for Ava, appreciated the agency and power Eden gifted its employees.

It wasn’t typical sex work, and that had been made clear to you from the jump. While your clients may need the services Eden provides, it was completely up to Eden and the companions they employed as to whether or not those clients received those services, and even if you did decide to cave, everything could be stopped the second you said you were done.

Joining Eden hadn’t been the plan. When you’d gotten into college, you’d been determined to make your way through the rest of your life on your own and leave your ridiculous family behind.

Your mom being a renowned painter and your brother being a popular sculptor had been the only thing interesting about you nearly your entire life. Your father had been an award winning and incredibly successful photographer and photojournalist before he passed from cancer when you were twelve and your brother was fifteen, and all the love your family seemed to have for one another died with him.

Before the fallout, you’d grown up in an obnoxious, aristocratic, and wealthy world, being fortunate enough to attend the best schools and never felt the need to want for anything. All of the so-called ‘friends’ you’d had growing up never failed to use your family’s wealth against you, claiming you never had any real problems since you had money.

But all the money in the world couldn’t buy you sanity, couldn’t buy you happiness, or peace of mind.

You’d cut yourself away from your family when you got into college. You had to pay your own way through since they made it clear that they didn’t want you going to college in the first place, not understanding the point when you could do what they did - hone your talent in drawing and make a living.

That was exactly why you had to leave. You needed out, needed to do things on your own terms and at your own pace and in your own way.

The last thing you’d done before going no contact with your mother and brother was attending a charity gala in your father’s memory, where your mother and brother had donated several pieces of theirs to raise money for cancer.

That was where you’d run into Charlotte.

Lottie had been a year older than you and was someone you’d known since high school. She was already going into her sophomore year at the college you were heading to in the fall, and was one of the rare people in your life who was nice to you, never cared about your family or your family’s money, and was the closest thing to a friend you had.

She asked you about how you were doing, about your college plans, and how things were going with your family. You’d poured your heart out to her, and in turn, she gave you a solution.

Eden.

You’d applied through her, and began work after your fall semester midterms concluded, and the rest was history. You’d planned to be in Eden for as long as it took you to graduate, and when you did graduate and ended up working for your last clients, Felix, Chris, and Morgan, that was it.

Until your brother, Joshua, had reached out and told you that he and your mother had conveniently forgotten to mention that your father had left you an inheritance, and that in order to gain access to your inheritance, you needed to meet with your family’s lawyer to review the terms and conditions.

The terms and conditions being a letter that in no uncertain terms said that in order to come into your inheritance, you had to fall in love and be with someone, on the path to marriage.

“We taught you everything but how to love - to give love, to receive love, to be in love - and for that my darling daughter, I am sorry. Should you fall in love with the right man, should you find you want to spend the rest of your lives together, the inheritance will be yours, and I want you to take that money and build a life for yourself and the love of your life. Build a life full of love, the life your mother, brother, and I, failed to give you.”

You scoffed at the note, disbelieving, until your family’s lawyer insisted that the terms were albeit colonial, but legal, and that your father was extremely serious, and well…

The only way you saw any of that being even remotely possible was by going back to Eden, and you originally only did it so you could find someone interesting enough, play the long game to meet the stupid terms of your inheritance, take the money, and never have to speak to your family again.

Even if it meant using your clients in a way they didn’t realize, a way they couldn’t consent to.

You’d faked being a happy daughter and sister for most of your life - you could surely fake being in love, right?

Wrong.

Because when that potential assignment had come your way, you hadn’t expected Andrei.

His name had rung a bell in your head, so you took to Google to do a little research before making any decisions. You’d found out that he was thirty two, recently retired from the National Hockey League due to a career ending injury that had surfaced during his final - and successful - cup run, and hired as the Assistant General Manager for the same team he’d just left earlier that summer. It was a huge undertaking, and it was clear to you that his life had become incredibly busy within the last several months.

Thanks to Eden, you also had access to his background check, which dug a little deeper into his life and revealed to you a little about his life before his career took off. His upbringing was a stark contrast to your own. He had grown up in poverty with his brother and parents, his parents who sacrificed everything so he and his brother could live their dreams, who helped him move to another country so he could be everything he’d ever wanted.

From that moment, you knew he had a heart of gold. Knew that this man, this kind of man, deserved better, deserved a wife and kids and someone with a better direction of life than your own.

But selfishly, you’d also wanted to be the one to give that to him.

So you’d said yes, took him on as your client, and vowed to keep moving forward.

When you arrived at the Premiere Suite that first night, you’d already known he was handsome, knew the sound of his voice from watching a few of his interviews, had practiced what little Russian you knew at the time just in case he felt more comfortable speaking in his native tongue.

What you didn’t know was how disarming he could be from that very first second. How with just one look in your direction, you suddenly felt catapulted into his orbit and tethered to a man you’d semi-known, but had only just met.

It didn’t help that you were the type of person to believe in signs, either.

From the fact that the second you’d looked him up you felt willing to be his companion, to the nerves that had blossomed in your stomach on the elevator ride up, to the way he’d attached you to him with one look, the electricity you felt between you as you passed him and wandered into the suite, and then, to the photograph on the wall.

The one he’d caught you staring at.

The one your late father had taken, that was now hanging up in the Premiere Suite of The Mark Hotel.

It was one of his favorites - a photograph he’d taken of a patch of flowers in bloom in Central Park, a shadow of two people who had just gotten married sharing their first kiss as husband and wife casted onto the grass beside the flower patch.

When you wandered into the living room, it was the first thing that had caught your eye, and you could almost hear your father quoting a line from his favorite poem to you. “Until at last, they enter the same door, and suddenly, they meet.”

Fate.

The word had echoed in your head until Andrei pulled your attention away from the photograph, and then the word sealed itself into a protected cage in your heart.

It couldn’t be possible, could it?

You weren’t sure, especially because the second you started to get to know him, you absolutely knew you would never, under any circumstances, tell him why you were working for Eden, and you would absolutely never, under any circumstances, use him to gain access to your inheritance.

He didn’t deserve it, and you didn’t have the heart to drag him into your mess.

He was so charming and sincere, thoughtful and kind, respectful and generous, and surprised you completely with the roses and the bracelet. When he had asked you what was in this for you, telling him you needed something more was half the truth, and though it felt wrong to give him anything but the whole truth, what choice did you have?

To tell him you’d been in it for money, albeit not his, but then decided not to be in it for money because he what…charmed you immediately?

Yeah, like that was believable.

It wasn’t his fault. He’d given you several opportunities to tell him about it, but you turned them all down because you felt that deciding against going for your inheritance and just choosing to be with him anyway would be enough.

You knew it wouldn’t be, so you kept your mouth shut.

Regardless of whether or not Andrei seemed like the type of person who wouldn’t mind your motives, you knew it was a secret you weren’t going to share, because it would never apply to him.

And it was still one you couldn’t share. Especially not now, not now that you actually had feelings for him.

“You can tell me you know,” Andrei had told you the night you first slept together. “You can tell me anything.”

You smiled, nodded and said “I know,” but beneath the surface, you knew you couldn’t.

There’s a part of you, a part that’s still healing, that hears that, hears it when people say “you can tell me anything” and know that they believe themselves to be telling you the truth.

But deep down, you know that telling them is only half the battle. Because once you do tell them, once the truth is out there, it doesn’t prevent them from lashing out or prevent you from facing the brunt of their emotions. It was a vicious cycle.

You could never control how other people felt or reacted, but you could control the thing that could cause those feelings and reactions.

And that ‘thing’ was you.

So when Andrei said “You can tell me anything,” you knew you wouldn’t be saying a word.

Because how could you? You’d gotten to know Andrei. You’d learned more about him than anyone else outside of his family ever did, he’d said as much to you.

And from the very second he opened that door to the Premiere Suite at the Mark Hotel, you’d been interested in him. He gave you roses, gave you the bracelet you never took off, took you on the kind of first dates he deserved to save for someone better, someone who wasn’t you, a twenty three year old escort who had come back to her escorting job with nefarious intentions, and who definitely had a crush on her client.

He let you into his space - brought you to see what he was like at work, invited you to his bed, his house, let you into his mind, into his life, opened himself to you and all at once, and you just knew.

You were falling in love with Andrei Svechnikov, and it was completely selfish.

You’d given him those drawings, a piece of yourself you’d locked away for so long, wrapping them and gifting them to him like an offering of your heart. Then to seal the deal, you’d given him your name, finally, stupidly thinking that it would maybe drop a hint to him that yeah, you liked him more than he originally assumed, and in turn, he just about broke your heart.

You already said screw it to your inheritance, but you couldn’t allow yourself anything further than…whatever it is you were. He didn’t believe you anyway, when you tried to tell him there wasn’t anything in this for you, no ulterior motives, but what did it matter anymore? How would it ever be worth it to have if you were in love, and had love, but you didn’t have Andrei?

Especially when Andrei never said he wanted love.

He admitted it to you himself - he sought out Eden because he wanted company. He wanted someone to make him feel less lonely, less alone. He had been envious of his friends who moved on with their lives, built themselves a home with a spouse and children and things to look forward to. He wanted someone to warm his bed, to fill in certain gaps in his life, make him feel whole and full on the days he felt particularly empty.

Someone.

Anyone.

Not you.

And even though you didn’t know the whole of it, on that very first day you had promised you could give him company - whatever it looked like. In the process, you indulged yourself in his presence, soaked up every bit of himself he offered you, tucked those bits away in a delicate box and stored it within the safety of your heart.

If it hadn’t been for Joshua, your idiot fucking brother, it might have been a better night.

But he can’t take all the blame.

You haven't been honest. Andrei may have led you on, given you false hope, but maybe it was your fault for believing there had been a chance in the first place. Perhaps, it was what you deserved for lying, for making promises you couldn’t keep, at least, not in the end.

You promised you could give him what he wanted, but that was before you realized that he didn’t want you, not actually you.

He wanted this, what you could give him, but not you.

And now, you weren’t even sure he’d want this anymore, because this, this was bad.

Here you were.

In love with your client.

In love with Andrei.

And there’s no way he could ever feel the same.

The way he told you no one was supposed to know about the circumstances of your relationship stung. In all the time you’d worked for Eden, you’d never been made to feel ashamed of what you did, but in that moment, even if Andrei didn’t mean it, the tiniest bit of shame sparked into your veins and set everything ablaze.

So now, sitting across from your boss’ desk with a shattered heart, you look at Ava, and finally answer her question.

“I’m sure.” You say firmly. “After this weekend, I’m done. I quit.”

April

A month.

Andrei hasn’t seen or heard from you in a month and his heart breaks a little more with each passing day.

Charlotte must have heard from you that things had gone south and told Eli, who probably told Mason and Olly what had happened, because they’d been giving him the same pitiful or sympathetic glances all week.

If any of them sent him another one, he was going to tell their Coach to bench them for the next three games.

He finally reaches his breaking point when Olly gives him a sympathetic pat on the back as he passes him in the hall at their practice facility, and Andrei knows he can’t take another day of it.

The second he gets home, he sends an email to those who need to know that he’ll be taking the upcoming weekend off of work for a family emergency, and logs into Eden, booking the Premiere Suite at the Mark Hotel.

It’s a shot in the dark, but that’s all he’s got.

He texts you immediately after booking the suite, his hands shaking the whole time.

Andrei: I know we agreed to give each other some space, but I just want to talk about what happened. It would mean a lot if you would be there this weekend

He doesn’t get a response from you at all, and heads to Manhattan with a growing pit in his stomach.

It isn’t until he’s waiting in the hotel room for an hour that he starts to worry that you won’t show, but then there’s a knock on the door, and he’s rushing for it, throwing it open and breathing a sigh of relief when he sees it’s you.

Memories hit him like a freight train.

He didn’t think that when he first opened the door to find you standing there that he’d feel so much joy.

Now, anxiety seeps into his veins, and he swallows past a lump in his throat.

“Hi,” he murmurs.

“Hi,” you mutter back, and Andrei steps aside to invite you in. He takes notice as you take off your shoes by the door and then pass him that you’re empty handed, and hopes your bags are with the front desk like normal. His eyes scan over your body, cataloging. You’re wearing black jeans and a thin white sweater, and your bracelet is still on your wrist, so he takes it as a good sign.

Before you make it to the couch, you turn around, retrieving a folded piece of paper from your back pocket and handing it to Andrei.

He raises a brow, hesitant as he takes it. “What is this, almaznyy?”

“Read it,” you instruct, voice quiet, and Andrei frowns, but does as you ask.

When he opens it up, the first line that he sees is “Last Will and Testament,” and his eyes fly to your face. He’s sure the confusion is written all over his face, but you gesture back toward the page, and he frowns, continuing to read.

He doesn’t exactly understand all of the legal terms, but he gets the gist. He gets to the portion of the page that’s handwritten, and his heart beats harder in his chest.

Andrei looks up at you and where you’ve settled on the couch, elbows on your knees and your head resting in your hand as you stare back at him. He’s completely bewildered, and the only thing he can think to ask you is “Is this even legal?”

“Unfortunately.” You say, tone void of any emotion.

He hates it.

You breathe through your nose, still looking uneasy. “I…the reason I didn’t say anything to you about it is because I didn’t want you to look at me differently. Because of my parents and their work as artists, my brother and I grew up in a fairly wealthy household. It was the complete opposite of what you had, Andrei, and I didn't want that to change your perception of me. I didn't want you to think that I'd always been this spoiled brat, because that was never the case. I can't deny the opportunities and privileges that were given to me, but the person I am now, the person that you met and got to know? That's who I've always been.”

Taking a deep breath, you plow forward. “When my dad passed away, he left me that inheritance. He left it, and I thought it would help me be rid of my brother and my mother once and for all.”

“And you…” he recalls how fierce you’d been against your brother, and it starts to make sense - how upset you got, how crestfallen you were that night when Andrei had questioned you about it. “You don’t want it?”

“I’ve never lied to you Andrei, and I’m not going to start now. I did want it, at one point. But that changed in an instant. I knew I didn’t want it anymore and that I wasn’t going to fight for it when I…” you voice trails off, and your eyes trail to the photograph on the wall, the one you stared at when you first met.

“You what?” He presses.

Your mouth closes, and you shake your head. “I don’t want it. Bottom line. I just…I wanted you to know. I wanted to make that clear. That when I told you there wasn’t anything in this for me, that I meant it.”

“I believe you.” He swears, and it’s true. Over the last month, he’s had plenty of time to think about it, and you’d never given him any indication of deception. He felt upset at being left out of the loop, sure, but he never felt like you played him, never felt like you were leading him on.

If anything, you let him take the lead, let him call the shots, and just follow along. You kept your promise and held up your end of the bargain.

“I don’t think you deceived me,” he continues. “I was upset, and confused, but I don’t think you lied, and I’m not angry with you. I promise.”

After a second, all he gets from you is a nod. He waits for a second, waits for you to say something, maybe say more, but instead, you look at him, and stuff your hands in the back pocket of your jeans.

“Then why’d you bring me here, Andrei?” You inquire, your body suddenly going tense.

“I wanted to explain,” he says. “What I told you that night, what I said? It wasn’t completely true.”

You shift your weight, clearly feeling uneasy. “What wasn’t true?”

He sighs, then gathers a deep breath. “I’d been feeling lonely, yes, and I signed up for Eden because I was looking for company, and I figured it would be a good idea. But, I was also ready to call the whole thing off until I opened the door and saw you. When I saw you for the first time, almaznyy,” he says, swallowing past the lump in his throat, “I knew it was going to work.”

“Knew what was going to work?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

It hurts, the way you’re trying to make yourself small around him, and he hates it. “This. Us.”

“Us?” You echo.

“Our…” he searches for the right word for a second. “Our arrangement,” is what he comes up with, but the way your face falls tells him that was definitely not the right word to choose.

“This was a mistake,” you whisper eventually, so quietly he almost didn’t hear it at first.

But he does.

The anger stretches across his face, and your mouth drops into a frown. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, and then you’re turning on your heels, every line in your body telling him that you’re about to walk out of his life.

He calls your name, halting you in your tracks on your way to the door. “I ‘m trying to tell you that I want you, can’t you see that?” He exclaims, running his hand through his hair. He’s so frustrated right now he feels like he could pull his hair right out of his skull.

You shake your head, lip trembling as the tears that have been pooling in your eyes finally fall, and it breaks his heart. “No, no you don’t, Andrei. No one wants me.”

“I do!”

“You don’t!” You cry, voice breaking. “You hired me. You hired me to fill a void, and now you’re confusing it for love, but it’s not love, Andrei. What you’re feeling? You just like the way me giving you what you paid for makes you feel.”

It stings.

Hearing it said that way stings so much in his heart he feels like he might crumble, but he persists.

“Maybe I do,” Andrei says with a nod. “Maybe you’re right. But you can’t stand there and tell me that you don’t like the way that I make you feel either.”

Your face crumbles. “You know I do, Andrei. But you don’t feel what I feel, not really.”

“What do you feel, almaznyy?” He all but begs, rushing forward and taking your hands in his.

“I love you, Andrei!” You exclaim, voice cracking. Your breath hiccups, and his heart feels so full in his chest, it’s like he’s drowning in your confession. “I’ve fallen for you. I broke the rules, broke our contract, and I can’t even find it in myself to care because I love you.”

He murmurs your name, and it sounds so soft, so delicate between his lips that he can see the way it nearly makes you crumble, and Andrei doesn’t hesitate to pull you closer. “I love you too, almaznyy. I swear it, I do. God, I’ve felt it since the moment I opened the door and saw you standing there that first night. You didn’t even say anything! I just looked at you and I knew, I knew there wasn’t ever going to be anyone else for me. Ever.”

There’s a moment in your expression where he sees it, the happiness, the relief, but then it’s just replaced with more sadness, and he can feel his heart beginning to deflate, splintering at the seams.

“But you can’t prove that, can you?” You say with a shaky breath.

“It’s real,” he pleads. “It’s real. This? Us? This is all the proof we need, it’s all I have, almaznyy. You’re all I have.”

You shake your head. “You didn’t even know it was going to be me. It could have been anyone.”

“That may be true, but ‘anyone’ isn’t good enough for me, you are.” Andrei insists. “If anyone but you walked through that door, I wouldn’t have gone through with any of it. I wouldn’t have let them in the damn room, let alone give them roses or a bracelet like that. Because they weren’t meant for them, it was meant for you. You and you alone.”

“Andrei,” you murmur, shaking your head again.

He cups your face in his hands, staring right into your eyes. “Eto sud'ba,” He whispers. It’s fate. “Fate. Destiny. Meant to be, almaznyy. That’s us. I would go to the ends of the earth for you. I practically have!”

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean?” You ask, sniffling.

He groans in frustration at himself, but knows he can’t avoid telling you about this, so he lays it all out on the line. “I called Eden. I talked to Ava Price and I all but begged her to let you out of your contract. I didn’t know the reason you went back at the time, so I offered to buy you out of it. Pay whatever amount it was you were trying to save up for so that you wouldn’t have to see any other clients anymore. So I could try to…court you, I guess. Svidaniye.”

Realization crosses your features. “Date me?”

He knew you were fucking taking lessons, you little sneak.

“Yes, date you, almaznyy. I just wanted you to myself. I know it’s selfish, and I know it was wrong. It crossed boundaries, invaded your privacy, and I’m sorry. But I just wanted you so bad. I was falling for you, and I was willing to do anything to have you for myself.”

“You…you spoke to Ava?”

“Da, almaznyy.” He nods, “I called her the morning after our night in Malibu, the second I got back to work. She told me I couldn’t do it, that you had to make the choice yourself.”

“You called her to…try to get her to fire me?”

“I did,” he admits. “I did it and I’m sorry.”

“Andrei, I quit Eden.”

He blinks, stunned into silence and so rocked by the revelation that he takes a small step back, his hands dropping to your arms. “You…what?”

“I quit two days ago. I…I quit because I didn’t want Eden to be the only reason that I was still in your life. I quit because I didn’t think it was me that you needed. I thought it was what Eden could provide. I quit because…because I realized that I love you. That I’m in love with you, and I needed to know for myself that you wanted me for me.”

“I do, malyshka, I do.” He swears, taking your hands again and stepping into your space. “I want you so badly, I could go insane with it.”

“It’s just been you, Andrei,” you say, pushing the words out with a breath of relief. “It’s only been you for me, too.”

He yanks you into him, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you like it’s the last time.

Except he knows it’s not the last time, not now. Not like this.

His heart is pounding so loudly in his ears that it takes him a second to realize you’re murmuring something, words forming against his lips as he kisses you, and he realizes you’re saying “only you” over and over again, speaking the words against his mouth like you’re praying to the heavens.

“I know malyshka, I know,” he says back, pressing the prayer into your lips.

But you shake your head, pushing on his shoulders a bit to put some space between the two of you. You look up at him, shaking your head again. “No Andrei, I mean. It’s only ever been you. You’ve been the only client I’ve had since I got back to Eden.”

He blinks, cock pulsing at your admission, heart going into overdrive. “Me?”

You nod, cupping his face with your hands now. “My one. My only. My last. Moy vozlyublennyy.”

His vision blurs as tears begin to gather in his eyes.

My beloved. You called him my beloved.

He’s gathering you in his arms in a split second, crushing his lips to yours and moaning in relief, practically running his hands all over you, trying to engrave you into his touch, his soul.

Ona moya, he thinks. She’s mine, she’s mine, she’s mine.

Andrei pulls away, looking into your eyes. He figures he probably looks like a fucking crazy person, gazing at you in both awe and disbelief. “Ty moya,” He proclaims aloud. “Ty moya, moya almaznyy.”

You’re mine. You’re mine, my diamond.

You smile up at him, tears making your eyes sparkle. “Da, ya tvoy, Andrei, ya vsegda byl tvoim.”

Yes, I am yours, Andrei, I have always been yours.

He growls, bending to nip at your bottom lip. “You have been taking lessons, moy malen'kiy kotenok,” he accuses, my little kitten, then bends and hauls your legs around his waist, promptly turning around and heading straight for the bedroom.

“Of course I have,” you say, like it’s obvious, and really, it should have been. “I know five languages, Andrei, and it’s part of my job to learn new ones. Russian’s been hard, but it’s been worth it for you.”

He clenches his teeth, trying to restrain himself from hugging you and squeezing you so hard that you’d probably bruise, and he drops you down to the bed. Andrei climbs over you, bending his head, nipping at your neck and going straight for your jeans.

You help him, tearing off your sweater and your bra as he peels your jeans and socks off of you, and he’s about to go straight for your thong and rip it to shred when -

That’s when he sees it.

It’s small, hidden behind the waistline of your thong, but the second he pulls the band down to confirm what he’s seeing, it’s staring him in the face.

A diamond.

It’s no bigger than the size of a quarter, but it’s there. It’s a diamond. You got a tattoo of a diamond.

And suddenly he can’t breathe.

All the air whooshes out of him in a stuttering breath, and his hand hovers over the skin, too shocked to do anything else.

“You can touch it.” He hears you mutter, “It’s healed.”

“How?” The question comes out in a rasp. “When?”

“I got it before the Canes Bash,” you admit. “I planned on showing it to you that night, but then, well, you remember what happened.”

He swallows, fingers gently brushing over the small tattoo, and his body is suddenly caught between wanting to fuck you so hard you can’t walk, making love to you till you can’t speak, or wanting to cry at how loved he feels, just based on the small pattern of ink alone.

He swears to himself when the morning comes, he’s going to get a matching one. He’d never thought he’d get a tattoo, didn’t bother getting one any of the times he won the Cup, and certainly never thought of getting a matching tattoo, but for you? He’d tattoo your name anywhere you wanted if you asked him to, so what did it matter if a diamond blessed his skin?

Too moved to speak, he bends his head, pressing a gentle kiss to the diamond, and then he’s moving to scoot lower on the bed, until you stop him.

He glances up at you, curious, and you’re shaking your head. “None of that,” you say, your voice all breathy. “It’s been a month, Andrei. I need you now.”

“Okay,” he says, coming up for one last kiss. He makes it sweet, whispering your name and a string of praises as he quickly takes off his shirt, then tears off his jeans and boxers. He swipes a finger through your fold and finds you soaked already, so he rubs the head of his cock along your pussy until it’s coated in your arousal, and then he’s sinking in, balls deep and crowding in close.

He withdraws his hips a couple of inches and then pushes back in, watching your face.

You’re watching him too, and you reach up, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down, capturing him in a whirlwind of a loving kiss. His eyes flutter shut, eyelashes brushing against your cheek as he tilts his head, slotting his mouth over your so he can slip his tongue inside of your mouth.

You both stay locked like that, making out as Andrei fucks you slow and deep, your legs locked around his waist as you wind your hips to meet each of his thrusts.

“Missed you,” he murmurs against your lips. “Missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” you reply, one of your hands trailing into the hair at the nape of his neck, “never leaving you again.”

“Damn right you’re not,” he says, nipping at your bottom lip. “I’ll tie you to the bed before I ever let you walk out on me again.”

“Delay chto khochesh',” you say. Do whatever you want.

“You’re going to regret saying that to me,” he swears, punctuating his statement with a deep thrust.

“I won’t,” you swear. “I don’t regret anything about you.”

He can’t have you saying things like that, not when he’s buried inside you and too in love with you for his brain to function properly. He decides all he can do is keep kissing you, keep fucking you, and when your orgasm finally washes over, he follows suit, coming inside of you and whispering “I love you” over and over against your mouth.

“I love you too,” you swear once you’ve both calmed down. “From the very first day.”

“You’re the best decision I ever made, almaznyy.” He says, burying his face in your neck. “I don’t regret a single thing.”

“Neither do I, Andrei. Neither do I.”

ONE YEAR LATER

Andrei glances around the living area of the Premiere Suite.

He didn’t think he’d ever be here again after the last time. Thought when he shut the door behind him, that would be it.

Until tonight.

He’s not as nervous as before, and when he glances around the room, checking that the white roses he bought are in the vase, the champagne is in its ice bucket with two glasses at the ready, he feels comforted by the familiarity.

He doesn’t bother checking his phone, doesn’t bother pacing or fretting. He just waits, scrolling on his phone until there’s three soft knocks on the door.

With a smile, he places his phone on the coffee table and heads toward the door, opening it only for his smile to get wider.

You’re there in a white mini dress and matching white heels, your silver bracelet on your wrist where it belongs, and you’re wearing matching earrings and jewelry on your hand.

“Ty Andrei Svechnikov?” You ask, and his heart flutters.

A loud laugh leaves him, but he nods. “Da, ya Andrei.” Yes, I’m Andrei.

“Ideal'nyy!” you say, a bright smile stretching across your face. “Ya tvoy novyy pomoshchnik.”

Perfect! I’m your new assistant.

His brow furrows playfully as he steps aside, letting you into the suite and shutting the door. “I didn’t realize I was getting a new assistant.”

You turn to him, hair flowing around you as you do. “Well, with your recent marriage, it appears your former assistant was no longer suited to help you with your needs.”

“And that’s where you come in, I assume?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

You nod, turning back toward the living room and grabbing the champagne bottle. As you go about opening it and pouring each of you a glass, you say “Exactly. I’ll be taking care of you going forward.”

When you spin around and hand him his glass, you both toast quickly, clinking your glasses together and taking a sip. “I see, and when do you officially start?”

“The second I walked in the door.” You respond, that cheshire smile of yours he loves so much creeping up your face.

“Oh?” He inquires, openly eyeing you up and down. A flash of excitement crosses your face as you watch him set the champagne down on the table, stalking forward playfully.

You take a step back with a hesitant nod, heading toward the bedroom.

The very place he took you for the first time.

The place he plans to take you for the first time as his wife.

“Idi syuda, zhena,” he orders, crooking his finger to beckon you to him. Come here, wife.

That cheshire smile is the last thing he sees before you’re whipping around and running toward the bedroom, and Andrei can only smile as he chases after you, his beautiful wife, the glittering of his wedding ring shining in the light of the suite as he goes.

#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov x reader #carolina hurricanes #mendeshoney masterlist

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deesseshesca · 6 months ago

Text

Why am I emotional ?

And suddenly it was just me… FUCK it is just me.

Good evening, pretty souls, today we are checking on your emotional scale. What is affecting you now, how can we fix it and how to minimize the damage in the process of doing so.

ANNOUNCEMENT

I will be giving full reading for a very affordable price (almost free) but there will only be 3 spots available. Stay posted on my blog, so you don’t miss this opportunity.

Choose the image that’s speak to you and allow yourself to soak ONLY what’s reasoning with YOUR SITUATION

Rules and Disclaimer

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is send with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else.

TW: R@pe, S@cide

MINOR DON'T INTERACT WITH THIS POST

MINOR DON’T READ THIS POST

CHOOSE AN IMAGE

PILE 1

Two wands, Ace swords, Justice, Queen wands, ‘’Please unblock me … Yeah, that’s me calling you from an unknown number’’, ‘’ I have abandonment issues ! I grew up in a single parent household ! I had a rough childhood”

HEYY !!! Spiritual girly. I’m talking to earthy aesthetic girls. The one that smells like coco butter and vanilla walking around in a long skirt, crop top and too many jewels. When it comes to you, the cauldron told me about an opportunity that finally touches your hand. When I dive deeper into the message, I’m sensing something that took a lot of hard work and a lot of faith. For a long time it was just an idea in your mind for which you fought for it to materialize into the 3D. Congratulations babes ! A lot of obstacles came in the way but you stay resilient. That also was not easy since your faith was often tested in the meantime. I’m getting a new opportunity, a new career field opening, and the start of a new hobby/business. You finally have the time and funds to dive deep into a project. I’m hearing: ‘’I’ll be dammed if I let you fuck me up’’. At the moment, you feel a bit overwhelmed. Now that the gift is sitting on your porch, you don’t actually know how to approach it. What do you want VS what you need ? Your desires or your needs, first ? One is all about the action while the other path is all about trusting the process called ‘’life’’. A lot of people all of the sudden seem very worried about your actions. Acting like the decision you are making has a huge impact on their destiny. If I may, girl f them. If they paid attention earlier, they would have noticed you were not happy with your life . Now all of the sudden they care so much about what's happening to you. Like…Let’s be frl. You have to stand up for yourself. Whatever decision you make regarding that situation, you will NEED to voice it. Is insomnia keeping you up at night ? Well let’s start to implement some meditation before sleep. So you can be less in your head. Try to be more practical with your way of living. Rn I feel like you always looked like a baddie but it’s only recently that you actually felt like one. Advice: Don’t slow down. Is easy now since you finally receive what you pray for, to relax and enjoy but it is only the beginning. Don’t try to accommodate or to one. Put yourself FIRST.

Love

The ex of your dude ( the fact that i did not choose a lover, sneaky link or even crush. Girl why are still holding on for. LOL. ) Is trying to get him back. And you really don’t give a damn. I feel like you don’t even want him. But he is stuck on you like glue. I think the thing that completely broke the bond between y'all is that he doesn't want you to be better. Like you announce him the good news and he knew you really wanted it. Now he wants you to let it go. BOY BYE ! BYEEEE! You don’t even hate him, you feel disgusted that he even thought his opinion mattered that much. Plus he keeps mentioning you change. Babe you did ! Don’t let him bully out of your shit. Now you are more sexually confident with yourself and bold with your boundaries. Him: You were more submissive back than. You: Now I have shit I care for. Advice: STAND ON BUSINESS. If he is block let him stay there. Yes, he is the unknown number that is trying to reach you.

PILE 2

Hanged man, Moon, Ten pentacles (reverse), Tower, 1111, 777, ‘’I want a second chance ! Not being with you is killing me !’’

Heyy… pile 2, you are my TW pile. Before you get deeper in the reading just know it is completely fine for you to take another one especially if you are not ready to talk about it. To beginning , when I was channeling, I first sang a very happy song. Then a faint voice called for help. At that exact moment the card fell out. First let go of the struggle especially if you try everything and nothing is working. Take a moment to breathe. Is time to surrender to life and believe that it will actually bring you to a better place. Let go of the victim and become the warrior you needed from others. Start your healing journey, go to therapy, take your pills, do some journaling. I know when you are reading you probably smirk. I’m speaking with experience, babies. Is not going to change overnight. But as I am channeling, I'm picturing you in a very messy room with molding left over surrounding you. I keep hearing ‘’ I was NEVER like this before’’. I know babies, I know how such experience can change you. You are FUCKING powerful. I’m not saying this because of trauma, that’s what I channel. You were always standing on your power and someone tried to knock you off your throne. One small change at a time, like cleaning your room once a week. Drinking one water bottle a day. Eating at least 3 times a day even if it is a snack is going to get you going. Right now, you must be feeling fucked up. Like he hurt you. He took away your spark, why should you try to get it back. When such an event happens in people's life, it is re-birth. Is time to re-learn to live again. Choose your pace and take it day by day. Nobody truly heals from it, I can assure you that. But you can learn to live a thriving life despite it. Instead of going on the hunt for the old version of you, learn about this new you. Pay attention to your dreams, there is a message in them. Reflect on your inner voice. Don’ t allow others to dictate how you are supposed to heal even if what you feel right now is numbness. Stick to your guns since you are the only one that knows you best at the moment. A good opportunity or news is going to present itself in divine timing. You will be sitting in the right place and right moment. One of your wishes will come true. Something worth living will come out of this situation. There’s good luck heading your way. All wisdom gain from this journey would be very helpful to the community if you ever decide to share it one day.

LOVE

You are with someone that your friends and family don’t approve of. And the icing on the cake , you don’t like them either. You don’t want to be alone and you are too ‘’broken’’ for a healthy relationship so you are distracting yourself with that. Let me be the bearer of bad (good) news, this relationship will end. Your distraction will leave and reality will hit. One thing I see, they will play games in front of your face. They will even threaten to kill themself, just to keep you sucked in. Text them number phone for help online and move on. Don’t engage more than that. What is more fuck up, is that they keep you close just have sex with you.

Song: Praying-Kei$ha

Loves classic English literature, read the bible just for fun, future witch

PILE 3 (18+)

Lovers (reverse), Page Wands, Strength, Hanged man, ‘’I love your swag ! You are the whole package !’’,444

Hey…beyhives. I feel like, I’m only speaking to Beyonce stan at the moment. You guys are still bumping the country album of Queen B, like it came out yesterday. You guys are weirdly connected to my spiritual team because it feels like I was meant to read for you. Let’s get into it. People don’t realize how kinky you are, they know you are freaky. But nah… y’all are KINKY. You are a person that is aware of your sexual power and don't mind using it to your advantage. Your manners , your body, your sensuality, attract and please other people. You know what button to push. You are a very experienced and sensual lover. Not shy at all, actually very confident.

LOVE

I feel like you are looking for a confirmation. Let me be. Your relationship has run it’s time. I don't even think y’all ever loved him. But he was the only one that allow you dual nature. I’m getting from the outside y’all are super cute, but in the bed a pure beast. You guy LOVE sex. You are scared that you are never going to find someone that will get you stamina without judging you by calling your names, especially if you identify as women. He cheated. Which made you extremely possessive and jealous. So you use sex to control him. I’m hearing: How DARE you think you can find better than me ! Advice : Start something new take a break from your love life and slowdown on sex for a minute. Usually if you have more sexual energy than usual it is because your body's calling you to create. Think about it: to create life we need to get nasty in the bedroom. Imma need you to get nasty in your career. Find something that is passionate about you and go hard (ahahaha). Look at the bigger picture, you are way to focus on him. Feel the fear and do it anyway. You are fearful of rejection. That’s why you allow this man to take the best out of you. Find a new source of inspiration and shake off the blues. Right now contrary to what you might think, you are not sitting in your divine feminine energy. Since you are in such war mode, it is almost completely masculine. Plus, he doesn't care for you at ALL. But he does know that they will never be another woman like you.

Song: Haunted-Beyonce

Platinum blond hair, very fair skin, very light blue eyes, luscious lips and round face. Face card is LETHAL.

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vodika-vibes · 9 months ago

Note

Jango comes home to his wife and there's just something about her that's driving him even crazier than usual about her and he just shoves his tongue down her throat practically the moment after she greets him at the door and it's left swinging wide open, it's pouring rain outside while they make out and fuck on the couch.

I hope this inspires you!

It's Been Too Long

Summary: Jango’s most recent job takes a lot longer than he planned, but finally he’s home.

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

Word Count: 1572

Warnings: Explicit, Jango keeps his armor on

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Sorry that this took so long, it's been sitting, half written, for the better part of a week, but I finally had the inspiration to finish it. It doesn't feel super smutty to me, but that's probably because I spent too much time thinking about it.

You’re not unused to being alone.

The reality of your Riduur’s job means that you spend more time alone than with him. Oh sure, every now and then you go on jobs with him, but only the ones where he’s sure that there’s no chance of you being injured or of you being exposed to someone who might try to use you against him.

This most recent job had Jango doing something for a Hutt, and so you were left behind. The job was only supposed to last a couple of weeks, the Hutt only wanted a Mando there to look scary. But the job got more complicated, and those weeks turned into several months.

Several very long months.

Talking to Jango over holo just isn’t the same.

You can’t hug or kiss a hologram after all.

But you got a comm earlier this week telling you that he was finally on his way home, and you, honestly, can’t wait.

You did the math, and he should be home today.

Soon, you hope.

Your gaze drifts from the holovid that you’re watching to the window. It’s been raining since last night, which is a shame, you bought a new swimsuit that you wanted to show off for Jango.

And doing so while you both relax at the poolside would have been perfect.

Oh well. It’s not like you can control the weather.

Absently your hand moves to the pendant hanging around your neck. It was a gift from Jango, sent to you as soon as he realized that he was going to be gone longer than he planned. It’s pretty, a sparkling blue gemstone hanging from a silver necklace.

It’s silly, of course. You don’t need a necklace for him to prove his love to you. But you love the pendant all the same.

You’re about to bring the gem to your mouth (a nervous habit that Jango hates) when you hear the familiar sound of a ship descending behind the house.

It’ll take Jango about fifteen minutes to get the ship settled and get to the house, and you should just wait for him. It’s pouring outside, and you’re wearing a white sundress because it’s hot.

You absolutely shouldn’t go out and greet him.

You’re halfway to the backdoor before the thought fully processes, though, once you reach the back door, you don’t open it until the ship has fully powered down.

Then, and only then, do you fling the door open and run out into the rain to greet Jango.

He meets you at the bottom of the stairs. His dark eyes flicker across your face, down your neck, and linger on the necklace hanging there. And then drag further down your body, taking in the way the material of your now drenched clings to your curves, and appreciating how the, now sheer, dress does nothing to hide you from his gaze.

“Welcome home, Jango.” You greet him with a warm, loving, smile.

His gaze drags back up your body, “This is quite the welcome,” Jango agrees, as he steps into your space. One of his hands comes up to lightly brush against the pendant hanging around your neck, and then continues up to cup your face.

You lean into his touch, your hands coming up to press against his. Stars, but you missed him so much-

Jango’s hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, and he tugs you towards him, ducking his head just enough that he’s able to crash his lips against yours, his tongue immediately sliding past your unresisting lips to map out your mouth.

His free hand moves to your hip, and then around your back to roughly tug on the laces holding your dress closed. And once those are loosened enough he pulls his lips away from yours and he roughly tugs the top of your dress down.

“Been too long,” He murmurs against your throat, “Been far, far too long.” His hands move to your breasts, his clever fingers flicking and teasing your nipples until you release a breathless whine.

It seems to be what he wanted to hear, because the moment that whine leaves your lips, his hands are moving to your hips to finish pushing your dress to the ground.

“No underwear at all, cyare?” Jango murmurs against your ear.

“I missed you,” You reply as you press your bare body against his armored on, “Jango, Riduur, please-”

He catches your lips in a deep kiss, his gloved hands remapping your body, as though he could possibly forget your dips and curves. He lifts you and carries you from the backyard and into the house.

You think he’s going to carry you into the bedroom, and so you’re startled when he sets you on the couch and settles his body over yours, his lips never once separating from yours.

“You’re still wearing your armor,” You mumble against his lips, “Won’t you let me feel you, riduur?” You ask as you shoot him your saddest eyes.

He chuckles, “I thought you liked my armor,” Jango replies with his lips pressed against your ear.

“I do…just not when I haven’t been able to touch you in months.” You’re definitely whining now, though judging by the look on his face, he doesn’t mind in the slightest. But then, Jango has always loved it when you got a little feral for him.

You lightly tug at his chest piece, though with how he’s laying against you, there’s no way you’re going to be able to remove it.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Jango offers, “After I make you cum all over my cock, then I’ll take off my armor.”

“That’s not a fair deal,” You counter with a pout.

“Mm. It seems fair to me.”

“It-” You gasp when he bites down on your shoulder, his hands moving to caress your breasts, “It’s biased in your favor,” You manage to get out.

He pulls away long enough to grin at you, “Is it?”

“You know it is, riduur.”

Jango leans in and ghosts his lips against yours, almost touching you, but not quite, “It’s been so long, Riduur.” he murmurs, “Won’t you let me take care of you?”

And, well, you’ve always been shit at telling him no.

So neither of you are surprised when you fold almost immediately.

He kisses you one more time, a long, slow, lingering kiss. A kiss where he pushes everything he feels towards you through his lips. And, as soon as he breaks the kiss, he flips you onto your stomach, his gloved hands pressing into your hips and ass as he caresses you.

Slowly, reverently, he adjusts you so that you’re resting on your knees and your hands are pressed against the arm of the couch. He only pulls away long enough to toss his codpiece to the side, and then he’s pressed back against you.

His armor is cool against your heated skin, but his lips burn a path down the back of your neck and back up to catch your lips.

You feel his fingers pressed against you, press into you, and you release a keening little noise that makes him groan and press harder against you. He’s so hard, his erection pressed against your thighs, and you’re not sure you have the patience for the normal foreplay that you enjoy so much.

Jango, clearly, agrees, because his fingers thrust only a few times, only enough to make sure that you are aroused enough to take him, and then his cock is pressed against you, teasing you for just a moment, before he pushes in.

Like everything he does, Jango fucks you with a single minded intensity that could be overwhelming if you weren’t in the right place for it. But here and now, you are.

He’s usually a quiet lover, his groans, moans, and grunts quiet and for your ears only, but he must be in a mood, because today praise is falling from his lips, and you know you’re not going to hold out for long, because you never do when he’s so affectionate with you.

Jango presses his nose against the back of your neck as you fall apart around him, no longer moving, just enjoying the feel of you around him. “Riduur,” He murmurs, “Do you remember the first time we met?”

You’re pretty sure your brain is about a million kilometers away, but even so you’re still able to answer, “Course,” You mumble, your tongue feeling clumsy as you still pulse around him. “You were,” You shiver as he adjusts a little bit, “On a job.”

“Mm,” His hands move to slide over your ass, and you’re surprised when you feel his bare hand rather than his glove.

“Jan-”

“Keep going, riduur,” He purrs.

“You were hired to kill me,” You gasp out as he starts at a slow, lazy pace. “You changed your mind.”

“Smartest thing I’ve ever done in my life,” He replies with a particularly hard thrust, as he drops a kiss just under your ear.

“Gods-” You gasp as a particularly hard thrust nearly causes you to topple forward.

He laughs, and nips on your earlobe, “Oh, riduur.” Jango coos, “There aren’t any gods here. Just me.” He nips your earlobe again, “Will you pray to me?”

And you know, immediately, that you’re not going to be able to do much of anything tomorrow.

#star wars #star wars legends #jango fett x reader #jango x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #18+ fic #nsft #answered asks

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snezfics-n-shit · 1 year ago

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Sicktember Day 1: Hopelessly Bad At Self Care

Fandom: Ace Attorney Characters: Mia Fey, Phoenix Wright Notes: I realized I have been slacking! How could I have gone so long without creating Mia Fey content when I have not seen a single crumb elsewhere? Much like Larry and Gregory, I must bake my own crumbs again. In this entry, we see the early days of Fey & Co. Law Offices, so early, in fact, that Mia refuses to take a single day off when she’s just starting to get the firm off the ground. (This is pretty short and I'm a little bit rusty, but hey, we gotta start somewhere, right?)

The chief was late. Newly appointed apprentice Phoenix Wright felt his stomach sink upon noticing the silence of the office contrasting with the time on the clock saying the work day had started. Even with it only being his first week working under Ms. Fey, he just could not picture her as the type to be late to work.

After a heavy, worried sigh, Phoenix pulled out his studying materials from the suitcase his father had given him as a gift for starting his new career. Were heirlooms gifts? He didn’t have enough time to truly ponder the question, given he was soon interrupted.

"Hnggkk! … choo. Hihgg!! … choo."

A pair of sneezes that both stifled themselves midway before finally releasing. It was a special sort, a talent almost. Phoenix would never admit it, but he admired what he could only call audible art. He shook his head to fight off any chance of his mind wandering anywhere that wasn’t related to work.

“Bless you, chief.” He forced the words out. “If you were trying to sneak up on me, I guess that didn’t work out.”

“No, no,” Mia shook her head and sniffled. “Just overslept. Don’t know how,” she paused to muffle some coughs with her elbow, “since I’ve been really good at getting up early after renting out the office. Can’t afford to waste any time away from here; not yet, at least.”

Phoenix looked up from his papers and couldn’t help but frown when he saw just how exhausted his mentor looked this morning.

“When have you been going to bed?”

“Well, you leave at six, and I stay here for…” Mia counted on her fingers, “six more hours.”

“What!?” Phoenix quickly scrambled to regain the little composure he had. "No wonder you got sick…"

“Sick? No, not at all! I’m not sick.”

“Is that so?”

Phoenix stared Mia down, expecting her to concede, even if that had never worked before.

“Yeah. I’m just… stressed.”

“That’s just another reason you’d need to take a break!” Phoenix exclaimed, then quickly muttered an apology for the volume. “Sick, stressed, or at least tired; all point to you needing to get some rest, chief.” He sighed. “Come on, seriously, is there really anything going on that can’t wait until you’re feeling at a hundred percent?”

“Well, *snf* what if a client comes in?” Mia pulled a tissue from the box on Phoenix’s desk and dabbed her nose with it. If she was planning on sticking around, she probably needed to take note to reimburse her assistant for lord knows how many she would use – not that she would admit to that when pushing for any excuse to make the most of the new office.

“The office has been dead quiet all week. All I’ve had to do is study, and all you’ve had to do is watch me study.”

“That’s not true. I’ve helped you study, too.”

Phoenix sighed and pondered a potential compromise.

“Look, I know I’m just your apprentice and this is probably none of my business, but you really do seem to be in bad shape.” He couldn’t help but notice the tissue pressed under Mia’s nose was overstaying its welcome and handed her a fresh one to take its place. “If you really want to stick around, I think it might be a good idea to get some rest on the office couch. You let me sleep there a couple times during some late night cramming; it’s pretty comfortable, actually.”

“I don’t know…”

“Please, chief.” Phoenix was practically begging at this point. “I don’t want my first trial to be defending myself from charges of negligence if you overwork yourself.”

A laugh unexpectedly erupted from Mia, followed by a fit of coughing.

“Okay, okay.” Mia sighed and let herself fall onto the couch across Phoenix’s desk. “Drama queen.”

“How’d you know I do theatre?” Phoenix teased.

“You tell me all the time. Heck, whenever you get sick, it’s usually during your technology week thing.”

“Tech week, and–” Phoenix slowly formed a smirk, “that emphasis on ‘you,’ er, well, me. Does that mean…”

“Yeah, I know I’m sick,” Mia groaned, “just don’t rub it in. I’m gonna get some rest and you’re gonna go back to studying.”

“You don’t want me to get you anything? We have that electric kettle in the back for tea…”

“Phoenix,” Mia started sternly, easily seeing the attempt at stalling, but quickly softened up. “Tea would be great, actually.”

“Already on it, chief.”

#snez attorney #sicktember #sicktember 2023 #my writing #my fics

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racingtoaredlight · 9 months ago

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A Very Special Guest Post From TonyToniToneHasDoneItAgain

Hello to the commentariat! I contacted Clyde a few weeks ago asking if I could cash in my "Stein Winners Get A Crack At Writing This Thing" as part of the College Football Pool extravaganza. Now, a couple of items of note: I can’t remember when I won the Stein (2018?) and I had started writing something I was going to use, but I forgot to finish it and didn’t follow through. The topic? Being diagnosed with ADHD at 51. As Alanis would say: ironic, don’t you think?

Anyway, last weekend Mrs. TTT and I, along with our youngest, decided to check out the Funky Flea. This is basically a Flea Market that is….that’s it, it’s a flea market. Where the Funky part comes in, I’m not sure, but what I am sure of is this: the time to shop for RTARLers is done as I have compiled some awesome ideas for the commenter on your Easter list! People buy Easter gifts, right?

Apologies to a certain Boston podcaster who used to write who did a schtick like this. Bigger apologies to anyone that gets left out…maybe stop changing your screen name every 2 days. (ALL PRICES ARE IN CANADIAN DOLLARS…WHAT SAVINGZ!!!)

To Spencer096…that guitar he’s been searching for…

Now, admittedly I am not a guitar aficionado but does this not look like something he would use to practice his techniques? WATCH HIS LEFT HAND…RIGHT HAND…LEFT HAND AGAIN! It’s only $199 according to the 3 year old who made the price tag. Maybe they will throw in the Tupperware bin of picks for free. Not sure what shape the body of the guitar is supposed to represent…something classy no doubt. I should pay more attention to Spencer’s blog posts, I am sure he has explained it to me. Maybe ask this guy:

To Vlad and Wayne Fontes Safari…something Michigany!

Now I know there is another person that would really enjoy something in the Card Collectables Realm (wait your turn BoTS) but Vlad may enjoy this Red Wing legend! I must admit, though, being a Canadian I am required to have an Encyclopedic knowledge of hockey but I do not remember anything about Alex Delvecchio. He’s been in the Hall of Fame almost as long as I have been alive so he must have been the Jaromir Jagr of his day if he played for 24 seasons. I looked for anything Wolverines/Lions for WFS but this Flea Market was only so Funky so you will have to share…you can get the Doug Harvey card above! I actually knew who he was!!

To MSUNY and Ricky…Hilarious Hunting Hats

This looks like the type of thing Ricky would wear…and MSUNY too? Maybe? Not sure but believe me when I say these were the only hats I could post here as the others had…ummm…different hunting “slogans”.

To my man Some Random Old Dude…from YOUR Montréal Expos, Andre Dawson!

Now I have to be honest here, I got pretty excited when I saw this. Then I thought about my internet friend who is also a fan of Les Expos. There were only 3 problems: one, they were asking 80 dollars for this (eBay had them for 39); two, I remembered that Andre never wore this version of the Expos jersey (it was the much cooler older one); and three, they had spelled Dawson DAHSUN…okay I made that last one up. Maybe SROD would consider a trade for a copy of his novel.

To Clyde…some “reading material”...

I looked around to see if there was anything Maine-related or obscure violent films…no. So I thought he may enjoy this classic magazine. It’s in a plastic bag so you KNOW it is valuable (or maybe for other reasons…yuck). Also from what I’ve been told if Clyde got “excited” he may take out half the booths here simply walking by. FYI this is Playmate of the Year Lisa Baker from the confusing town of Detroit, Texas. She actually did another layout in 1997 at age 53 and as far as the internet says, is still kicking ass at 80.

For Black…hell the whole crew…the official #meetup shirt

So, ironic item #2, I had this writeup done and then yesterday the somehow clairvoyant WHO IS MEGABLACK?? posted this:

To Scripty…something I think he actually asked me for…

I vaguely remember having an online conversation about license plates and that he asked for this one. If this is true let me know and I can possibly deliver it to you. FYI, it says Green Province but it doesn’t mean recycling but that it is “inexperienced” or “not ripe”...

To BoTS…a card I am sure he does not have but MUST…

I don’t even know where to begin with this…was this a photoshop job? Did Bedard agree to wear the Seinfeld puffy shirt for a hockey card company? Does he moonlight as a background singer for Hamilton? What the hell is this and how much is it worth? Like the Playboy, it is behind plastic. Why?? Anyway, if anyone knows the worth of it, BoTS will…

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

And there you have it! We plan on going back again in a couple of weeks so I will be on the lookout for:

DVD copy of Season 1, The Grinder for JHUJ;

There were a bunch of ties here that Trey may like

Butters asked if I could look for some offense for the White Sox but I don’t think the Funky Flea works that way;

Lots of old smelly Men’s League Hockey jerseys for Terry Dixon

Longtime Lurker? He isn’t around long enough for me to know what he likes!

Happy Easter, RTARL!

#Guest Post

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weregularlytalkaboutbruno · 2 years ago

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Breathe, Mi Amor-Bruno x reader

Request: yes (anonymous)- “can we please have a protective Bruno after discovering someone giving the reader some very unwanted attention?”

Warning: contains themes of sexual harassment (brief) and angst

Pronouns: she/her

Warnings: creepy behavior (with intoxication), long writing, google translate

Another party? Sheesh, Bruno didn’t remember there being this many before he left. Granted, the children were little and most already had their gifts, but still. Now it was practically a bi-weekly tradition. And every party was just as excitedly talked about around town as the last. It never got old apparently. Well, it did for Bruno. After the small celebration of his return, followed by the housewarming party after Casita was finished, his social battery was pretty much empty.

He adjusted his rauna in the mirror. Mirabel had demanded to make him a new one, considering he had been wearing the same one for the past ten years or so. It wasn’t too far off from the last, just a deeper, more forest-ey green and a much darker pattern. Plus, Mira had made the old one into a pillow, which his little rodent friends enjoyed sleeping on. In an attempt to look nicer, he tied his hair up loosely. He was so used to his old rauna and hair in his face that it almost made him feel exposed in a way. His neck felt colder, that’s for sure. He fidgeted with his clothing more, looking over his appearance in almost a nervous manner. He glanced over at one of the rats, who of which was staring at him from their seat on his dresser. “What are you looking at me like that for?” He asked, tilting his head a bit as he scratched the back of the rat’s neck. The rat almost mimicked him, climbing onto his hand and up his arm. Settling on his shoulder, the rodent’s little hands pawed at a few loose curls. Bruno smiled softly, looking at him from the mirror. “Yeah, I don’t know how I feel about it either.” He shrugged, gently scooping the rat in his hand and returning him to his dresser. “Y’know, I would ask that you and your little buddies don’t raid the snack table again. Or at least please wait until everyone has left. You guys are lucky Antonio took the heat for you guys the last time and said that you could.” His expression was unamused as the rat almost seemed to smile, hopping off of the bed and into one of the little holes in the wall.

Bruno rolled his eyes as he huffed and straightened his posture, making his way towards the door. “Oscar, you’re in charge.” He gave a serious nod towards a smaller rat with silvery-brown fur, earning a sniff and a blink in response. “Good enough”, he said with a shrug as he closed the door behind him, taking a deep breath as he began his descent down the hundreds of stairs. As Casita was rebuilt, a much faster pulley system was introduced to his cave as a way to get up and down. The people were curious as to why Bruno still insisted on keeping the stairs, as he claimed it was simply for aesthetic purposes. In reality, he used the extra few minutes to gather any last-minute thoughts before he faced the world again. The soft sand crunched under his feet as he made the final stretch to the door, hesitating a bit as his hand rested on the doorknob. Though he wasn’t given much time to think, as the door flung open and the tiles under his feet tossed him forward. Thankfully, there were no longer stairs between his door and the main balcony of doors. “Hey! Knock it off, will ya?” He regained his footing and dusted himself off as his door slammed behind him.

“Hey tío! Lookin sharp!” Mirabel rushed past him in a blur, followed by Luisa with several crates stacked in their arms. One sister obviously struggled more than the other, but she definitely had the enthusiasm. “Oh! Uh, gracias.” He gave a nervous chuckle, stepping out of the way. A plush ball of orange material bounced off the top of his head, dropping down by his feet. “Sorry! Could you pass that back?” Camillo shouted up to his uncle, motioning to the ball of streamers that he had been tossing in between the rafters. Bruno chuckled as he tossed it back, making sure to wrap it around the banister a few times to make his nephew’s job just slightly easier.

Looking around the room, Bruno could see every family member buzzing around the house. Carrying platters, tossing rugs, lighting candles, you name it. It was honestly rather overwhelming, the the excessively loud volume that neither he and most likely Dolores didn’t appreciate. He debated just turning around and heading right back into his room. The thought was short lived as he heard his name called from the kitchen doorway. “Aye! Bruno!” Julieta stepped from the doorframe, dusting her hands on her somehow pristine apron. “Mind running to the grocer’s? I didn’t pick up enough tomatoes this morning.” Bruno gave a bit of a stuttered nod, heading towards the stairs. An incredibly strong floral scent flooded his senses as he reached the main floor, Isabela not far behind. “Plus, you’ll get the chance to visit your novia.” Isa gave a genuine smile, despite her teasing giggle. Bruno quirked a brow, Isa falling into step beside him as he headed towards the front doors. “Who are you referring to?” Isa rolled her eyes. “Oh don’t play that game. Literally everyone in town is aware of your little crush on seniorita (y/n). I wouldn’t be surprised if she realized it too.” Bruno only shrugged her off as they passed through the doors. He supposed she was coming with him then. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Isa huffed as the doors closed behind them, beginning their walk towards the market. “Oh come on! The stares? Your face is always red when she’s around? Last time she even looked at you, I watched you trip on your own feet and land in a bush!” Bruno immediately stiffened, shaking his head slightly. “Hey! It was one time, my allergies were peaking because of your pollen, and I couldn’t see. It’s not my fault!” He raised his hands in defense. Isa only snickered. “You’re a bad liar, you know that?” Nothing was said for a few moments. “We’re here to get tomatoes. Nothing more.” A firm statement that the conversation was officially over. The rest of the walk was silent, the passing conversation of townsfolk really the only sound.

The silence was finally broken as Bruno opened the door, followed by a small “after you,” as he followed his niece in. “Welcome in!” The two were immediately met with a madhouse. Supply was flying off the shelves faster than they could be stocked, children ran around the tables in loud and excited conversation, and a line for the register was stretched nearly the entire span of the store. And at the front of the line, behind the counter, was her. Hair once tied back, now falling from the blue ribbon that held it tightly in place. Her movements were frantic, but no less friendly. Simply a bit more professional than they normally were. Sunlight leaking though the windows from behind framed her neck and shoulders perfectly, appearing almost as if she were a portrait. A portrait that Bruno could sit and admire for hours. “Uh, tío? The tomatoes?” Isa urged, pulling Bruno from his daydream. “Right! Right…” Bruno quickly straightened himself up, speeding past his niece and the the table containing only about half a dozen tomatoes. “Hopefully these will be enough.” He scooped them into his arms, receiving a nod from Isabela. “We better get in line before it leads out the door. “ Bruno nodded, hesitantly shuffling towards the line. He would be unlike himself if he didn’t rehearse any possibly conversation in his head, growing more and more nervous as the line grew shorter and shorter.

“Good morning Señor Madrigal, Isabela. What can I do for you?” (Y/n) gave a smile that, despite how warm it appeared, failed to hide how tired she was. “Aye, you work yourself too hard, Señorita.” Isa smiled as Bruno set the produce on the counter. (Y/n) shrugged. “Just making a living.” She huffed a laugh, writing down the sold tomatoes for inventory. She pulled a small burlap sack from under the counter, gently setting the tomatoes inside and tying it shut. “Seems like everyone is preparing for tonight just as much as you are.” Isa hummed in agreement, hoisting the sack into her arms. Her uncle, on the other hand, just listening to the conversation. He felt awkward, of course, but it was outweighed by his curiosity and observations. The way she span the pen in her hand as she was caught in conversation. Her hair falling across her eye, followed by her tucking the loose strand behind her ear. Isa glanced over, and she subtly elbowed him to grab his attention. She supposed she would spare him the embarrassment of getting caught staring. Bruno jumped just slightly, giving a small, awkward laugh and wringing his hands. “How much do we owe you?” Bruno couldn’t tell if he was talking fast, or he was just over-analyzing. (Y/n) shook her head, waving them off. “Oh don’t worry about it, you have enough to worry about with the party planning. Besides, Julieta is one of my best customers.” She said, pinning her previously written note to the shelf behind her. “It’s really no trouble, you’ve had a busy day and you deserve the profit.” Bruno urged. “Really, it’s alright. I’m getting a new shipment tomorrow morning anyways.” Another warm smile that made Bruno’s thoughts fuzzy. “How about a trade instead?” Isa suggested, earning a raised eyebrow from both the store clerk and her uncle. Bruno’s gaze quickly flicked down as he felt a small vine climbing up his arm, settling against his palm. Suddenly, a bouquet of variously colored cattleya orchids erupted into his grasp, Bruno almost instantaneously holding his hand out in shock. “A gift for a gift”. Isa smiled sweetly, looking between (y/n) and her uncle. The pair stared at each other wide-eyed, and Bruno felt his posture shoot straight up. Of course he couldn’t just pull his hand back and hurry out the door, after nearly smacking the poor woman in the face. A sharp kick in the shin helped clear Bruno’s mind just enough to somewhat form a sentence. “Uh- yeah, uh, a gift for a gift.” He gave a shaky laugh, gaze shifting from her eyes to the floor. (Y/n), though, had no problem composing herself, gently taking the flowers from his hand. “Oh, gracias! I actually just emptied a vase a bit ago.” She beamed, giggling as she grabbed an empty vase from the windowsill. Conveniently, she had just disposed of the previously dead plant and refilled the vase with water for the next plant to arrive. “They are absolutely beautiful.” Her smile was contagious as he watched her slightly adjust the arrangement. Bruno was a bit conflicted, unable to decide if he was upset with Isabela or not. Was it his ideal course of events? Absolutely not, but he supposed it worked out. He simply nodded, becoming a bit more comfortable with the situation having a positive result. “See you tonight?” Isa asked, a faint hint of accomplishment present in her voice. “Of course, I was planning on closing up a bit early.”

“We’ll see you there.” Bruno slightly winced at the small shake in his voice, though (y/n) didn’t seem to mind. Her smile instead widened a bit. The trio was interrupted by the clearing of a throat. Isabela stiffened as a rather tall man stepped forward, resting his hand on her shoulder as he set his goods to purchase on the counter. “My apologies, but I’m in a bit of a rush.” (Y/n)’s expression dropped slightly as she turned back towards the register. “Er- yes, sorry. Just lost in a good conversation.” Isa politely stepped out of his grip, and closer to her uncle, who of which frowned slightly at the sudden interruption. “No worries, you’ve always been a fan of flowers.” The man, Hugo, leaned an elbow against the counter, nudging the pair of Madrigals out of the way. He was a regular around the marketplace area, seemingly always just roaming around. He was from a rather well off family, resulting in a bit of a spoiled brat. He was an attractive man, and he knew it, flirting with just about any woman he came across. “Cabrón”, Bruno had heard his sisters refer to him as on several occasions. (Y/n) gave a polite nod, writing up a receipt. “I suppose you’re right.” Bruno glanced between the two, and he couldn’t help but feel out of place. “Let’s get going.” He spoke quietly to his sobrina, giving (y/n) a nod in farewell as the two slipped through the remaining line and out the doors.

They were nearly halfway home before anything was said. “Hey, that went well.” Isa shrugged, glancing over at her uncle. Bruno only returned her shrug, his eyes trailing across the ground. “Appreciate the help, but it’s pointless.” He nearly mumbled, tripping slightly as the began up the hill to the house. “What do you mean? She seemed to love it. Plus, you have more of a reason to talk to her tonight since we had talked earlier.” Bruno sighed. “But you saw the way Hugo looked at her. One look at that guy and I don’t stand a chance.” Isa stopped in her tracks, looking over at him with a confused expression. “What in the world are you talking about? Hugo just acts like that because he likes the reactions of people. He also probably saw you give her those flowers, and wanted to stir up a bit of drama.” She rolled her eyes. Bruno shook his head, taking the bag from Isa’s hand as she held it out to him and opened the door. “Let’s just focus on the party, yeah?” Again, a bit of a cold conclusion.

☾---------------------------✵----------------------------☽

A few hours later, and the party was in full swing. Music filled Casita, the entire town flooding the halls of the house. Bruno had spent most of the night joining the conversations of his family members, yielding surprisingly encouraging outcomes. Despite the populace’s general weariness with his return, it seemed that the idea of him being around again was being warmed up to. He was still far from comfortable, but it was definitely the most enjoyment he had had at a party yet. He was currently pulled into a debate with Mirabel and Camilo, deciding how long it would be before Parce broke out of Antonio’s room. The cat had developed a bit of an attachment to Antonio, her loud wailing occasionally being heard over the loud conversation. “I think you two are overestimating how easily she could get out. Casita definitely wouldn’t let her get too far. Neither would Mamá, to be completely honest.” Camillo shrugged, resting his hands on his hips. “I think that Parce would liven the place up a bit.” Mira snickered, adjusting her glasses. “Yes, because an entire-town party isn’t enough- (y/n)!” Mira exclaimed with a gasp, immediately abandoning the conversation and hurrying over to the woman. (Y/n) laughed as Mira threw her arms around her shoulders, returning the hug. “Before you ask, we get our next sewing supply shipment on Wednesday.” Mira beamed, giving an excited nod as she stepped back and instead took her hand. “You know me so well. Now! You have to try Mamá’s empanadas, she tried a new recipe and she wants as many opinions as possible!” She pulled the woman along with an iron grip, the pair soon disappearing into the kitchen. “You may not get to hang around your esposa much with Mira around.” Camillo teased his uncle, Bruno’s face immediately flushing red. “Oh cállate!” Bruno huffed with a chuckle, playfully pushing his shoulder. Mirabel and (y/n) quickly exited the kitchen, a few plates piled with empanadas balanced on the woman’s arms. Mira charged towards her tío and primo. “Eat!” Mira took two of stuffed bread pockets and shoved them into their hands. “You’ve been here for maybe two minutes and Mira’s already put you to work, huh?” Camilo asked with a raised brow, Bruno snickering as he took a bite from his empanada. “Actually, (y/n) offered to help me and Mamá out. So if you’ll excuse us, we’ve got deliveries to make.” (Y/n) shrugged as she followed Mirabel towards the next group, smiling at Bruno’s friendly wave as she left. “I don’t get how you can be scared to talk to a woman that just got told what to do by a fifteen-year old.” Camillo snickered, popping the snack into his mouth. “Are you just going to bother me with this all night?”

☾---------------------------✵----------------------------☽

It wasn’t long before the plates were nearly empty. The empanadas, expectedly, were very much a success. “Geez, it’s kinda hot in there with so many people around.” Mira leaned against the banister from the second floor balcony, taking another empanada from the plates that had been set on the bench behind them. “No kidding, my arms were getting a little tired after a while.” (Y/n) giggled, stretching her arms a bit before matching Mira. “Mamá will be glad to hear how it went. She was a bit worried about them. I hardly understand why though, she’s probably never made a bad meal in her life.” The two laughed. “Buenas noches, señoritas, mind if I steal a few empanadas?” (Y/n) stiffened as Hugo stumbled into the room, wrapping an arm around her waist. His words were noticeably slurred as he smirked down at her. Alma greatly limited alcohol at parties with so many children around, so he must have arrived already intoxicated. “Uh, yeah. Behind you.” Mirabel looked between his hand and (y/n), obvious discomfort written across her features. She shifted uncomfortably out of his grip, grabbing a plate and using it to create a bit of distance. “Take as many as you’d like.” She stated firmly. Mira stepped up behind her, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“Mira! Come here for a second! Señora Guzman wanted to ask about making a skirt for her!” Isabella called up the stairs, Mira’s lips forming a tight line as she looked at the doorway. “Go ahead, I need to speak to (y/n) about ordering something for me.” Hugo smiled widely, swaying slightly as he stepped out of the way of the doorway. (Y/n) rested a hand on her’s, nodding. “It’s okay, go on.” She gave a reassuring smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She absolutely did not want to be alone with this man, but her number one priority was getting Mirabel away from him. Mira stayed firmly in place, glaring up at Hugo. “I can talk to her later about it.” Hugo sighed, motioning towards the door and taking a step forward. “C’mon, beat it kid. The adults need to have a conversation.” (Y/n)’s grip on her hand tightened. “Mira, go.” Her voice was much more stern this time. “Please.” Mirabel hesitantly let go, looking back at the two before quickly hurrying out the door. “Mirabel, Señora Guzman was needing a skirt for a birthday present for her sister. She’s very impressed with you-“ “We need to get Tío Bruno.” Isa’s smile faltered slightly. “What?” Isa rarely saw Mirabel so serious. She was immediately concerned, since Mira was always more than thrilled to make anything for anyone. Especially when it came to sewing. “We need to get Tío Bruno. Now.”

☾---------------------------✵----------------------------☽

“Now, what can I get for you? Fair warning, the next big shipment won’t be coming in for a few weeks.” Strictly business, she wanted to make that very clear.(Y/n) took a small step back, Hugo took a big step forward. Well, stumbled forward. “My order’s already here.” The man reeked of alcohol. She ducked out of the way of his hand as he reached for her, though she didn’t have much more room to move further back. “I-I’m flattered, really, but I’m not interested.” Hugo chuckled deeply, backing her up further. “Oh don’t be like that, I hear the way you talk to me.” (Y/n) raised a brow. “When you come into the store? When I simply ask if there’s anything else you need before your purchase? I apologize for any misunderstandings, but again, I’m not interested. Really.” she took a step around him, heading for the door. She felt a large hand wrap around her wrist, whipping her back around and towards him as he backed her against the wall. “Let go!” She gripped desperately at her own arm, attempting to pull herself out from under him. “You work far too hard, cariño. You need to relax. I can help with that.” His head lowered, his breath felt on her neck.

☾---------------------------✵----------------------------☽

“Tío!” Bruno’s head whipped in the direction of his sobrina’s frantic yell, turning towards her from the drink table. The loud music, along with the general conversation buzzing around the room made it hard to hear much of anything. His eyebrows furrowed as he watched Mirabel practically climb over guests, earning a few looks and glares. Even Isabela’s normal care-free disposition was completely abandoned. Mira swiped the drink from his hand, slamming it down on the table and taking his arm. “Woah woah woah! Slow down! What in the world is going on?” “We don’t have time! It’s (y/n).” And with that, Bruno had no problem being lead. In reality he was nearly pushing Mira in front of him. “Where?” “Upstairs.” Isa and Mira had to follow him after that, hurrying up the stairs behind him. “What happened?” “Hugo-“ a loud yell and the crash of a tray had Bruno sprinting up the stairs two at a time. “You two stay down here!” He called over his shoulder, panic very much present in his voice.

“Get off of me!” He heard (y/n) plead with the man as he skid around the corner, and in a few long strides he had a grip on the back of Hugo’s shirt. “That’s enough!” He was a bit impressed with himself, how easily he tore the man off of her. “You stay the hell away from her!” He stepped in between the two, shoving Hugo back further by his chest. Hugo only rolled his eyes. He looked down at the seer, quite a bit taller than the Madrigal. “Patético. You’re just mad that I got to her first.” Less than a second later, Bruno’s fist was colliding with his jaw. “Bruno!” (Y/n) yelped in surprise recoiling slightly at the sudden excitement. Hugo grunted as his knuckles made contact, his hand coming up to hold his already bruising jaw. Bruno found himself a bit taken back by his own actions. He’d been punched before, sure, but never had he initiated it. Hugo gave a bitter laugh, swaying a bit as he regained his balance. “Estas muerto.” Bruno quickly urged (y/n) back. He veered out of the way of each strike Hugo attempted, though it wasn’t too difficult, considering how intoxicated he was. He did his best to keep from backing up further, glancing back at (y/n) as she rubbed her bruised wrist. Her eyes were locked on Bruno in panic, unsure of what to do. She knew jumping in wouldn’t help, considering that this fight surrounded getting her out of this. “Aye! Someone, Ayuda!” She desperately called out, praying that anyone would hear her. She looked around the balcony, hurriedly taking a hold of one of Julieta’s trays. It seeming a bit weighty, heavier than she expected at least. Bruno swiveled away from another punch, and (y/n) took the opportunity to swing. A loud clatter echoed as Hugo fell against the banister, holding his head. The tray wasn’t nearly enough to cause major damage, but it definitely could stagger someone. That and the alcohol held him there for a moment, long enough for Felix and Augustin to get a hold and restrain him.

“That is enough!” Alma came storming out, Mira and Isa not far from the doorway. “You not only come into our home intoxicated past reason, but attack both one of my guests and my son. You will never find yourself welcome in our home again.” She spat after the two men had dragged him to his feet before motioning them to get him out of there. By now, the main room below, and the party, had gone nearly silent. Augustin and Felix hauled him down the stairs, small “excuse us,” and “pardon me,”s heard as they made their way though the parting crowd. By now, the rest of the family had arrived. Each face filled with concern as Julieta made her way past and towards her brother. “Are you two alright?” She asked, her brows furrowed as she looked over the two. (Y/n) gave a nod, with a small smile and a shaky breath. “Thanks to Bruno.” She shuffled a bit closer to the two, handing Julieta her tray. “I’m sorry about the tray. It shouldn’t be too bent.” Julieta quickly shook her head, gently taking the tray from her. “That is the least of my worries, querida. I’m just glad you are both okay. Now, Bruno, you two head to the kitchen and grab something to eat, just in case.” She cupped both Bruno’s and (y/n)’s cheek affectionately for a moment before nodding towards the door. “Camilo, Dolores, I need you two downstairs to reassure everyone that everything is okay. Mirabel and Isabela, could you clean up this mess? And Luisa, I need you on music.” Alma leaned over the banister, checking in to catch Felix and Augustin tossing Hugo out onto path before heading back into the Casita and closing the doors. With that, the Madrigals hurried off to their respective tasks, and it wasn’t long before cheery reassurances were heard from not only the the two grandchildren, but Felix and Augustin as well. Alma finally turned to Bruno and (y/n), her previously stern expression finally relaxing. “Thank god the two of you are alright. I should have had him thrown out the second he arrived.” She took a deep breath before clasping her hands together. “Now, you two go ahead and calm down, I believe we’ve had enough excitement for this evening.” She gave a small smile, glancing once more at her son before heading back to the party. By now, the music and the sound of voices had picked back up. Mira and Isa quickly hurried in after, stepping over the scattered empanadas. “(Y/n)! Did he- what happened after I left- I’m sorry” (y/n) quickly hushed her, taking her hands in her own. “Mira, why are you apologizing? Im okay thanks to you and Bruno, what could you possibly have to be sorry for?” Mira found herself unable to speak for a moment, trying to form any kind of sentence. “For leaving-“ “Hey, I told you to leave. I didn’t want you here either.” Mira sighed, finally launching herself towards (y/n) and wrapping her arms around her. “I’m glad you’re okay.” The woman smiled, holding her just as tightly “I’m glad you’re okay too. Now! Let’s get back to the party; huh?” Mira smiled up at her and nodded, unraveling her arms and slipping past her to grab the remaining tray. (Y/n) gave Isa a “thank you” as well, the girl matching her sister’s warm smile. “Of course, and I’m hoping to see you around here more.” She giggled, glancing over at her uncle before joining her sister with the cleanup.

“Ready-uh, to head down?” Bruno offered a hand, and (y/n) finally realized how much he was shaking. Then again, she realized how much she was shaking herself. She nodded, smiling warmly as she took his hand. “Ready when you are.” Bruno nodded, somewhat returning her smile as he lead her towards the kitchen. His hold on her hand was incredibly gentle, so much so that it felt like a whisper of a touch. Thankfully, most of the party attendees were distracted as the pair slipped along the edge of the room, having no troubles making it to the kitchen. The countertops were still lined with mounds and mounds of food. Julieta had really outdone herself. “What can I grab for you? Don’t worry about seconds, because we clearly have plenty-“ “thank you.” Bruno felt her grip on his hand tighten. He looked over at her, his focus no longer on the food. “You don’t need to thank me, I would do it again in a heartbeat.” Her smile really was contagious. “Well, I hope you don’t have to do anything like that for a long while.” She giggled. “Though you did look quite intimidating.” It was Bruno’s turn to laugh as he huffed out a chuckle. “I’ve heard that one before, but this is the first time I’ve heard it in a positive context.” (Y/n) rolled her eyes, heading over towards the counter and taking a couple arepas from one of the large piles. She handed one to Bruno, taking a bite of her own. “But people are starting to realize the kind of person you really are. Especially after tonight.” Bruno took a bite of his own. “The Encanto’s punch-happy recluse?” (Y/n) snickered, shaking her head. “A charming, caring man who truly cares about the people of this town.” Bruno couldn’t help the warmth that spread to his cheeks as he looked down at his arepa, pulling off another chunk and popping it into his mouth. “I really appreciate it, but you’re giving me too much credit.” “Por dios, Bruno. You fought a man to protect me without hesitation.”

“Because you’re my friend” the woman was clearly unsatisfied with his answer.

“And you would do it for anyone else in this town, wouldn’t you?”

“Well yes but-“

“Then I’m right, aren’t I? Why is it so hard for you to admit that you’re a good person?”

“Because I’m in love with you!”

Bruno felt his mouth go dry as the words fell from his lips. His eyes widened as his gaze snapped up to her’s. It was painfully silent for what felt like ages. “A-and you deserve more than someone like me.” His voice shook. “Doing one good thing doesn’t make you an upstanding citizen. In my life, I have caused more harm than good, and this doesn’t right all of my wrongs.” He was the one to break their tense eye contact, his stare moving to the floor. “Bruno, what could you possibly mean by that?” Bruno shakily sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’ve heard the stories, (y/n). You know my reputation. My gift has brought nothing but trouble.”

“And none of that is you’re fault! You didn’t decide what was shown in your visions. The rumors were just the result of people unhappy with their results. You have done nothing but help the people of this town, whether they liked it or not.”

He couldn’t bear to look at her, her presence nearly suffocating him. “I need a vision.” Bruno was caught a bit off guard as she set her pastry on a napkin, dusting off her hands. “If the man I love is such a bad person, what does my future hold then?”

“I-… what?”

He had never dared to view her future, absolutely terrified of the thought of seeing her with someone else. At first he convinced himself he would see Hugo, but in reality he was worried about seeing anyone but himself. Of which he was sure was impossible.

“If you’re so sure that you don’t deserve anyone, prove it.” Bruno found himself truly at a loss for words. He hadn’t realized how close she was getting until she was just a few inches from him. Bruno’s breathing hitched. He began noticing little details he had never noticed before. A few beauty marks that littered her skin. The slightly-darker circles under her eyes displaying the long hours she worked everyday. Her lips, still stained just slightly darker from the pigment she had applied before she had worked. He found himself unable to look away from them. He brought a hand to her cheek, stopping just before making contact. He hesitated, though was encouraged as (y/n) rested her hand on top of his in reassurance. “I am in love with you, Bruno Madrigal. You do not need a vision to know that.” And with that he closed the remaining gap between them, their lips softly joining as he brought his other hand up. He gently brushed his thumbs across her cheeks. A shiver ran down his spine as her hands made their way to his rauna, her fingers running along the embroidered material. A million thoughts ran though his head, and yet he couldn’t describe the feeling of her lips on his as anything other than fireworks. His chest felt warm, her body pressed against his in an embrace.

He rested his forehead against her’s as they parted. They took a moment, simply absorbing each other’s presences. “I love you. And I have for years.” She rested her hands on top of his, kissing him once more.

“Well, I think I’ll need to pick up a few things from the store tomorrow.” (Y/n) giggled. “I would like that.”

#encanto #encanto imagines #talkaboutfanfics #bruno madrigal #camilo madrigal #bruno madrigal x reader #mirabel madrigal #isabela madrigal

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cerealyoam · 3 years ago

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Mystic Messenger x Middle Eastern Reader

Basically POV youre Middle Eastern and the little things that add to the relationship

Characters; Jumin Han, V, 707

A/N: you might be thinking, dami, why are you writing for a dead fandom about something nobody asked for? And i assure you. Impulse overtakes me on a daily basis. Also I feel the need to add that I am Middle Eastern

(Gender neutral reader as per the usual!)

When he first saw you, he thought you were beautiful

Because of his nature, he really wanted to photograph you in warm sunlight. He felt the best way to remember you was by taking as many photos as he could

When you told him where you were from, he thought it was pretty cool, and always likes to ask about your cultures and traditions.

I like to think he wants to try your country’s cuisine, and he’ll definitely like it. Probably buys a cookbook so he can learn your favourite desserts and foods, and he thinks its a great way to learn more about you.

Since he travels abroad often, if you’re comfortable, he’d love to visit your hometown, and possibly your parents as well.

Oh my god he would be so so good to your parents

He’s respectful, greets them at the door, brings his own food to give to them

You know because he’s loaded he can basically buy expensive ass gifts for your family if they’re more traditional

So so sweet. Helps you do housework at your parents’ home, all of that.

He honestly wants to learn how to speak modern Arabic, or your Arabic slang as well.

It’s just he doesn’t know where to start.

Like? How do all the different pronouns work? Why are there so many words for so many different specific things?

Pls help him

Oh yeah he definitely messes up by saying some slang word that means something entirely inappropriate given the context. Watch him call a cat a bra bc he doesn’t know the difference

Calls you habibi/habibti (my love) or hayati (my life) because its the only words he kind of knows the meaning of

Overall really sweet like he always is. Practically the best boyfriend ever. Unmatched

Jumin Han

Oh you have nothing to worry about at all

The worlds most civilised polite businessman with manners that are just perfect for meeting your parents with

He’s already travelled half the Arabian peninsula I’m 90% sure he knows the language too

Super sophisticated, super sweet

If you like any particular food he hires a full fledged 3 Michelin star ass restaurant chef for any dish you’d like

Oh you want some kubba or smn? Say no more in the next few hours you’re eating the best kubba in your life ok

Idc if you don’t like kubba the 3 Michelin star ass chef is gonna make you like it I swear

Has probably already been to where you live at least twice but he’ll go again just for you

He finds you absolutely gorgeous like have you seen yourself you’re gorgeous

Likes to trace your face and cheeks with his knuckles and tells you you’re absolutely beautiful

Can probably get any outfit tailored perfectly to you the moment you mention your specific traditional clothing

Again your parents cant refuse. He’s literally a corporate executive of the highest ranking business where he is. He has so much money he’ll only ever get richer. Dowry money? Oh yeah that costs just about an eighth of his weekly salary let’s double the dowry

You feel v v v loved. Unmatched husband material

707

He knows Arabic

Was a bit shocked when you had zero issue getting into his house bc u know the language enough to say cat in Arabic

But he also sort of knew so he changed the entire algorithm of his lock system to be in Tagalog just to be safe

Vanderwood has held a grudge since then

You know how he is he’s totally got every random nuanced joke memorised and prepared up his sleeve so if you swear in your language slang ever he probably knows what it means and will definitely snicker even if you don’t realize it

Honestly nothing much changes he just knows already lmfao

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hangezoeenthusiast · 4 years ago

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God(hcs)

c!multiple x god!reader

notes: the reader will be the god of death to make it a little bit more spicy :). c!punz’s pronouns are he/they, i’m not sure about the others, but i know theirs. also why does ranboo take away my gender? /j

word count: 1,672

warnings: arson, violence, cursing, yelling, mention of death, voices in technos part, spoilers for wilbur if you haven’t watch tommy’s lore stream, revival for wilbur, making a religion, time travel, egg, prison, stealing, anarchy, playful name calling

Sapnap

so obviously y’all would be a great match :)

you have creative mode, so when sap would ask you to give him a lighter and tnt, you would GLADLY give it

also, can we talk about him being a nether hybrid

fire squared

like fires left and right, hide your mom and your children in your house lol /j

but besides the whole arson thing, you favor him above anyone else on the server

like if he asks for diamond blocks, well here’s a whole inventory of it, also, here’s some ancient debris and some netherite

if someone asked, you would probably grant them with poison and curses, just because you can’t be “unloyal” to snapchat

wouldn’t be lonely anymore

Dreamwastaken

this duo is less chaotic, but chaotic enough where people avoid you

he still asks you for stuff, but most of the time, you don’t give him it because he annoys you too much about giving stuff

“hey y/n/n, can i pretty please get some emerald blocks.”

“nope bitch, get it yourself.”

but sometimes, you grant him some op shit, when it’s your good day

“because i’m being nice, here’s some diamond, now, don’t ask me again you little piss baby.”

“shut your trap y/n.”

“or what homeless teletubby, what are you going to do to a god like me?”

“you hang out with technoblade to much.”

Georgenotfound

maybe the least chaotic duo

you guys keep on relaxing and relaxing until the point where you don’t do anything

he barely asks you for anything, but only when it’s really really important, like a house or build

especially when he was building his little cottagecore house, he needed your godly presence to help

“y/n, what should the roof be made of?”

“i suggest brick, it makes it more aestheticy if that makes any sense.”

also barely any drama or tea with you guys

never arguing and never betraying each other is a must

Tubbo

also another least chaotic duo

literally help him with his bee farm, he will (platonically) love you forever

gotta be close to ranboo, that’s the rule

gives him SO much stuff, he’s a precious boi 🙄

also gotta be close to tommy, but not as much unfortunately

you help him pick out things for builds, like what material clashes with another, etc

“do you think that the wool and the netherite blocks look good together y/n?”

“nah, what i suggest is the wool with the gold, it looks perfect.”

sometiems, gotta put him in check because he gets a little ego built up

you definitely yank his horn a little too hard because of your IMMENSE STRENGTH

“OW, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT Y/N.”

“calm down sunny, you were just getting a bit over your head a little.”

Tommyinnit

chaotic duo like sapnap

snaps at anyone who annoys you and vice versa

you give him EVERYTHING, obviously except op and creative

he tries to persuade you to do something, but dreamxd wouldn’t allow it, since he is the main boss

“come on y/n, give me op.”

“no tommy, xd will kick my ass.”

“pweaseee.”

“no.”

you would DEFINITELY help him with the Big Innit Hotel, making the whole layout and color palette.

both of you have an intense hatred for ranboo, since he “stole” tubbo away from tommy

Ranboo

least involved in everything

just stay in the tundra and drink some tea, and you’re good for all of your life

helps him get netherite all the time so your boii can get the good stuff 😬

when he mines to get diamonds, he literally prays to you

“y/n, if you’re listening, please give me a 6 vein, i desperately need it for my collection of diamond blocks.”

and THERE IT IS

more than a 6 vein actually, a 12 vein

guess he needs to pray to you more

daily tea sessions, to talk about the good stuff, and NO, and i repeat NO skipping

threatening to flick water on him check ✅

Wilbur Soot

literally you spoil him

not to be angsty, but when he died and lost his last canon life, you revived him instead of Dream

now he’s practically at your knees

like he’s thinks that he owes you, but actually that’s the opposite

he was revived because you were lonely, and wanted your best friend back :(

prays to you when he goes to bed

“hey y/n, hope you’re having a great day, (platonically) love you.”

“love you too mortal.”

sometimes, to be at the peak of godness, you shower upon wilbur as gold to symbolize blessings, like zeus did before

“omg y/n, what are you doing?”

“i’m trying to bless you, shut up bitch.”

just saying, he would make a religion about you :/

Karl Jacobs

omg don’t get me started on this

first, you wouldn’t codone him going back in time

he would definitely forget your name a lot, so that’s why you hated it

“hey karl, how are you doing?”

“i’m sorry, but do i know you?”

ANGST IS TOO MUCH FOR ME

you were definitely the one to push him towards sapnap and quackity

this is also another spoiled boi

give him the entire world while you’re at it pwease

he wants a few diamonds, nope, give him a chest full of them

Quackity

why are there so much chaotic duos in here?

literally chaos times infinity

energy to the max

literally, did you take an energy drink

grants him every wish he can randomly think off

“can i get a bucket with lava and a fish in it?”

“weird choice, but ok man.”

gotta be close to sap and karl or he isn’t your friend anymore /j

helps with las nevadas a lot, and definitely tries to rig the machines so you get money

“hey big q, i got 10,000 dollars.”

“that’s impossible... y/n, did you cheat?”

“nooo 😊”

help him preen his wings, and he goes “I LOVE YOU, MWAH MWAH.” obviously in his mind 🙄

Awesamdude

definitely helps him maintain the prison

you both love setting up red stone contraptions and pistons and all that giz

“hey sam, do you know where the redstone torches are?”

“yeah, there behind the pistons in the back.”

also you helped build the prison, since he could do that by himself

“are you sure that lava wall will work y/n, your calculations seem inaccurate.”

“i’m sure sam, this will add some more security to this goddamn server.”

nerd squared lol

BadBoyHalo

wouldn’t condone the egg

you warned him multiple times to get away from its grasp, but most of the times he’ll decline

“i won’t y/n, the egg is the future.”

he still, even after all the advancements, even after everything, he tries to ask you to join the eggpire

“come on y/n, you’ll like being with us.”

“i don’t wanna be on a stupid egg side, like let me crack the egg, i wanna eat it and turn it into a omelette.”

he doesn’t like that joke :(

but before he discovered the egg, both of you were joint at the hip

sight seeing was a must

languages being thrown around everywhere, since you were the little language muffin

Punz

steals stuff from everyone

hide your stuff, because the punzo-y/n team is unstoppable

definitely they can be really stubborn and indecisive

like one day, he will be like, “i need gold blocks.” and the next, “nevermind, i need netherite actually.”

like hon, stop switching

also anarchy buddies

burning down forests and buildings are your guys’s specialty

when you give him gold when they doesn’t ask, his heart goes brrr and his brain goes, “pog pog, they’re so cool, lets hug them.”

Technoblade

now this is the most deadly duo in the entire Dream Smp

better not piss you guys off 😐

he’s the Blood God, and you’re the God/Goddess/God being of Death

so if some occasion where you need to battle someone, like Techno’s enemies, *clears throat and murmurs Quackity*, you will obviously back your boy up :)

help him with enchanting and potions and he’s set for life

also you got have to be close to the great Philza Minecraft since him and Techno are buddy buddy

anarchy squared

helps with the voices since you have some of your own

“so what you’re saying is that i need to pay attention to them?”

“yeah, when i first learned that the voices were in my head, i tried to ignore them, but that sucked. so what i did was try to distract myself with various tasks, and that sucked.”

“so what do i do, you’re saying that i should listen to them, but how do i do that when they literally shout at me.”

“just embrace it, obviously when they do their little chant of blood for the blood god, you have to ignore them.”

“you suck at advice.”

Philza Minecraft

so since both of you resemble death, him being the Angel of Death and you being the God/Goddess/God being of Death, y’all are fucking best friends, platonic soulmates if you will

death squared

watch out, because if you piss them off, prepare to d-

gotta be close to Ranboo and Techno, and obviously others who he platonically likes

he doesn’t need to ask you for stuff, he’s the fricking Angel of Death, but he will ask you to preen his wings :D

“ow, not there y/n.”

“oh shut up grandpa, let me do it.”

“I’M NOT OLD DUMBASS.”

Dream XD

two gods at once, damn there is so much chaos

left and right, you guys are noticed by everyone, like purrrr

y’all would be in some fancy shit, to show your power

you would get jealous of him hanging out with george

“why are you jealous y/n?”

“you’re hanging out with george to much, hang out with me please :(.”

gifts are a must, even though both of you have access to creative

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years ago

Text

The Eyes Are Lined

Summary: whilst on the last days of set of filming the show where he plays Tommy Lee, Sebastian is greeted with a surprise guest in his trailer, and he is certainly not going to be one to complain whence he’s gets a treat as sweet as you

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of phone sex, oral sex (male + female receiving), unprotected sex, penetrative sex, p in v, degradation, spanking, daddy kink, teasing, fingering, pet names

Word Count: 4133

Masterlist Link

It fell from his lips as a relieved sigh, it had felt like forever since he had last seen you, and as he took in your form coiled in a baggy sweatshirt of his and hopefully nothing more, he was fast to close and lock the door behind himself. His tongue darted out to swipe the upon the underbite of his lip as he stepped slowly forwards in his adjourned flip flops, the wide shorts hanging off his legs. For this role he had very much diversified his appearance; lost weight, changed his hair, worn temporary tattoos - yet from the prowess that resonated through your eyes, nothing in the way of your attraction had changed.

“Sebba.” You greeted him with a wide smile, dismissing your phone that had been in your hand to the side of the couch, and crawling off the seat that you had taken up residence in. Instantly, your arms wrapped around his sleek torso, taking in the aroma of his deodorant that obliterated the senses through your nostrils. He pulled your face up with the grip of his heavy palm against your courteous cheek, as his breath fanned against the platter of your forehead.

“You’re here early, shooting doesn’t finish for another three days.” He stated, the grin that was tugging at his features clearly showing that he was anything but disappointed by your unspoken arrival. Tucking your arms to land around his waist like a belt that was enclosing him against you, you happily sighed, stroking your nose against the expanse of his bare chest that was beholden before you through the open curtains of his plain black hoodie. For a moment your eyes flickered down to the fake piercings that were strung like light fixtures from his nipples, watching as the silver metal beamed in contrast to the bulb that was fixed into the ceiling.

“I wanted to surprise you, it feels like forever since we were that close.” Was your confessing admission, as you pressed a warm kiss upon his revealed flesh, causing him to hum in acknowledgement of the amorous act. “Though I’m happy that god awful shadow is gone from your chin, if you want hair there then I suggest that you grow your beard back out.” You stroked your thumb over the crescent of his chin, running the pad through the indent as he inwardly cocked his brow, stiffening his jaw at your straight opinion.

“What’d you think of everything else? Be honest now darling.” He clicked his tongue, staring down at you with his smokily framed eyes, as you coiled back into your shoulders so that you could get a better overall viewpoint of him, as your hands descended to cupping the inward joints of his elbows. You balanced your weight on both of your feet, juggling between them to remain sturdy as you felt the mood in the trailer punctually shift, as though you were crossing through the mysterious channel that inhabited the Bermuda Triangle.

“Hmmm, well I’m rocking for the eyeliner, it really makes your eyes stand out more than they already do. And you know I’ve always been an absolute sucker for the longer hair, but I’m a sucker for you in general.” At that suggestive statement, you casted a sultry wink at him, hoping that he caught onto the act rather than thinking you had something entrapped in the perimeter of your eye. It was not dust that had clogged upon your pupil, instead it were lust, gripping onto the very image of him. It had been months, long ones at that since the pair of you had seen each other.

All the intimacy that your relationship confined in its long distance was dealt with over the phone, never once did the space that his work divulged the two of you apart make you feel lonely, he tried his utmost to ensure that you were comfortable even with miles for what seemed like an eternity separating you. The cellular contact that immersed your spare time furloughed for both late night calls that brought an innocent lovesick smile to resort upon the spectating image of your face that was reflected through the front camera of your phone, and sexual conducts that travelled across the countries that you were both in to bring you closer and alternatively higher together, in a blissful reunion that swamped your head with hyperactive hormones that followed after your mutual orgasms.

“Naughty.” He condoned you for your filthy innuendo, his hand cascading down the artwork of your body, and moving behind you, so that his fingertips were dancing upon the crown of your exempt ass cheek. “Guess all that time away has gotten you desperate for me, huh? Do you want to some sucking up to me? I’ve had a pretty hard day, and it would help me relieve a bunch of the stress that depends on these last few days. Not to mention I am so pent up from not seeing you all this time, it was practically torture honey bee, I’m not even sure how I survived.”

Dragging his head down to meet with your own, you pressed luscious and. Extended pecks onto his thin lips,having missed them covering every inch o your skin with the love that swelled in his chest and other places for you. “I don’t even know if you’ll last that long Bas, its been a certain while of you solely using your hand.” A giggle reaped from your throat as your hearing absorbed the gasp that slithered out of his mouth; he playfully pushed down upon the line of your shoulders, only enhancing your amusement by doing so. “So pushy.”

“That is right, and I will only get rougher with you the longer that it takes you to get down on your knees for me, so I would think logically. After all, after I completely wrap on this show, I’m going to have all the spare one in the world to put you in your little place and stop you from being a disobedient little brat.” It was a promise, he was threatening you in the most sexual way possible, and you’d be lying if you were to say that some aroused nectar hadn’t gathered in the passage that divided your highs down the middle. You gulped, intimacy written in every speck of your irises as you lowered yourself to be poised on your thighs, your face near the tent forming at his crotch.

The material of his shorts gathered with creases as his cock grew beneath the baggy subject that defined his legs that much more. A hand ravelled through your locks as you found yourself darting your tongue out to caress his legs, moving your muscle upwards as your hands teased the waistband of the barrier that prevented you from seeing all of him. “How much have you missed me baby, let daddy know.” Lightly, he begs to roll his hips forwards, pressing his erection teasingly against your face, and you were loving every second of it. His balls were pressing against your chin on every mimic forwards, and as you tried to speak, your voice was a tiny bit muffled by them.

“So much Sebby, I hated being apart from you.” You thought that would be a good enough answer, but as his fingers threaded further through your hair, a quiet yelp ejected from your throat as he strayed you head to be leant upwards so that you were gazing into his domineering eyes. That was when you realised that you must have made a mistake, but no matter what it was, it was much too late to take it back. Sexual fear paved through your gaze as you poured, wanting nothing to get back to your journey of duty which was to suck his cock, however, you could not continue if Sebastian had other things, such as whatever you had done so wrongly plaguing his mind.

“Bitch no cause why did you pronounce my name wrong? It begins with your favourite letter; a D, remember? And now I’m not even sure that you deserve my D. Right now I am not your Sebastian, what am I little girl?” He growled down at you, his toes rigidly curling in the open toed shoes that he were sporting, his hand remaining tangled in your hair.

“Daddy.” You tried not to sob out of dismissal, and instead expedited for apologising to refrain from angering him any further. “I’m so sorry daddy, I’ll do anything. Anything to make it up to you, please, I’ll never make that mistake again.” Unless it was not in this scenario of course, the pebbles of your tears brought a vivid richness and innocence upon your face, as though you were pooling diamonds out of the windows of your explicit soul. And I’m return, you were met with the gift of Seb shoving his shorts to be draped over his feet, his cock playing the curve of a sail as it stiffened more so at the air that hit it.

“Are you wearing anything underneath that sweatshirt baby?” He enquired as his right hand held his length in hand, enclosing his fist around the warm flesh that was beading with visible emotion at the tip. It was as though a pearl was balancing on the sector of his slit, teasing you as you dryly licked your lips, wanting nothing more than to ingest that into your body. To answer his question, your hands toyed with the bottom of his clothing article, pulling it up so that he could see your bare abdomen, of which was dressed in nothing more than your flawless skin.

“No daddy, I’m not. Am I in more trouble for that?” You worried that you were, all that you had wanted to do was surprise him, and you felt yourself grow a little giddy as he slowly shook his head, and pull back the coat of his foreskin to flash off as much of his cock as possible. He was teasing you to the slyest of his abilities, he wanted to subject you into doing something against your better judgement, and you remained strong, no matter how much you wanted to coil your lips around the head of his member and take him as far as the hollow of your throat would naturally allow.

“No baby, imma let you off the hook for that because I haven’t seen you in so long and I know that pretty little cunt has missed me probably more than the rest of you, but don’t test me again angel, or on the plane home you’re gonna have to sit on a bag of ice.” A part of you wanted to smirk, to coyly piss him off to see if that perseverance were to be true, however if you knew Sebastian, and you knew him more than well, you wouldn’t put anything past him nor his motives. “Go on, I can see you practically drooling to take me in your mouth. Don’t tease or I’ll fuck your face; be a good girl would ya.”

You weren’t going to waste anymore time, for all that you aware, any one of the set assistants could take him away from you, and that possibility only fuelled your instincts further as you hovered your head away from his hand, that was now patting and gently playing with your locks instead of using them as a leash, and flickered your tongue out to swipe that sample of precum and swallow it without hesitation. Before your mind could comprehend it, your body had already taken the next steps forwards and started to swallow down his member, your lashes fluttering closed as you hummed, sending a rhythm through Sebastian’s body of which made him cuss.

He was looking through half lidded eyes, almost shutting them, though stopping from doing so when he noticed your hand creep down the smooth skin of your thigh, and pry at your own folds. He was going to reprimand you for being so confident that you weren’t going to get caught doing something that was so ludicrous, but he decided that he were to allow you to continue for a moment. If he made a scene after revelling in his own pleasure, then you would be more compliant with whichever punishment that he nailed you down with. The tips of your digits quivered around your lips, before sinking within your walls and the rest of your palm cupped your pussy.

It made more sense now you were moaning against him, for not only the taste of him that hung heavily on your tongue, but from the slip of power that you thought you had over him, even if it be cloaked in secrecy. As he thought more of that, he found himself starting to fume with an underlining of rage, his fists stiffened at his sides as he exhaled through a combination of the sensations rippling beneath his skin. It was a combination of brewing disappointment and foreseen arousal; his veins burned with both, turning his blood warm and drumming his brain with one thing - it were his birthright to make you submit before him.

And though you were positioned in front of him, cast to your knees as you worked on his hard cock with your heavenly mouth, your mind had slithered away from the laws that you were supposed to obey as you fingered yourself against and without his jurisdiction. To retain from speaking out just yet Seb put the pressure of his front teeth down upon his bottom lip, as he tuned his ears on the sounds of your mouth i taking his cock and slathering it with the natural lubricant of your saliva, and if he paid enough attention, the sound of your nimble fingers darting in and out of your entrance was echoed through the slick that was provided from your hormonal body, that coated your fingers and glistened underneath the lighting.

As he felt a spark approaching through the intermissions of his pleasured body, he found it to be best to direct you away, and exhibit distance despite having forgone with that flow for the time space that you hadn’t seen each other in. And thus he gently stepped back, allowing his cock to fall past your lips and a string of spit to be the only thing connecting you to it. It was an instinct for you to whine as you watched him take his cock back into his hand, giving himself a couple of easing tugs to cool himself down from his ruined orgasm.

And that was when all prevailed in realisation for you, that he continued to ogle at you from above as your index and middle fingers on your right hand remained inside of your cunt, and as your mind sparked some sense back into it, you instantly removed them despite the emptiness that attained within that area. Your eyes remained wide as you watched with caution as Seb took it upon himself to take a seat on the sofa that was below the blind strung window of his trailer, his hand temptingly patting his thick thighs as a means to convince you to move closer.

“Get up here you deviant minx.” It was not a sweet gesture that he were offering you, no, instead you were getting punished despite evading such a fate earlier on. Pushing yourself up from your knees, you went to lay yourself against him homely lap, however as you went to do so, he tugged at the sweatshirt that compiled a flush of heat against your addictive body, pulling it up a few inches to send you the message. Once you had completely removed the appeared and were dressed to the eye in nothing more than your naked flesh, that was when Sebastian allowed you to continue laying your stomach across his legs, as your own legs and breasts were draped either side of them.

His rough fingertips caressed the muscles of your back, making them twitch from rugged anticipation. They descended lower as he dug his knee into your ribs, enjoying the way that your breath hitched. “You know the rules angel, you don’t touch without permission, and yet you did. Do you have anything to say for yourself before I bruise this beautiful ass red and blue?” The worst thing was you could imagine how your cheeks would look all bruised up from the harsh strokes from his commanding hands; it had happened before and each and every time you’d tell yourself that it’d never happen again, that you’d avoid such intimate brutality because you’d behave.

But you both knew better than to trust those empty promises that wailed from your desperate throat as you were subjected to a pain that made your mind hazy and your throat parched. “No daddy, just that I’m sorry.” A yelp quickly followed after as he collided his hand down upon the fat of your behind, your entire body jolting as you shakily inhaled, knowing that in a few minutes that you’d get used to the pain and find it less surprising. The first strike was always the worst, and as another clapped down, followed by more and more, tears reigned the paving of your face as they spilt down your cheeks.

Your apology was simply a waver in the air, it did nothing other than tell him something that he’d heard a million times by this point. And when nothing added to the soreness of your bosom, you swore that you were in heaven, it continued to sting though as relief washed over your aura, and your lashes flickered through the fallen tears, slowly drying from the sobbing that they had commenced. “You took that well, okay.” Seb breathed, beginning to softly stroke your ass which made you whimper from the feather light pressure that digressed against the impact he had prohibited you to dwindle in. “I’m gonna reward you, think you can turn over baby?”

He slipped out from beneath you, allowing you to remain on your stomach for the moment until you had finally came up with your decision. You wriggled a little, stretching your toes as you hummed in reply and switched, despite the searing conundrum that resorted favour over your backside, onto the polar of your position, only to find your lover of whom was in control crawling towards you, the rings around his eyes looking sinful as he stared at your naked body as though you were his prey. His hands began to reel up your legs, coercing you into squirming against the cushioning that was managing to keep you at the same physical level as him, though the same couldn’t be said for the mental premise that rendered in interference of your relationship.

Hot air brushed upon your mound as he pressed a kiss to the hill that lead to the lake that was fawning at his close proximity, waves crashing and glistening to appeal to his ocean eyes. “Daddy, can you please do something?” A grunt differed from his throat as he inhaled the sea salt that subordinated his nose to the all natural scent, all before he nipped at the inside of your thigh before delving his face between the tightened proximity, sealing his mouth around your sensitive bud as he mumbled moans against your reactive flesh, earning himself a deeper invasion as you rutted your hips up to his face.

Sebastian Stan was a man of many talents; he could clearly mimic anyone that a script needed him to, but the one thing that he was truly magical at was using his mouth. It was a skill set that made you mercilessly comply to him, it was his superpower, which was indeed ironic considering that he played a hero in one of the world’s biggest franchises known to cinema. He raised his hands to grasp at your own as he trailed them into his strongly pigmented hair, giving you permission to ravel your hands through his straight hair, and feel the smooth sheen against the judge of your skin. You liked it, as you knew that you would.

Using his tongue, he pried at your entrance, sinking it within you as he began to shake his unruly head, extracting small screams from your throat as you became victim to his plentiful evidence of love. Your chest raised out in the air as your eyes rolled back, and a tweak pulled at your clit once more, and looking down, it revealed that it were your beloved tugging at the button with his teeth, as he gouged your reaction. When you reached your orgasm, he dived head first back into your emptying cavern, cleansing all that he had subdued from your body via his amazingly versed and performed sentiment.

“Taste so fucking good baby.” To prove his point, he clambered above you, slipping his lips against your own as he swabbed your tongue with his own, sharing your own juices so that you could feel them balance on your taste buds. His hand ran down your body as he pinched your hardened nipples, earning himself a withered and high pitched sigh from your mouth as he pulled away from the kiss. “Think you for another one in you angel? Daddy wants to fuck this sweet pussy, you okay with that?” A dazed nod gave him permission, though he grasped your jaw with his strong hand as he ensured that you stared back at him. “I need to hear you.”

“Yes, want your cock in me daddy. Always do.” A content smile used your mouth as it’s efficient puppet as he held onto his cock, and teased it around your folds, wetting his foreskin and other areas to make it more pleasurable for the both of you when he went to push in. And when he did, you felt like you had died and gone to heaven, it made you wonder how you ever survived going months without his touch, in any which way. Your hands held onto his hips as you steadied his weight, silently giving him the okay to start moving, and he did, he sunk within your cavernous walls, only to pull back and repeat the action. “Seb.” You breathed the shortened version of his name, the hot air leaving your mouth hitting his shoulder as he panted beside your face, his nose dragging up your cheek as you ran your hand down, cupping his balls and stroking them with the tender contact of your thumb.

For once under these circumstances, he did not shun you for saying his true name, instead he was too busy with the maddening rush that flew through his body as he fornicated with you. His pace increased, provoking the sound of flesh slapping upon flesh in the air as your thighs and hips clashed, amongst other parts. “Fuck sugar, ya close?” He asked you hurriedly, his forehead scrunching up as he felt immense pleasure as your cunt clenched around him, using his leverage to play with your clit once more. You ravenously nodded your head, dragging your nails over his body as you tried to jut your body up against his, chasing the approaching high which ultimately had you slumping against the cushions as he continued to pummel your body with his delivering thrusts.

“Shit.” He almost shouted, a soothing buzz ongoing in his body as he released his seed within you, you being able to feel every drop even after he pulled out and rolled to lay beside you, tugging you to be laying on his chest, neither of you caring for the cum that was escaping from your entrance that also happened to be the exit. “Why you laughing at me angel face?” Sebastian queried as he heard your cheeky sounds of amusement, a grin ruining the formation of his rocker disguise.

“You’re eyeliner’s all smudged.” You laughed, running the pad of your thumb beneath his eye and in the crows feet that dipped below, blending it further into his skin and giving it a grey hue to its ebony gradient. “You still look hot though.” You shrugged, nestling your head deeper into his chest, finally relieved that you and Sebastian were in the same place at the same time again.

773 notes · View notes

yanderememes · 3 years ago

Note

Can i request headcanons for innocent darling on her period and how the villains treat her in that state? Mines can get so painful and i need comfort (｡•́︿•̀｡)

I'm sorry to hear you're going through period pains, anon. I feel that. It's times like these that I really wish I had yan!Giorno taking care of me

I don't think my writing is as good as my memes lol but here you go! (under the cut)

Dio:

I have a strong hc that Dio is super soft with his lover

So when he hears that darling has period pains, you bet he's gonna comfort them

Period pains leave you immobile for the whole day and you just don't feel like going anywhere cuz you're in so much pain

Not a problem for Dio since he's a vampire and is limited in what he can do during the day

He would have you stay in his room with him where it's cool and dark.

You would be on his lap, snuggled in his huge bed with him as you two read a book together

I think he would read the book aloud for you cuz who can resist that sexy voice of his 🥴

Kars:

I get the feeling that Kars would tease darling a bit

The little human has period pains? He could never understand any sort of pain cuz he's a god

But he'll still take care of you. He just doesn't know how

It would be more a comedy show watching Kars trying to understand human female biology

He'll read up on some books to further his understanding

He's horrible at taking care of this stuff but he's trying. If you ask him for something he won't say no.

Kira:

Despite being a serial killer, Kira is accidentally best husbando

You'd never have to leave your bed because he'll take care of everything

His love language is acts of service, so he'll cover all the practical stuff

Hell have everything ready for you so you won't have to get up from your bed

Cleaning, washing, cooking, you name it. He'll do it all for you. The rest of the villains can perish

Hell keep you company and take the day off work just to be with you and attend to your every need

Villain house is jealous of Kira because he's so good at this stuff

Diavolo:

I think he'd be the worst at this lol

He's too busy running the Mafia. He doesn't really have time for this

But he still loves darling and doesn't want the other villains to take you away from him

He'd Passione to his advantage. Diavolo will just spoil you.

You have gifts upon gifts piling up on the door to your room that include jewelry and designer brands

He heard that cravings are common so he'll have whatever you're craving for ready to go

Doppio:

Pretty much boyfriend material

Does anything and everything you want him to do

Can be a bit overbearing and a worrywart

"Are you sure you're okay?! Do you want me to get anything else? Make sure you're drinking water! I'll go get you some more pads!"

Next thing you know your room is filled with an excessive amount of things you don't really need

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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

Text

Love For The Faceless

Corpse Husband x Youtuber!Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Y/N is a YouTube gamer who has recently gained a much larger following thanks to the streams she does with her friends. Naturally, considering her faceless and bodiless nature, people are starting to get curious about her. When she finally follows her friend Corpse’s example, a lot more than her hands is revealed.

Requested by anon, you know who you are 😉 Thank you so much for placing a request and hope this fic fulfills the expectations you have for it.

“Hey!“ I greet the lobby as I finally hop into the Discord call after quickly saying ‘hi‘ to my audience.

I’ve been a YouTuber for four years now and I’ve only recently started streaming, encouraged to do so by my best friend Rae. She’s the one who got me in multiplayer games such as Among Us and Phasmophobia which led me to meet her amazing gaming squad that consists of some of the most famous names on the platform. They are all wonderful people and I will forever be in Rae’s debt for introducing me to them. However, becoming friends with Felix, Sean and the rest of the team brought not only a more fulfilled life, but also a small boost in following. Who am I kidding, it wasn’t small. It was overwhelming, terrifying even.

My YouTube channel had a little over a million subscribers at the start of quarantine and now....now it’s closer to three million. Speaking of three million, I’m about to reach it any day now and it’s really hard to believe. I’m a gaming youtuber and I’ve never considered changing my genre despite expecting to not get any attention whatsoever, with all the big names on the platform. I was convinced not even as many as a hundred people would stumble across my videos and now here we are.

My OG subscribers are very supportive of my sudden growth and are defending me when my newer fans ask for a face reveal or whatnot. While we’re on that topic I might have to mention that not even my YouTube friends, and that includes Rae have seen my face. I’ve been faceless and bodiless for the entirety of my time on social media. Some claim I do it to grab more attention or for dramatic effect, but the reason is beyond that. I’m not shallow. Actually, shallow people are the reason I don’t show my face. I’ve never been the prettiest, but my middle school bully thought that I wasn’t lacking self confidence enough. As a result, I ended up with a not so handsome scar on my right cheek that starts from the corner of my mouth and nearly misses my eye. Yeah, it’s a long and pretty noticeable scar that has thankfully become less and less obvious as the years have progressed. Still, it’s not something I’d like to show to my viewers.

Eight ‘hi’s greet me back, each making my smile grow wider. “Sorry I’m late guys. Technical difficulties.”

“Don’t worry.“ Rae’s voice dominates over the rest, “Corpse still isn’t here so we’re waiting for him.“

I mute myself on the Discord call and take a look at my comments. I’m most flattered by the comments about my voice. Seeing as how they don’t have much to compliment about me other than my content, they make the nicest comments about my voice, personality and humor. Those comments are the ones who warm my heart most. Even when people in my day to day life compliment my appearance I can’t find it in me to believe they are being genuine. I’d like to believe these amazing people are being one hundred percent honest when they tell me they like me for who I am and not for what I might look like.

“Sorry I’m late guys.“ A deep voice causes me to even physically jolt, switching my focus from the comments to the Among Us lobby where my eyes land on the newly materialized black avatar.

“Hi Corpse.“ Rae greets him.

“Hello mister who broke Twitter!“ Sean laughs, provoking the laughter of the rest of the players.

“Yeah, congratulations man. That’s a big deal.“ Felix chimes in.

“Thanks guys, but I think you’re forgetting we’re talking about a picture of my hand.“ Corpse chuckles timidly. I have noticed how shy he gets when someone gives him a compliment - like a snail slowly withdrawing in its shell. I find it adorable.

“That’s what makes it even better!“ I unmute my mic, sending my own congratulations.

“While we’re on that topic...“ Rae begins, waiting for the rest of us to shut our traps, suggesting she has something important to say. “Y/N, do you ever plan on doing a reveal like that? Not a face reveal. Just a body part reveal.“

I have no problem talking about the subject with friends but I get nervous when I’m supposed to discuss it with my fans. Seeing as how everyone, including myself, is streaming right now, I get a bit of a stutter in my speech. “Haven’t thought about it yet. But I guess a body part reveal is harmless.” I cringe immediately after letting the words leave my mouth, “That sounds so weird.”

Rae knows that I’m not too fond of my face, but I haven’t told her about my scar yet. I let almost all people I’ve met online think I’m using my lack of appearance for effect. For the mystery of it all. Mysteries attract people which equals attention. Attention equals views and the domino effect continues.

“Just a suggestion. No pressure.“ Rae adds quickly, knowing full well I get anxious when the subject is brought up in front of cameras. “Let’s get this game started, shall we.”

* * *

The idea dwells in my mind, sitting on the back burner even after I disconnect from the Discord call. I’m sitting in my gaming chair, which was a gift for my two million milestone, and weighing out the pros and cons of the action Rae suggested I take.

“It’s a picture of your fucking hand, dummy. How bad can it turn out?“ I say out loud, shaking my head at my indecisiveness. “You’ll be fine.”

In a blur, two pictures are already posted on my Instagram. The first one captioned ‘Took a leaf from my friend’s book. Did I do it right @ corpsehusband?’ and the second ‘Thanks, Rae. These are on you.’

Rae’s POV

As I’m watching a movie in my living room, I get a notification from Instagram, informing me that Y/N has posted for the first time in a while.

I scoff, “More like the first time in forever.”

The first thing that comes to my mind is the possibility of her reaching that three million milestone that’s been long time coming. I bring the glass of water that’s sitting on my coffee table to my lips, taking a sip as I tap the notification. The picture I see makes me hurry to put the glass back down so I don’t drop it. Y/N’s hand. Her fingers are covered with several thin rings each. And here I thought Corpse had too many rings, this girl has at least two on every finger!

Then my eyes land on the second picture she has posted only minutes after the first and my heart drops. I struggle to get the water that’s been sitting in my moth down my esophagus while my mind is struggling with the task to comprehend the picture I’m looking at.

Another hand is resting on top of Y/N’s. A hand also covered in rings but fewer and larger. The nails are painted black.

I think I know who it belongs to.

Before I can even finish the thought, I’m dialing Y/N. She picks up after the second ring, sound cheery as ever as she greets me. “Hey Rae!”

“Don’t you ‘Hey Rae’ me!” I practically scream. I hate being kept in the dark about anything ever so this is just driving me mad. On top of all, she’s my best friend, for fuck’s sake. “Is that Corpse in the photo with you?!”

“Ugh....“ the cheeriness to her voice is all but gone now.

I go on with my rant, not giving her the time to reply. Not that she would reply. I bet she doesn’t know what to say. “So he knows where you live?! Or was the picture taken at his place?! He knows what you look like?! You have seen him! He has seen you in real life but me, your best friend, haven’t!!! You are breaking Covid 19 protection laws to take pictures?! Are you fucking serious, Y/N?!”

There’s a long moment of silence which frustrates me even more but I literally have run out of things to yell and the power to be angry. I mean, I still am, I just can’t express it.

“Rae, sweetheart, please calm down. You’re scary when you’re mad.“ This girl has some fucking nerve! She’s on the verge of laughing!

“Listen here you...“

“Rae, please stop scaring my girlfriend.“ That oh so distinguishable, oh so familiar voice interrupts me.

I am flabbergasted, for a lack of a better term.

“Now that we’ve got you quiet, I can explain.“ Y/N pics up the conversation, “Corpse and I have been dating for six, almost seven months now. We started dating around Easter after talking for quite some time. We moved in together at the end of September. All thanks to you, Rae. You’re the best.” She pauses to breathe in real quick, “There, all caught up?“

I’m in no less shock than I was before she explained. Actually, I think I might be even more confused now. It all just feels like a fever dream. “Yes...no. I don’t fucking know! I need details, Y/N!”

“Details later.“ Corpse makes his presence known once again, “We’re watching Family Guy right now. Talk to you later.“

“Love you, Rae!“ Y/N calls out before the line goes dead.

My arm goes limp, dropping my phone on the couch next to me.

“Motherfuckers” I mumble under my breath.

Y/N’s POV

It’s been a week since Rae has stopped talking to both Corpse and me. I know she just needs some time to cool off. In the meantime, the rest of our friends were informed and, as oppose to Rae, were nothing but supportive and overjoyed. I bet Rae feels the same way though. Sean, Dave and the rest of the gang have confirmed that she’s incredibly happy for us and says she noticed a spark between me and him since day one, but she can’t help but be mad at us, and especially me, for not telling her sooner.

“Any regrets?“ I remember Corpse asking me when we hung up on her after dropping the bomb.

“Not being able to see her face when she saw the picture.“ I beam at him, feeling as content as ever.

He laughs, agreeing with me before leaning down to kiss me.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios

#corpse #corpse husband #corpsehusband #husband #corpse husband fanfic #corpse simp #corpse husband fanficiton #corpse fanfiction #corpse fanfic #corpse x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband x reader #x reader #reader #request #requests open

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

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Demigod MC Series: Dionysus

Hey y’all, sorry for going dark! I’m alright, almost completely recovered in fact! I just got so sleepy while my body was fighting stuff off and couldn’t really work up the energy to write... Still going to be spotty for a short time, but I’m glad to have gotten this done. See ya soon!

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus

Lucifer

Well, this mortal stumbled out of the portal covered in glitter, body paint, and carrying a red solo cup… which they proceeded to stare at like, "'ell sshhit… Thiz iz sum stron s'uff…"

First impressions were not on their side here.

He spent a depressingly long amount of time more or less assuming that the MC was a drunken f-up and spent the first few months trying to make them more… presentable.

But like… How do you stop someone from acting like a drunk fool when they can turn any drink they touch alcoholic???

For months they would show up to meetings buzzed or stumbling, all smiles and all giggles but HORRIBLY unprofessional, and he just couldn't stand it!

But then he found out their little secret…

Assassination threats befall the exchange students all the time. Most of them are dealt with quickly but some (through skill or dumb luck) manage to slip through...

He had been walking with the MC through their new vineyard in the House's courtyard, yet again trying to lecture them about their drunken behavior, when suddenly the two were ambushed!

Ten or so heavily armored demons dropped down from the sky to attack them! Lucifer was so preoccupied that he got cornered by three of them and it took him a hot minute to destroy them.

When he looked back at the mortal (who had been fighting a 1-on-7) he was certain they'd have been kidnapped or worse…

But he saw that they had already cut down two attackers with their weapon with ease. The other five were rolling in the dirt, babbling about inexplicable terrors and imaginary pain as their minds succumbed to madness…

Meanwhile, the MC just stood in the middle of it all with the icy glare of someone who’s just revealed how stone-cold sober they've always been under the surface...

When they turned back to him, they put their usual ditzy smile back on over the tormented wails of the demons around them...

MC: Whoopsie… Gotta little mad there. 🙂

He uh… took a big ol'step off their back after that. Surprisingly, they're more pleasant (and less dangerous) "drunk" than they are sober…

Mammon

Oh HELL yeah!! Lucifer actually gave him a mortal that knows how to party!!

Admittedly, they looked like utter trash when they first met, like, "Hey, I've been at this party since DAWN" trash, but they gave him one good look and pulled together a surprisingly hot smile.

MC: "-ey yer cute… Ya like strip poker?"

Spoken like someone else who also makes shit decisions… They were going to get along just fine!

And they did. The MC to him was that one friend that's always down for anything. Just anything. Whenever. Wherever.

He wants to try sneaking into Lucifer's room to steal stuff? Sure, what time?

He wants to take a mattress and see if he can ride it down the grand staircase of the palace? Alright, we bringin' pillows too?

He needs to set up another scheme that's gotta involve live rats and box of tiny hats and monocles?? That's oddly specific but count them in!!

Sometimes he honestly can't tell if they're laid back or just crave chaos... but it works out fine for him either way so who cares? 🤷‍♀️

And if you think normal Mammon is a pain in the ass for Lucifer? Check out drunk Mammon. All the same urges but literally none of the (marginal) competence!!

At one point, the eldest ended up stringing both Mammon and the MC from the ceiling after they both barged into his office looking for Goldie… while he was still in there… watching them wander around aimlessly calling out for a piece of plastic like it was a missing puppy…

They end up together on the ceiling a lot come to think of it, but hey, at least now he has some company. 😌

Leviathan

Thinks they're the most normal normie to have ever normed on this normie planet!!!

No, seriously. They're a billion times worse than Asmo!! All they want to do is go to parties and drink all the time! What kind of use is he to someone like that??

… That being said they ARE pretty fun to be around… And their sake is WAY better than anything he could get off Akuzon!!

They also like karaoke too! So at least he has someone else to go with (even if they get so drunk they can’t remember any lyrics and just belt barely coherent discount Mariah Carey vocals behind him...)

Of course, the real fun between these two is everybody else getting to watch a couple of the Devildom's sloppiest drunks attempt to communicate with each other…

Levi: MMM-*hic*-MCCC…!!! *throws himself at them from across the bar*

MC: What Leviachan??? 😨 Did the chair kick you off?!

Levi: Nooo! *pokes their cheek* I wanna-I wanna tell you sometin'...! *tries pulling them closer*

MC: Whaa? Secrets?? *leans in eagerly*

Levi: Mammon used all ma money on’a pyramid scheme a thou-zand years ago… AND HE STILL WON'T PAY ME BAAA-!!! 😭😭 *starts shaking them violently*

MC: *getting flung around like a limp noodle* Waaaat?! Nooo!!! I'm so sowwy!! 😢

Mammon: *watching it all go down right next to him* 😑 Ya guys need some water… I'm cuttin' ya off, got it?

MC: 😱 Shut yer whore mouth, criminal!! *starts pelting him with pretzel bites*

Levi: 😤 Yah!! *joins in*

Good thing he's a shut-in, because the hangovers he gets after those escapades are unreal…

Satan

A little concerned for their liver, honestly… How much damage have they already done to the poor thing...?

But at the same time, he'll be damned if they don't make some utterly fantastic wine!

Alcokinesis wasn't a power he would have pegged a demigod to have but apparently the great art of making drinks comes from their godly DNA.

When they first met, he was trying to get the MC to act less slovenly but made the mistake of agreeing to a wager: he'd let them dress however they pleased if they could give him the BEST drink he'd ever tasted.

Now, Satan isn't a huge drinker (thank you terrible alcohol tolerance), but he's still a man of fine tastes. Plus, he's sampled Demonus from Diavolo royal stock before. They should not have won…

But on that day, he had to let them go to RAD in a pink blanket toga... 😑 Their wine is just THAT good.

He hates to admit it, but they've gotten him drunk more times than he could probably count too… He's not a huge fan of clubbing with them and the others, but if they bring over a bottle from their vineyard he just can't resist. They're a master of their craft, truly.

And it's a good thing he likes their drinks so much, because if they called him, "Kitty-boy," when he's sober, he may have just become a sour grape himself…

They also may or may not have copious amounts of blackmail material of him either meowing between sentences, sobbing over some fictional character he likes, pole dancing on dares….

Yeah, he's been trying to destroy their phone for months now. If Lucifer were to see ANY of that, he's done for… 😣

He has also been meaning to ask them about other aspects of their abilities, their father is also the God of Madness after all, but anytime he tries to bring it up they shove another glass in his hand and tell him not to kill the mood...

Eh. What's the harm in having another drink, right? 🤷‍♀️

Asmodeus

Honey. He's MET Dionysus. He's been to a Dio-party or two and they're INSANE. He could not be more thrilled by this!!!

He practically scooped them up on the first night that they were in the House and it’s practically been a nonstop rave between these two ever since. They’re like the party twin he never knew he needed!!

He absolutely abuses their ability to turn pretty much any drink they touch into alcohol at clubs. It makes the nights so much easier on the wallet PLUS it makes an excellent little party trick to impress the succubi! Who doesn’t want a free drink? 😏

And can he just say that their drinks are better? Just flat out amazing! If it weren’t so unhealthy he’d consider drinking nothing but their booze and wine for the rest of his days, Satan’s certainly getting close to it.

But little does Satan know, he’s not even getting the GOOD stuff...

There’s the normal wine: grapes picked from the vineyard, hand squeezed, then magically helped through the fermenting process. But their real good stuff? They were given enchanted oak barrels from their father and anything that comes out of those is worth starting a WAR over. 😩

He knows, because he gifted an extra bottle to Diavolo once and Barbs came to him the very next day demanding to know what vineyard had produced it with the look of man willing to annex a small nation...

Asmo had to beg Lucifer to talk to Diavolo after the butler more or less kidnapped the MC back to the Castle… Devil knows even Barbs wouldn’t ever be able to reproduce their wine, so they could have been locked there for eternity!!

Thankfully, he got his party-buddy back and their debauchery continued! (Just now with Barbatos following them around sometimes like he’s trying to gather state secrets... It’s an impossible task but he hasn’t given up yet, bless his black heart.)

Beelzebub

He isn't much bothered by their carefree nature, at least they seem to be having fun with his family which he appreciates. 🙂

To be honest, though, he nearly ate them when they first met because they smell like freshly peeled grapes… and for good reason.

By their third day at the House they had (somehow) planted and cultivated a full on vineyard in the courtyard. Hell, the wall growing to their bedroom balcony was covered in grapevines!! Always ripe and completely healthy in defiance of the lack of sun... Whatever magic they used was strong.

And, of course, their grapes were also delicious! Easily among the best fruits he's ever tasted! Every cluster is ridiculously plump, juicy, and sweet like little droplets of pure Heaven… 🤤

When their fruit first ripened, the MC came out with a basket to collect some only to find Beel had gouged himself on over half of their crop!!!

… which may have been why he got snared up on one of the courtyard walls by pissed off grapevines... Even with all his strength, he couldn't break through them and had to wait for Lucifer to cut him down… 😔

From then on, Beel was pretty much the pesky rabbit to the MC's harvest. They had to set up traps and magical barriers to keep him from their precious grapes…!! Which inevitably meant one of his brothers had to come rescue him from their furious vines at least once a week... 🙄

SOMETIMES, the MC will bring him along to help harvest with them with the deal that he can have an extra basket for however many he helps them pick. But the second he takes a bite he shouldn't, it’s back on the wall!

Out of the vineyard, they're nice enough. But put some grapes between these two and they're mortal enemies… STOP messing with their plants, Beel!! 😤

Belphegor

So… this drunken fool is supposed to get him out of the attic? Never mind, this is never going to work…

He was SEVERELY underwhelmed when the "human" finally made it up the steps. This was who they decided to bring for their exchange program? They seemed like they could barely stand!

Naturally, he figured all the better for him. They probably wouldn't even last that long!

Some poor, incompetent human falling victim to a demon out there? Diavolo's reputation would in tatters and he wouldn't even have to lift a finger! (His favorite way of doing things really 😌).

But… they just kept coming back? Like. Nothing was killing them….! How guarded were they keeping this moron??

Or… maybe it was something else?

Sure, the MC seemed like a drunken idiot but there were times when he'd swear that they were just… too aware to be sloshed…

MC: *suddenly stops smiling at him mid-conversation and looks him in the eye* You tilt your head when you lie. You know that?

How can someone so cheerful ALSO be so unnerving…?

So really, he should have seen their sudden heel-turn after they opened the door coming. There he was, fully intending to take them by surprise and choke them after a hug…

...and they knocked him down, climbed onto his back like a spider monkey, and rode him around like a bucking bull using his horns like handlebars!!

It wouldn’t have been AS humiliating if they didn’t also keep shouting things like "Giddiyap!" And "Yee-haw!!"

It took him a whole month to be sure that any and all footage of that nightmare was erased and he STILL hates the MC quite a bit for it…. But he's too scared to attack them now, so…

The lesson here? It's not a fair fight when one side’s crazy... 😔😒

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me demigods

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inkykeiji · 4 years ago

Text

the clock is ticking, running out of time

characters: shigaraki tomura

genre: smut and angst

notes: AAAAAAH HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOMURA!!!!!! sorry i seem to write angst for all of my faves birthdays ehehe. this is technically set in the touya-nii universe!! | title cred: birthday by katy perry

warnings: 18+ minors dni, cheating, implied stepcest/pseudo-incest, toxic relationships, the slightest hint of degradation, noncon/dubcon video recording, extreme feelings of guilt

words: 4.4k

synopsis:

“It’s fine—”

“It’s not,”

“I didn’t come here to talk about Touya,” you say gently, letting your dress drop down as you straighten up. “Let’s—Let’s not think about him right now, okay? Today is your day, and I want to focus on you. Forget about Touya,”

A deep frown mars his face, his nose twitching again. It looks like he wants to say more, but then your hands are on him, roaming across his bony chest and sliding into the tufts of silvery-blue hair at the nape of his neck.

“It’s hard to buy a gift for someone who already has everything,” you’re continuing softly, gazing up at him through your lashes, so close your noses nearly bump together. Sweet breath wafts over his face, a tongue darting out to lick at his lips, as if he’s trying to taste it. “So I thought…I thought the best gift I could give you is me,”

And suddenly, Touya’s wiped from his mind.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

That’s the thought that’s been looping through your head for the past forty-five minutes, for the entire bus ride from Touya’s apartment to Tomura’s, for the walk from the bus stop to his condo complex, for the thirty-seven seconds it takes him to answer the door.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

But you want to.

It’s been months since you’ve seen him last, months since you spent the night with him, months since you’ve spoken to him at all.

4:06. The glowing numbers glare up at you from the screen of your phone, unable to stop obsessively checking your phone, mentally calculating the time you have left over and over again, even though you’ve already meticulously planned this outing down to the very second.

It’s rare for Touya to be out for an exact amount of allotted time, but when he mentioned that he had a three hour full body check up with his doctor that just so happened to be scheduled on Tomura’s birthday…Well, it was too convenient for you not to seize the opportunity.

The door swings open, breaking you out of your thoughts, and your name leaves his lips in a gasp, crimson eyes searching your face in disbelief. A beat of silence passes before he speaks again. “What’re you doing here?”

“Wanted to see you for your birthday,” you say simply with a shrug and he blinks several times, still staring at you incredulously. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?”

And for a moment you’re terrified you’ve made a grave mistake, terrified that he doesn’t want you here, that he thinks the risk is too big—Touya will murder the both of you if he finds out—too dangerous, his body gone rigid in the doorway, breathing stopped.

But then a brilliant smile is splitting his face, and he’s pulling you into his arms, crushing you to his chest as his fingers curl in the material of your dress.

And you—you practically collapse against him, sighing out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. He still smells exactly the same, just as you remember—like cheap cigarettes and watermelon bubblegum.

The scent evokes thick unfurling remorse, sinking heavily in your stomach, the mantra you’ve been repeating to yourself for the past few days immediately flowing through your mind, a desperate attempt to reassure yourself, to reason with yourself, to justify this decision.

Because you both deserve closure, don’t you? After everything that’s happened? After leaving him without a trace, without so much as a phone call or a quick text to at least let him know you’re okay?

Because Touya’s cheated on you how many times throughout the first six months of your relationship? One more teeny tiny instance of infidelity—the last one, you promise yourself—shouldn’t hurt, so long as he doesn’t know about it.

Right?

Really, this does nothing to dispel the culpability churning in your chest. No, Tomura’s bright boyish smile does that all by itself, sincere in the way it’s stretched across his face as he tugs you inside.

And...And suddenly, none of it really matters. Not in that moment, at least. Suddenly, all of those statements are rendered true; Tomura does deserve this. Suddenly, you realize just how much you’ve missed him.

“I have to be quick, I’m sorry,” your voice cracks under unexpected emotion, but Tomura doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, ecstatic over the fact that you’ve come to visit at all.

“That’s fine,” he’s saying as his hands roam your body, kneading and squeezing with surprising gentleness, eyes shining and wide as they follow his touch, as if he can’t believe you’re here, can’t believe you’re real.

It has your heart shattering in your chest, jagged shards puncturing your surrounding organs, burying themselves deep within you, never to be dug out. A lump lodges itself in your throat, voice frail and full of spit as you speak around it.

“I missed you so much,” the words rush from between your lips without your permission, and Tomura pulls back, smile fading as his gaze searches your face.

For a moment, you can tell that he wants to berate you for disappearing without any contact at all, can see it shining clear as crystal in his eyes as they narrow, as eyebrows knit and his nose scrunches, and you nuzzle your face into him. Guilt, a different kind than that which Touya evokes—this type lighter than the dense acidic guilt that sticks to your insides like thick tar any time sapphire sears through your mind, this type bitter and saturated with melancholy—roots in the pit of your stomach.

“I—I’m sorry I haven’t been able to text,” you mumble meekly, tears pricking your eyes. “Touya—”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off with surprising softness, fingertips still trailing up and down your spine. “I figured. Uh, how is he? Like, how…How was he?”

The brand of those five letters, now fully healed, scald your flesh, blistering bright and hot as if you had just been branded again. With your bottom lip sucked between your teeth, you contemplate just outright telling him—he’s going to see it eventually either way, but you’re worried about ruining the mood a little too early.

No.

Better to rip it off like a band-aid, to get it out of the way now, instead of interrupting your birthday festivities later.

Your chest swells with a deep inhale, exhaling the words slowly.

“He was…” Livid. Furious beyond belief. Deeply hurt—distressed, distraught, dismayed. Visibly shaken up. In more pain than you’ve ever witnessed before. Terrified. “Upset. Naturally.”

Tomura waits for you to continue, speaking after a few moments of silence. “And?” he prompts, knowing Touya didn’t let you get away with a mere verbal warning, knowing you have more to say.

“A-And—” you bury your face against his neck, hot tears leaking from your eyes and staining his skin as they squeeze shut tightly, forcing the quivering words from your throat. “And he—He, um, he branded me,”

“What?” The word is just a huff of breath as large hands curl around your shoulders, yanking you from the sanctuary of his body so he can scrutinize your face, flashing crimson flying across your features. “He what?”

“His name,” you whisper, eyes still shut, face screwing up in distaste, the words bitter on your tongue.

“Where?”

“My ass,”

“Let me see,”

Eyes snapping open, your head begins to shake, motions cutting off when your stare meets his glare. Reluctantly you turn, flipping your dress up as you bend over a bit, pulling your panties down just enough to show him the slightly raised letters etched into your flesh forever.

Save for the soft, choked noise that sounds in the back of his throat, silence blankets the room, atmosphere suddenly stale and suffocating.

You glance back at him after a few beats, when your chest is beginning to burn from holding your breath in your lungs, and the sight that you are met with has your chest tearing itself in half, ribs caving in, giving way to the deep, dark ache swirling at the very core of your body.

Crimson eyes gleam in the setting sun, a thick layer of tears catching in the golden rays streaming through the window. It’s almost pretty in a way, brilliant ruby that shimmers and shines in the waning beams, practically glowing. But those beautiful, beautiful eyes are transfixed on your bare flesh, unblinking stare etching itself into your skin much like the letters Touya left behind.

His chin trembles just a little, front teeth sinking into his bottom lip in an attempt to halt it, head nodding in minuscule motions, barely noticeable, almost as if he’s confirming something to himself, affirming some unsaid thought sailing through his mind—almost as if he’s blaming himself.

“Fucking bastard,” he spits, though the words are wobbly, lacking heat and coated in sticky saliva. Using the sleeve of his black shirt, he wipes at his nose almost aggressively, quelling it’s twitching as he exhales harshly, nostrils flaring, before he sniffs twice and rolls his shoulders back, gaze finally meeting yours.

“It’s fine—”

“It’s not,”

The glittering scarlet lace barely obscured by your thin dress singes itself into your flesh as his palms cascade over it, tracing every dip and curve of your body as they slide down to grope your ass.

You had bought the set for this occasion specifically—using cash you had stashed away, of course; Touya regularly checks your bank statements and credit card—with the intention of letting Tomura keep it, as a present.

“It’s hard to buy a gift for someone who already has everything,” you’re continuing softly, gazing up at him through your lashes, so close your noses nearly bump together, sweet breath wafting over his face, a tongue darting out to lick at his lips, as if he’s trying to taste it. “So I thought…I thought the best gift I could give you is me,”

And suddenly, Touya’s wiped from his mind.

He surges forward, foreheads bumping together from the strength, and crushes his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, nimble fingers curling in the hem of your dress and yanking, pulling the material from your body in one erratic motion.

He’s just as enthusiastic as he was all those months ago, large hands settling on your lace-clad hips as he guides you—back, back, back, stumbling over your own feet a little as he shoves forward, teeth clacking as his tongue tangles with yours, interspersed drool pooling at the corners of your lips.

A soft cry of surprise leaves your lips as he roughly spins the two of you so he’s the one reversing, collapsing in the overstuffed gaming chair abandoned near his desk and hauling you down with him, wheels rolling against the hardwood from the force.

His lips are plush and chapped, kisses messy with strings of viscous saliva, and you’re reminded of how fun kissing Tomura is, playful giggles spilling from one mouth into another consistently breaking the flow as eager hands paw and pull, snapping the clasp on your bra and haphazardly discarding it, your fingers toying with the silver button of his charcoal jeans.

“Get on with it already,” he groans, impatient and entitled as ever, exactly how you remember, hips rutting up into you clumsily as hands travel up your torso to knead your breasts much too hard. And even though it shouldn’t, his predictability inspires a burst of intense warmth in your chest, burning bright like a tiny sun, heat seeping into your blood and flooding your veins as more involuntary giggles pry their way out of your mouth and into his.

“Think that’s funny, huh?” he asks, and although his eyes are fierce and sharp as they scrutinize your face, there’s a playful little grin decorating his lips, slender fingers tweaking a peaked nipple and snickering at your resulting yelp.

“Just missed you, s’all,” you mumble against him, lips dragging along his jaw then trailing down his neck, tongue peeking out to give kitten licks at self-inflicted scars and tugging pathetic little half-whimpers from deep in his throat, rough and uneven as he tries to swallow them back down.

There isn’t enough time for thorough prep, your only form of foreplay consisting of his cock being rammed down your throat—just get it fucking wet, he had demanded—hips stuttering as he desperately tries to keep from bucking while your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in spit.

“Fu-Fucking stop, or I’m gonna cum,” Large fists tangle in your hair, trying to yank you off his cock with a pathetic little whine. Gaping pupils outlined by a fine ring of scarlet observe the way your shining lips pucker around his girth as your mouth slides up, grip on your strands already loosening as his chest heaves, completely absorbed by your actions, breath escaping slightly parted lips in sweet little puffs.

A little tongue flicks against the slit as you reach the tip, placing an obscene openmouthed kiss to the head before pulling away completely. Your mouth hovers an inch above it, allowing a large glob of sticky saliva to dribble from your mouth onto the head, then kissing it again, pressing slippery lips to heated silky skin.

“Jesus Christ,”

The curse is nearly a moan, and you look up from your place between his thighs, batting your eyelashes and offering him a tiny smile. His eyes glitter as he gazes down at you, chest rising unevenly under the force of ragged breaths, a thumb swiping across your cheek in a manner that’s almost awestruck, as if he can’t believe you’re here.

“Get on my cock,” he orders a moment later, when the aching between his legs draws him back to reality, hips jerking up in reflexive, instinctive micro-movements, gleaming cock bobbing with the action. “And take your fucking panties off,”

It’s a little awkward and a lot uncoordinated, trying to maneuver yourself onto his lap while he slouches in that ridiculous gaming chair, unable to quell the way his hips prematurely thrust the moment you’re hovering over him, legs folded and cramped on either side of his thighs.

Pathetic little whimpers leak from your lips as his slick cock stretches your ill-prepared hole, cunt stinging as it struggles to adjust to the sudden breach, your nails digging into the lean muscles of his shoulders as a hiss is spit between clenched teeth.

But the moan he emits, deep and satisfying as you sink down on him, how his eyelashes flutter shut and his head knocks back against the headrest as he bottoms out, long ivory neck and prominent Adams apple on display, and the way massive hands grip your hips, fingertips digging into your soft flesh as he forces you to begin bouncing almost immediately, make it all so worth it.

Because he’s still so pretty, lids lifting a moment later to reveal dazzling ruby gazing at you in an almost voracious manner through thick dark lashes, glued to your face as he memorizes every micro-expression that transforms your features, the way your eyes roll back and eyebrows twitch, the way your mouth forms around those cute little gasps of his name that his rough thrusts punch from your chest.

“Did’ya miss my cock?” his breath is already coming out in short little pants, hips grinding urgently against yours, lacking any kind of finesse or rhythm. “B-Bet’cha did,”

“Uh-huh,” your head nods jerkily, hips rocking just as desperately into his as if to confirm your statement. His cock is pretty, too—a darker pink than Touya’s, half an inch shorter but just as fat, thick veins snaking around the shaft like vines.

“Dick drunk already?” he teases, and you’re positive his voice was meant to be more rancorous, but the large grin it’s spoken through, as if he’s proud of himself, chest nearly swelling with it, dilutes it, disintegrating the bitter shell that was supposed to coat the words. His tongue clicks, fluffy tufts of hair bouncing a little as he shakes his head. “What would your precious niichan think?”

You don’t answer—can’t answer—because it’s already so much, uncoordinated thrusting almost teasing in a way, the head of his cock unintentionally grazing that spot buried deep inside of you, the fleeting sensation mixing with that of the taboo, of the naughtiness of the situation, mewls spilling from your lips.

And you wish, so desperately, that you could take your time, that you could enjoy such amateurish gyrating, crude movements giving way to sloppy squelching that makes your stomach swoop and cunt throb as your clit glides against his pubic bone, but the mention of niichan reminds you of your finite amount of time and you lean back, soft palms finding the edge of his desk, fingers curling tightly around it.

Tomura’s bare feet planted on the hardwood keep the chair from shifting as you begin to really ride him, starting with slow, hard rolls of your hips that have cute little grunts hitching in his chest, bright eyes darkening as they watch, lids drooping a little, your movements increasingly gaining speed with each rock forward of your hips, leaning back against the desk and using it for leverage.

Blunt nails bite into your skin, and you want to remind him not to leave marks, but the words won’t keep their shape as they gurgle in your throat, evaporating into moans that break with each rough buck of his hips.

He finds a rhythm with you quickly, though, your lust-hazed mind dully noting that he’s better than before, the thought conjuring sudden, fierce spears of jealousy that slice through your chest, jaw clenching.

“Fuck, you—you’re still the best I’ve ever had,” he practically whines out, like he’s reading the thoughts on your face, but his voice is genuine, strained and hoarse with the confession. “Will probably always be the best I’ve ever had,” his sentence fades into a growl, almost as if he’s angry about it, hands squeezing your hips.

Nevertheless, you’re unable to stop the little smile those words paint across your lips, giggling breathlessly as bubbly warmth tingles in your chest, a sense of shameful pride rushing through your veins.

“Yeah?” he seethes in a huff, eyes narrowing. “Bet you’re proud of yourself for that, little slut,”

You are, you’re nodding, tongue rendered useless as his hips piston into you, cockhead repeatedly slamming against your cervix, reaching deeper and deeper and deeper the further you lean back, until the sharp edge of the desk is cutting into your back.

“I know you are,” he sneers, callous tone emphasized by his brute force as he fucks you. “V-Vain little bitch, happy she’s ruined me—ruined sex for me, forever,”

It’s getting harder for him to speak now, words punctuated by half-baked whimpers and swallowed, stifled moans, the sentiment under his speech accentuating pleasure for the both of you, dirty humiliation only making everything that much more intense, heady and addicting as it intoxicates your bodies, your minds, your souls.

“S-So the least you could do,” he begins in a keen, pace faltering as he squirms under you, yanking his phone from his back pocket. “Is give me something to—ah, Christ—remember you by,”

You should tell him no. You should cease all bouncing on his cock the moment he presses that little red button on his screen, the moment the flash next to the camera turns on, signaling it’s recording. You should.

But you don’t. You don’t, because he’s right. Because that guilt returns, seeping up through the floor of your stomach and spreading to your other organs, chest tightening as it reaches your heart. Because you took something from him, something he’ll never be able to get back, purely for your own selfish gain, just to get back at the man you love, and that isn’t fair. That will never be fair.

Instead, you look straight into the lens, hips beginning to ride him almost viciously, pushing out your chest further, bouncing tits on display as they heave with your lewd moans of his name, begging him to fuck you, begging him for his thick cum, and oh please, Tomura, please, give it to me, want your cum so bad, need your cum so bad, please!

He chokes on his own groan, the hand holding his phone beginning to shake slightly as the other finds its place on your hip again, his own thrusts pumping wildly as he spits expletives through gritted teeth, your pathetic little mewls egging him on.

“G-Gonna cum?” he whines out, almost as if he’s begging you to say yes, the needy canting of his hips indicating that he’s about to, too, crimson searing into you as you nod messily. “Fucking do it, then, cream all over my cock like the good little whore you are,”

And you’re powerless to stop the loud cry that rips from your throat as your cunt clenches around him, only half of his name escaping in a yelp before your own shuddery gasp cuts you off, choking a little on the intense inhale, air sharp as razors as it rushes down your throat.

He follows less than a second later with a ferocious growl of your name, potent cum filling your aching little cunt, phone clattering to the floor as both hands grip your hips and force you to continue milking him until both of your bodies are shivering from the overstimulation.

You collapse against him, sweaty body melting into his, muscles quivering in exhaustion. Long arms encircle you, cradling you to his chest in a way that’s almost tender, phone laying forgotten a few feet away.

It’s just as nice as it was the first time, being swathed in his embrace, a gentle sigh slipping from between your lips. Nimble fingers trail up and down your spine, pressing into the notches, tracing the smooth, soft plains of your skin.

“Wish you could stay,” he mumbles into your hair, so quiet you nearly miss it—would have missed it if not for the vibrations in his chest.

Me too.

You want to tell him, want to express the same sentiment, to make it known that you desire the same thing, but the words tangle in your throat, that sticky brand of guilt that is specifically Touya refraining them from leaving your lips, yanking them back down into your chest with painful hitching breaths every time you try to speak.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until Tomura coos, pulling back a little to cup your face and tilt it up, big thumbs swiping across your cheeks as they catch glistening teardrops.

He doesn’t say anything—there is nothing to say—instead dipping his head to press his lips chastely to yours in the softest kiss he’s ever given you, mumbling his thanks for the birthday present a moment later.

There’s so much more you want to say, so much more you want to ask, but there’s no more time, opting to kiss him again in response, praying that it conveys all the things you can’t, all the things guilt won’t let you.

And then you’re scrambling off of his lap, collecting your dress off the floor and hastily pulling it over your head, turning back to find Tomura standing, holding out his hand, soaked lace in his grasp.

“Keep them,” you whisper, curling his fingers into a fist around the dainty material. “Happy birthday, Tomura,”

✰ ✰ ✰

You have forty-five minutes before Touya arrives home—that’s cutting it close, you were supposed to have a full hour, but Tomura’s arms were so warm, his gently rising chest so inviting, his entire aura so comforting, that you had allowed yourself to indulge, just for a moment, to let your eyes slip shut and exhale a soft sigh of contentment, snuggling into his embrace and inhaling his distinct scent deeply, holding it in your lungs for a moment, wishing it would stay, wishing it would stick to the gummy walls, take root and find a home there, wishing you could keep a piece of him with you, always.

The water scalds your skin as you step into Touya’s glass shower, hands instantly reaching for Touya’s bodywash and squirting a generous amount in your palm.

You lather your entire body with it, until every inch of your skin is covered in foamy white suds, until your flesh has been scrubbed raw, the sharp scent—something woodsy and musky, like a crackling campfire of burning hickory wood, smoky and sweet—enveloping you entirely, stinging your nose.

It sticks in your throat and invades your lungs, as if cleansing you from the inside out, and you choke on it, are suffocated by it, little gasps and coughs falling from your lips while nails claw at your neck.

That dull ache returns as you rinse your skin, throbbing incessantly at the very core of your body as you watch the last remnants of Tomura swirl around the drain, infused in the soapy water.

It shouldn’t hurt this much, you’re thinking to yourself as your fingers massage shampoo into your scalp. It shouldn’t, but it does, a painful lump lodging itself in your throat, expanding a little more every time you try to reason with yourself until it’s gagging you.

Something stings your eyes—soap from the shampoo as you rinse it from your locks, or maybe the potently fragrant scent from Touya’s bodywash, you try to convince yourself, that lump sprouting tiny spikes and viciously slicing into the gummy walls, that lump forcing saliva still containing traces of Tomura to collect in your throat, that lump reminding you that you’re a fucking liar.

It’s fine. It’s fine. Touya doesn’t need to know everything, does he? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? And it was only a one time thing, wasn’t it? It’s alright, isn’t it?

These are the questions that cycle through your mind obsessively, running laps in your skull as you absentmindedly towel off your dripping body in your niichan’s bedroom, the gentle buzz of your phone snapping you out of your reverie.

For a moment, you’re terrified it’s Touya, texting you to tell you that he knows, you little slut, scrambling to snatch it off of the nightstand as trembling fingers hastily unlock it.

It isn’t Touya.

It’s Tomura.

best birthday present of my life, hands down. thank you. i love you.

The resounding slam! of the front door has your entire body flinching violently, the heels of Touya’s heavy boots thumping against the tile as he kicks them off mingling with his smooth voice as he calls your name.

It’s with watery eyes and painful little sniffles catching in your chest that your quivering thumb jabs at that tiny little trashcan in the corner of your screen, watching through blurry vision as the entire conversation disappears into the ether, gone forever—though those three glowing words that concluded the text are etched into the very tissue of your brain, where they will remain, forever.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura #eeeeee happy birthday baby boy ilysm #hehehehehe #ENJOY ENJOY ENJOY

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