#he looking like he’s seen something real distasteful | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

donaweasley · 3 months ago

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Pale Blue Midnights

Pairing: MCU!Loki x Fem!Reader

Plot:

I, too, did a pollen story! That’s it. That’s the plot! 😆Except that it’s not exactly pollen but something else but ultimately strange flowers are at play. Well, simply put, it’s sm.u.t with a plot.

Warnings: Sm.u.tttttttttttt

Read time: ~32 mins

Enjoy half an hour of pure se.xua.l pleasure with the god of mischief!! 😉😏🫠 MINORS: Don’t you dare peek!! 🤨

“Careful now!” She warned Loki in a low but stern voice. “The last time Banner went on an expedition like this, he accidentally smelled a flower and…”

“And what?” Loki would never admit but he was half scared of even hearing the consequences.

“Well, … let’s just say that Nat and he didn’t get out of the room for three days straight!” She concluded with a chuckle.

Loki’s brows almost touched his hairline at the realisation. A part of him - the wild spirited part - immediately conjured up a forbidden image of himself tangled in sheets with his current mission partner. An image that had often haunted him in the darkness of the nights when his heart was restless or when his body yearned for her. This mischievous side now secretly wished to find an aphrodisiac that would put them in a similar situation.

But the logical side of him was scared to death. He knew that it would not be wise to be trapped in such a situation, not with the woman who trusted him with her life, the woman who addressed him as her BFF - a sweet but woefully distasteful Midgardian vocable, as he liked to put it.

A joke about Romanoff and Banner danced on the tip of his tongue but he dared not utter it lest it should come back and bite him in his royal arse.

Both of them were wearing safety suits, masks, safety goggles and gloves. So, there was almost zero chance of any contact with any toxic organism or pollen. But with ‘Mischief’ being his middle name, who knew what he might land up in!

He decided to divert the topic. “Why are we doing this again?”

“For the same reason we humans have been exploring Mars,” his mission partner answered without looking at him. “And because it’s better than running around and knocking people out or killing them,” she added with a smile. “Sometimes I get so tired of it!”

“Well,” Loki replied with a shrug, “that is the real fun!”

“Hmm,” the woman was deeply engaged in investigating a pale-looking, small blue flower that bloomed in bunches on a small plant.

“Found something interesting?” Loki waddled through the tall grass and weeds to where his partner was.

“Yeah, look at these…” Her attention was still robbed by the flowers. “I think I have seen them somewhere. They look very familiar. But…”

“They look harmless,” Loki extended a hand to examine a flower. The bottom of the pedicle was covered in what looked like tiny hairs that stuck to his glove. He tried to pull the flower off of him with his other hand but they just stuck to the other glove. No matter how hard he jerked his hand, the flower just would not come off.

Giving up with a sigh, he started to remove a glove.

“Don’t!” His teammate warned him once again.

“I am a god! These frail Midgardian things do not affect me.”

Before she could protest, he had already pinched the pedicle. What followed was a hiss, accompanied by a small jump, and a set of bleeding thumb and forefinger. What had appeared to be harmless hair on the stem, turned out to be a wrap of fine thorns.

“Damn!” Loki threw the flower to the ground.

“Damn you, you idiot!” His partner cursed him. “One day you’re going to get yourself killed because of your overconfidence!”

The said god shot her a deathly glare but it went totally ignored as she was busy squeezing the blood out of his wound.

“Do you feel anything pricking inside?” She asked. Concern veiled her face and wrapped itself around her throat.

It was her softness, her caring nature that always knocked the wind out of him. And it did so again. Loki whispered a soft ‘No’ as his eyes fixated on her countenance and her actions.

“Are you sure? Don’t hide your discomfort behind your ego.” A panicked (Y/N) pulled her mask down, and raised his fingers to her lips to gently suck the blood from the cuts one by one.

A shudder trembled down Loki’s body. Thankfully, she was too busy worrying about him to notice his wide eyes, dilated pupils and flushed face.

With a sudden jerk, Loki pulled his hand away from her. “I’m fine,” he huffed.

“Well, there is nothing to be disgusted about. The saliva kills any germs that might be lingering on your cut.” Though she narrowed her eyes in mock anger she certainly sounded hurt.

“I never said it was disgusting!” He protested.

“But your action said so!”

“I pulled away because-” How could Loki explain that he had to pull his hand away because her actions were doing unspeakable things to him!

With a frown, she silently waited for an explanation.

“Because I did not want you to accidentally swallow any poison or anything,” he concluded in a tone that was much softer than where he had left.

This time, it was her turn to feel butterflies in her stomach. Pushing all rosy thoughts down because c’mon!, the charming god of mischief could never like her back, she pulled her mask up along with her professional demeanour.

“Let’s finish this before you get yourself into more trouble,” she mumbled, and continued down the trail that they had taken before the blue flowers so temptingly distracted them.

—-

Loki woke up in the middle of the night to find himself covered in sweat, with his heart beating thunderously. At first he feared that it might be the effects of the flower that had pierced its thorns in him not many hours ago. But as the fog of sleep gradually evaporated, the reason became embarrassingly clear to him.

It was not any fever or infection that woke him up. The indecent scene that had popped up in his mind during the expedition, regarding his teammate, had morphed itself into a vivid dream, and had engulfed all his senses.

They were in the midst of a meadow. And while he knew that they should have been busy examining flowers, they were far, far from it. Pale blue flowers surrounded them, as if witnessing and spurring them on. And them?

Well, Loki was lying on the moist grass, the soft sun caressing the pale, sweat-glistened skin of his naked back. His mouth was busy sucking the slender neck of his teammate who was writhing beneath him in a stark state of nature, while his hands pinned her arms down to the ground.

Her bare legs had wrapped themselves around his own as he kept on rubbing himself against her plush wet folds, trying to find his release and hers. Their moans echoed in the trees encircling the meadow. The sky watched as he flipped them over. The wind tickled their aroused skins as she sat atop him like a queen perched atop her throne, and looked into his eyes like a huntress staring down at her prey. Loki’s throat went dry when she brought his hands up to her breasts. And when she started moving her hips - oh, the way she moved, like a dancer with a murderous intent - the grunt that left the sorcerer’s throat told the entire world of his pleasures…

These kinds of dreams about her weren't new to him, true, but this one was so detailed and realistic that he still could not wrap his head around what he saw. He had no idea his mind had the capability of conjuring up such a thing.

After helping himself to some water and breathing deeply to calm his nerves, the sorcerer laid down to try and get some sleep. But glimpses from his recent virtual activity kept flashing before him until he could fall asleep again, and then taunted him a little more after that, too.

—-

The next morning, after the entire team had almost finished their breakfast, (Y/N) pulled Wanda to a corner.

Hesitation was etched on her face as she fidgeted with the edges of her phone and looked around nervously.

After a little nudge of encouragement from the redhead, she finally asked but with a shaky voice, "Have you…have you ever had…uhm…dirt- uhm… indecent dreams about your…your coworker?"

Wanda's eyes widened at the question and a slender hand flew to her mouth to cover the prominent O and the giggle that was about to follow.

"Why, who did you dream about?"

Before the other person could answer, another woman slid into the conversation.

"Loki," Natasha confidently threw her answer to the duo.

"Shhh! Shh!" A panicked (Y/N) tried to keep things down.

Wanda's eyes became wider, if that was even possible. "And how do you know?"

"She has been fumbling and stammering around him since this morning. At first I thought it was her usual crush thing but heightened. But then I heard this question, and everything just…clicked!" She snapped her fingers and winked.

“I don’t have a crush on him!” (Y/N) protested in a hushed voice.

“You do!”

Both her friends opposed simultaneously.

Defeated, she hid her face in her hands, and mumbled almost incoherently, “Am I that obvious?”

“Well,” Natasha began, “your state of heart is as clear as a dazzling day to everyone in the compound.”

(Y/N) groaned.

“But not to Loki,” the spy added.

This made the former peek through her fingers.

“Yeah,” Wanda chimed in, “he’s a bit thick in the matters of the heart.”

“So, you’re saying he doesn’t know yet?” (Y/N) sat up straight.

Seeing her spirits, Romanoff rolled her eyes while a little red glow sizzled on Wanda’s fingertips. “Well, I can change that,” she lifted her hand and swirled her fingers.

“Or maybe,” Natasha joined, “I can go up to him and tell him everything to his face.”

“No!”

“Then tell him yourself.”

“No!”

“Coward!”

“M not!”

“Whatever! Just tell us about this “indecent” dream you saw, and we'll try not to pester you,” Nat tried a bargain.

"And that's why I did not want to tell you!" (Y/N) whisper-shouted.

“All the details, please!” Wanda’s face broke into a wide grin.

—

It took her more than just words to shake her friends off. They were having more fun watching her drown in sheer embarrassment than they were interested in listening to her story. In the end, however, she succeeded in keeping her secret to herself.

Grinning to herself, she was walking back to her room when she almost collided with someone. She did not need to look up to see who the tall person was. His scent engulfed her. As soon as it hit her nostrils, the air around her seemed to change into a feverish smoke.

“Sorry!” A sheepish smile was all that she could afford.

“It is alright. I was not looking either,” the (in)famous SilverTongue stammered through his words.

One look at her brought back all the scenes from his latest dream in technicolour, and he had to cough the awkwardness down his throat. It was only after his discomfort subsided that he noticed the red cheeks and ears of the other person.

“Are you feeling unwell?” His eyebrows knit together.

“What?”

“You look…flushed!...Do you have a fever?” Loki placed the back of his hand to her forehead.

Only the heavens knew the strength it took her to suppress the moan that threatened to escape her! Closing her eyes, she bit her lips to forbid any sound from escaping her.

Little did she know that this struggle of hers was making things difficult for the person in front of her. Loki removed his hand quicker than he had planned.

“You should… you should get yourself checked,” he advised. “Who knows what bug you might have caught yesterday.”

“I’m fine, really,” she cleared her throat. “Just… could not sleep well. I think I shall take a nap. Should be feeling fine by evening!”

Loki hummed in agreement.

“Are you well?” She asked after some hesitation.

“Yes! Why do you ask?”

“Well, you look… how do I put it? It’s as if some thought has been consuming you. You’re not your usual confident, mischievous self today. You okay?”

The trickster was surprised at how well she could read him. Almost choking with joy, he nodded, “I am fine. There is something going on in my head, yes. But it is nothing to worry about.”

“Good. Well then, I shall go get some rest.”

With a smile, they went their separate ways, each grinning like an idiot and praying that the other person does not know about it.

—-

Y/N was sitting by the window, reading a book when the knock on her door startled her. Keeping the book on the nearest table, she almost jogged towards the door to open it. On the other side stood her favourite teammate - the raven-haired god from outer space.

“Wanda told me everything,” he declared in a deep baritone. “Romanoff told me about the dreams you are having. Tell me,” he took two steps inside, making a stunned Y/N walk backwards, “do you dream about me often? Hmm? This innocent face of yours… these naive-looking eyes of yours… Oh! And all the dirty thoughts they carry! Tell me, pet, do you often fantasise filthy things about me?”

He had already won the game when he started speaking in that rich voice. And when he called her “pet”, she could not help but clench her muscles and rub her thighs together.

Loki did not fail to notice that. When she did not respond but simply stared at him open-mouthed, he slowly nudged her chin to close her mouth, only to tantalisingly swipe his thumb across her bottom lip.

“Do you?” This time, his question was breathed upon her mouth.

“No!” She managed to croak.

Loki narrowed his eyes towards her, as though disbelieving her. It worked, for the truth spurted out of her in the form of a whimper.

“Yes.”

“Yes?* He asked again like a big cat playing its last game with its prey.

“Yes!” She breathed.

“Oh my poor little darling!” Loki purred. “You should have told me sooner. I would have loved to end your misery!”

With these words, he bent down to suck the side of her neck and mark her. When he released the bruised skin, his lips followed the trail of her jawline until they reached her chin. Taking it gently between his teeth for a while, he licked a long stripe from the hollow of her neck up to her panting lips.

“Do you touch yourself when you think of me?” His hot breath on her earlobes seemed to take the life out of her.

She did not want to reveal her secrets before him and yet her hazy mind kept betraying her.

“Yes!” She confessed.

“Mmh! Had thought so!” He growled. “Show me!”

“I-I… no… No, I can't!” Her face went beet red.

“Well then… I shall find out for myself. Do you touch yourself here?”

His long fingers found their way beneath the hem of her shorts to her inner thighs. There, they brushed the skin very lightly, stoking the fire within her core.

“Or is it here?” His fingers trailed upwards.

“Here?” His slender, sinful fingers skimmed the surface of her bare mound while carefully avoiding the very spot that had her squirming.

“Loki!!” Her whimper was met with a triumphant smirk.

“What? I am only trying to find out where you touch yourself. Am I not on the right path?”

“Please!!” Damn! She was begging, against all the protests of her now-moderately sane mind.

“‘Please’ what, pet?” His lips were brushing the shell of her ear. “Tell me what you want from me. I am a benevolent god. I shall not deny you of your pleas. Not when you squirm and beg like that!”

Her tongue tried to hold itself but her body was on fire. It was only by giving in that she could find release from this torment.

She screwed her eyes shut. “Please touch me, Loki!”

“Well, I am touching you.” Loki continued his sweet, smooth torture. “Is there anywhere specific that you want me to touch, darling?”

Damn this god of being an asshole!!!

This time she looked up in his eyes, and spoke with a lewd confidence, “Touch my cunt, Loki. Make me cum.”

The growl that escaped him was enough to take her to the peak. As nimble fingers entered her, the god’s eye became hooded and his mouth parted, releasing a sigh that landed on her mouth, only to be chased by his hungry lips on them.

They buried their moans in the other's mouth. When Loki pushed her against the nearest wall, she tried to pull him closer. But Loki freed himself out of her hold. Worried, she opened her eyes to find the god slowly kneeling before her. Staring deep into her eyes, he pulled her shorts down with him. And when his knees landed on the floor, so did her shorts.

Sitting face-to-face with her dripping folds, he gently stroked his fingers along the length of her left thigh, all the way down to her calf. Slowly, he picked the leg up, and put it on his shoulder. Licking his lips in the most sultry way she could have imagined, he buried his face between her legs.

The delightful scream that forced itself out her throat was probably heard by all inmates of the compound. But that did not stop Loki from exploring every corner of his delicious treasure.

A loud knock on her door made her spring out of the moment.

“Maybe they did hear my scream,” she thought “Shit! But wait…what…the fuck?”

Loki was nowhere around. She was lying on the bed, her side-pillow tucked in tight between her legs.

So, was that all…another dream?

The knock on the door had now transformed into banging.

“Are you alright in there?” It was Steve’s voice. “Why did you scream?”

So, I had actually screamed while dreaming?? Shit! Fucking shit!!

“(Y/N), I’m going to come inside.” Steve was absolutely worried!

No no no!! He cannot see me in this mess! I shan’t be able to face anyone again!

“I’m fine, Steve!” She shouted back. “I…uh…I thought I saw a spider, and I screamed. It was only a small bug.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! Absolutely fine! Just got a silly little scare.” She forced a laugh.

“Fine then. I’m gonna…go” Steve sighed in relief although his words sounded hesitant.

“Yup! See you later!”

When she was sure she heard the captain walk away, she let out a long breath.

“Fuck! What the hell is happening? Why do I-”

Realisation hit her like a brick. It had all begun after their return from the plant-hunt.

“Those blue flowers…d-did they really affect me? … Did they affect Loki? He was the one who was actually pricked!” The scenes from that fateful day kept unfolding in her mind. “Damn! Is that why he has been behaving awkwardly? ... But wait, if this flower is indeed an aphrodisiac, why am I having troubles only around Loki? Is it because I like him or…is it because we were both affected by the same flower? Fuck! I must find out.”

—-

At dinner, (Y/N) observed Loki closely. Well, she had always “observed” him rather closely but this time it was more like analysing a target. She realised that he was fine with the rest of the team - even with the other women - but when around her, he fidgeted a lot. Even his glances towards her were hesitant. And yes! He did avoid physical contact - even the slightest possible brush of their little fingers.

There was definitely something going on.

“Sam,” her sudden approach startled the soldier who was busy looking for dessert in the fridge. “Hold my hand.”

“What?”

“Hold my hand!”

“But why?” He looked at her as if she had grown two heads.

“Just … I need to test a theory.”

A smirk surfaced on his mouth. “I knew you’d warm up to me one day.”

But the glare that he received for an answer made him quickly take his words back. “Just kidding! You know that well, don’t you!”

Sam curled his fingers gently around her extended arm.

“What now?” He asked curiously.

Eyebrows knit together, her eyes darted across the tiled floor, trying hard to gauge her body’s reaction. Nothing; she felt nothing.

Pursing her lips, she hummed. “Well, thank you, Sam!” With a pat on his upper arm, she walked off, leaving the man a handful of questions in his mind.

So, her theory was correct: it was only Loki who was affecting her. And apparently, it was only her affecting the god. She had been training with others; she felt nothing. Loki had been training with everyone else with ease. But when they were paired together, the air that they breathed seemed to turn into an erotic enchantment. The discomfort was evident on both their faces. So much that neither could focus during the session, thus resulting in a quick end to their sparring.

Once everyone had started retiring for the day, she decided to put her plan into action. She had wanted to stay behind or follow Loki down whichever corridor or floor he took; whatever it took to find him alone and confront him.

It had almost worked. Almost. But with Steve in the middle of a serious conversation with her, all she could do was watch out of the corner of her eye as the trickster walked out of the sitting area. Now, had it been anybody else, she could have excused herself without a second thought; she would have amended for it later. But this man - the captain - held an entirely different zone of respect in her heart. Never in her life could she interrupt him.

Luckily for her, the conversation ended soon enough - just in time for her to jog down the corridor where Loki resided but only to catch a glimpse of him as he disappeared into his room.

Damn!

But she had enough! She must know!

Cursing under her breath, she marched determinedly up to his doorstep.

But that was it.

That was where her confidence melted into a puddle. This was not any man that she had to talk to. This wasn’t Bruce or Tony with whom she could discuss the most embarrassing subject and yet turn everything into logic and science. No! This was the biggest crush of her life, staggering on the verge of becoming - perhaps - the love of her life! And she was going to ask him if he has been having filthy dreams about her just as she has been having about him! Could it be any more complicated!!

Fiddling with her fingers, she stood for a while in front of the closed door, replaying the plan over and over again in her head.

Okay. This is it. I’m going to do it. I’m going to ask him, and I’m going to solve this mystery once and for-

The door swung open before she could even tap on it! Loki stood at the other end with his brows scrunched up.

Her first instinct was to run. But she stood her ground. Afterall, she had some self-respect, right?

“You have been standing there for quite some time now,” Loki stated but it sounded more like a question.

“Well, I… I was…just passing by.” That weird, sheepish smile appeared on her face again.

Loki sighed. “First, they call me the God of Lies for a reason. And second, your feet are eclipsing the light from the corridor thus making them clearly visible under the door.”

Hanging her head low, she let out a long sigh. “You got me!”

If only she had seen the smile that broke out on Loki’s divine countenance. Or maybe it was good that she had not, for it might have increased her desires even more. They had already started weaving themselves in every cell of her body as soon as her eyes had landed on the god.

“Now, will you tell me what is going on or should I read your mind?” Loki urged.

She was surprised by his confidence! He sounded nothing like the person who had returned with her from the expedition.

Has the affects of the flower worn off of him?

“Loki, I need your help!” She tried to hold his hand in desperation, only to find her own pass through thin air with a green glimmer.

Her plan was to check Loki’s pulse in the guise of holding his hand for help. Had his heart rate been abnormally high, she would have asserted her doubts, and would have straightforwardly asked him if he had been having weird dreams.

What she never expected was to be met with an illusion. The Loki at the door now frowned in worry as she looked up at him in confusion.

Why would Loki create an illusion for talking to me? Why- Wait…

As she walked right through the facade, she saw it all evaporating, eventually revealing the real Loki who was standing near his writing desk. Distress was clearly written on his face. He looked so helpless that all plans and plots vanished from her mind. Her answer was right in front of her. She did not need to play games now.

“You should not be here.” There was an earnest plea in his eyes. “Please, leave!”

The sight of Loki leaning against his writing desk - fingers clenched on the wood so hard that it looked like the desk was going to split in two, face partially covered by hair that was dishevelled from running his hands through it, partially unbuttoned shirt, half-opened mouth and glazed eyes - made her visibly shudder from the electricity coursing through her veins. But that did not keep his desperate words - words which were more like a warning - from reaching her senses. It turned her on and yet worried her.

“Loki, you do not look good. You-you look like you’re in…pain!”

“I told you…” the god’s voice was more strained than before, “you…should not…be here!”

She took two careful steps forward. To avoid anybody else from accidentally walking in, she had softly closed the door behind her. They needed to sort this out between themselves first.

“Loki,” she called soothingly, “if this is about the flower, … you can tell me. … If it helps to know, I…I was…I am…affected by it, too!

The Asgardian’s eyes widened. He swiftly advanced towards her - well, almost did - but quickly retreated back to his safe circle.

“So, you must be-”

“In pain?” She did not let Loki finish his sentence. “Yes! Very much!”

“And,” he continued, “have you done anything to…get rid of it? Or-or soothe it?”

She shook her head slightly. “No.”

A nod, slight for most people to notice, accompanied a whisper of a breath released by Loki.

“And … you are dreaming of…?”

For a short while his question floated between them, searching for an answer. She looked deep into his eyes. Pleadingly. Hoping that he would understand what her tongue was too ashamed to confess.

He probably did. He looked like he did. But he needed assurance, for it seemed too far-fetched for even him to believe that his fantasies could come true in such a miraculous way! He could not be so lucky, could he?

When Loki did not say anything, she decided to say it aloud, all shame be stripped aside.

“You!” She declared. “It is you that I dream of, Loki!”

It took him all his godly strength to hold himself back. But he knew that his resistance was thinning out. The enhanced effects of the flower, her presence in the closed space, and now her confession - everything was making things all the more difficult for him.

“I’m burning for you, Loki!”

And indeed she was! All the things that were triggering the powerful god were affecting this human as well.

Loki inhaled deeply, only to be engulfed in her scent even more.

“I am sorry!” Her lips trembled. Her eyes betrayed her resilience with the first wave of tears. “I know this is all very embarrassing for you. I … I swear, Loki, I never wanted it to be this way! I-”

“I never wanted it to be this way either,” Loki’s words crushed her. Of course, he would never want anything to do with her, not even what could have been a shadow of a romance!

“I had wanted this to be very special,” he continued. “I had wanted to do it right. To court you first, to woo you, to steal a kiss or two from you, and then … and then make you mine.”

His voice was strained, just like before. But his eyes were feral now.

Damn, they scorched her! Loki’s words were killing her!! But her lust-driven-yet-dejected mind could not wrap itself around them. None of it made sense. Why would Loki want to court her, kiss her … “make her his” … ? Unless …

Oh!

The realisation left her shocked and elated at the same time. But she needed enough proof to believe it.

“Are you- What are you saying? Why would you- Loki, I think this is not you but the effect of the flower speaking.”

The god laughed. “‘Effect of the flower’? Darling, I have been having all kinds of thoughts about you for years now! Thoughts that would warm your chest with love. Thoughts that would make you blush crimson! … That wretched flower has only heightened it all And made it unbearable!!”

It was all too much to take in. Her state of disarray - limp shoulders, wide eyes and a half-open mouth - told Loki that she had not yet grasped the entirety of the situation.

“Oh darling,” he spoke with hope in his eyes and joy on his lips, “you do not yet know what the flower was, do you?”

She shook her head in a daze.

“It is called ‘Midnight’s Bane’. Or ‘Boon’, as some like to call it. I found out about it in one of our old books from Asgard.” He took a few slow, deliberate steps towards her as he spoke. “It has some … medicinal uses. But it is famous as a catalyst for … midnight’s activities, if you know what I mean.” The smirk that he wore would have made even an unaffected person’s knees go weak. “It does not make two people fall in love, no! The flower simply increases what one already feels for someone. … And if you are dreaming about me, if you want me just the way I want you, then it can mean only one thing.” Loki placed a gentle hand on her cheek. Her eyes fluttered in response. “That you love me … just the way I love you.”

She did not need further convincing. In one swift motion her lips were on his. Her arms had wound themselves around his neck, pulling him as close as possible.

The dam finally broke.

Loki held her face with both hands, greedily devouring every moan and whimper. In the miniscule break that they took to breathe again, they drank in the sight before them, further intoxicating themselves. (Y/N)’s finger’s began making quick work of the remaining closed buttons on Loki’s shirt. But he was impatient. Removing her hold on them, he pulled the cloth over his head.

If it was humanly possible to be more aroused, (Y/N) certainly had hit the next level. Placing a quick but deep kiss on her open mouth, Loki tugged at the hem of her blouse. The lifting of her arms over her head was permission enough for Loki to pull it up and discard it on the floor.

How and when the rest of the clothes got scattered around the room remained a haze. All they remembered later was that it was somewhere between heated kisses and lots of shameless touching.

Loki picked her up by the hips, and sat her on the writing desk. She probably landed on an old open hardbound. Neither cared.

While his mouth worked on her neck and shoulders, eliciting hisses and moans from her, his large hands travelled down her body, taking note of every curve and plateau, until he reached her thighs. There, they rested for a brief moment, kneading the satiny skin beneath his palms, before venturing towards the soft flesh on the inner side. Very slowly, he parted her legs open, and stepped inside. Her immediate reaction was to wrap them around his slender waist. With her bare heels pressing on his bare butts, she nudged him forward until his arousal was pressed against hers.

Both of them groaned loudly. With hooded eyes they looked at each other, trying to seek the obvious consent that had been there right from the beginning. When her hand wrapped around his length to line him up with herself, he almost swooned.

“This is going to hurt,” he warned her.

“I know, and I don’t care. Just take me, Loki! Please! Make me yours.”

He could have come right then simply from her words. With one hand on her back, and the other holding himself, he entered her slowly, passing carefully through the tight wetness.

Loki was aroused like never before, ready to devour the woman sitting brazenly naked in front of him - the love of his life - and yet, a part of him could never forget to take care of her, to worry about her.

When he had buried himself fully within her, they both rested their heads on the other’s shoulder for a brief moment. It was an outworldly feeling - it seemed like the perfect end to all those years of pining, like the perfect beginning to their story of being together. It felt like the perfect cure to all the burning desire that they had been enduring for the past few days. Most importantly, it felt right. It had never and would have never felt so perfect with anybody else.

(Y/N) patted his backside lightly. As if afraid that he’d hurt her, Loki started moving slowly, carefully. The pace was sensual, romantic but excruciating as well! The drug running in their veins demanded more. Their bodies demanded more.

“Loki, please!”

She did not know what she was asking for but he understood. Steadily but quickly, he accelerated, earning himself sultry moans and breathy chants of his name as rewards. She felt like her body would have given away had Loki’s strong arms not been holding her.

“Oh (Y/N)!”

Hymns of each other’s names and repeated confessions of love brought them closer to release. When his movements started getting sloppy, he reached between them and placed his thumb on her bundle of nerves. When she cried out and her back arched,he whispered with hot breaths in her ear, “Come with me, love. Please.”

It might have been his ministrations down south on her body or it may have been the way he rasped the word “please”. Some magic worked, and she came crashing down on him, flooding him, drowning him in her ecstasy. That was the final tug on the restraint that Loki had put on himself. He came inside her with a loud moan of her name, surrendering himself to his lust completely.

Thanks to the desk, Loki found some support for his limp body. As they rested on one another and kissed each other feebly, having experienced the most epic orgasms of their lives yet, she eventually came to realise what she had been sitting on. She tried to look but with Loki still buried inside her, it was impossible.

“I think I’m sitting on a book,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Oh?”

The moment he pulled out of her, she whined at the sudden emptiness inside.

Loki laughed. “Do not make the mistake of thinking that I am done with you, love! Give me a few minutes, and I shall fill you up again.”

The filthy look in his eyes, the promise in his voice, and his tender dominance made her walls flutter that very instant. Loki grabbed her butts and lifted her off the desk, while she wrapped her limbs securely around him.

As he carried her to the bed, his eyes landed on the tattered and soaked pages of the book that she had been sitting on. Pausing in his tracks, he tilted his head and smirked.

“What is it?” She asked curiously.

Following his eyes, she found the poor book - an open testament to their raunchy activities - and clicked her tongue.

“Can you fix it?” She looked back at him.

Stealing one look at her, as though accepting her simple challenge, he held her securely with one arm, and extended the other towards the book, reverting its fate with a subtle move of his open fingers. Once the pages were crisp and readable again, (Y/N) understood the cause of his amusement.

Staring back at them from the pages was a hand-drawn picture of the same flower that caused all these “fateful” events. Her eyes swept through the descriptions about the flower.

“Pale Blue Midnight’s Bane”, the title read. In smaller words, it added, “ Also known as Midnight’s Boon”.

Loki chuckled. “We gave the flower what it wanted. Literally.”

It made her laugh. “Well, at least it put an end to years of misery! We should be thanking it.”

“In a way that it likes?” Mischief was sparkling in Loki’s green eyes.

“Exactly my thoughts!” She resonated.

Loki was not gentle this time as he threw her on the bed and hungrily watched her curves jiggle. She was surprised to find that she rather enjoyed being manhandled by the trickster. He hovered over her like a hunter over his prey, and started his assault on her chest.

“Loki?”

“Mmh?” His mouth was full and his tongue busy.

“Shouldn’t we inform Banner about our discovery?”

“Later,” he exhaled right before shutting her up for the moment with a long and deep kiss that made both their heads spin.

***

Taglist!

@huntress-artemis @evelyn-kingsley @dryyoursaltyoceantears @modestlyabsurd @anukulee @eleniblue @foxherder @thesevendeadlycringes @mysterydiz @lloydmustache

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foodiegoogie · 2 months ago

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request for james potter x sunshine gf? like yapper x yapper <3

note: thank u for requesting my sanny angel <3 i was so excited to write this when i got ur req hehe :P thanks 4 being so patient as well !! hope u like this :P

paint me a picture

james potter x fem!reader ✮ 2.2k cw/tags: established relationship, that ‘couple paints each other’ trend on tiktok, MOO DENG CAMEO, tooth-rutting fluff mayhaps? and a lil crack :>

If you were ever put in a situation where you’re stuck in a room full of complete strangers, chances are that you’d strike up a conversation with one, two, or a handful of people no matter how off-putting they might seem as a stranger. You had a knack for talking people’s ears off, your mouth running faster than your brain ever did—spewing word after word before you could even finish your train of thought.

Frankly speaking, you were well-aware that your talkativeness came across as annoying to most people. It was a hard pill for you to swallow, because you really, really liked to talk to people. You thrived in sharing your interests and whatever it was that came to your mind with other people. But the pressure was immense, and society—cruel, so you had to make do and shut your mouth if you could handle it.

When you met James, however, it was like one of those cliché moments in movies—the ones about destiny and fate and soulmates. Because who knew that you’d find your match in being a chatterbox in someone as charming, and lovely as him?

James Potter, in all his bumbling, comical, and boyish glory, did not stray away from you from the very first sign that gave away your talkative nature.

And it appeared that he wasn’t planning on ever doing so in the near future.

“Oh, but have you seen the one of her biting that zookeeper’s leg? She’s so adorable– I can’t!” You gushed as you filled in the gaps of James’ uncolored ears—the James in your portrait, not your actual James—with brush strokes of warm, chocolate brown paint.

The real-life James who sat across from you chuckled softly at your enthusiasm. “I know, right? She’s a little troublemaker, that one. I’d steal her away if I could.”

“Me too, me too,” Your vehement agreement amuses your boyfriend. “Gosh, what I wouldn’t give to have a hippo as a pet!”

James’ nose wrinkles, as if in distaste, at your statement. “Wouldn’t that be hard though? They’re always covered in mucus, and they’re always underwater. Hippos are a little high-maintenance if you really think about it.”

“Respectfully, James, I never asked for your opinion.”

James’ mouth hangs open in shock, his hand frozen as it holds a paintbrush in front of his own canvas of his portrait of you.

“I can’t believe you’d say that to me,” He fakes a sob, shaking his head in disbelief. “I thought we had something special, love.”

You sigh, going along with his act. “I’m sorry it had to come to this, Jamie. You know how I feel about pets.”

“So that’s just it, then? You’re leaving me for a hippopotamus?” James cracks his voice at the end of his lamenting, hand flying up to cover his mouth, suppressing his “sobs.”

It was getting admittedly hard for you to keep up the act, though. But you persevere.

“It’s nothing personal, James. I swear,” Your voice wavers at the end, the start of an uprising laughter in your throat.

“Do you, actually?”

You count what seems to be like five seconds of you and your boyfriend just staring at each other. It was almost as if James was challenging you to break. Ironically, you were starting to think that you were going to.

But then he beats you there as you watch his face split into a wide grin, his canines doing nothing to quell his boyish handsomeness. Your boy always looked good, but he looked especially nicer when he was happy, smiling.

Laughing, too, most of all. James had the kind of laughter that sounded like a wind chime when a breeze passed by, making you feel light and floaty as if on a cloud. He also had the kind of laughter that you just couldn’t help but join in, and share the moment with him.

“Absolutely nothing,” was what he would say whenever you asked him what you wanted to do together.

But if you asked him what you’d want to talk about? James would say, “Absolutely everything.”

“Now I can’t remember what I was supposed to do!” You exclaimed, your laughter dying down to soft, involuntary chuckles as the lighthearted air of James’ relentless quips lingers between you both. “If my portrait turns out wonky, I’m blaming you.”

James’ grin could only grow with pride. He always loved to make you laugh. “Hey, that’s not fair. I only asked if–”

“No, don’t start again!” You rushed to stop him, pursing your lips to contain yourself.

“I haven’t even said anything,” He beamed at you, unashamed of how cheeky he was being.

“You were gonna!”

Your boyfriend shakes his head resolutely, pushing his glasses up his nose with a careful finger. “No, I wasn’t!”

“Top ten things a liar would say.”

James scoffs, affronted. “Top ten things an unfair person would say.”

You tut, shaking your head disapprovingly. “You need to come up with your own comebacks, you know.”

“Well, hey– it’s not my fault I decided to date the loveliest, most creative, most swell girl ever in the entire world,” Your boyfriend reasons, his million-dollar smile ever present on his lips.

You feel your face grow warm by his words. Even after a year (and counting) of being with James romantically, you could never quite get used to his praising you. But that had been the deal—if you couldn’t get used to it, then he’d have to do it more often so that you would eventually get used to it.

So, you clear your throat, returning your attention back to the task at hand: painting a portrait of your boyfriend. James can see right through your feigned indifference, but mirrors your actions with his own painting.

“‘Swell?’” You place the finishing touches of your painting of James on your canvas. There’s colours of red, brown, orange, yellow, and all its shades from the most subtle to the most vibrant. You’re not really a painter, you’re more of an appreciator of paintings. But you hoped that the message would get through to your boyfriend—to you, he was love and warmth personified.

He shrugs in response, eyes glimmering with mirth as he works on his own portrait of you. You couldn’t help but wonder what he had drawn and painted of you. The anticipation was high. “Yeah, you’re swell.”

“Where’d you get that from?”

“Er,” James scratches behind his ear with his free hand. “Sirius.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I knew it.”

Your boyfriend spares you a glance over his canvas, and you meet eyes with your smiles mirroring each other. James hears you snicker as you turn back to your painting, and the dimples in his cheeks deepen.

“Alright, I think… I’m done,” You lean back against your chair, observing your portrait of James with criticising eyes—though not necessarily criticising the muse of your painting, but rather the painting you’d done yourself.

Real-life James from across you makes a humming sound. “I think… I am, too.”

“So, who’s going first?” The pair of you chorus, then laugh.

“Ladies first?” Your boyfriend asked.

You consider it for a moment, eyes never leaving your painting as you continue to observe it. You were afraid of mucking it up further than how messy it looked now to you, so you refrain from making any more adjustments.

“Uh… no. I think it’s best if you go first,” A rueful smile graces your lips.

James sighs, and you just know he’s downplaying his own efforts before the painting is even shown to you. “Alright, then. Here we–”

“—Also because I think we should save the best for last,” You rushed to say, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him.

Your boyfriend’s eyes go comically wide, and as you do your evil cackling, he scoffs indignantly. “I see how it is. Well, feast your eyes upon my greatest creation of all time–!”

James grabs his canvas by the sides with careful hands, then flips it around so the front of his painting is finally facing you.

Behind the canvas, the artist—your boy—has his gaze fixed on your face, waiting for any sign of a reaction. In truth, he’d be devastated if you didn’t crack a smile or gasp! “This is amazing, James! I love you with my whole heart!”

But he’s also aware that he wasn’t Van Gogh or Picasso, so he should be cutting himself some slack. But damn it all if he doesn’t get your stamp of approval on his painting of you—the most beautiful work of art he’s ever seen.

Said “beautiful work of art he’s ever seen” now sits across from him, rendered speechless—which was out of the ordinary, so you had James worried. You did expect something “humble” to come out of his work, something worth placing in the Louvre museum that would rival the Mona Lisa, and something you’d both argue over like, “James, this is amazing!” and he’d respond, “Nah, I could do better.”

Well, your expectations were met, but they had exceeded you by a lot. A lot, a lot.

The background of the portrait is painted in a pastel, sky blue colour, adorned with symmetrically shaped clouds in white. And there’s that sun in the corner of the canvas, a smiley face drawn on it, too—a staple in a child’s painting.

But it didn’t stop there; alongside the clouds were some painted flowers. There were daisies, your favourite. Tulips, also your favourite. There were little bees and butterflies and hearts all around, there was so much going on in the background of the painting that you didn’t know which to pay attention to.

Though you did know, realistically, which to pay attention to. It wasn’t in the birds and the bees painted haphazardly across the background—in the middle of the painting was a rather messier variant of you. You in your candid, cozy glory, donning your jumper. The curve of your jaw, the size of your eyes. James had managed to capture you in your likeness. You could see yourself in the painting.

Most of all, however, you’re speechless of the fact he’d managed to capture you beautifully. Have you always looked like this to him? Is this what he sees every time he looks at you? Is this what he sees now as he looks at you?

“Erm, do you–“ James clears his throat, his fingers drumming against the sides of his canvas as he held it up in front of you. He was anxious because you still hadn’t shown any reaction whatsoever in the span of half a minute. “is it that bad?”

A lighthearted jest. Probably to dissuade the brewing anxiety in his mind from your lack of a reaction. His leg was already starting to bounce restlessly from under the table. He’s thankful that you’re unable to see that, at least.

“‘Bad?’”

“Yes, ‘bad.’” A beat passes. “Is it?”

You shake your head at once, having gathered your bearings after all. A smile slowly starts to make its way onto your face. “It’s not bad. Not at all, James, this is–“

James doesn’t know what to do now, if he’s being honest. He wishes you could just come out and say it in his face that he was a trash painter, and that his portrait belonged in the dumps. He’d rather that than wait in agony—

“It’s so nice,” You finally manage to say, your voice dripping with fondness for him. His heart skips a beat at the sight of your smile—all sweet and pretty and lovely, so lovely. So loving.

“Really?” James gains a smidge of his confidence back with your reactions. “You like it?”

“Like it? I love it!” You abandon your chair, rounding the table to tackle him into a hug, planting a loud smack of a kiss on his cheek. “You made me look so pretty! Best boyfriend ever!”

Said boyfriend feels like he could melt in your arms right now, but he returns your affections by tightening his own arms around your waist, pulling you down so that you sit on his lap.

“‘Best boyfriend ever?’ Now that’s a title I can get behind,” He chuckles, grinning widely up at you as you did the same at him. Two birds of a feather, their love mirrored in one another’s eyes, and hearts.

Long story short, when you show your portrait to James, he makes sure to let you know that he loves it. Absolutely, indubitably adores it. He declares that he’ll frame it and hang it up in his room. He’ll contact local historians to let them know that, “Hey, I think we’ve got another revolutionary artist in our time and it’s my girl.”

(He also makes a few comments of how you “didn’t quite get his nose right” and how “his hair looked exaggerated in your painting” and that that was “hair-racist.” What?)

At the very end of your date night, the pair of you decide to paint another picture—a third to add to your collection—but this time around, it included the two of you, with a grubby look of a house beside you both, three other little people, some dogs here, some cats there, and then some.

ty for reading \(￣︶￣*\)) likes, replies, n reblogs r always appreciated !! <3

#james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter drabble #marauders #james potter oneshot #james potter au #marauders x you #foodiegoogie writes

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ariiadnes · 1 month ago

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ㅤ╭ ⿻ ･ of ghosts & coincidences

-ˋ ♡ ◞ simon riley. call of duty. a family fic with simon riley ? real and not delusional at all

simon riley doesn't like public spaces-- too crowded, yet somehow too open all the same. unpredictable. it leaves you too vulnerable, leaves you dead center in the hands of danger. how deeply it keeps him on edge, jaw clenched, gaze hardened towards everyone except you. never you.

he's used to staying by your side, soldier turned shadow-- silent. observing. always looking for a means of escape in a moment's notice, should the need ever arise.

has he learned to lower his guard over the years? no, not in the slightest sense. quite the opposite, he thinks, and he'll admit it in a heartbeat.

things have changed. more to take care of, more to protect. now, you've got a little one-- she's the spitting image of him, as difficult as that is for him to comprehend at times. she's very much entirely the opposite of him in terms of personality : shy, reserved in every sense. he doesn't quite get it, doesn't quite feel like he knows how to be a dad, but time after time these past two years, you've always told him otherwise.

he can't help but dwell-- it's only for a second, but the thought is disrupted by a weak squeeze of his hand. he looks down, greeted by curious eyes that look so damn similar to his, and instinctively, his gaze softens. he reciprocates the gesture-- a silent comfort to his daughter as she crinkles her nose in response, a timid smile on her face.

yes, things have changed. him, his protectiveness. his kindness.

ー the only thing that hasn't changed? his distaste for shopping trips, as mundane as they may be at times. but mundane is good; mundane is safe-- although he wouldn't describe this particular trip as such. not necessarily, and for a few good reasons :

one : you've gone entirely off course with the shopping list. he has no idea how you've all been here for an hour when the list had three items ( you also grabbed those items within the first ten minutes of arrival, by the way ). so while he's not really sure what you're buying, he's also very much okay with staying in his lane and not questioning it.

two : it's... july, isn't it? he stares blankly at the shelves before him.

it is july. there are halloween items on display. he shouldn't care much about it, and he doesn't, not at all, until--

three : until the little kiddo lets go of his hand, eyes wide and absolutely mesmerized at the sight of the outrageously out-of-season decor. her gaze shifts as she looks up at him, bottom lip jutting out the tiniest little bit.

christ. he can see it from a mile away-- that subtle hint of puppy eyes that she seemed to inherit from you ( and was purposely taught by johnny. damn bastard ).

"...go on." he tells her, and so she gingerly explores the aisle, never daring to stray too far from either of you, though you're only a few feet away at the most.

you stand side by side, watching her diligently inspect each item on the shelves. it's sudden-- the way she halts in her steps, that soft gasp just barely heard before her little hands reach for something. you can't quite make out what it is, nor have you seen her move that quickly before-- not even when she rushes into your bedroom during a loud thunderstorm. she clutches onto it for dear life, hugging it tightly to her chest before she runs back to you and simon.

"look!" she beams brightly, proudly holding up...a toy?

okay. cool. you tilt your head slightly. a white blob...shape. thing. whatever. okay. but then she actually turns it around, and ah-- it has a face.

oh. a ghost. a cute, little ghost plushie.

dead silence.

you purse your lips tightly, desperately trying to force back a smile ( and failing ) as you look down at your shoes, suddenly immensely interested in them. you clear your throat, albeit a little dramatically before making eye contact with him, and though anyone else would see a lack of emotion in those eyes, you can see both resignation and confusion in them. it's a moment of silent communication between you two with many, many unspoken questions.

because you have never referred to him as 'ghost', nor have either of you talked about his military service in front of her before. for the sake of everyone's safety, that's a conversation for later down the road. the less she knows, the better.

ー so he doesn't know if this is some strange coincidence or not, because how the hell does his two year old daughter with no prior history of liking anything even remotely related to halloween suddenly get attached to a ghost plush? either way, he's got a headache now.

you focus on your daughter, amusement still very much on your visage.

"whatcha got there, baby?"

you're not sure what answer to expect. you're not sure what to expect at all from this situation, truthfully. her brows furrow as she puts deep consideration into her answer.

"...ghostie."

you almost wonder if this is a fever dream. if this was a television show, you would imagine they'd put crickets chirping in the background. you can feel simon's soul shrivel up and wither away.

"...fucking hell." he mumbles, and you can't help but laugh, gently ruffling her hair.

( yes, you do take ghostie home. no, simon doesn't understand the attachment. and yes, maybe he does take a little bit of pride in knowing that somehow, she was instinctively drawn to something that represents her dad. even if it is a... cute ghost plushie.

he'll make do, he supposes. he'll make do. )

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #i am goign to eat my hair . this was supposed to be short and simple and funny but my brain is so !??! !? i have forgotten how to write ..#i will upload for now but perhaps delete later ・(/Д`)・#ok but anyway. yes . i hc that they've got a lil 2 yr old daughter who carries tht ghost plush with her like a lifeline #and simon is just like . ok . i guess #-ˋ ♡ ◞ : fic #-ˋ ♡ ◞ : cod #-ˋ ♡ ◞ : banner cr @ v6que

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nekropsii · 10 months ago

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ALPHA TROLLS RANKED BY HOW WRONG THE FANDOM AT LARGE IS ABOUT THEM:

This is a personal challenge, based entirely on my own experience and perspective, and also ranked from Most to Least Correct. I was bored, and thought this might be fun.

Putting this under a cut, because it's long as hell.

MEULIN LEIJON

People get her mostly correct, from what I’ve seen… Most of the time, fan content of Meulin is absolutely recognizable as Meulin, but her pride in her deafness + joy of learning new ways to interact with the world through/due to her disability is always removed, and I do not often see people tackle the Toxic Positivity aspect of her character. That seems less like character assassination, though, and more like a combination of people not actually playing through the Openbounds, people not being able to fathom disabled people (especially those who gained a disability later in life rather than being born disabled) being happy, and general fandom distaste for the idea of touching anything uncomfortable, especially when that uncomfortable topic is highly mundane, normalized, and potentially applicable to them or their loved ones. Meulin’s toxic positivity was, of course, commentary on Tumblr’s ecosystem at the time, so… It was much harder to touch back then.

ARANEA SERKET

People tend to get her general, broad strokes personality right, but unfortunately she gets treated pretty roughly for the crime of Being A Serket. People refuse to understand her motivations, and she often gets demonized for what she was doing around/during [S] Game Over, even though that was something she’d gotten pushed to and also was cool as fuck to watch. God forbid a woman do anything.

DAMARA MEGIDO

People are right about the racism, 100%. It is completely despicable, hard to look at, and extremely blatant. She does, however, have character outside of that. No, it isn’t “whore”, it’s more like “angry, dysfunctional abuse victim”, and she’s genuinely a very interesting and tragic character. But, again, people are right about the racism, so she gets to be placed way up here.

MEENAH PEIXES

She is such a chaotic little bastard. I love her. I really do. Please understand that she genuinely does not understand the concept of consequences. This girl didn’t have a Lusus, she didn’t have parents, it was functionally illegal to tell her “No, you can’t do that.” That would fuck up literally anyone’s moral compass. That’s not me hand waving away all the fucked up and bad shit she’s done, we all know what she did, but people tend to forget this aspect of her character and it pains me deeply, because it is a very genuinely interesting concept that I want to see more of. She’s capable of regret, we’ve seen her feel it, I just don’t think foresight is her forte. No one raised her to consider consequences, or help her experience them in a healthy way, because nobody raised her period.

Also, her ass is not butch, she is the girliest girl in the entire comic. She is about hot pink and glitter and kiss marks and unicorns and cute little puns and you will respect that. She is not masculine. Her ass is not masculine nor is she butch. Let her be her hyper-feminine self.

LATULA PYROPE

Please for the love of god there is more to her character than “Gamer Girl” and “Mituna’s Girlfriend”. You are falling for her fucking ruse. Please. Please. Please recognize that her entire character is about internalized misogyny, and being forced to overcompensate for misogyny in gaming circles as a gamer who happens to be a woman. Please. I’m begging.

KURLOZ MAKARA

His character is not that deep, it’s mostly just a string of events he is mysteriously, inexplicably involved with. The Makaras are extremely Function Over Form- their characters practically do not exist, they're mostly just plot devices that exist to push the story along. I'm sorry to Makara fans. You just invented a guy in your mind and decided he was real. He is also not that soft, though, and his relationships with both Meulin AND Mituna are not healthy. Hard to stop people from ascribing cutesy squishy lovey dynamics to random men who happened to have looked at each other once, though. Some people truly haven't graduated from 2012.

HORUSS ZAHHAK

I am begging people to consider that maybe the biggest issue here is not that he is “Bad Otherkin/Therian Representation” and is in fact maybe the fact that Hussie was actually making fun of Systems when he was writing Horuss. Because Horuss is canonically a system. He uses the word system. He uses the word switching. He uses the word host. He literally talks about his Plurality at length in extremely upfront, plain terms. I don’t know how him being “Bad Otherkin Representation” was and still is the main discourse about him. It makes me insane. That is a commentary that truly writes itself. Talk about having your priorities out of wack, honestly...

PORRIM MARYAM

No, she is not a MRA, she’s just a regular feminist who happens to live on a different planet with different politics and social hierarchies from Our Real World Earth’s USA. Whatever argument you’re about to pull out of your ass to say that she sucks is bad. She already explained what she meant by that, in more detail, very clearly, and she was right. Half the time she’s literally just giving you factual information about what Beforus was like, and literal plot synopses. She isn’t saying anything insane. She’s literally normal. I don’t know why people cannot handle or process this. Porrim has not ever said anything controversial. If you disagree with this you’re either misconstruing her on purpose or you fell for Kankri’s bait, and that’s just fucking sad at that point.

Also, she’s more than a sex object, and her tits are not huge. Honestly, half the shit she was saying was just “I am more than my sex life”, and so many people took that and made her main character trait her sex life. Just pathetic.

RUFIOH NITRAM

This man is a fucking war criminal and I will stop at nothing until he is behind bars for his crimes against Damara. Raging misogynist. Total fucking cunt. Just the worst. If I talk any more about this, this part will be 1,000 paragraphs long. But also, I’m begging people to recognize his relationship with disability, too. He was similar to Meulin in the sense that he didn’t mind his disability, and his biggest gripe with it was the way that Horuss tried to “fix” it… Which is an interesting way to expand upon how Beforus’s culling system is not only very explicitly ableist, but mimicking real world systemic ableism. I also want people to recognize that Hussie is actively having a conversation about the reclamation of slurs with Rufioh’s character, and how not letting people reclaim such language is doing nothing but giving the word power against them while stripping away their own personal agency. Rufioh’s a complicated guy, and he’s interesting and also the worst, and I am really tired of how he gets watered down to nothing but “Pretty Boy Victim Of His Inexplicably Psycho Ex”.

MITUNA CAPTOR

Holy Fucking Shit, You Guys Are Ableist.

KANKRI VANTAS

To this day I see people saying he was just Hussie making fun of SJWs. To this day. To this day people think Hussie was trying to make Every Tumblr Leftist look bad, and that he hates them Because They Are Leftists. When will people recognize him as a bootlicker to the oppressive class and the violently bigoted. When will people recognize that. When will people recognize that this is more of a commentary on the legitimate real flaws of Tumblr’s politics at the time. When. When.

When will people stop portraying him as a lovey-dovey Catholic Whore. I’m going to stab my fucking eyes out and then kill everyone in this building. Me when it's based and cool to ship an aroace character with a sexual predator. I GUESS.

CRONUS AMPORA

I say this with every ounce of sincerity I can possibly muster as a person: What the literal actual fuck.

#homestuck #homestuck fandom #alpha trolls #beforan trolls #dancestors #damara megido #rufioh nitram #mituna captor #kankri vantas #meulin leijon #porrim maryam #latula pyrope #aranea serket #horuss zahhak #kurloz makara #cronus ampora #meenah peixes #nekro.pdf #nekro.txt

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coco-loco-nut · 2 months ago

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007 - part two

pairing: oscar x reader

summary: maybe a soulmate isn’t the worst thing to happen to you

masterlist part one part three requests open

——————

Oscar sent you a text that night. He was a little disappointed when it took you a couple days to reply, but that was quickly made up when you sent a time and location. The mystery around you is thrilling to him.

You wait in the corner of a cafe for Oscar, sipping a flat white. Your eyes immediately find him when he walks in, locked in on him. He quickly orders and makes his way to you. Oscar barely gets in a hello before you get down to business.

“I need you to know something before anything happens. I live a very dangerous life and I don’t plan on stepping away any time soon,” you leave certain things unsaid, like the very real chances of you dying. “It’s hard for the soulmates of those in my line of work. Suddenly the danger meter means more to them, and it can disrupt their lives,” you lean forward a little, subtly emphasizing how important it is.

“I’m a Formula One driver, I am familiar with the risk of dying. I know the risks associated with being your soulmate,” Oscar says and you bite back a remark about his job still being safer than yours. You need to try and be less standoffish.

“Right. Well, I can’t say that I know how to proceed with this. I’m a bit new to the whole thing,” you are a little embarrassed.

“I am too. We can handle it together,” Oscar smiles. He wants to reach across the table to hold your hand, but he doesn’t want to push it so he sips his coffee. “Tell me more about you, all I know is that you do a really dangerous job,” Oscar prompts you.

“Bold statement coming from someone who also has a really dangerous job. I really enjoy traveling, dislike paperwork. When I’m not working, I like reading or taking small trips. Um, I have a cat who is the light of my life,” you pause as Oscar lets out a laugh. “Tell me more about you, more than what your background check tells me,” Oscar sees the playful glimmer in your eye.

“Well, I’ve been getting into cricket and basketball. When I was a kid, I went through this phase where I thought I was a car,” Oscar admits.

“I would always sneak around as a kid, acting like a spy. I guess both of our childhood fantasies worked out,” you hide your bittersweet feelings. Oscar notices but doesn’t push it.

“So I guess you would be the Holly Shiftwell to my Lightning McQueen,” Oscar tries to bring up your mood but you give him confused look.

“But they were never romantic partners?” you say, a little confused with how happy Oscar looks. He’s just happy you have seen the movies and seem to like them enough.

“Semantics. What are you doing now that you aren’t chasing down criminals in the paddock?”

“You mean your soulmate? I’m being forced to take a break from missions right now. Apparently I’ve been hogging all the action and need to help in HQ for a few months,” your distaste for the orders is clear on your face.

“You can join me at a race. If you want to,”

“Really? I don’t want to be a distraction and I don’t know anything about Formula One,” you hesitate, not wanting to impose.

“I want you there. Who better to teach you the sport than me?” Oscar reassures you.

“Well, I guess I will have to take you up on it,” you take the little leap of faith. It’s not something you would normally do. But your soulmate is worth it… right?

You and Oscar agree to a race that is around a month later, giving you time to get to know each other and for him to teach you different aspects of the sport. The month still doesn’t seem to be enough as you arrive at your first race as his soulmate.

“Hey,” Oscar pulls you into a hug as you stand at his hotel room door. He presses a kiss to your forehead before taking your bag as you walk in.

“How was media?” you ask, making yourself comfortable on the bed beside him. It’s clear that he hastily straightened up the room when he got back from free practice.

“Boring, I was counting down the minutes until you got here,” he wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you hum in response. You relax into his warmth, taking in the familiar scent that you’ve found comfort in.

“I couldn’t wait to get out of the office too,” you admit a few moments later. You left a little early to catch a flight here for the weekend.

“Still stuck on paperwork? I must admit, it’s nice not having your danger meter spike,” Oscar murmurs, a little sleepy.

“What’s on your mind?” Oscar observes your distant look when you don’t immediately reply, having learned how to read you more.

“What would you say if I left my job?” you say quietly, almost a whisper. Oscar sits up, needing to properly look at you.

“I’d be a little confused because you love it, but ultimately it’s your choice,” Oscar says, silently asking you to elaborate.

“Well, as soon as someone finds out who I am my cover is blown, putting both of us at risk. It’s a lonely life, and when it was only Boots and me that was okay, but I don’t want to be alone anymore,” you admit, not expecting to feel emotional about it.

“I’ll support you either way, but I don’t want you to quit just for me. What would you do if you left?” he asks, feeling a little guilty.

“The longer I stay in action, the more dangerous my missions will be. Most of mine before didn’t interact with targets, but things will get more dangerous from here. It’s what I’ve worked for my whole life. As for what I would do if I left…” you pause for a second, letting Oscar absorb everything. “Well, your security is seriously lacking, and as your soulmate I think I should do something about that. I was also offered a higher up position that would take me out of action for good,”

“Having my own personal security guard who is also my soulmate? That could be dangerous,” somehow you don’t think Oscar means the kind of danger that would raise your meters.

“Oscar!” Your cheeks flush as you bite back a laugh, acting scandalized. “Alright, I’m going to shower before bed,” you slide out of his arms, looking back at him, knowing what he is about to suggest. “No, you can’t join,” you laugh as he pouts. You two aren’t there yet, but he is proud at how comfortable you are around him.

Oscar leaves early in the morning for free practice, promising to meet you at the gates when you arrive for qualifying. You happily take the extra time to sleep.

Qualifying is your test run. You get a feel for the team and race environment while keeping a low profile. Arriving for the race is a different thing.

“Ready?” Oscar asks as he parks at the circuit. He looks so cozy in his hoodie, and to be fair, you woke him up half an hour before having to leave.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you nervously smile. You are never nervous, but this is different. You are dressed fashionably, but nothing that makes you stand out too much. Your dark sunglasses help hide some of your features as you walk in on Oscars arm. You both look happy as you walk in, and the media notices.

“Oscar!” Logan calls him over, you recognize the American from your initial background check.

“Hey. This is my soulmate, Y/n. Y/n, this is my best friend, Logan,” Oscar introduces both of you.

“Hi, it’s nice to actually meet you,” you hug Logan, taking him by surprise.

“Aww, you talk about me?” Logan coos at Oscar.

“You came up in her background check on me,” Oscar says causing Logan to let go of your hug.

“Weird, but I like it. We are going to be great friends, Leiter and Bond,” Logan rolls with it. He remembers the first time Oscar mentioned you and that’s enough for him.

“You are a sexier James Bond, license to kill and all,” Oscar chimes in, trying to flirt and joke at the same time.

“Oh baby, no. That is nothing like what we do,” you accidentally slip up, and Logan’s eyes widen.

“I thought you were joking. I will keep this to myself though. That’s so cool. Can we watch those movies together?” Logan quickly says, not wanting you to worry. Your initial coolness that Oscar described to him over the past month makes more sense to him now.

“We should get going, I don’t want Zak and Andrea to get mad,” Oscar says, leading both of you away.

“This is the McLaren motorhome, you are welcome to sit in the drivers lounge or in my room while I am in the meeting. Afterwards, I can introduce you to Charles and his girlfriend,” Oscar offers as you look around.

“They should have better security here,” you tut, looking at all the different ways you could easily get in.

“Don’t worry, other teams aren’t coming in and stealing our secrets,” Oscar kisses the side of your head as he leads you upstairs to his drivers room.

“I could always do some recon,” you slyly smile, anything to help him win.

“That’s okay, I don’t need that to win. I have you motivating me,” he smiles, one which falters as a man with brown curly hair comes barreling towards you.

“OSCAR! Is this her? Hi, I’m Lando,” the man, Lando, says, extending his hand.

“Y/n,” you coolly reply, defenses going up as he pulls you into a hug once you take his hand. Oscar can tell you are uncomfortable, Lando springing himself on you.

“Let me help her get settled and I will be down,” Oscar says, cueing Lando to go to the meeting without him. “You are going to look Lando up, aren’t you?” he asks with an amused smile once you are in the safety of his room.

“Yeah, get ready for all his dirty laundry to be aired,” you lightly laugh.

“I look forward to it. I need more blackmail on him. I’ll see you soon, this meeting won’t take long,” Oscar promises, leaving you alone. You spend the half hour he is away looking up his teammate and some other drivers.

“Did I do something wrong?” Lando asks Oscar on their way back to the drivers rooms.

“No, she just wasn’t expecting you. Y/n is pretty guarded around new people, it stems from her job. She will warm up to you,” Oscar replies, not wanting his teammate and soulmate to hate each other.

“Does she work for the government or something?” Lando jokes, a little too accurate.

“Or something, don’t worry about it,” Oscar says, excited to see you again. You wait at the door for Oscar.

“For a professional driver, you have a lot of traffic violations,” you tell Lando, who notices the amused glimmer in your eye and relaxes. Whatever you did during the meeting seems to have worked.

“I have the need for speed,” Lando smiles, happy that you’ve warmed up a little. “Wait, how did you-“

“Don’t worry about it, we will see you later,” Oscar cuts him off, taking you to Ferrari.

“So, Charles is your fake adoptive dad? He has a fairly clean record, I couldn’t find much on him,” you comb over what you learned in your mind.

“Oh, Max is going to love you. You both have cats and you could prep him for whoever he is meeting with,” Oscar laughs, glad that you are taking the time to know his coworkers even if it isn’t the traditional route.

“Max Verstappen? I don’t usually do hits, but I will take out his father for free if he wants,” the way you say it so casually causes Oscar to almost choke.

“I will let him know,” he says, a little unsure how one replies to that.

You are quick to befriend Charles and Alexandra, the latter offers for you to join her while watching the race. You politely decline, but promise to join another race. Oscar takes you around to some other drivers, including Max, before introducing you to more people at McLaren.

You settle into the garage as the race starts, nervous as you watch Oscar on a small screen. You are aware of cameras that are pointed at you, but you ignore them. They don’t know you, all they can do is speculate.

The race is going smoothly until lap 37. Oscar is fighting for position when you fell the sickening twinge of the meter on your arm increasing. Your eyes are glued to the screen as you listen to the team radio, feeling a pit in your stomach.

Carlos and Oscar made contact which at minimum punctured Oscar’s tires. You hear his frustration, but you are just glad that’s all it was.

“Check the front wing too,” you hear him say after confirming he’s okay. He makes it back to the garage safely due to the incident being close to pit lane, but they retire his car due to other damage. Oscar seems too calm to you as he exits the car. Even you would show more emotion in that scenario.

Oscar’s eyes meet yours and before you know it, you are on your feet walking to him. He wraps you in a hug and you gently rub his back. You hold each other for a minute, taking a moment ground each other.

“You okay?” you practically yell over the noise and he just nods, guiding you out of the garage.

“That’s not the win I wanted to give you,” Oscar sighs as you walk back to his room after he gets weighed.

“I hope I’m not bad luck,”

“Never. You are good luck, that should’ve been worse than it was,” Oscar reassures you. A small part of him is happy to be spending time with you.

“I’m sorry your race ended like that, you were driving so well,” you frown, as Oscar squeezes your hand.

“Nothing I can do now, next race is a new opportunity. I have to go do media, do you want to watch the rest in McLaren?” Oscar asks, wanting to know where to find you later.

“I’ll go to Ferrari and watch with Alexandra,” you decide, needing to have friends around here. Oscar nods, leading you to your new friend. He kisses you goodbye before you walk in.

“Hey, are you okay? Those are scary, no matter how minor,” Alexandra greets you when she notices you.

“Yeah. Osc is fine, I’m just upset for him,” you shrug. You’ve seen your partners in danger on missions, but this is a whole different ballgame.

“Grab a seat, want a coffee?” she asks, making sure you are comfortable.

“No, but maybe you can teach me better than Oscar,” you watch her face light up as she immediately dives into sharing her knowledge, explaining everything to you as it happens.

“Come and meet some of the others. Oscar will be pulled into meetings,” Alexandra says, pulling you away from Ferrari.

“Shouldn’t you be with Charles? He must be looking for you,”

“He can wait,” Alexandra waves your concern off as you galavant around the paddock.

Your great experience with the WAGs further conflicted you if you wanted to stay or leave your job. And it all came to a head when you were brought in on an emergency mission once you returned from your weekend away.

This might be your most dangerous recon mission yet. Your part is simple on paper, get in, copy the digital files, get out. It wasn’t simple in execution.

You just skimmed the files, getting crucial information that will stop the operation. Now for the hard part - getting out and getting away.

You slip out of the room, when you hear footsteps getting closer and closer. Just like the stereotype, you slide around a corner and hold your breath, praying they don’t turn your way. They are so close you can feel their body heat beside you. You focus on remaining calm, but this is the most on edge you’ve ever been. You close your eyes as you feel your stomach drop.

This is it. You can see Oscar’s face as he opens his driver room door, two agents standing outside. The agents are solemn as they deliver the news - you were captured and killed on a mission. Every word, every moment is played perfectly in your mind. And your cat, Oscar will have to take care of Boots, a constant reminder of you.

Oscar sits in his post FP2 meeting when it happens, feeling the sickening feeling of your danger meter telling him you were in danger. After it being normal for the past few days, his stomach drops at how high it is.

“I need five,” Oscar runs out like he’s about to puke. You promised in your hastily written letter that you’d try to be safe, but all you really said that you had to leave, couldn’t take your phone, and it was an emergency. He naively thought that you wouldn’t be in the field, that you were just needed on the sidelines. He wasn’t completely wrong, you helped from the side for everything but your part in the operation.

“Oscar? Hey, are you okay?” Lando asks, walking into the room where Oscar disappeared to.

“I- I don’t know,” Oscar looks at his arm, silently pleading for the meter to go down. Lando sees it and just sits beside Oscar.

“Wanna talk about it?” Lando says after a few seconds of silence.

“She left a few days ago with only a note and her cell phone behind. Got an emergency call while I was out. Poor Boots, he must miss his mom. And I know she’s not abandoning me, but I think I finally know how my mom feels about my career,” Oscar says after a minute.

“I assume she’s in the military, or like, a detective to be in danger, and that’s pretty badass of her. I know she came off as cold initially to a lot of us, except when she’s with you and some of the girls, but I can tell that she really likes you. And she seems like she holds her own,” Lando starts listing everything he likes about you from the couple interactions you had during the race day. It helps distract Oscar, calming him little by little.

You step around the corner as soon as the voices fade and come face to face with a security guard. You quickly land a few punches, knocking him out. In the moment you are grateful for your disguise and the cameras that are currently disabled thanks to your team. As you quickly exit the building, you notice another guard tailing you. You quickly get into your getaway car, turning it on and pressing the throttle. It lurches under you, making a hasty exit as they chase you.

Glances in the rear view mirror tell you that you aren’t out of the woods yet. You send a small prayer that Oscar’s talent will be enough as you speed down the street. The car just isn’t fast enough, you are being hunted and the hunter keeps creeping closer and closer. Once again you hope your luck hasn’t run out as you will the car to go just a little faster.

Lando stays seated beside Oscar, trying not to stare at the meter on his teammates arm. He watches the tears run down Oscar’s face as the meter creeps higher, higher, then drops.

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader

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starlightazriel · 4 months ago

Text

bee 7

desc: best friends>lovers, azriel au (fem reader)

warnings: 18+, fluff, SMUT!!, fingering, raw dogg, oral, light bondage, blindfold, overstim, reader being a lil insecure, teeny tiny foot fetish (cmon we all know az is a freak freak), lil adolescent fluff , drug addiction, (was rereading and feel like i should add kat insinuating someone's on drugs bc they are skinny i know this isn't accurate she's just being a bitch to jab at az basically saying anyone else besides bee that az would be with would be a custy lol)

other parts can be found on my masterlist under azriel

wc: 7.9k

seven

Kat and Mor had both insisted this time, that I get ready at Kats house for my date with Azriel. Date. I had been going out of my mind with nerves since he asked me, rushing around to every store yesterday looking for the right thing to wear.

He hadn't changed his mind, which I had been afraid of... No, he had actually told me lastnight that he couldn't wait, he had said that just before I went over to Kats for the slumber party she had planned for the three of us since Mor was staying at her house. I had been a blushing mess when he stared me down in my pajamas in the hall before I left.

I still felt like I was in a dream... After wanting Az for so long I was just waiting for him to change his mind or something, it didn't feel real. "I think I might pass away," I muttered quietly as I stared back at my reflection in the mirror, yesterday, the long silky white dress had felt like a good idea, tonight... Not so much.

"You're going to be fine," Mor promised as she did some final touches on my hair, she looked drop dead gorgeous, I felt just plain and stupid next to her. It reminded me again that Azriel had too many options, why would he want me?

"You couldn't be more prepped you have nothing to be nervous about," Kat giggles softly, glancing over at us, she was still working on her makeup, clad in a skimpy black dress similar to Mors dark purple one. My cheeks reddened again, they had forced me to go get waxed bright and early, insisting that it was the best way to get ready for Azriel if I wanted to seal the deal and make him completely fall in love. I had questioned many of my decisions while I whimpered in pain when the woman at the spa had been ripping my pubes out.

The two of them together were a force to be reckoned with, because the wax was followed by a pedicure and a manicure and then a blowout from the hair salon across the street. I was already exhausted and the night hadn't even began. I had been telling them all day, that all of this was unnecessary that Az and I had known eachother for so long I didn't need to do all of this extra stuff to impress him. He already knew me. They insisted that this wasn't just for Azriel, it was for me, to help boost my confidence. I had tried to not take it as an insult, did I really come off as that insecure?

"I just- I don't know, I've been waiting for this for so long... And now I feel like I might just throw up," I breathed out pressing my hand to my stomach as I stared at myself in the mirror, I glanced at the clock again, and winced because Azriel would be here any moment. "I mean, have you guys even seen some of the women he goes for?! I'm like- I don't even know like the fucking pillsbury dough boy next to them. He's always going with supermodel looking women," I stared at my reflection again, letting out a heavy sigh.

"You're gorgeous Bee, shut it," Mor grins and fixes my hair one last time. "Plus," Kat tacks on after her, "They're only that skinny because they are sniffing and popping god knows what," Kat scrunched her nose a little with distaste. I looked down, I hated when they brought up Az's habits, or anything that related to them.

I clutched my little bag in my hand, feeling my phone buzz inside of it. My stomach flipped again and I swallowed hard, pulling my phone free from the little purse. im outside Short and sweet, typical Azriel. My stomach churned and twisted. "He's here?" She asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, I'll see you guys there. Please don't watch us from the window," I grimaced, glancing out the window, my breath caught in my throat seeing Azriel leaning up against a black SUV, I figured Rhys must have got him a driver for tonight. He looked so, damn, good. He'd got a hair cut since last night, all his jewelry was on display, tanned skin gleaming in the setting sun, smoking of course, looked like a pre roll from here. My heart skipped a few beats in my chest, my stomach feeling like molten lava.

"I can't make any promises," Mor giggled softly, Kat along with her and I glanced back at the two of them who were a little too close for comfort. I briefly wondered if they had ever hooked up. Wouldn't have surprised me. I narrowed my eyes at their laughter, not finding anything funny.

"Okay I'll see you later," I repeat, my knees feeling weak as I left Kats apartment, into the warm evening air. Azriel's eyes were instantly on me, and he smiled, grinned actually as his eyes raked over my body, briefly settling on my nipples, the rings making them visible under the thin fabric of the dress, I had picked some heart ones out for tonight, I hoped Azriel would like them... If we even got that far.

I felt my face heating up, Az must be laughing at me in his head. I looked ridiculous, like I always did when Kat dressed me up like a doll.

"You look gorgeous," he was blushing now too, his throat bobbed slightly as he took my hand and pulled me in for a half hug, his large hand pressing into my lower back. I felt like I might pass out, like my knees might give out on me completely, they were already wobbling.

"So do you," I blurted, and the color on my cheeks deepened, causing him to let out a throaty laugh. It wasnt a lie, even though it sounded dumb. He was so damn beautiful, sexy, handsome... He looked like a tattooed god in the golden hour lighting.

"Do I?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. I was starting to wonder how I was going to survive the night, it had been, what, a few minutes? And I was already soaking wet, my body absolutely begging for him. I wondered if he could see it in my eyes.

I could tell he was a little nervous or maybe as much as me, despite how cool he was playing it.

"You always do," I had the fight the urge to fan myself, I was getting hotter by the moment. He just shook his head, his hair shaking with the motion, still smiling down at me before he gestured to the door and opened it for me to get in the back seat. It was quite roomy, definitely one of Rhys' family cars, it was modified on the inside, the seats created an L shape in the back of the car. I took a seat in one of them, taking in the small space. My lips parted slightly in surprise at the bouquet of green apple blow pops that was resting on the other seat, a Chanel ribbon wrapped around them with a small box next to it. Okay, I was definitely melting now, it was so hot in here, or maybe it was just me.

Azriel smiled sheepishly at my expression as he got into the car, picking up the lollipop bouquet and the small jewelry box, his eyes looking shy, this was new, he was never shy. Mysterious, quiet, maybe even a little RBF, but he never looked shy. "I just wanted to say thank you, for coming with me," his voice was quiet as the car began rolling forward now that we were both settled into the back seat. "And happy early birthday, I didnt forget," his lips twitched slightly as he extended the small box and lollipop bouquet. The fact that he remembered what we had first ever bonded over, it made my chest swell a little bit. Made me long for him even more. In so many more ways than just the physical.

"Az- you didnt have to-" my mouth felt so dry, I felt like I had lost the ability to speak. With everything going on recently, I myself had almost forgotten my twenty third birthday coming up next week.

"I wanted to," he pressed, leaning back as he waited, watching me expectantly. My fingers shook slightly as opened the box, a little breath escaping my lips at the sight of the little gold and pearl Chanel hoops that he had picked out for me. They looked expensive and it made my cheeks burn brighter. This definitely wasnt like Azriel, I couldnt remember a time he'd ever bought a woman jewelry. But he bought some for me. "They match your dress," he mused, and I felt his eyes raking over me again.

"Azriel- These are so pretty- I can't- They must have cost like at least three tattoos, I can't accept these-" I fumbled over my words, feeling naked under his gaze, he just shook his head, smiling a little bit. He looked, pleased.

"Let me put them on for you," he mumbled, his eyes boring into me as he leaned forward, so close, now. My breath hitched, his scent filling my nose, making my heart beat just a little bit faster. He brushed his finger over my neck as it travelled up to my ear, my toes curled at the feeling of his rough fingers against my soft skin. Carefully he used his other hand to hold the stud in place before popping the back off of my current earring. Azriel repeated the same motions on the other side, his tongue poking slightly between his lips in concentration. I watched his jaw flex slightly, my body felt so tense, my brain begged me for more, begged me to jump on him in the back of Rhys' family car.

He carefully took out one of the hoops and his fingers brushed my skin again as he clicked the first one on, being careful not to pinch my skin. I shivered a little bit feeling goosebumps rise on every inch of my body, Azriel smirked, his eyes meeting with mine before he carefully put the other earring on. Definitely going to pass out. It felt like my heart stopped every time our eyes met. "Just like how I imagined," he leans back to get a good look at me, licking his lips, heat pooled in my core, my toes curled against my will.

"Oh Az," I breathed out, hardly recognizing my reflection in his phone, he had pulled it out with the front camera facing me so I could see my new earrings. "You really shouldn't have," I breathed again, my cheeks were red, lips pinker than usual and puffy from how much I was biting them, my eyes were hazy with lust and everything else I felt for him. I was glowing a little bit, I looked... Nice. He cleared his throat, his eyes softening into something else besides just the lust that burned on the surface of both of our gazes, something deeper.

"But I did though," he said softly, and his eyes flicked down to my bouquet of green apple blow pops. "You better share later," he raised an eyebrow, smirking at me. "I didn't steal them this time I paid for those," he chuckled quietly. My heart warmed again at the memory. This was really happening, my Az... Taking me on a date. He was so charming this was the Azriel I knew, this was my Az.

"Of course I'll share with you Az, how couldn't I?" I laughed and squeezed the bouquet a little tighter, my heart felt so big, my chest felt so warm, I had never felt so whole. He smiled at me and just looked, savored every inch of me as if he too had been waiting for a while. Even though it wasnt nearly as long as I'd been waiting for him. I looked back at him, appreciating every inch of him, the few freckles that dusted his nose, making him look just slightly more boyish, his burning hazel eyes that could see right through me, his kissable lips, strong but still just soft enough jaw....

Something flashed in his eyes as if he remembered something. "Can I ask you something about Eris?" he says casually, but there was a certain edge I could feel in his tone. My stomach flipped slightly, and I leaned back.

"Sure," I nodded, nervously playing with the ribbon he had tied around my lollipop bouquet. I had no idea what to prepare for, had no clue what Az was about to ask, it had my stomach churning nervously.

"Did you.. Did Eris eat you out?" his tone was still even, question direct and forward as if he had every right to ask me that. My eyes widened at his bluntness. Jealousy?

"Azriel!" My cheeks blazed and I slapped his arm, my other hand tightly gripping my bouquet. He didnt say anything, only raised a brow expectantly still waiting for my answer, not a smile in sight. "No, he didnt-"

"Okay," he cuts me off there, smiling sheepishly at me now. "Ever since I walked in on you- Ive been obsessed with tasting you, I just had to know," he admits, licking his lips as if his mouth was watering at the thought. He had no shame, he wasnt embarrassed that he had been thinking about me like that, no, he was enjoying watching me squirm with every single confession.

My cheeks burned as I thought about him, thinking about tasting me. It had my tongue feeling heavy in my mouth, like it was weighing on the back of my throat, making it harder to breathe. Ive been obsessed with tasting you. The thought almost embarrassed me, Az wanted to taste me, so bad that he had been obsessed with the thought.

"You alright Bee?" his eyes were twinkling with amusement, and arousal. He was realizing his effect on me, how down bad I truly was for him.

"I just- Its hot in here-" And it was, my legs involuntarily squeezed together, Azriel didnt miss it.

"You have no idea what youre in for tonight Bee."

I didnt know how I had ended up here, a few celebratory glasses of champagne, admiring Azriels and some other artists works, a few hors d'oeuvres, and I was now on Azriels lap behind the shops booth.

I was a hot mess for sure, everyone in our group was giving us glances, maybe in disbelief. I didnt blame them, Azriels open PDA was almost alarming. We hadn't kissed yet, but I was on his lap, his large fingers were gripped tightly around my hips, and my body was practically buzzing with need for him. Covered in goosebumps, my pussy swollen and throbbing in the little white lace panties I had selected. At this point, after spending the entire night with Az, being on his arm all night like he promised, it was practically painful not to have him inside of me. Why weren't we going home yet? There had been fleeting, subtle touches all night, whispers in my ear that sent my toes curling in my high heels. Id wondered if he'd noticed that, he'd been stealing looks down at my freshly pedicured feet all night.

He was rock hard, I could feel his cock through his pants completely my thin dress not adding a thing to the barrier, I could feel him pressing against me, he felt so big. I was barely able to focus on anything else that was going on, the conversations they were having, that somehow Azriel was apart of. I didnt know how he was even able to engage. No one seemed to notice I hadn't said anything in ages, or if they did they didnt bring it to attention.

"I really am proud of you Az, this shits amazing for business," Rhys hadn't shut up about how pleased he was since the final voting had ended and the hosts had announced that they had won both categories Artist of the Year and Tattoo Parlor of the Year. Azriel was being modest, but they won because of him. Because of his talent.

"It was really nothing," he says casually, his voice was still low and gravelly like it had been all night, I wondered if it was because he wanted me as much as I wanted him. It sure felt like it. He snaked his arm around me, spreading his hand across my lower stomach and pulling me further onto him, my legs spread slightly with the movement, my back falling flush against his chest. I let my head tilt back onto his shoulder, savoring the feeling. The bulge of his cock brushed lightly against my aching pussy, just barely, enough to drive me more mad and I cursed the stupid dress for getting in the way of me feeling him more. Should have worn leggings.

"Youre being modest," Cass laughs and glances over, he blushed when he noticed the way that Az was holding me and he quickly looked away. I blushed too, maybe this really was too much for the setting we were in, I couldn't bring myself to get up. I feel Az shrug behind me, his hand still pressing into my stomach, it felt like he was burning a hole straight through my dress.

I don't even hear what Rhys says next because my senses are reduced to Azriels lips brushing against my earlobe, the feeling of his hot breath on my skin. "I have a surprise for you," he whispers into my ear, the feeling sends more heat settling between my thighs, so dizzy.

"What?" I manage, my brain feeling so foggy, it was like Azriel was the only thing I'd ever thought of, the world around practically didnt exist. He chuckled, the sound sent more shivers down my spine.

"I said," his other hand slid over the top of my thigh, gently rubbing through the thin fabric. I suppressed a moan, my eyelids involuntarily fluttering shut. "I have a surprise for you," he repeated, the feeling of his voice against my ear making me squirm in his lap. "Bee you gotta stop that," he hissed softly under his breath, his arm tightening, pressing me further into him as if to still me. "There's people around," he mutters, my eyes flutter open again as if remembering for the first time, I make eye contact with Mor first and then Kat, I grimace at both of them, because they were watching us, giggling like school girls. I knew I wasnt going to live this down, right now I didnt care, nothing could ruin my bliss.

"Can we please go now Az? Ive been soo patient," I turned my head slightly, his nose and lips brushed against my cheek, I fought the urge to grind my hips against him, and failed miserably when I imagined his mouth between my legs and his nose pressed against my clit. He cursed quietly under his breath and sighed, this had to be torturing him as much as it was me.

"Think we'll skip drinks," Az said casually and he stood up, pulling me to stand with him, my body still flush with his, my cheeks reddened as I felt everyones eyes on us. "Bees tired, gotta get her back, you don't mind Rhys, do you?"

Rhys eyes flashed with something I didnt recognize as he observed Az and I. I looked away, feeling mortified, because obviously with the way we had been all over each other all night... Everyone knew what we were really going to do. The thought sent nerves flipping my stomach, suddenly I regretted rushing him. "That's fine," Rhys smirked, exchanging a knowing glance with Cass who looked like he was holding his tongue. "You've done enough Az, you two should go enjoy your night,"

"Id hug you for being so damn good bro, but I don't want your little chub rubbing my leg," Cass snickered earning an initial glare from Azriel but it turned into a smirk. My cheeks burned, I wished I could fall into the floor.

"Yours might be thicker Cass, but mine will always be longer," Az shrugs, making Cassian laugh from his perch on the stool he was sitting on.

"You guys are disgusting," Mor shakes her head in disbelief. "Now I remember why I moved, no one wants to listen to a bunch of guys fighting over who's dick is bigger, y/n I suggest you take him away now before Rhys joins,"

"Mor everyone knows mines the biggest, I don't even bother arguing with them anymore," Rhys laughs and waves her off, cocky and arrogant as ever. My cheeks burned, I didn't bother to listen to her response.

Azriels hand found mine and interlaced our fingers as we bid our goodbyes to everyone, my chest swelled at the gesture. Az didnt forget to thank the hosts on the way out, I marveled at him, admiring how professional he could be, no one on the outside would ever know the demons he faced unless he let them.

"Thank you for that, Bee," he says when we are finally alone, the car was waiting just a little ways down, my hand felt slightly sweaty in his, my heart already pounding in my chest with anticipation for what was going to come. He squeezed a little, as if sensing my nerves, "I really think, with you on my arm," he blushed, as if his own words surprised him, he swallowed before finishing, "I could do anything." My cheeks blazed at his admittance, my stomach doing somersaults as he glanced over at me under his thick lashes, his eyes still hazy and lust filled, but soft too, like he finally returned those tender feelings I had for him for so long.

"Of-of course Az," it seemed like I hadn't been able to form a proper thought or sentence all night. Being with Azriel... It was mind numbing madness. I had never imagined I would be this much of a blubbering idiot. He didnt say anything else as he lead me back to the car we had arrived in.

"You didnt forget about your surprise did you?" he asks, leaning back into the back seat, Az had immediately pulled the partition when we got into the car which hadn't done anything to settle my nerves.

"Azriel where are we even going?" I ask softly, glancing out the window, we definitely weren't headed back to the apartment.

"You'll see," he said softly and leaned over, closer to me, I turned to face him, our lips nearly brushing. "I've been waiting to do this all night," he gently slides his thumb over my jaw before curling his fingers into the hair on the nape of my neck, my core was molten, my entire body screaming for him.

"What are you doing to me?" I breathe out dumbly, causing a chuckle to rumble through his chest. He pulls me closer, our foreheads resting gently on one another's now.

"I've been asking myself the same thing about you since I walked in on you in my room," his lips brushed mine as he spoke, his eyes burning into mine, we were so so close. My heart pounded against my chest, "I can't stop thinking about you Bee, every time I get myself off I think about you. I'm going crazy, I can't stop thinking about what your little pussy tastes like, about making you moan for me," my breath hitches slightly at his vulgarity, his voice was low and gravelly making my toes curl. He finally pressed his lips against mine, his tongue slipping past my lips. I kissed him back my head spinning with the feeling, finally, finally he was kissing me again.

"Az I've wanted this for so long," I hum against him, feeling delerious, I let out a soft involuntary whimper as his rough, scarred fingers slowly slide over the back of my ankle and up my calf.

"I'm sorry for not seeing what was right in front of me this whole time Bee," he whispers, trailing kisses down my neck, my eyes threatened to roll back into my head. "Should have been us from the very beginning," he slowly kisses over the tops of my breasts, his fingers tightening gently around the back of my knee. "I should have taken your virginity, been your first boyfriend, I should have showed all of this to you a long time ago," he breathed out, sliding his hand to the front of my knee and up the top of my thigh toward the place I needed him most. I exhaled, tilting my head back, my back arched slightly as his fingers brushed against my clothed cunt. "I'm gonna make up for all that though," he mumbled gruffly before slipping my panties aside, I gasped at the feeling of Azriels scarred fingers on my soft bare pussy lips for the first time.

"Az," I whimpered quietly, my hips grinding against his fingers, he cursed under his breath, slowly sliding his middle finger into my opening. I gasped, gripping his shoulders, "Azriel," I breathed out again as he wiggled his long finger inside of me in a come hither motion, hitting my g spot over and over.

"Fuck you're soaking for me," he breathed out, sucking the skin over my collar bone lightly, the palm of his hand ground against my clit as he expertly finger fucked me without even pulling his fingers in and out. My dress was pushed up past my knees, my breathing heavy and ragged as I held onto him, every bump or crack in the road that the car hit made me moan harder. He didn't stop until I came, cursing quietly under his breath as my body shook lightly. He had already made me cum more than anyone else I had to ever been with, and we hadn't even fucked yet. I tried to ignore that his skills probably came from lots of practice. "We're here baby," he slowly pulled his finger from my pussy, a whoosh of breath left my lips at the new feeling of emptiness. My head spun as he sucked my release off of his finger, his eyes closing as he did, humming softly as if he had been waiting so long to know what I tasted like. It made my mouth go dry, made the breath catch in my throat.

So damn good. She tasted so good. Azriel couldn't wait to get her upstairs, bury his face between her legs and fully taste her. He opens his eyes again, licking his lips at the sight of her after orgasm hazy eyes, wet lips, flushed cheeks and chest. "Come on," he nods toward the car door.

"Where are we?" she manages to get out scrambling to straighten her dress out, her brows crinkling together slightly, it made his heart swell, made him smile.

"I told you I had a surprise," he shrugged easily and opened the door to the car and held it for her, watching with endearment as she collected the bouquet of lollipops he had gifted her and the small box that had contained the earrings. He smiled as her eyes widened looking up at the tall fancy hotel before them, despite how late it was, a doorman opened the door to let them inside. She waited in a cushy lobby chair while he checked in, and he couldn't help but keep glancing back at her.

"Az this is ridiculous seriously. This room must have cost a fortune," she says as they finally entered the room on one of the top floors of the hotel. He let the door shut behind them, his eyes scanning over the room, a king bed, amazing view, a bottle of champagne on ice in a golden colored bucket, two glasses beside it.

"Rhys asked me what I wanted yesterday for all of my hard work on the event, think he felt bad cus he kinda laid into me the other day. I think he expected me to ask for money... I asked him to get me a room in the best hotel in the city for tonight," he smiled shyly, his cheeks growing red with the admittance. It was embarrassing hearing it out loud, he didn't know how to feel about his behavior. All of this was new for him, and with Bee? He didn't have time to process anyway, it all felt too good, too right, being here with her.

"Az... You didn't have to do that," she twists to look at him, her eyes glowing, her cheeks just as red as his. Azriel knew she wasn't used to seeing him so vulnerable, not for years at least, maybe once... Long ago, when his family was still around.

"I wanted to. I wanted tonight to be.. Special," he almost couldn't believe himself, couldn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth. He couldn't recall ever doing anything like this for anyone. He had never really been one for romantics. Lately he was starting to reconsider it, the look on Bees face made him feel so whole inside. And she deserved this, she deserved a night to be spoiled and shown that he did see her now too. He saw everything, saw the way she had been there for him all those years, stood by him, no matter how many fucked up phases he went through she was always there.

"It already was Azriel," she breaths, twisting around to look at him again, she was standing in front of the bed now, her eyes were darting around nervously, her arms wrapping self consciously around her stomach. "You didn't have to waste your bonus on this," she mumbled softly, her cheeks still so pink as if she thought she wasn't worth any of this, little did she know she was worth so much more.

"Don't be shy now Bee, it's not so long ago you were a moaning mess in my bed, I've already seen you naked," his eyes travel over her, stopping for a moment at the tops of her breasts, pushed up by her arms against her body. His cock was aching, so fucking hard... It had been all night, he had been adjusting himself all night to hide his massive hard on. He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off of his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, his head eyes never leaving her, blazing into her skin.

"But Az I-" she starts, he could see her breath catch, her chest rising and falling. Goosebumps already covered her skin and he hadn't even touched her yet since they entered the room.

"Shh.. Strip," he commands softly unzipping his pants because he couldn't take how tight they had gotten any longer, his cock had been aching all night. He sight with relief at the release of tension, but still didn't pull his pants fully off, waiting and watching her. She blinked, exhaling softly, her arms slowly dropped to her sides but she didn't move to slip her dress off. How could she not see how beautiful she was? "Go on," he coaxed, his jaw flexing as his eyes raked over every inch of her.

"Az... I'm like- I can't just... Strip," her voice caught in her throat and he smiled at her, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of her.

"I'm going to teach you that you can do a lot of things you think you can't do," his voice was husky, laced with desire as he took a step toward her. "Go on Bee, take it off for me," he breathed out and she blushed deeper, closing her eyes and leaning down to pull her dress completely over her head. Azriel let out a shaky breath at the sight before him, only her heels and her white lace panties remained, the tight fabric showing the outline of her cunt. His eyes rest on her nipples then, his mouth watering at the sight of her nipple rings cute little hearts around her perfect little nipples. She tries to cover herself again, he sucks his teeth, shaking his head at her and closes the distance between them holding her arms at her sides so she couldn't cover her body.

"You look so good to me," he assured, knowing how she could be, the phase she went through that one summer where she wouldn't eat. He had picked up the pieces, taken care of her like she had done for him so many times.

She blushed again, looking down at her feet, he followed her gaze, cute little french tips that he loved so much. His cock throbbed again at the sight. He grabbed her chin, tilting her head up so her eyes would meet his. "I mean it," his eyes bore into hers, he let his emotions show, let his walls come down a bit. He wanted her to know how much she truly meant to him. "You are everything Bee," he slides his hands over her ass and the bottom of her thighs scooping her up and placing her on the bed, he let out a heavy breath at the sight of her on the bed.

"Az-" she breathed, her eyes widening as she looked up at him, his eyes were dark with lust as he untied the ribbon around her blow pop bouquet, the lollipops all falling onto the table with thudding sounds.

"Do you trust me?" he asks, his gaze not wavering as he looked down into her eyes past them, as if he was looking into her soul. It made her body wriggle beneath him.

"Of course I do Az but-" she swallowed her words, her breath catching in her throat as he put one of the sleeping masks that had been provided by the hotel over her eyes covering her world in darkness. "Oh.." she breathed out softly, her back slightly arching as he slid his hands up her arms and tied her wrists with the ribbon, tying them to the headboard of the bed. He figured she couldn't be worried about what her body looked like if she couldn't see. He stood back for a minute, marveling at her, watching her breasts rise and fall with each breath admiring the high heels she was still wearing and her wet cunt, soaking through the fabric of her panties.

All tied up and blind folded in front of him... He had never seen anything so beautiful. Her arms were pinned above her head, her chest on full display for him. He let out a throaty long breath before he knelt on the bed in front of her, carefully undoing the straps on her heels, his rough fingers brushing the soft skin on her ankles, as he pulled them off and discarded them on the floor one by one, she whimpered, pulling her hands against the restraint. "I really have been so blind," he muttered before pressing a kiss to the sole of her foot, her back arched again, a small whimper escaping her lips.

"Az.. Please.." She begged, her voice so needy and desperate it was driving him even more crazy. "I've been wanting this for so long..." she whimpered, the sound made his cock twitch in his pants.

He placed more open mouthed kisses on the soles of her feet, and the insides of her ankles humming softly to himself at the sweet smell of her skin. She was practically shaking already, he could see how wet she was already, her juices soaking through her panties. "Need to get those off," he mumbled softly to himself reaching forward and gripping her panties, tugging them down her legs, his fingers sliding all the way down the outsides of her legs as he pulled them off.

Why had he denied them both this for so long? He couldn't understand how he had been so blind.

An involuntary groan left his lips at the sight of her bare cunt, freshly waxed, smooth, glistening wet with her arousal and her first release in the car. "You are perfect," he breathed before he finally gave in to his desire to taste her, no matter how much he wanted to keep teasing her he had to have his mouth on her now.

He placed an open mouthed kiss over her nipple, sucking her pierced flesh into his mouth, making her moan again and causing him to grind his achingly hard cock in his pants against the bed.

"You've got nothing to be insecure about, you're so fucking perfect," he moans softly, wrapping his mouth around her other pierced nipple. "You're so lucky you got these done before you were mine," he muttered against her skin, sending shivers up her spine.

"Yours?" she asks breathlessly, her lips parting in surprise, he wished he could see her eyes, wished she could see the way he was looking at her. He figured it was probably better she didn't anyway. Even if they were kind of past the point of going back now.

"Yes, mine," he mumbles, pressing more soft kisses to her skin, between her breasts and down the middle of her stomach to her belly button. "All mine," he didn't have time to think about whether or not he would regret any of it later. He just needed her to know how he felt about her, how every touch and kiss made him want to claim her even more.

"I've been waiting to hear you say that for so long," she breathed, and he could see the bottom of her cheeks redden under the sleeping mask at her confession. His chest tightened slightly, he just hoped he could live up to her expectations. To whatever standards she held for a relationship. He figured giving up his event bonus was a good start, he wouldn't think about how much cocaine he could have bought with the cash Rhys must have spent on this room. It didn't even matter, the look on Bees face when she'd seen the view had made it so worth it.

"Now I'll show you," he grunted quietly, pressing another wet kiss just below her belly button. She shivered again and he couldn't help himself, he placed his hand on her inner thigh, spreading gently and he slowly rubbed his thumb on the outside of her dripping wet cunt, his rough skin gliding easily.

She whimpered, pleaded, begged him for more.

He was slow, gentle as he licked up and down between her folds, weaving his tongue in and out.

It was almost blinding, the feeling of Azriels lips and tongue on my throbbing swollen pussy was making stars dance in my eyes. With every suck, lick, flick of his tongue my hips rotated, ground against his tongue, I tugged, trying to get my hands free so I could run my fingers through his tousled hair, pull his face onto my pussy, wrap my legs around his head. The ribbon didn't budge, the more I fought it only made my wrists ache worse, I barely noticed it as my pussy pulsed with each mini orgasm that shuttered through my body.

I didn't know how long it had been. I couldn't see the clock with my sight cut off from the sleeping mask. The darkness only seemed to make me feel everything else so much more. I needed his cock, I needed it so fucking bad. I needed to feel him fill me up, my pussy ached for him, I felt like I had never needed anything more in my life.

I didn't know it was possible for a man to make me feel like this. Of course. Of course it was Az. I broke out in another soft cry, my hips trying to pull away from his relentless licks and sucks, my clit was so damn sensitive. Orgasm after orgasm, I was about to start begging him to stop, it felt too good, I almost couldn't take it anymore.

"I need your cock," I whined again, pulling relentlessly at the ribbons biting into my wrists. Az had tied them tight enough they wouldn't budge. I wasn't even surprised anymore at the lack of shyness, the total lack of self control that I now had underneath his absolute trance.

"Be patient," he chuckled softly against me, the vibration of it sending another soft whimper through my body, he made little circles with his tongue, sending me writhing again he held me still flicking his tongue on the sensitive skin between my cunt and my ass.

It felt like it had been hours that he had been eating my pussy. Realistically it had probably been more like forty five minutes, but I had no clue with this damn blind fold on. My body was shaking, weak, spent, and he hadn't even started fucking me yet. Azriel had been talking me through every single orgasm, big and small. 'Good girl,' 'Cum for me,' 'Look at that pretty little cunt leaking for me.' His voice had been so low and gravelly each time, that husky tone that was new to me and definitely this hungry, lust filled Azriel was my new favorite version.

"I can't be patient anymore Az, please, let me see you," I begged, my legs kicking slightly, as I exercised any freedom I still had.

"You have been a good girl so far, keep it up and I might untie you too," he chuckles lowly, slipping the sleeping mask off of my eyes, they were already open, wide open, I let out another whimper at the sight of him. So gorgeous my heart almost stopped, Azriel...

My Azriel. Mine.

His cheeks were flushed, his lips slightly puffy from how he had been eating me up for so long, his nose and his cheeks still glistening with me, his hair was a mess, falling over his eyes a little bit. His eyes. They were so dark with desire his normally hazel eyes almost looked black, I knew he needed me as much as I needed him, my stomach churned, heat pooling at the base of my belly all over again.

"Az please I need you," I repeated another small whimper leaving my lips, I couldn't believe I had been reduced to begging. I'd have time to be embarrassed, right now, I didn't care about anything besides him and I. Finally knowing what it felt like for him to fuck me after all the years I'd fucked myself and pictured his face, his hands, his shirtless body by the pool.

"Oh fuck baby," he groaned quietly, finally tugging off the rest of his clothes, his hard tanned cock slapped his stomach, precum leaking deliciously from his tip. I whimpered at the sight of him, tugging at my restraints again, the ribbon was starting to burn, it felt like it was cutting my skin, I knew it would bother me later but now I didn't have a care in the world.

He untied me as if he knew it must be starting to hurt, or maybe my wrists were turning red, I didn't know because he wrapped his large hand around both of my wrists, replacing the ribbon with them, pinning me to the bed. He held my hands so I couldn't put my hands on him, I desperately wanted to, knowing Az he wanted to be in control.

My back arched as he used his free hand to rub the tip of his cock slowly up and down my opening, the anticipation made my legs shake.

"Mm gonna fuck you raw baby that's my pussy," he gently slaps his cock against my cunt, making me cry out, my body flinching.

Finally, he slowly pushed into me, every inch making me melt deeper into the bed, my body falling into a blissful state. "Oh Az," I breathed out against his lips when our bodies finally connected completely. Our eyes met, and each thrust felt like him telling me how much he loved me, how much he needed me, appreciated me for standing by him.

I didn't hold back, I let my voice ring out, calling his name as he fucked me into absolute oblivion. He was panting over me, little beads of sweat forming on his brow as he concentrated.

"Mm you're so fucking tight," his gravelly voice slurred, his eyes burning into mine as he slammed his cock into me over and over.

"Az yes," I moaned loudly, my entire body shaking with another mind numbing orgasm, my toes curled, throat felt completely dry as I moaned again. Tears of pleasure welled up in the corners of my eyes as I came again on his cock.

"Oh fuck," he breathed, his thrusts becoming more sloppy and he came inside me. I didn't care about that either, I instantly scratched and clawed at his back when he finally let my hands free, trying to pull him closer, deeper as he came.

I lifted my eyes, staring into his as he rode out his own orgasm, my lids felt so heavy with the exhaustion of our activities, I could have fell asleep right there when he finally stilled, his forehead resting on mine.

I had never known sex could be like this. So blissful. So intimate. I felt like I knew Azriel on another level... And I knew I would remember this night for the rest of my life.

"I-I-" Azriel started, his face flushed as our eyes burned into each others and he opened his mouth again, I held my breath, my heart felt like it was standing still, listening with me. "I... I'm glad we did this, thank you for coming out with me," he breathed, my cheeks warmed, I knew he was going to say something else and held it back.

We had said it before, told each other that we loved each other, for me it had always meant something more.

"I love you Bee, happy birthday," my heart stopped as he grinned at me like he always did, I had just blown out the seventeen candles on my birthday cake. Our friends surrounded us, my cheeks reddened when I noticed Rhys watching us.

"Love you too Az," I breathed my heart feeling like it would leap out of my chest. I wished I had the courage to tell him. Wished I had the courage to say how much I loved him as more than a friend, how much he truly meant to me.

He gave me a wrapped squishy package and I tore the paper open, my heart nearly stopping as I held the hoodie up in the air.

He made it, I could tell, it was black with bits of fabric sewn onto it to make a bee. And a bees shadow. My stomach churned, my cheeks warming again.

"Az I love it so much," my breath felt like it was caught in my throat.

"I'm glad you like it, happy seventeenth," he smiled sheepishly and turned back around toward some girl Cassian had brought. My chest tightened.

Maybe someday I would get the courage to tell him.

a/n: IM SVCREAMING AND CRYINF AND DROOLING

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#FINALLY AHHHH #acotar #azriel smut #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar smut #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #azriel spymaster #azriel fan fiction #azriel fluff #azriel x you #azriel fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel au #azriel acotar #azriel

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dlscenarios · 2 months ago

Text

How I Long For Our Trysts

Anthony Bridgerton x f!Reader SMUT

I finished reading The Viscount Who Loved Me & i'm already missing this fictional man like he's my husband that went off to war.

Also ofc the title is a Taylor Swift reference. What else is new?

Cw: AFAB Reader + a few brief mentions of Reader being a lady, Bridgerton-typical society talk, Reader & Anthony are pretty handsy, No foreplay, Unprotected sex + Creampie

You were going to be the death of him.

Anthony Bridgerton always knew he was going to die young, but he'd always thought it would be a similar death to his father's — sudden and perhaps by the stinger of a measly bee — yet the agonizing wait for you to appear in the doorway of his study might do him in first.

His mother had invited what felt like hundreds of singles in the ton for another one of her house parties at Aubrey Hall. The woman was relentless in her task of marrying off her children, although she seemed to focus more on Anthony than his brothers. To the viscount's dismay (he was ashamed to admit his simultaneous delight), you were one of the invited guests. Anthony's mother had no idea that you and her eldest son had already become well acquainted with each other, having met earlier in the season.

You had a distaste for society and its strict rules, something that both intrigued and infuriated Anthony. You conducted yourself in a way that haunted his very being. Had you been a smidge less cynical, you would fit Anthony's idea of a perfect viscountess exactly.

Since your first meeting, the viscount would see you everywhere. At the shops, the park, every ball, there was even a time Anthony could have sworn you were in his bed beside him only to find out it was just an all-too-real dream. In hopes of getting you out of his head, he began pursuing you. Not in hopes of marriage, Anthony had carefully planned out every minute you shared together to avoid such a thing, but in hopes of turning his dream into a reality. And it worked. It worked far better than Anthony thought it would. Every moment he spent getting lost in your body felt better than it had with any of the women he had slept with before. He craved you more than he had ever craved anything in his entire life. While your moments together were fleeting, he made every minute count and seared the memory into his brain.

Now that you were under the same roof as him, he could barely hold himself back. His siblings had coerced you to join their game of Pall Mall earlier in the evening and each time your ball and his sat near each other, it took every ounce of Anthony's strength not to pull you to the side and kiss you senseless. After the game, he stepped closer to your side, inconspicuously whispering into your ear to meet him in his study at midnight. If everyone else in the house was asleep, he could have you all to himself for hours. As long as the two of you ended up in your respective bedchambers by dawn, no one would be any wiser.

While waiting for the clock to strike twelve, Anthony tried to keep himself busy by going over a few papers, but eventually the dry scratching of his quill and the flickering light of the candle beside him began to make his head spin. Tossing the pen to the side and rubbing his face with his hands, the door finally creaked open. Leaning back in his chair, a smirk grew on Anthony's face at the sight of you shutting the door behind you.

"Took you long enough." he quipped, gazing at you with tired eyes. You returned his smile and approached the desk.

"It is better to be safe rather than sorry, my lord. I did not want to risk someone catching me outside of my chambers like this~" Your hand began to fiddle with the hastily-tied knot on your robe. With a light tug, the robe was untied and fluttered open to reveal that you donned only a chemise under it.

Anthony sucked in a breath, dark eyes trailing over your figure. Yes, he had seen you in less before, but you looked too damned stunning in everything you wore, no matter how many layers it consisted of. Even at the social events both of your families "coincidentally" attended, he could not tear his eyes away from you.

You stepped closer to his side, his hand wasting no time in settling on your hip. He was looking at you like how a puppy eyed its beloved owner. You kept that analogy to yourself, knowing full well that he would rid it the moment he became aware of it, but it was perhaps the most beautiful look he had ever worn. Your opposing hand came up to graze his cheek before your fingertips peaked into his hair. Anthony's eyes fluttered shut, leaning into your hand and turning to press a soft kiss to your palm.

"Always so eager." you said, smiling down at your lover. You caught the faintest, briefest smile on his lips before he kissed your palm once more with a deep hum.

"You cannot blame me." Anthony's voice was low and filled with passion as he replied, "Not when I have the prettiest lover in all of Great Britain," he paused to squeeze your hip, his fingers digging into the fabric of your chemise, "Right at my fingertips."

"Aw..." you teased, leaning down to meet his lips. Anthony lets out a low moan into the kiss as his hand slides from your hip to around your waist, guiding you down to straddle him in his chair. Your warmth was the comforting sort, the image of you in his lap serving as a reminder that Anthony had you. You were his, sitting so prettily above him, and deep down, while it hurt his pride to admit such, Anthony knew he was yours.

In the glow of the fireplace, the two of you held each other close, hands exploring previously conquered patches of skin. You had tugged his vest open as one of his hands slid under your chemise to grab your ass. His lips had left yours to trail hot kisses along your neck. Your breathy pants fanned against his ear while he suckled your clavicle, wishing so desperately that he could leave a mark. Anthony knew he couldn't. You were out in society, someone the viscount had sworn to never rope into his rakish encounters. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin your reputation and find himself at the receiving end of your relative's pistol.

Anthony let out a low growl, pushing away the niggling reminder that he had compromised you. What a hypocrite he was. Had one of his sisters been in your position, he would have ripped their lover to shreds, but something about you felt different. A warm and welcoming feeling that Anthony had never experienced before. A feeling that was suffocating him as he lifted his head to peck your jaw before guiding you into another kiss.

You yanked at his shirt, ripping the top buttons out of their holes. Anthony groaned as your hand trailed down his clothed chest, grazing over his stomach and inching closer to his waistband. His lips leave yours, pressing a feather-light kiss to your cheek before his own hand slips down to meet yours, expertly unbuttoning his trousers.

Anthony Bridgerton was never a patient man, something you had known since your first night together. He was never selfish — in fact, he was quite a generous lover, always checking to make sure he wasn't moving too fast — he merely found it difficult to hold back at times. You were a drug. Perhaps the only thing that could make him completely drunk, aside from the occasional brandy. As he freed himself from the confines of his pants, he gazed up, his dark eyes shining with a lustful glint as they met yours.

You shifted above him and pulled up the skirt of your chemise enough for him to line up with your entrance. His free hand rested on your hip before slowly guiding you down to take him in. With a groan, he squeezed your ass as you situate yourself in his lap. His hands slid up to your hips, urging them to roll toward his.

Anthony held you close, enough for him to lean forward and mouth at your clothed chest. You always felt like heaven, so hot and tight. You made him feel alive. Anthony groaned against your chest as his fingers dug into your skin, mirroring the new grip you had on his shoulders. Your soft moans against his ear spurred him to help quicken your grinding, guiding you along the length of his cock.

Before you had met the viscount, you had known of his rakish ways from Whistledown's column. The woman had never been wrong so you had no reason to disbelieve her reports on Anthony's past conquests. Opera singers, actresses, several women in London's brothels, he had allegedly bed them all. He was the biggest rake in all of Britain, yet as he held you tight and fucked into you as if he loved you, you couldn't bring yourself to regret meeting him. It could have been your inexperience in these sorts of encounters, but you could have sworn the Anthony Bridgerton you saw during these nights was a better man than the one Whistledown knew. He was always so attentive and skilled and beautiful and...

You contracted around him, ripping a gruff moan from your lover's lips, his gaze focused on your connection as he controlled the movement of your hips. His short nails bit through the thin cotton of your chemise, his own hips thrusting up to meet yours.

"Fuck..." Anthony groaned almost too quiet for you to hear. He always found it hard to last longer than you, yet another difference between you and his past lovers. He was already close and, judging by the way your moans took on a higher pitch, you were not far behind. One of his hands left your hip to slip under the bunched front of your dress, thumbing your clit in the exact way he knew you liked.

You squeaked out a moan, your grip on the back of his shirt hardening. "Anthony...Oh god, Anthony..." you repeated his name like a prayer.

Suddenly, your orgasm hit, stilling your hips and moaning into his shoulder. Like he always did, Anthony coaxed you through your release, continuing his ministrations and pressing soft kisses to the side of your head. Once your moans subsided, the hand on your clit left to rest on your back. You kept your face buried in his shoulder as he panted into your ear, his own sounds growing closer together as he chased his release.

You lifted your head enough for Anthony to steal your lips again. With another groan, he thrusted up into you one last time before his come began to fill you. He held you tightly against him as he deepened the kiss.

You moaned and weaved your hand into his hair. You didn't want the kiss to end. The moment it did meant your time with Anthony was coming to an end. You would have to return to your bedchamber alone, knowing the man you had accidentally started falling for was under the same roof.

Meanwhile, Anthony had no plans of letting you go once leaving your lips to catch his breath. He glanced to the nearby clock. It was only one in the morning, plenty of time to keep you locked in the study with him. He should be free to have you until six, when the maids would begin wrapping their wake-up calls on the residents’ doors. After only a few gulps of air, Anthony's lips were back on yours, keen on having you in every position he's dreamed you in.

Anthony Bridgerton never planned on catching feelings. Hell, his entire plan for the season was to find a wife he wouldn't fall for, yet as he admired you in the euphoric state he had put you in, he was starting to think his plan had failed.

#anthony bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton smut

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feyascorner · 10 months ago

Text

4 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. Astarion, if anything, you are sure is a liar. It’s impossible to tell what he’s truly thinking and whether his words hold an ounce of truth. You just wish you’d been an exception.

With lidded eyes locked with your own in a trance you can’t break ahold of, he sinks his teeth into her neck.

You’re at a complete loss of words, and you feel nothing but shame knowing that rather than the distaste you should feel, you feel something else.

Bitter. Not jealous, no, not quite, but really damn bitter.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. 7.6k words,,, but have a bit of Astarion POV somewhere in here featuring Gale!!

You’re dying again.

But rather than the usual nightmare consisting of him pinning you to the ground with his hands on your throat, he’s standing above you. In that dark alleyway a week ago, where the spawn had nearly taken your life. The ground feels muddy again, and despite there being nothing at your neck, you still can’t breathe.

And then, you’re alive again, lurching up from your mattress with sweaty skin sticking your nightwear to your body. After your eyes adjust to the bright sunlight flooding into your room through the window, you sigh.

You want to ask if he’d been real. If he’d truly been there that night, saving your life against the spawn despite his words just the other night. Despite the stomach-churning way, he looks at you.

Hope is a dangerous thing.

It doesn’t take you long to get ready. When you clamber out your door, your eyes glaze over his own, standing still as a rock just beside yours. Even though you know he’s right there, just a wooden door away, it doesn’t feel like it at all. He feels like an illusion—perhaps a ghost to haunt you for what you’d done to him. He’s been here for days now, and somehow, you feel further from him than you did when he was just a shadow of your past. Lingering. Driving you mad.

In some ways, this is worse.

Especially with the way your last interaction concluded, you’d expect yourself to feel nothing but negative turmoil for him. Yet, with the dreams haunting you every night and the endless afternoons you spend wallowing in your experiences with him in the past, it’s hard to do so.

Even more so when the terrifying force of hope grabs hold of you like a shackle to the heart.

You’re not sure if what you saw that night as an angel was really him or if you were simply hallucinating as a last-ditch attempt to console your imminent death. You hope—no, you question if he’d been the one to save you and fetch the Fist. Unfortunately, you have nobody to ask, as none of your other companions seem aware that you’d “seen” Astarion at death’s doorstep and the embarrassment that floods you intends to keep it that way.

It had to be him, surely. Why else would he have been at Elfsong Tavern that same exact day? Why else had Petras seen him the night before that, murdering that blond elf seconds after you’d been there?

Astarion, if anything, you are sure is a liar. He’s like this by nature, like an instinct resulting from the centuries spent under Cazador’s dreadful rule. It’s impossible to tell what he’s truly thinking and whether his words hold an ounce of truth. You just wish you’d been an exception.

‘Did you save me? Why?’ you want to ask desperately. You curse your past self for ending your last conversation that way. You’d hoped it would’ve at least gone a bit better.

“Perhaps we should throw him back in the Duke’s dungeon,” Lae’zel grumbles, tearing at her piece of bread as she sits on the armchair in the living space downstairs. Why she prefers such stale food is beyond you. “That istik is clearly not helping.”

“Give him time,” you mumble, thankful that at this time of morning, most of the house is still asleep. Only you or Lae’zel seem to be awake at the break of dawn. “We don’t have much of a choice anyway, given nobody else we know is a vampire spawn.”

“I’ve already given him tenfold the time I wish to give him. If it were up to me, he’d already be dead.”

“He is dead.”

She doesn’t laugh. You snort and reach to the cabinet, where instead of your usual supplies, you find a bottle. The crimson liquid at the bottom is scarce, but there’s just enough for a few more sips if you ration it right, which is what you assume he’s been doing, considering he hasn’t asked once to go hunting.

You wonder if he’s feasted on the necks of poor beautiful maidens in the city, captured by his charm and lured to an untimely end. You imagine their long, silky hair falling across their face as they bare their necks for his teeth, wincing the first few moments they sink down. But afterward, it would feel intimate—close, even—as he lets their blood sully his own. And once he finally pulls away with a piece of their lifeline, he’d grin down at them with stained lips painting them like lipstick…

Your brows furrow, but not for them. You seriously hope he just fed on goblins, or something along those lines. You’d even look past gnomes.

“T’chaki. Whatever disgusting thoughts you’re having, I suggest you stop,” Lae’zel snaps, and you blink. “And put that bottle away. You look like you want to devour it yourself.”

You do so sheepishly. “Please tell Gale to take Astarion to the forest to gather more blood. He’ll starve to death at this rate.”

“That would be ideal. Though I wouldn’t have the pleasure of putting my own sword through his chest.”

Your frown is visibly apparent, and it deepens her own. “Such a declaration shouldn’t displease you. My people believe an attempt at murder is enough to declare war. You should be trying to kill him, should you not? He is hshar’lak.”

“For the last time, I’m not going to-”

“She’s right, you know. As rare as that is,” you nearly jump at the cleric’s voice, though Lae’zel only glares. She’s leaning on the doorway, chewing on a half-eaten apple. “I won’t force him to leave, but I do hope you seriously reconsider your decision to harbor a vampire spawn. We trusted him once, and it didn’t end so well. I’d prefer avoiding making the same mistake again.”

He saved me, you want to say. The words are on the tip of your tongue before you reel them back, sealing them into your own heart. “Why are you awake so early?”

“We’re out of supplies,” she says. “I’m going to the market. Care to tag along? I wouldn’t hate the company.”

Your eyes flicker to the stairs as if expecting something, but you force yourself back to your companions and nod. “Alright.”

He was a magistrate.

At least, that’s what he remembers. His memories of the days before his heart stopped beating are fuzzy, like they’re muffled by water as he drowns in the unending 200 years of torture. Even without Cazador, even after stabbing through his corpse a dozen times, it doesn’t feel enough. It will never be enough.

He hears the front door open downstairs and finds himself lowering his book a tad to peer down outside the window his bed is pressed up against. You clamber out, stumbling over yourself as you tie your boots halfway through the door. He can hear you calling into the house through the thin glass panes. “Apples, pork loin, what else?”

“Bread and cheese!” another shout downstairs. It’s the cleric, he deems from the tone of her voice.

“Right, right,” you snort, waiting for her to catch up with you.

His eyes don’t leave you as you make your way down the street, eventually vanishing as you round a corner leading to the main marketplace of the city. And when you’re finally gone, his attention flits back to his book, rereading the page for what feels like the millionth time.

He likes reading—as much as he can, anyway—when he’s not hunting or running from the sun as if it’ll chase him down even in the shadows. He has three books. And if someone were to ask, he’d be able to recite them all by memory.

He had a fourth one, once. One you’d gifted him, but no longer does he want it. It sits under the bed, gathering dust for what he hopes to be forever.

He hasn’t spoken to you in days, and he expects nothing less. He hasn’t spoken to anyone, really, only receiving glares from Shadowheart, ignored by Lae’zel, and—well, Gale, he supposes, offers conversation, but Astarion’s the one to avoid those particular interactions. The wizard’s absence is not the only one he’s grateful for.

Yours, for one, after how your last conversation ended, is not one he wants to risk another of. Yet, the past few days, despite never daring to approach him, he’s seen you looking from afar with the eyes of a kicked pup. But the second he comes too close, your guard is up again, your words curt, and sentences abruptly ending in his presence. Only when you think he doesn’t notice do your true feelings surface in this pathetic display. He almost pities you.

Unfortunately, in all the realms of words he’s described himself as he has never considered himself a sympathetic person.

He revels in your obsession with him. One that he will no longer reciprocate.

He glances at the empty jar of blood on the bedside table and clenches his jaw.

A hefty bit of time later, when he’s sure most have left the home, he climbs down the stairs where the first floor is still overtaken with darkness. The curtains have been put up in a clumsy manner, but they do their job efficiently enough, as he’s allowed to pace across the wooden floors and reaches for a drawer beside the sink. There’s a glass bottle of animal blood inside–it’s running dangerously low.

“You look awfully drained.”

Astarion fights the urge to groan at Gale’s voice.

“If that’s your attempt at vampiric humor, I hope you’re aware it would only have hungry spawns lunging for your neck,” he shoots back, snatching the bottle and popping it open with a swift move of his thumb and lifting it to his lips. He drinks, gulping down whatever’s left. While on any other occasion, he’d feel appalled at not even using a goblet, his hunger has been itching at him for days, now. If he didn’t know how foul Gale’s blood tasted, he might’ve even considered the damned wizard.

“I’m warning you, I taste positively terrible.” Ah, he must have been staring.

“I assure you, I’d more likely scout the city for rats before drinking another drop of your blood,” Astarion retorts back, setting down the glass bottle. “Now, please hurry and tell me what in the hells you want before I escape for those aforementioned rats.”

“Adjusting well to your life here, I presume?”

Astarion stares at him like he grew a second head.

“I was jesting.”

“You do a poor job at it.”

Gale sighs irritably. “You haven’t come downstairs in days; we’d thought you were dead already…again.”

“I’d rather not be in the presence of multiple people who appear ready to lop off my head at any moment,” Astarion snaps. “As much as I’d love decapitation for my cause of death, now is not the right time for such events.”

Neither of them laugh.

“The others…” Gale takes his time talking as if he’s searching for words that aren’t there, and it makes Astarion’s eye twitch. “You understand why they’re apprehensive about you being here. In all honesty, I am too.”

The spawn’s brows knit together, and he rolls his eyes. “Whether or not they want me here, it was their choice to keep me trapped in this bloody house. Even when I insisted I didn’t know a damned thing about what my dear siblings were up to, your leader chose to “take responsibility” for me...whatever that means. So by all means, Gale, just open the door for me, let them know I won’t be returning, and you’ll never see me again.”

Astarion expects him to yell at him, snap at him, maybe even cast a spell, but he expects him to do something with the words that spill out of his mouth like vomit. But instead, the wizard opens his mouth, shuts it again, and seems to be in thought. “I haven’t heard you talk for so long in ages. Nice to know your endlessly running mouth is still there.”

“You’re one to talk.”

He snorts, his eyes flitting to the curtains messily nailed onto the wood surrounding the windows, and Astarion can see his face fall. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to let you go, for I’ve made a promise with Tav to check in on you in place of themselves…and the others, of course. And I may be a man of many words, but I am not a man of lies.”

Astarion almost laughs at the irony. “Is that what hiding the bomb in your chest was? Honesty?”

“Oh, please,” he waves him off. “That was eons ago! And besides, I’ve got that all sorted now, so no more eating magical pairs of shoes…thank the Gods. Though the magical enhanced gems weren’t so bad-”

“Please tell me someone other than yourself will be hovering over me like a parasite.”

“I’m afraid not,” Gale smiles. “Lae’zel wouldn’t hesitate for a vampire head hanging over the fireplace, Shadowheart would most likely place a curse on you, and Tav rarely comes home at all. So, unfortunately, and also most fortunately, you are stuck with yours truly.”

Astarion groans. And though he’s about to shoot him with another quip, the front door swings open, and Shadowheart steps into the house. When she notices him standing beside the kitchen, her body visibly tenses.

“You’re supposed to stay in your room.”

“I’m also not supposed to starve to death in that room, as much as I’m sure you’d approve of that.”

Her gaze flickers to the empty bottle of blood, and immediately, her face hardens. She narrows her eyes, and Gale, as usual, steps forward. “Now, Shadowheart, let’s not get too hasty-”

“If you are ever starving to death,” she glares. “You best hope not Tav is the only person around. If you ever even ask them for their blood again, I’ll show you just how much blood you have stored up.”

Astarion scoffs, grinning. “Such a terrifying foe you are. But there truly is no need to worry so much. I don’t need their blood, and I never intend to ask them for a single drop again. Not anymore.”

Shadowheart looks only half convinced, but after a moment of contemplation, the atmosphere turns less rigid, and she sighs, stepping backward. “I really did not miss having a vampire in our home.”

He’s about to let out another condescending laugh when he hears a shift in the dirt outside the open door. Neither of the others seems to notice. “And for the record, if you ask me for blood, you’ll end up even worse.”

Right then, he watches you step into the house, arms stuffed with paper bags filled to the brim with fruits, meat, and bread, and you nearly stumble on your own legs as you try to guide yourself to the kitchen counter. “Did we really need this much for just a week?”

“Of course we did. My famed stew is not made so haphazardly, you know. It requires skills, talents, and lots and lots of patience-”

You finally set down the groceries and notice Astarion’s presence in the room. He knows you do because of the way your posture straightens, becoming more guarded. It makes the corner of his lips lift in a way that’s sure to make you uneasy.

But when your gazes finally meet briefly, you turn away as if it doesn’t bother you in the slightest.

His eyes widen. Did you just ignore him?

He shifts, just enough to catch your attention, but all you do is listen to Gale’s ramble about his bloody stew. He’s sure nobody on Faerun gives a damn about his soup at this very moment, and you're no exception. Yet you’re clearly preferring his words over Astarion’s glares in such a blatant display.

You are ignoring him.

“Moving on,” Shadowheart groans. “We’re going to investigate the families of the spawn victims. We’ll let you know if we find anything. Oh, and tell Lae’zel she needs to move her weapons out of the living room before I throw them into the sewers myself.”

Gale shudders. “I’ll tell her, but certainly not those exact words.”

Astarion’s eyes follow you the whole time as you wait for Shadowheart at the door, hand holding a sheet of paper which he assumes to be the list of victim families. And the entire time, you refuse to even look in his direction.

It evokes something in him. He’s not sure what, but it does. Annoyance, he supposes.

Gale finally turns to him when you and Shadowheart shut the door closed behind you. “Now you and I can get groceries for you…as long as it’s only animals, of course.”

Another hour with the wizard might drain him of what remains of his life force (which is very little considering that he’s dead), and he thinks a few hours might just be the cause of his perishing.

There are too many bodies. Too much blood that reminds you of the evil that you believed was dealt with. Their families weep, and you can do nothing but stand to the side, watching as they claw at the Fist’s uniforms, begging to know what could be done. Begging to see their loved ones again.

You feel selfish, almost. Having finally seen your own former beloved, you only allow yourself to watch from afar, afraid of getting any closer.

So you’d escaped the town square, fleeing to the roofs where you could properly assess any potential victims’ families and determine if they were even worth approaching in the emotional wreck they were in. The list of bodies nearly crumples under the crushing weight of your own hands. The silence looming across the rooftop patio is far more relaxing than the chaos below.

Well, save for the company perched beside you.

“So what’s with your lyre?” Alfira blinks. “Where is it?”

“Sold it.”

“Why? That’s such a waste!” she frowns, rubbing at a smudge on her own instrument. “It was made of such fine wood too…I do hope you didn’t undersell that beauty.”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe I should’ve sold it to you at a higher price.”

“If not your lyre…” she tilts her head, scooching her stool closer to yours. “Then what are you playing nowadays?”

“I don’t play anything.”

Her eyes widen. “You don’t play anything? What does that mean?”

“I quit, Alfira,” you sigh, finally turning to look at her. “I’m not technically a bard anymore.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Once you’re a bard, there’s no backing out of it. It’s in your very blood,” she explains, lifting her own lyre to you. “Go on, play something. I know you have it somewhere in you.”

Your face falls at her offer, but she remains firm, urging you to go on. It’s only when you realize she has no intentions of ignoring your words that you finally take the lyre into your own hands. It feels too foreign. It’s not your own instrument, but it’s a different kind of familiarity than that. While your fingers used to itch to sing their tales, you now feel nothing, just an empty husk of what once burst with inspiration.

Still, you try, even if just for show. Your finger tugs at one of the strings, letting it snap and vibrate its hum. You try another and another, but they’re all disjointed, barely managing to hold on to one another before your brows furrow, and you drop your hand. It just doesn’t feel right.

You hold it back to her. “I told you.”

“Well,” she looks down at her lyre. “I’m sure even the greatest bards have struggled with their music from time to time. It’s just a bump in the road.”

No, you want to tell her. It’s the end of the road, and there’s nothing you could possibly do to solve it, because you’ve already tried it all.

“Here, I started a new song,” she smiles hopefully. “Maybe it might spark your own musical talents. Care to listen?”

While a part of you is hesitant, the way she excitedly clutches onto the lyre makes you relent. “Sure.”

She begins to sing, and even if it’s better than it had been when you last saw her in the grove, it’s shaky. You suppose she must always be like this when producing a new song, at least until she grows accustomed to it. Still, it fills the air with a calm melody and drowns out the sounds coming from below on the streets, which you’re grateful for.

The breeze feels nice on your skin. You let your shoulders drop, closing your eyes as you drink in the notes produced by her lyre.

“I don’t need their blood, and I never intend to ask them for a single drop. Not anymore.”

The words echo in your head. It shouldn’t hurt you, really, you didn’t intend on giving it to him anyway, but a sick part of you wishes he could’ve at least asked, and you could’ve been the one to reject him. Not the other way around.

It feels like getting rejected for a confession you never made.

You blame yourself for eavesdropping.

“So? What do you think so far?”

You barely register that her song has ended, forcing you to focus back on the bustling city below. With a clear of your throat, you nod. “It’s good, it’s just…”

Her eyes seem to glow as she leans towards you, curious to hear your next words. Why she has so much faith in your advice is beyond you. You’d helped her with her last song, but it’d just been a stroke of luck that you managed to capture the emotions she wanted to convey through its notes. It certainly did not help that you hadn’t touched an instrument in months. “...Nevermind. I’m not sure what I was trying to say there.”

Her smile drops, and she holds her lute closer to her chest, nodding. “I see. It’s a shame.”

What she’s referring to, you’re not sure.

She digs through her pocket, managing to scrape out a crumpled sheet of paper which she puts on your lap. You do your best to make out the words messily scribbled on the sheet, which you determine to be the unfinished song. While you shoot her a wary look, she pushes the paper back to you when you attempt to offer it back.

“I have faith in you. More than anyone else, for a song like this,” she smiles. “You don’t have to help me finish the song like last time. Just absorb it. At least read the lyrics for me, will you?”

You want to say no, but you end up pocketing the sheet instead.

After you say your farewells, leaving her to continue humming to herself, you regroup with Shadowheart. Your own spirit falls when judging from her expression, she’s had even less success than you.

“We’re going around in circles,” Shadowheart sighs beside you. “None of the families know anything, and as much I’d love to stay an hour at each house to console them, at this rate, we’ll die of old age before finding these spawn…are you listening?”

You blink, snapping back into attention as you turn to her. “Did you say something?”

She raises a brow at you. “And what are you so distracted for?”

Mourning something that hasn’t happened, but you don’t tell her that. “It’s nothing.”

She doesn’t appear convinced, but neither does she pry. You’ve always had a mutual understanding with her when it came to one another’s secrets—don’t push. And even when either of you want to, you stay true to your silent agreement. You’re grateful for it at times like these.

Suddenly, there’s a bump to the left of you, not enough to make you stumble, but enough to make you glance back. They’re small, and you assume they’re a halfling or dwarf, despite their shoulders seeming too narrow. However, you forget about the details when your eyes hone in on their bare feet, absent of any shoes, much less socks. Something is wrong. Very wrong. When you look back up, you barely catch the way their hand slips back into their cloak, and immediately, your own flies into your pocket, where you’re now missing your dagger.

Shit.

You break into a sprint, forced to ignore Shadowheart, who calls out for you from behind, as you try to chase the hooded figure who swerves through the crowd of people on the street. Despite the people who curse and hiss as you shove through them, you’re only barely managing to tail the small cloaked figure, and in no such world are you willing to lose that dagger under circumstances that are not your own.

It’s pathetic, you know, to hold on to such a small part of him for so long. You’re sure he’s thrown away all of your own belongings, so why hold onto the dagger he kept strapped to his chest for months, holding it near his heart? You reckon this may be a blessing brought upon the gods who pity you, and you ponder if they’re watching you now, laughing at your pathetic display of desperation.

Still, you refuse to let it go like this.

The figure turns an alley, and your feet pick up. It’s a dead end.

You screech to a halt, slipping out a smaller blade that glints in the light allowed to seep into the isolated corner, eyes narrowed. The figure stands with its back to the wall, and you gawk at the way their shoulders shake as if they’re laughing to themselves. “Give it back, thief.”

They don’t budge, only continuing to tremble, and eventually, you’ve had enough. You march toward them, yanking back their hood with your knife, readied to retaliate if they dare, but immediately, your face pales. At the same time, Shadowheart finally manages to catch up to you.

“Hells, this crowd is a disaster,” she hisses, dusting off her shoulders. Then she shoots you a frown, eyes flitting back and forth between you and the supposed thief. “Whose child is that?”

You realize she hadn’t been laughing but shaking from fear.

She’s tiny. Unnaturally frail for her age which you guess to be around 9 or 10, which you note before letting her go from the grasp you have on her cloak. And from up close, you see that her bottom lip has been gnawed raw, still red from the last time it bled. She’s grasping onto your dagger for dear life, looking up at you with wary wide eyes, and you find your face relaxing. You bend down on one knee so you’re not just staring down at her, sighing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, really.”

Her trembling eases a bit, but her grip around your dagger tightens. In her hands, it almost looks like a sword. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you angry. I swear, I didn’t mean to.”

Shadowheart steps to stand beside you. “Please tell me this child isn’t yours?”

“No, of course not!” you snap, and she snickers. You roll your eyes and turn back to the girl. “I won’t hurt you; I swear my life on it. But I need that dagger you’re holding.”

She hesitates, her eyes desperately searching for honesty in yours.

“It’s—important to me,” you mumble sheepishly. “Please.”

You watch her glance between you and the blade in her hands multiple times, then slowly reach it out to you. You offer her a smile, sheathing it beside your hip once more. You feel whole again. “Thank you. Now, I won’t tell your parents this time, but you really can’t go around stealing people’s things–”

“Berry!” she blurts.

You blink, and she picks at her own hands. “I live with Miss Cora.”

The puzzle pieces click in place.

“You’re the one Cora has to lull to sleep.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them, and you regret them with how her cheeks puff and paint her face a light shade of pink.

“You’re one of the orphans, then, I presume,” Shadowheart crosses her arms. “Any reason why you’re lurking in the city—without shoes, might I add—and robbing people of their belongings?”

“I wasn’t trying to steal,” she insists, then meets your eyes. “I didn’t know how else to talk to you alone.”

“Alone? With me? Why?”

“I know where Roger—I mean, Miss Cora’s husband went that night,” she looks down. “I didn’t know who else to tell. I wasn’t supposed to be out…but I needed fresh air. And…And I saw…”

You hold your breath. “Where did he go?”

“It was the Blushing Mermaid,” she splutters. “He went and never came back. I-I can’t tell Miss Cora…If I do, she’ll hate me and kick me out. I can’t leave, so please, don’t tell her.”

Shadowheart leans to your ear. “That’s not possible. He couldn’t have been there.”

No, you think. You’d been there. You’d been at the Blushing Mermaid that night, and while you weren’t exactly in the best state of mind, you surely couldn’t have missed a literal murder taking place. Regardless, you shake away your lingering doubts and take her shoulders.

“We won’t,” you assure her. “For now, I need you to go back to Miss Cora. It’s not safe in the city by yourself right now.”

She wipes at the tears threatening to spill from her eyes with her arm and nods firmly, readjusting her hood and cloak so that her entire body is covered once more. You place a hand on her head.

“Thanks for telling me, Berry. I’ll find out who did this to Roger, and you’ll be the first person to know,” You manage the best smile you can at the moment. “And please, next time, just tap my shoulder.”

Her lips purse, and she flees to the Highberry residence.

“Well,” Shadowheart finally uncrosses her arms. “At least we have a lead now. It was starting to feel hopeless—though I’m not sure if this is a lead at all.”

Regardless of your own doubts, time is running out. Every night you spend with no progress is another waste of nearly a dozen lives in the city. So you shove aside your skepticism and sigh. “It can’t hurt to try.”

“What do you mean he just left?” Lae’zel seems just about ready to stab her sword through Gale’s chest, and you can’t bring yourself to blame her.

“I’m telling you, he just vanished! Into the thin air, nearly,” Gale groans in exasperation, throwing up his arms. “We were returning from the forest after his hunt, and I didn’t even look away. One second he was there, and the next-”

“He’s a rogue, you foolish wizard,” the githyanki hisses, and you cross your arms beside her, offering Gale no sympathy. “We must go search for him, drag him back, and keep him pinned to a wall with a spear.”

At this, you balk. “Well, no, we’re not going to-”

“And you,” she spins around to you. “You must stop defending the spawn over your unreciprocated feelings. Your urges to make love may remain, but his does not.”

Your face flares, and you hear Gale nearly drop the book he’d been holding.

“I am not—”

“It’s painfully obvious to the rest of us. It’s been days since he joined us, and all of us must deal with your imploring eyes while he seems promptly set on ruining every conversation any of us have with one another,” she continues, and as such, in Lae’zel fashion, she does not hold back the sting of her words. “I am indebted to what you’ve done for me, and for that, I cannot stand aside and watch you reduce yourself to this lovesick mutt over a bloodsucking leech.”

Gale clears his throat. “Lae’zel, now I believe that’s more than enough to-”

“Seal that mouth of yours, wizard, before I rid of it for good.”

He does so immediately.

You stare at her, appalled at her words. Imploring eyes? Lovesick mutt? You don’t even want to mention the bloodsucking leech comment. All you can do is keep yourself from opening your mouth, in fear that something that sounds dangerously close to defending Astarion might escape against your will.

A smart choice, as Lae’zel sighs, her patience wearing thin.

“You are a warrior. One of the most formidable I’ve come across,” she scowls. “Do not disappoint me this way. You do not owe him anything. That kainyank is the one who nearly took your life.”

A part of your heart cracks. You ignore the stinging in your palms as your nails dig into them, unsure what you’re even supposed to say at this point, and you fumble over your own words dying to escape your throat. Because you do owe him something. Because if your suspicions are true, you do owe him for the night you encountered the spawn, and the night before that, when you came across Petras. Being indebted to him feels like another battle in itself, and you’re not sure if you want it to be true or not. You don’t have the heart to tell her that.

So instead, you snatch your dagger from where you’d last placed it down and march for the door.

“Tav, please, don’t leave like this,” Gale reaches for your arm, but you yank it away.

“I’m going to bring him back,” you say, but it’s more of a demand. A tone you rarely use toward your own companions, but you can’t bring yourself to care at the moment.

Lae’zel hisses as you’re halfway out the door. “You are a fool to be unable to see that he does not care for you.”

He had saved you. A person who does not care about you does not bother to save you.

You clutch the dagger close to your heart, and you ignore how cold it feels in your hand.

By the time you’ve run through most places he could possibly be, you finally arrive at the Sharess’ Caress, panting as you stare up at the taunting aura of the building. You don’t know how many hours have passed since you left the house–-perhaps days, or even minutes, but every second feels like a million more than it should. You push through the door, barely managing to catch your breath, as you’re immediately greeted with the aroma of a thousand different perfumes.

The fumes make you scrunch your nose, and you’re quickly slammed into the last memory of entering this place. The woman at the front desk, the windows draped with curtains to prevent most if not all the light spilling into its halls, the music echoing from the more private rooms for personal viewing…

You hate it all.

“Ah, savior, you’re back!” a voice says, and you flinch at it. One of the drow twins, Nym, waves you toward her, but you don’t budge. “It’s been months since you last rejected my advances, hasn’t it? I suppose you couldn’t resist yourself and came back-”

“Where is he,” you spit, your voice wavering. You don’t mean to be rude to her, truly, but your patience is close to nothing, and you don’t know how much longer you can go before you have to take a rest and return to the house in shame. At the very least, you have to drag Astarion back with you.

She pauses, then motions upstairs. It seems she understands the urgency in your tone because she steps out of the way, urging you forward. So with a nod of acknowledgment, you march up the stairs towards one of the more luxurious private rooms.

Door after door, you’re greeted with an empty room. Only when you come to the final room do you hold your breath, fist nearly shaking from merely knowing he’s on the other side. Lae’zel’s words echo in your head like an insistent tadpole, unable to force it to leave or quiet down. You opt to overrule it with the sound of the door swinging open.

There’s a woman.

Though you manage to release your breath when you see that she’s fully clothed, the collar of her shirt is pulled back, revealing her neck for the spawn who has his fangs bared inches from her skin. She doesn’t seem to notice you despite the ruckus you made entering the room, too lost in the man in front of her, but he does. His attention flickers to you and stays there, not showing an ounce of surprise as if he expected you here.

With lidded eyes locked with your own in a trance you can’t break ahold of, he sinks his teeth into her neck.

He doesn’t break eye contact as he drinks and all you can do is stare in disgust, eyes wide but your legs unwilling to unplant themselves from the wooden floors. Your sandwich from earlier threatens to hurl the other way, and your nails dig into the skin of your palms, nearly breaking the skin. You’re at a complete loss of words, and you feel nothing but shame knowing that rather than the distaste you should feel, you feel something else.

Bitter. Not jealous, no, not quite, but really damn bitter.

He tears away from her neck, blood staining his lips as you remain planted in the ground. The woman gasps, and her hands fly up to her neck. Even now, he’s only staring at you.

“Thank you, dear customer,” she rasps gratefully, despite how pale she looks. He doesn’t even acknowledge her until he wants her out.

“You can leave now.”

She looks back and forth between you and him, surely noticing how he doesn’t seem remotely fazed at how you’re glaring daggers at him and nods, scrambling to leave.

The door shuts with a loud thud.

You watch him reach to wipe at his mouth, your voice hollow and cold. “Are you done?”

“Clearly, seeing as I made her leave.”

“We agreed that you wouldn’t drink from people.”

“We agreed I wouldn’t drink from people in the house,” he corrects, pacing toward the window where the moonlight had illuminated him as he drank from the woman’s neck. “I kept my word.”

He leans against the windowsill, and you take a step toward him, still keeping a hefty distance. “She’ll report you to the Duke. My word won’t be much help if he insists to throw you in a cell.”

“This is a house of pleasure, my dear. Nothing gets out of here if you have enough gold,” he laughs, throwing his head back. “How else do you think I’ve been getting my share of blood if I hadn’t gone around murdering the innocent?”

Your teeth grit together, eyes narrowed as you scan the state he’s in. Despite appearing nearly dead just hours earlier, his skin now seems to glow against the moon, the bags under his eyes having gone missing and leaving a wide grin on his face instead. If this was a few months ago, you’d admire him, but not now. You want to punch it off.

“You don’t look happy, darling,” he fakes a frown and makes his way closer to you. You swear your heart stops for a moment when he brushes his knuckles against your cheek. “Is it that woman? Are you jealous?”

You slap his hand away.

“Gods, is this all a game to you?” you blurt in exasperation. “I’m trying to understand you, Astarion, I really am. And all you keep doing is–”

“There is nothing to understand. This is just who I am.”

“I’m not a fool. Will you, for once in your life, please drop this mask and just talk to me?”

“What in the hells makes you so sure I’m lying? I must have made quite the impression on you when we still considered ourselves allies.”

You try not to flinch at that.

“You were there that night,” you say, but it comes out like a question. “When I was attacked by the other spawn. And the night before that with that guy from the tavern. You killed him without even drinking his blood.”

At this, the tone of your conversation shifts, at least from his end. His eyes darken as you take a step back. “Who told you that?”

“Petras.”

He seems taken aback for a moment but quickly recovers. You wish you could do the same. And the laugh that escapes his throat sounds like he pities you. “My dear, I didn’t realize you were so naive.”

You blink.

“He’s deceived you, I’m afraid. Probably covering for his own arse to stay on your good side. What spawn would want to risk pissing off an adventurer capable of killing a vampire lord? In the time we were apart, I’ve done everything in my power to avoid you at all costs. You can see why, can’t you?” he gestures to the air between you. “I mean, look at us, darling. We’re no good around each other.”

It hurts more than you’d like to admit, but your stubborn streak forces you to keep going. “That night with the spawn-”

“I must say that I’m rather flattered that I was the last thing you saw at the hands of death,” he laughs, and it sends shivers down your spine. “But I’m afraid that too was a gift from death. I, myself, had no part in it.”

“But why were you there then?” you’re starting to sound desperate. You want to slap your hand over your mouth but something tells you that would be even more humiliating. “Why were you with the Duke in the morning?”

“I was captured by the Duke days before he brought me to you. He spent the time interrogating me, and in the end, I gave him nothing, as I will do with you. I only found out about your—predicament when he did, and he decided you’d fare better in gathering information I do not have.”

You would’ve preferred to die in battle than to feel the crushing feeling of your own chest. You want to curl up in a hole and never crawl out.

“Now, is that all?” he asks, drinking in your defeat like a trophy he wished he could place on the top shelf of a glass cabinet. “Any other accusations you have to throw at me?”

Lae’zel had been right. Shadowheart had been right. All of them had been right, except for you. This was far more than you could handle, and you had been foolish to think otherwise. The hope you held onto now dwindles into a small flame that can easily be blown out by a few selective words--those of which he has full authority over.

“Have you always been this cruel?” Tears threaten to well in your eyes, but you force them back, veiling them with all the strength left in your voice. Now, you just sound angrier. “You’ve never been a good man, but you weren’t a heartless one either.” You wonder if maybe that was a lie as well. The loving words, the soft touches, the gentle eyes. That perhaps the guise you’d thought you’d seen through was not a guise at all.

“Is that what it was then?” his face falls. “Did you stop the ritual to keep a feeble man by your side?”

Feeling is not weakness, you want to scream at him, but you know it'll do no good.

“Ascension would have changed you, and it’s not for the better. You know what Raphael said. I just did what I had to for the sake of your safety.”

“Power would have made me safe. From the world, from the sun, from people like you. Now I rot away in this destroyed city with nothing to feed on but stolen cattle and rats.”

“You’re not listening to me. You would’ve lost your soul, and become like Cazador–”

His composure cracks at that. “Don’t you dare speak of that devil.”

“Don’t give me reasons to.”

The air is thick enough to slice with your dagger. With squinted eyes, he scans your face before continuing slowly.

“Darling,” despite the term of endearment, it doesn’t sound endearing at all. “You are searching for sympathy from a man who does not have any left to give.”

“You did have sympathy,” you hiss. “With Yenna, with Shadowheart, with the owlbear, with Lae’zel, Karlach, and the rest of the damn city, you did. It wasn’t obvious, but you felt for them.”

“Perhaps once. For a fleeting moment. That moment is not now.”

There’s nothing that you can say to that, really. All you can do is stare at him, eyes wide and unable to choke out words, crying, screaming, anything. But now, the dagger you carry everywhere feels twice as heavy and twice as cold. You want to search his face for any signs of deception, but you’re too afraid of what you might find, so you force your eyes to the ground.

Silence hangs in the air like a chain tightening its hold around your lifeline.

“I was fine,” you whisper, face burning. “I was getting better. I was getting over you, and you came back.”

His hands limply fall to his sides. “You are the one who refuses to let me go.”

When you don’t respond, afraid your voice will crack and give out the last of the thin thread that holds you together, he steps toward you again, now a mere feet away. All you can see, and what you’re willing to see, is his chest as he breathes out his words. “Do you hate me?”

You have no idea, truly.

“You should.”

Lifting your head, you focus on his eyelashes rather than his eyes. Doing otherwise might provoke you to do something you’ll regret. “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Hate me.”

The pause feels like another lifetime as your heart pounds rapidly, your palms feeling too clammy, and your throat too dry. He blinks, slowly.

“Yes. More than anyone."

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seijorhi · 10 months ago

Text

invidia ii

a (very belated) christmas present for my beloved wife @iwaasfairy who has, for two years straight, begged me for more shinnosuke content. i hope you like it bby! kuroo tetsurou x female reader, kuroo shinnosuke (oc) x female reader part i w.c 3.1k tw: noncon/dubcon, slight daddy kink, (forced) infidelity, yandere themes, nsfw, smut, age gap, i guess hints of breeding kink, dilf kuroo

“Why did your parents split up?”

Mid-way through pulling on a pair of old, grey sweatpants, mopping at beads of water from his shower still rolling down his bare chest, Shinnosuke throws you a curious look, but shrugs easily enough.

“They weren’t ever really ‘together’ to begin with. They tried the whole co-parenting thing to start with but mom… they never loved each other. Hell, I don’t even think they liked each other most of the time beyond–” he breaks off, his nose wrinkling in distaste. It almost makes you laugh. “Anyway, dad always said she had one foot out the door from the start. Dad was the one who stuck around to raise me.” There’s no animosity in his tone, he says it like it’s the simple truth. You’ve never met the woman, never having shown up to any of the Nekoma games, his graduation, any of it. You’ve seen a picture or two, overheard the odd phone call, but for as long as you’ve known him, the only real parent in Shin’s life has always been his dad.

If there’s anyone he idolises, it’s his father.

Which is why the words that he says next – casting aside the damp towel in the general direction of the laundry basket (boys) and sauntering on over to join you in bed – take you entirely by surprise. “We’ll go visit her in Golden Week. I want her to meet you.”

And again, the words are just that; words. Shin kisses you, a sweet peck on your lips, and wastes no time in scooping you back into his arms and settling back with a contented sigh. They’re just words, but there’s this look in his eyes when he says it that makes you think he means something more.

Your stomach flutters.

—

‘You really wanna break his heart like that, kitten?’

—

“Still not feeling any better?” Shin asks, brushing your hair back to feel your forehead. The beginnings of a frown start to take shape, teeth gently burrowing into his bottom lip, but he straightens and sighs, and that hint of discontent smoothes over like it had never existed in the first place. He strokes your hair again and offers a small, sympathetic smile. “No temperature, that’s gotta be a good sign, right?”

You’re a coward.

“It’s not my head, I just…” don’t have any visible, plausible symptoms for the fake illness that’s currently keeping you curled up in Shin’s bed. Away from the creep who’d smiled and fucking winked at you Christmas morning. “I just feel off.”

“Poor baby,” he coos, laughing when your face screws up and you swat at him.

Right now, swaddled in his hoodie, his fingers carding through your hair and that stupid, impish, almost believable grin beaming down at you, you want to forget. To pretend.

Because there’s a pit in your stomach. A bitter, gnarled, seething mass. This moment right now, in Shin’s bed, it’s like glass, paper thin and already cracked, it can’t possibly last, and yet you’re clinging to it so desperately, head buried in the sand, willing yourself to pretend, from one heartbeat to the next, that what’s happened won’t break the two of you.

That your stomach doesn’t threaten to upend when you catch sight of those hazel eyes peering down at you – the same shape and shade as his father’s.

You shudder out a breath, and what little levity there was between you two gets sucked out with it. Shin’s expression gutters.

Yeah.

His fingers don’t leave your hair, though. Playing idly with the strands as though the suffocating tension in the room doesn’t exist at all. “Dad’s taking us out to dinner tonight,” he tells you. Reminds you, because you knew all of this beforehand. Everything but the party. “Do you want me to run by the pharmacy to get you something?”

Another tap at the fractured glass.

That’s Shinnosuke all over, isn’t it? You might’ve been the manager back in the day, but it was always Shin who kept an eye on his team, on you, to make sure everyone was good.

“No,” you shake your head. “I’ll–” the words get stuck in your throat. “I’ll see how I feel in an hour or so. ‘m still a little tired.”

“You want some tea, sweetheart?”

‘Shh, sweetheart, you gotta keep it down.’

A cold sweat breaks out on the nape of your neck. No. No, no, no, no–

“Baby?”

You flinch like he’s slapped you, jerking away from the hand he’s wound in your hair. The startled look he shoots you borders on wounded, but you’re already squirming towards the edge of the bed, stumbling to your feet like a newborn foal. “Bathroom,” you manage to eke out, your voice sounding far too strangled and hoarse to pass as anywhere near the realm of fine.

Shin doesn’t follow, doesn’t so much as utter a word – all kicked puppy confused – as you throw the door closed behind you and collapse back against it, a sweaty, ashen mess.

He usually calls you love. Baby. Princess when he’s being a little shit.

Sweetheart’s a rare one.

Your heart races, a runaway train pounding in your chest. His eyes, his touch, sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart.

Another shuddering breath in. Out.

Fuck.

There’s a knock – not at the ensuite door, the sound’s too muffled for that, and you didn’t hear Shin’s footsteps (though you’re not sure you would, over the pounding in your ribs) meaning that the knocking’s at his door.

There’s only one other occupant in the house. Though you try your damndest to fight it, there’s no stopping the wave of panic that stabs through you. Shin’s door creaks open, soft voices barely creeping through the gap in the door, and your fingers go rigid, nails clawing at the black and white flooring as though you can ground yourself by breaking through it instead.

You don’t realise you’re crying.

Not until the droplets splatter on the tiles by your feet.

—

You should’ve left days ago.

After Christmas, when you’d ducked out from under Shin’s arm and lurched for the nearest bathroom, when it’d finally clicked for him that you violently hurling your guts up wasn’t the result of a simple hangover, you’d tried. Short of admitting the truth – and swinging a bat at the bees’ nest – convincing Shin to leave his dad’s place goes about as well as drawing blood from a stone.

He’s even less thrilled about the prospect of you going back by yourself, leaving him to spend what’s left of the week with his dad like they’d planned.

There’s only so far you can push without breaking something. You, probably. You and Shin, almost definitely.

Even so, you might’ve had more of a backbone if he hadn’t been so… Shin. All coaxing and concerned. Logical to a damn fault.

‘You don’t wanna be stuck in a car driving for hours when you’re feeling shitty, love, and besides, dad’s place is bigger than ours. Comfier. You’ll probably be on the mend by tomorrow anyway, so there’s no point in us heading back.’

If you weren’t trying to salvage what’s left, or maybe clinging to the idea that you can – and want to – then it would’ve been easier just to go.

You wouldn’t still be here, stuck in the house of the man who’d– who’d raped you.

You wouldn’t be avoiding your boyfriend’s eye.

You would’ve screamed the whole house down before Kuroo Tetsurou ever bent you over the kitchen counter.

But the gentle extrication in the early hours of the morning, Shinnosuke’s lips brushing against your cheek, the sleepy rasp of his voice as he mumbles a quiet, “Love you,” before slipping away – you barely stir, cozy and safe and content.

He loves you. Shin loves you.

A while later – minutes, maybe, or hours, it’s hard to tell when you’re still in the grips of sleep – the mattress dips under Shin’s weight, and those strong, sculpted arms seek your warmth again, you only sigh and lean back against him.

“I love you,” you whisper, not yet willing to open your eyes and face another day of lying to him.

The arm slung over your waist curls tighter, his face nuzzling into your neck. The kisses he leaves there aren’t affectionate, exactly, they’re not gentle, when teeth catch, nipping sharply at your skin, only to be soothed by a lave of his tongue.

And the laugh that rumbles at your back – a shade off your boyfriend’s – is anything but nice.

“Yeah? Fuck, you’re sweet in the morning.”

This time, you don’t hold back. You shriek, kicking out like a wild thing – or you would have, if Kuroo’s hand hadn’t clamped down on your mouth, if his weight hadn’t shifted so that rather than lying curled up behind you, he’s half on top of you, pinning you down to the mattress with a thigh lodged between yours.

“Uh-uh-uh, we were doing so good, kitten. Don’t you wanna be daddy’s good girl?”

Your only answer is a ragged noise, torn from somewhere deep inside of you. He chuckles again, grinds against you, his cock a thick, unignorable presence pressed at your ass. There’s nothing but the thin cotton of your sleep shorts separating it from you, and from past experience, that barrier won’t do much to deter him for long.

Kuroo rolls you onto your back and slots himself nicely between your legs. Naked, you realise with a fresh stab of fear.

You scream the moment his palm leaves your lips to capture your wrists, scream for Shinnosuke – for anyone – so loudly that it feels like you’ll bleed for it. Let him come running, find you pinned and squirming, terrified beneath the man who raised him.

Let it be the final crack that obliterates everything.

If Shin sees you like this, utterly petrified, on the verge of being raped again and still thinks it some kind of a betrayal, let him choke on it. You don’t care anymore, you just want someone to stop this.

(Shin wouldn’t, would he?)

But Kuroo only snickers. Leans over to lick along the edge of your lashes, where hot, glistening tears are already spilling over, trickling down to disappear in your hairline. “Your boy’s not here, but we don’t have long ‘til he gets back. You’ll forgive me if we bypass the foreplay this morning, right, sweetheart?” You shudder, goosebumps prickling where his breath washes over you, and you squeeze your eyes shut and violently – pointlessly – shake your head. “We’ll have to save eating your pretty little cunt for next time.”

All too eager, he hungrily captures your lips again and yanks down your shorts, taking your panties along with them.

Christmas morning, you’d been shoved face down over the kitchen counter while he’d fucked you from behind. You’d give anything for that distance right now. At least then you hadn’t had to endure his suffocating warmth, having him squeeze and grope at your tits over your old, threadbare tee.

You wouldn’t have to writhe away from his mouth while he rucks your bare thighs up either side of his hips, dragging you closer.

Even with your eyes screwed tightly shut, you can’t pretend that this isn’t happening as Kuroo spits and a heartbeat later the thick head of his cock slowly – agonisingly slowly – splits you apart.

You forget how to breathe.

Eyes popping open and back arching up into his chest, your fists clutch desperately at the sheets of Shin’s bed, trying to squirm away, only the grip he has on you makes sure there’s nowhere for you to escape to. He’s big, long, mostly, and you’re too tight to take him easily, especially without any prep. The spit doesn’t help any, and Kuroo doesn’t care, groaning out in pleasure as inch by inch he pushes himself deeper, until at last he’s seated firmly inside of you. “Good fucking giiiirl,” he purrs, a kiss pressed to the tip of your nose.

A tiny, drawn out whine is all you can manage when your lower half radiates pain.

“Gonna fuck this perfect pussy nice ‘n full,” he tells you. “Give you everything you need, sweet girl. You can take it. I know you can, you just gotta breathe for me.”

But unlike last time, he doesn’t allow you the luxury of a minute to adjust. His hips draw back and punch forward, jolting another mewling gasp from your lips. And again. And again. The pace isn’t violent so much as intense, like each thrust ignites something inside of him that burns for more.

He clasps your wrists in one hand, pants into your open mouth between frenetic kisses, groans out your name in that shuddering gasp.

“Mine,” he pants, beads of sweat dripping from his chest, his chin, rolling down onto you. “You’re daddy’s girl– fuck!”

Your cunt reacts accordingly, flexing around his cock, easing its passage so that the wet, lurid sounds of him fucking you quickly fill the air. A betrayal that has your cheeks flaming.

The muscles in your thighs burn, Kuroo all but forcing them back towards the bed, his weight driving into you with fervour. A quick adjustment to the angle of your hip and his cock hits a spot deep inside of you that has you choking on a moan of your own, a burst of bright, sizzling pleasure bleeding through the pain.

Kuroo grins ferally at the sound of it. Drops his weight on an elbow and bucks into you, hitting it again. Your inner walls twitch, squeezing and slick, dragging noises from you that make you wanna burn with shame – that, or cut yourself loose entirely. You can’t muster resistance when he swallows them down, sucking on your tongue, moaning into your mouth. His momentum turns rabid, his hand no longer encircling your wrists, but entangled with them, pressing them down to the mattress. “Almost… there…” he grunts, gasping as he curls over you, abs flexing.

A shudder rolls through him, his hips faltering just as something vital shatters inside of you, toes curling, white hot pleasure exploding from your core, rippling through your whole body like the aftershocks of an earthquake. With your pussy spasming around his cock, your body taut and locked with pleasure, Kuroo hurtles off that cliff right alongside you, a strangled noise somewhere between a moan and a growl escaping him as he pumps your cunt full of his seed, all but collapsing atop of you afterwards.

It takes a minute before he peels himself off of you; pushing himself up, braced on elbow so that he’s not crushing you entirely, Kuroo waits, buried inside your warmth, for you to stop trembling with the after effects of your orgasm, for his cock to soften and both of your breathing to even out.

Waits for those glazed over eyes to focus back on him and once again fill with tears, stroking a hand through your sweat-dampened hair as he does so.

“You should go take a shower before Shin gets home,” he says after a minute or two, his voice a low purr. “He can’t be far off.”

But aside from rolling off you to allow you up, Kuroo makes no moves to follow you, or so much as get up off the bed. Naked, his cock soft and glistening with your juices, one knee propped up, he watches you stumble like a newborn foal into the bathroom (only half managing to close the door behind you) with damn near predatory intent, a smirk teasing at his lips.

It’s where Shin finds you a short while later, curled up on the floor of the shower, shaking through silent sobs.

—

Shin doesn’t let go of your hand the entire trip home.

Uncharacteristically sober, he says little aside from the occasional murmur to check in with you – always unanswered – and keeps you tucked close, as though a fraction of distance between you might pry you from his side entirely.

The hours pass in a haze of… nothing. Your tears dry. Numbness takes over. You move like a robot, Shin guiding you every step of the way until you cross the threshold of your apartment.

He never asks what happened. You suppose the smell of sex in his bedroom and the bruises and love bites scattered over your body tell the tale well enough. Shinnosuke’s never been stupid. He’s not dense.

He’s not heartless, either.

In the sanctity of your tiny, shitty bathroom, you shower again. A proper shower this time, with the water turned up full blast, scrubbing viciously at your skin– or at least, you do until he steps in and takes over. You’ve never thought of your boyfriend as particularly gentle, but he pries the loofah from your hand with a delicacy you didn’t know him capable of and takes care of you, cleaning you up with a tenderness that borders on reverence.

You pretend not to notice how his eyes (so like his, sharp and hazel) narrow into a scowl every time he spots another bruise, another mark left by his father. Once or twice his fingers begin to ghost over them, burgundy fingerprints on your thigh, a love bite sucked into the delicate skin above your collarbone, only to catch himself, swallowing tightly and resuming his task like he’d never faltered in the first place.

When you’re done, he dries you both off and helps you into fresh clothes – a pair of comfy sweatpants and an old hoodie of his and guides you back to the living room, setting you down into his lap on the couch.

“I–” his voice is hoarse. Quiet, especially in the stillness of the apartment, and when you glance his way, he awkwardly clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “I went to the pharmacy. I thought– I thought…” he trails off again, dropping his gaze. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Your heart twists, and it’s your turn to comfort him. Or maybe you’re comforting each other, shifting slightly in his lap so that you can wrap your arms around him and draw him in close, burying your face in the crook of his neck and breathing in the fresh, clean scent of him. “No. I– it wasn’t…” but the words don’t come. You flounder.

What are you supposed to say? It wasn’t his fault? Wasn’t yours?

You should’ve said something earlier? Should’ve fought back harder – against both of them, should’ve grown a spine?

A beat passes in the tense, thick silence, and when it becomes clear that you’ve got nothing for him, he makes an odd sort of huff that sounds almost irritated. You frown a little, but you don’t fight it when his arms pull tighter around you, when his cheek comes to a rest against your hair and his hands seek yours, curling around your wrists and stroking at the skin there.

“We’ll get through this,” he vows. “I love you, this doesn’t change anything. It won’t change anything.” His lips meet the crown of your head in a soft kiss. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kuroo #yandere kuroo x reader #yandere kuroo tetsurou #yandere kuroo tetsurou x reader #oc: kuroo shinnosuke #tw: noncon

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mediumgayitalian · 7 months ago

Text

———

She brushes another kiss to his hidden face and settles against the car door, holding him. She thinks for a moment and decides on something old, a tune she heard on the radio once upon a time and never heard again; she’s warped it, now, no doubt about it, humming it from memory so long it’s changed to whatever she has made it. But Will recognises it from years of lullabies, picking up on the swooping baritones and mumbling the words into her shoulder.

“You know, that Han Solo shrine up in your room makes a lot more sense, now that I think about it.”

The melody dies in his throat.

“Mama.”

“I’m just saying.” She bites back a smirk, swatting away his smacking hands. “There was a point in time I thought it was admiration, you know, but you have a lot of posters of that open vest —”

“Mama!”

She acquiesces, this time, never having seen his poor face so scarlet, trying and failing to keep her laughter to herself. The tear tracks have long since dried and his breathing is steady, now, gangly limbs tucked into her ribs and hanging off the bend of her thigh. Flopped all over her like he used to to when he was young and she was still touring, when the world was too loud and too bright and too mean and she hid him from the sun. Her hands in his hair are to touch instead of soothe.

“Who’s the boy?”

“No.”

“C’mon, babydoll.” She pokes at his ribs, grinning widely when he rolls his eyes to hide his smile. “Tell me.”

“It’s nobody, Ma, gods.”

“Yeah, right. Not like you were comparing having a crush to killing someone in cold blood twenty minutes ago. Clearly it’s somebody.”

He, very pointedly, doesn’t answer.

Unfortunately, he forgets that he gets his stubborn from her.

“Hm. Can’t be anyone I haven’t heard of in a few weeks, or else it wouldn’t be bothering you. What names have you mentioned?”

He looks at her in horror. “You wouldn’t.”

Absolutely, she would. Her smile widens.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess it ain’t Chiron, ‘cause then I’d have questions —”

“Oh my gods! Stop!”

“— an’ I doubt it’s that security fellow, with the eyes, although if it is no judgement —”

“I’m throwing myself out of this car! Right now! I’m gonna lay on the road ‘til someone hits me!”

“— Lord, you don’t mention many names. You’re a recluse, baby. You gotta make more than two friends.”

She stills. Will, perhaps guessing where she is going, makes a noise of deep, personal agony.

“Oh my stars, is it Cecil?”

“Ew, Ma!”

He strains against her hold but she tightens, hooking her elbow around his shoulders and flexing her other hand, pretending to examine her nails.

“It is, isn’t it? I mean, he is a very handsome young man. And he has a good heart, too, despite the — how to put it — distaste for the law —”

“I just threw up in my mouth! Right now! Stop it!”

“I should probably stop letting him stay in your room when he stays over, huh, that one’s on me —”

He wrenches himself away from her, finally, clambering over the seats and gagging like the mere idea makes him nauseous.

“Ew! Ew! I do not have a thing for Cecil, oh my gods, I might as well marry my cousin! Augh! I’m gonna throw up for real! Why would you even say that, oh my —”

“Alright, alright!” she laughs, kicking his rapidly repeating shoulder. “Holy Jesus, you are dramatic. I should call up camp and tell him you’re out here retchin’ at the mere thought.”

“Good,” Will says darkly, voice muffled from how deeply his head is buried in his hands, “make sure to also tell him he is a weasel.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And that I am going to deface his vintage Hot Wheels collection.”

“Y’all have a strange friendship.”

“He’s not my friend, I am stuck with him via circumstance and because he refuses to leave me alone.”

She holds up her hands in surrender, refraining from pointing out the friendship bracelet he is currently wearing with a CM on it and that has not left his wrist in four years.

“Alright, alright. Not Cecil.”

He scoffs in agreement, ignoring her rolled eyes.

She wracks her brain for other boys he’s brought up in their phone calls, aside from people in passing. Mostly he mentions patients, really, answering her endless inquiries — it will never stop astounding her that he baby can practically sew heads back on bodies; she tells people he’s in med school and preens at their wide, impressed eyes — but there are other people he mentions, in between that and the pranks he’s frequently pulling with his friends.

“There was that boy you were so excited to keep around. Nick?”

“His name is Nico,” he corrects, and then immediately goes scarlet. “I — I mean, I have a friend, named Nico, not that —”

Her grin gets sharp as nails.

“He is — unwell! He’s travelled a lot, he needs monitoring so I am — monitoring him, you know, out of concern for his safety —”

“Nico and Wi-ill, sitting in a tree —”

“Oh my gods are you five —”

“You are steaming! I can actually feel the heat pouring off of you right now! You love him, you want to kiss him, you —”

“I am never telling you anything again in my entire life!” he hollers. “Never! Next time I think I should tell you something I’m just gonna — swallow glass!”

She snickers. “Drama queen.”

He sticks out his tongue as she situates herself back in her own seat, turning the keys in the engine. His puts his dirty converse on the dash despite her grouching, reaching over to fight her for control of the radio, flapping his hand excitedly when she lets him win and something bright and overdone starts playing. His bandage stays where it is, tied loosely around his wrist.

“I’m glad you told me, you know.”

He smiles, small and genuine, leaning into the palm she cups around his cheek. The dimple in the centre of his right cheek is back, the scrunch of his freckled nose. She presses a lingering kiss smack dab in the centre of his forehead and he leans into it, trusting.

“I know.”

#okay THATS it #do i like this as much as the first part? no it’s less impactful. but it is fun so idc #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #will solace #naomi solace #will solace & naomi solace #solangelo #fluff #my writing #fic #longpost

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cute-sucker · 7 months ago

Text

stupid boy (part 1/2)

[13.04.2024]

note: this is like a childhood series that i kinda wanna do...enemies to lovers obviouslyyyy!! (depends on what y'all want - but i might do a series for it/i will be adding a part 2 thooo) heavy inspired by rina kent book. words: 1,180

⊹˚. ♡

rafe was someone constant in your life.

from when you were little, with scraped knees, lolly pop in hand. you had moved to kildare when you were seven years old, and couldn't fit in at all. you felt like a lost cause, moping around the house. you didn't know who he was, yet you knew there was a bold boy next door, who climbed trees and claimed to have seen peter pan at night.

yet, you didn't know this about him when you were a small seven-year-old, no you met him at your lowest.

when your parents told you they were getting divorced.

"honey, your dad and i.." your mother began, and both of them shared a knowing look, and then your mother leaned closer to you. you felt the turmoil in the air, yet little seven-year-old you didn't know what was going on.

"your mom and i are getting a divorce." your dad finished the sentence.

divorce.

the word sounded foreign to your lips as you tried to whisper it out, the words were too cold as you tried to stretch it out. it didn't sound good.

"what does that mean?" you asked slowly.

at this your mother winched, "we'll be having a break. you won't see your dad a lot. maybe for a while," she finished, giving your dad a cold look. he seemed to cave into himself, and when you tried to meet his eyes he gave you a sad smile.

you heard your voice go shakey, "divorce?"

"honey-listen, you'll have two christmas, two birthdays-" your dad began almost to console you.

instead, you felt your heart race and hot tears pool in your eyes.

the question you begged to ask was 'why,' and then you wanted to scream, yell and tear the house down.

but you did none of that, instead, you sat there, your hands shaking and hot tears streaming down your face. as a seven-year-old this was too much to process, too much to think about.

your pretty dress was drooping, and before you knew it you were sprinting as fast as you could, a horrible croaking coming out of your mouth. the wind whipped in your face, and your chest heaved as you made it to the park.

the park with its whimsical trees, and its cool wind. you picked berries nearby, and let yourself get dizzy on the swings. the slides were high and daring. it was the place of adventure, and to you, it was a place of safety.

suddenly a small hand tugged at your hair. you gasped looking up to a roguish boy who squinted down to look at you. he had deep cobalt eyes, and eyed you with distaste. you knew him...he was rafe cameron, a year older than you and lived nearby.

"why are you crying?"

your lip wobbled, as you felt your tears fall to the ground. he pulled your hair again, and you cried out.

"get off me!" you cried out, wincing as you held your hair to your head. he seemed to go still but peeked at you curiously. you felt annoyed now, and instead of crying you glared at him.

he looked confused now. "look you're not crying anymore."

"yea' cause you're a big idiot." you spat at him, still rubbing the spot on your head. he was a daring boy to do such a thing to you, and if you weren't so messed up you wouldn't hesitate to beat him up.

"why are you crying?" rafe asked you again, and this time you sniffed and turned away from him.

"just cause."

he shrugged now, "i make my sister cry sometimes," he confessed sheepishly, "i shave her barbies hair off, and dad told me i should stop."

you frowned at him, "that's not really nice."

"well, you're not nice either 'cause you're lying to me right now."

that was a fair point, and you found yourself defensively clutching your dress, your hands reaching for something to ground you.

"my parents are getting divorced."

saying out loud made it more real.

"that's it?"

you felt your anger bubble up now, giving another cry. "what do you mean that's it? they were talking about different holidays, and i heard them fight. they scream and yell and- and i'm really scared."

at this, the boy sobered and kicked the weeds under his foot.

"sorry."

you shook your head at his apology, swatting him away. he was an idiot this boy, a mean one at that too. you couldn't believe what he was saying to you. this small idiot of a boy.

"can you leave now?" you told him, ordering him almost. yet he didn't respond to you. finally, you raised your voice, fists balled up. "leave me alone!"

"why?"

he looked confused, dangling his feet below the bench, and staring at you with that intense look. you wondered where his parents were, and then second you wondered if your parents were looking after you.

you struggled for words now, "i don't like you very much, and you're mean, and-and i don't like people seeing me cry."

"i'll tell you a secret."

this piqued your interest, and you tried to pretend like it didn't. but the rafe seemed to notice the way you twitched in interest, and grinned at your curiosity. he inched closer to you, bumping his shoulders next to yours.

"what is it?" you asked him annoyed, yet you couldn't help but look up at him.

"you look ugly when you cry."

your breath caught in your throat, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. the fleeting moment of curiosity evaporated, replaced by a surge of hurt and anger.

"how dare you?" you muttered, your voice trembling with indignation. "that's not a secret, that's just mean!"

the rafe's grin faltered, his cobalt eyes widening in surprise at your sudden outburst. but instead of apologising or backtracking, he seemed to double down on his callousness.

"hey, i'm just being honest," he retorted, his tone defensive. "if you don't like it, tough!"

"why do you hate me? you don't even know me," you cried out.

finally, he stiffed, and then folded his arms, and then whispered something under his breath. you couldn't help but gruffly sigh, as you noticed he wasn't going anywhere.

"what did you just say?"

rafe scowled now, "i was gonna tell you to smile more, 'cause you'll look pretty then, but you interrupted me!"

"-and that will make what you just said to me?"

rafe's scowl deepened, but beneath the defiance in his gaze, you caught a glimpse of something else—a flicker of uncertainty, perhaps even regret.

"i thought you might feel better," he muttered giving you a dirty look. yet behind his eyes, you saw confusion.

"well, it didn't."

with that, you turned on your heel and stormed away, refusing to give him a piece of your frustration.

he was a stupid boy.

#rafe x you #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #drabble #outerbanks rafe #enimies to lovers #childhood friends #light angst #part 1/2 #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron prompt

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sashiavi · 1 year ago

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•·····🍑········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𝓓𝓪𝔂 𝓔𝓵𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•········🍑·····•

𝚂𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝙰𝚟𝚒'𝚜 𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙺𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁 2023

#11•𝙿𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙶𝚒𝚛𝚕•#11

𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚌 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ².⁸ᵏ

Diluc Ragnvindr was a Nobleman, drowning in unimaginable amounts of Mora, he was a bachelor, a businessman, a tycoon. He led a busy life, taking on a heavy wealth and a responsibility generationally entitled to him. Such a commodity often came in handy through the other aspects of his life - Paying off sketchy low-threat hooligans to bring him information, keep him in the loop of the criminal underworld. He was strict through both day and night, in the business world two dimensions apart. The Dark Knight Hero - Though he had a distaste for the kitschy name - was a monumental part of his life.

Diluc somehow landed himself in an elusive auction, held by an anonymous hierarchy - he had reason to believe they had connections to the Fatui, and may have research or documents or anything he could abuse to take them out. He sits on one of the many pews in the room, face skilfully hidden from the other patrons participating in the auction, some of which he personally recognised. Lawrence clan politicians, a few stray knights of favonious, breaking their vowed code of ethics, even a Kätzleinan he could vaguely recognise from the outskirts of Monstadt.

The auction drags on, completely uneventful, nothing he hadn't seen before - Delusions, Adepti relics, monster loot and stolen art. Not once had he lifted the wooden paddle in his hand, he was starting to think this auction was a real waste of his time. Until, an announcement piques his interest.

"Up next is an exclusive piece, an exotic pet all the way from Inazuma - Starting bid is Two Hundred Thousand Mora!" The Announcer chirps, moving across the stage performatively. What kind of animal would be worth such a high starting bid? A Kitsune? A rare fish? He doesn't have to ponder for very long. A large, cube object is wheeled onto the stage, covered by a thick, dark fabric. Whatever the creature was, it was under there. The Announcer dances across the stage, grabbing the fabric and tugging it off with a quick swipe, revealing the creature inside of the cage.

A young woman is revealed, nearly nude, clad in just enough fabric to be considered undergarments. She sits on the side of her needs, fingers clenched into her palms. The most noticeable feature on the girl is her large ears and tail - they were shaped like a Shiba's, or even a wolf's, round and fluffy and twitchy. Murmurs swim through the crowd, both in confusion and excitement. Diluc sits straight, they were auctioning off a person?

"This sweet, lovable thing is the best companion a Gentleman could ask for! Obedient and pliant, she will do just as you say, no matter how ludicrous it may be" the Announcer grins wickedly at his last line. Diluc felt a little ill, his moral compass spinning in every direction, surely he could.. He should do something? She'd be better off with him than any other slimy scum in the room. Without a second thought, his paddle raises into the air.

"Oo~ I see some interest in the crowd! C'mon folks! I like her and so should you!" His irritating voice booms through the venue. It's a vicious fight, the price attached to the girl goes up and up, reaching into a number many could never fathom. Diluc's heart races.

"This thing is as handy as a pocket on your shirt~" God Diluc was sick of him. The battle is coming close, the number continues to grow. It comes down to him and some other Nobleman, a Lawrence clan big shot waving his paddle up into the air, he ought to report him sometime. Diluc had to do something, to save this poor girl. He raises his paddle high and shouts.

"Two Million!"

The crowd gasps, even the Announcer looks shocked. No one in their right mind would try to outbid him. And he was right.

After the event, Diluc is taken to see his 'prize'. The poor Puppy girl was still locked away in her cage, shivering from the cold metal. He sneers at the attendant, demanding the key to the lock and ushers them away, leaving him alone with her. The lock clicks open and the door creaks loudly, shrill rusted metal on metal squealing from the movement. Up close, he gets a better view of her and Archons, she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen - albeit a little roughed up - nothing a warm bubble bath and a touch of Adelinde's charm couldn't fix. He reaches his hand out to her, earning a whimper, the Puppy girl nearly throws herself at him. Diluc is taken aback, surely she was scared, or apprehensive to even look at a man. She presses a kiss into his jaw, soft on his 5 o'clock shadow.

"Master..?" Her eyes look up into his, glimmering with something - it seemed she wasn't all there. He shakes his head, awkwardly patting her crown before standing, prying her body off of him. He removes the thick heavy cloak off of his form and wraps it around her shoulders, clasping it just under her neck. She tilts her head, ears flopping to the side, eyes wide and curious.

"D..Diluc… Just call me Diluc" He tentatively pets her head.

•··········🍑···········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•···········🍑··········•

The sweet Puppy Girl adjusts to the Dawn Winery easily, tagging along with Adelinde during her daily chores around the estate. She keeps herself busy, doing all she can to help out. Diluc workshops a way to get the sweet girl back to Inazuma, though with the current lock down of the Electro nation, that proved to be a difficult feat.

Diluc pampers the girl in the meantime, giving her the tastiest treats and prettiest trinkets. Spending time with her, reading and learning about Mondstadt's history. He grows close with her, eating nearly every meal together, taking walks through the estate's gardens, and shopping in the markets of Mondstadt. To the outside eye they would seem to be a couple - not that Diluc particularly shut down the notion at all

The day turns to night, the Winery grows cool with the setting sun, candles light up the space. The Puppy girl feels restless, not at all matching the calmness of the night. A knock raps at Diluc's office door, with a short welcoming beckon it opens, revealing the girl. She pitters over to Diluc, her bare feet thudding against the floorboards of his office. She reaches up, looping her arms around his neck, stuffing her face into his chest. Her tail droops and sways in discomfort, she wobbles on her spot, standing on unbalanced tippy toes just to hug him.

"Hot.. Master Diluc.. 'm hot" The Puppy cries into his chest. She never dropped the 'Master' in his name, he doesn't think he hates it. Her skin did feel feverish, warm against his already blazing form. Diluc soothes a palm over the small of her back in an attempt to comfort the sweet girl in his arms.

"Hot how, are you ill?" He whispers.

"Hot in my head.. 'n down there" She squirms against him. Oh. It was only a matter of time he supposed, most hybrid races experienced secondary genders - She must be going into heat. Diluc grits his teeth together, eyes narrowing in thought, surely he should.. He didn't know what he should do. Call Adelinde? Albedo? Sucrose? Was she a canine? What is she? Diluc's thoughts are cut short when he feels a soft pressure on his neck.

He cranes his eyes down, finding the sweet Puppy Girl nuzzled into his neck, pressing into the beating pulse points under his skin. He swallows, his Adam's apple grazes her nose. She was scenting him, he was sure, imprinting on his skin. He fights a moan and ignores the soft swell of his cock in his trousers. He feels her tongue lick at his throat, small canines nip at his skin. His hands hover over her hips.

This was the exact thing he was trying to save her from, and here he was being a hypocrite. A dirty pervert no better than the other Noble scum in the city. He raises his hands, nearly pulling the poor Puppy Girl tighter into his chest, he doesn't, however. He releases a shaky breath, in an attempt to calm himself.

"Want you Master Diluc… Need you~" The Puppy Girl cooes softly into the skin of his neck. His brain was doing backflips, he was sure he was going to pass out. She is asking - He has no time for mental gymnastics, the Puppy Girl pulls him by the collar of his shirt, right in the direction of his master bedroom.

He falls into bed with her, the Puppy Girl snug in his lap, fluffy tail wagging happily. She noses and kisses at his neck, against his pulse points, nipping at the soft spots she imprinted her scent. Diluc's head fogs a little, unaccustomed to the shivery tingles her kisses shoot through his body. His length presses hard against the seam of his pants, it takes everything in him to not thrust up into the pretty Puppy in his lap. He doesn't have to, he muses, the girl straddles his hips, pressing her pussy into his clothed cock. He feels her arousal through his pants, Gods she wasn't wearing panties, his cock twitches hard into her. The Puppy Girl squirms in his lap, humping her puffy clit into his groin, hot slick easily soaking through his trousers.

"Feels ouchy, need it Master Diluc~" The Puppy Girl pulls from his neck, eyes bleary and wet as she looks down at him. She hiccups and humps his lap, face flushed and feverish, doing anything to fix the burning heat in her cunt. Diluc nearly growls, his palms grab at her soft ass cheeks, pulling her into a delicious pace. It didn't count - She could get what she needed without his thick cock nestled inside of her. He wasn't like those other Noblemen. He was just helping her. He couldn't deny how aroused she made him, her cute, dumb little head tilt. How she needed assistance for nearly every little thing. Archons and he was there to help her, help her bathe and eat and relieve herself in his lap.

The Puppy Girl keens in his lap, squeezing his hips with her thighs, tail wagging and ears pinned to her head. She digs her nails into his chest, biting at her lip as she grinds her puppy cunt on him. Diluc's pupils blow wide as she cums on him, hiccuping the prettiest little whines, pathetically humping his clothed cock. She messes in his lap, her creamy Puppy cunt drooling through his pants. She leans down, crying a kiss into his lips, begging for comfort. And he gives it to her, kissing back into her lips, rubbing his palms over her back.

Gods she was too cute to just stop here.

"More.. need more.. M-Master~ please, pleaseplease!" She cries, fat little tears trickle down her cheeks. The pretty Puppy Girl paws at his pants, rubbing over his hard cock, fumbling to undo the intricacies of his button. Diluc huffs a warm laugh, cupping her face with his hands, soothing his thumb over her cheeks.

"..'s okay Pup.. I'll look after you.." He meant it. Sincerely. Diluc easily pins the sweet girl to his soft mattress, slowly stripping the two of them. He pets at her puffy nipples and pretty clit. There was a pang of guilt at the back of his skull, easily washed away by how intimate and real the moment felt. This sweet Puppy coming to him for her own selfish reason, trained to please and yet she trusted him. The thought spurs him on, kissing firmly against her lips, becoming rougher with his hands, petting her heavily in all of her sensitive little places.

He slips his fat cock head between her slick folds, oozing with her creamy arousal, begging to have a Pup fucked into her. He feels the pang again, his brain screaming at him - this was a bad idea it said. Diluc couldn't care, she wanted this, it didn't count he wasn't like them, he was doing the right thing. He kisses at her eyelids, over her nose and to her lips. He dotes on the sweet Puppy in his arms, just popping the tip of his cock into her cunny, leaving sweet kisses to her face. If she weren't laying on her tail it would be wagging like mad. Her ears twitch every time he slips his thick head into her little cunt.

"Please make the ouchy go away Master~ need it bad" The sweet Puppy Girl whines, chin wobbling with pretty tears. How could he deny her when she asked so nicely.

He bottoms out in her Puppy cunt, heavy balls pressed into her ass, thick, fat tip kissing at her cervix. The sweet girl mewls, wrapping her legs around his hips nice and tight. Diluc groans, rocking his cock into her warm, gushy pussy, nice and slick from her heat.

"..'s good, good Master~ need it, need more of it, feels ouchy still!" The Puppy girl attempts to fuck back into his cock, rocking her hips up, tightening her legs. Diluc tuts in mock sympathy, steadying her hips, locking her down. He relishes in the soft cries of the sweet Puppy below him, squirming around, trying her best to relieve the ouchy feeling in her tummy.

"Settle Pup.. M-Master's gonna fix the ouchy.. M'kay?" He taunts at her, pulling his hips back and fucking her with one hard thrust. The sweet girl keens, nearly bursting through her bottom lip with her teeth. He grins, pushing his cock into her in slow, hard thrusts. He convinces himself it's to let her get used to him, yeah, going nice and slow for her. The sweet girl continues to whine, begging for more. Who was he to deny her?

He grips the underside of her knees, pushing them up, exposing her drooling folds wrapped around his thick cock. He pushes her into a pretty little mating press, just what a dumb Puppy needs. The pretty Puppy Girl whines into the air, clenching her sweet cunny around his length. Diluc growls, mounting her sweet puppy cunt with his cock, fucking into her at a delicious pace. Her creamy pussy gushes on his length, sucking him in greedily.

"..'s good Master! Master, Master, Master! Feels good- good in my- ah~" The Puppy girl babbles on his cock, crying stupidly as he fucks her good. The name spurs Diluc on, yeah, he was her master. Her big strong master there to coddle and kiss her and fuck her right when she needed it. His balls slap into her pretty ass as he fucks into her, his body clapping loudly into her skin. Gods everyone would know what they were up to, he hoped they could hear. Hear just how spoiled his pretty little Puppy was, how good he could make her feel, show them just how good of a master he was, taking care of his pet.

Diluc throws his head back with a growl, his thick bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat. He uses the bed as leverage, bouncing the pretty Pup back on his cock. The sweet girl continues to mewl and babble, praising her Master with the sweetest little words.

"Feels good! Feels- making the ouchy go away~ love you Master! Love you love you love youuu~" She cries, fucked stupid on his cock. Gods she was delusional and he loved it. He could feel her puppy cunt tightening on his length, squeezing at him deliciously. Her hot slick never stops oozing over his cock, making the prettiest mess all over his heavy balls. He shows a little mercy, bringing his thumb down to her swollen puffy clit, circling the sweet bud quickly. The Puppy girl keens, ears pinned back, pretty lips parted, sweet canines on display with her downturned smile.

The sweet Puppy looses it, squirting messily over his cock as he fucks her. Her pretty puppy cunt squirts with every heavy thrust he fucks into her, messing all over his front in pretty spurts. The Puppy girl cries and whines and sobs on his cock, her cunny milks him with her orgasm, pulsing and clenching hard on his length. He presses his cock so sweetly into her pussy, cumming thick, creamy ropes right into her little puffy hole. He marks her puppy cunt with his cum, making sure to fuck it deep into her aching cervix. He slows his pace, plugging the sweet Puppy up with his cock, making sure he'd bred her puppy cunt good with his cum.

"Feels better?" He coos, brushing any strays locks from the sweet girl's eyes. The Puppy girl tilts her head into his hand, nuzzling her nose right into his palm. She smiles dopily and peers up at him.

"Feels better.. thank you Master~" She says airily. She hums and wraps her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a cuddle.

Diluc's brain tries to fire, attempts to berate him and tell him that what he did was wrong. He's too distracted however, by the pretty Puppy Girl in his arms.

Not a usual kinktober prompt bUt I wanted to let other genshin boys experience some puppy love 😔 since it's what I'm knOWN for hauhwua

This took a long time and I apologize my babies i so sorry </3

Also did you know that it takes 2 million Mora to ascend a character to lvl 90

alSO if you have any kinktober prompts & characters you wanna see I am very happy to try them - I've lowkey abandoned my list bahHshksks

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Thank You For Reading! Comments Are Always Appreciated! Lmk If There Are Any Mistakes And Tell Me What You Think Hehe

♡KinkTober Taglist♡

@heath-sama @yejiswifex @hunnibunnix @bleh09 @madsw9 @py-schi @wizzardcatwithastick @shiningpaint-marbleheart @cherrytomato2 @i-am-silver @your-tears-taste-sweeter @kqzutcra @themusingsofmany @kaijubxnny @tericula

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#ʚ•*°SashiAvi's Kinktober°*•ɞ #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin x y/n #afab reader #diluc x y/n #diluc smut #genshin diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc x you #hybrid reader #puppy girl reader #diluc x puppy girl #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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furybymoonlight · 3 months ago

Text

See Me (Now) - Part III [FINAL]

Pairing: Trent Alexander Arnold x OC/Reader

Warning/Genre: NSFW! Smut, Age Gap (3 years), Fluff, Angst, friends to lovers

Part I

Part II

***

“Drink.”

“I already did.”

She said, puzzled.

“Drink more, gonna have to make sure you’re perfectly sober and hydrated when I fuck you senseless at last.”

***

It was one in the morning. The streets of Liverpool were mostly empty as Trent’s G-Wagon made its way through the city. The man had just spoken to her once, in the beginning of their drive, to make sure that she’s using her seatbelt and that she’s not cold. He also didn’t play any music to fill the silence, which gave her a hint into his state of mind. He never drove in silence, except when he’s really tense or angry, or worse, both. It didn’t help that even in that situation, her body was still buzzing, not with alcohol, but a highly sexual charge, courtesy of the driver of the car.

Had they just done…whatever the hell it was? It still hadn’t fully registered in her mind, but she guessed it was real, because her lips were swollen, and her body was still burning. She had also now become hyperaware of everything about him, like the way he effortlessly steered the wheel with one hand, the hand that has touched her in ways that she had never even imagined, or how even in the dark of the car he still looked devastatingly handsome.

The tension in her took a hike as she entered his house, more of a mansion really, which he had just recently bought. She had never been there before, but she had seen the interior during their video calls. The living room was so grand, it could have fit dozens of her small crampy student apartment. She hugged herself, the fiery sensation in her body ebbing away. She suddenly felt small and out of place. Him and her…they were really worlds apart now.

“How much did you drink?”

He asked, catching her off guard, and all she could do was stared at him because she had no clue at all.

Seemingly catching on that her silence meant that she had drunk too much, Trent’s jaw tightened.

“I’ll get you something to eat.” He said before he made his way to the kitchen, leaving her alone.

She looked around her, wild questions and scenarios jumbling in her head. What was she doing here? Did he truly like her more than just life-long friend? If he liked her then why the hell did he kiss the girl in the club? Who was that girl anyway? Was he just playing with her now that he’s famous?

Her stomach dropped at that unbearable thought.

If he did treat her just as his plaything…it would destroy her, but even if he truly like her as a woman, should they really cross the line? They had a different life now. Would the risk be worth it? Their connection was everything for her, she had never imagined her life without him.

Her head spinning, she took a seat on his ridiculously large and comfortable sofa. A tray with a glass of water, a banana, and some crackers suddenly dropped on to the table in front of her, courtesy of the younger, who settled beside her.

“You should have these.”

His cold, rather indifferent tone ticked her off, she couldn’t help but scoff at him.

“You’re mad at me, really?”

His gaze pierced her, luscious lips curled in a sign of distaste.

“You were seriously drunk and glued yourself to a random stranger, even you’re still a bit drunk now, can you blame me?”

“You kissed another girl.”

She bitterly said, then grimaced when she realized it possibly didn’t make any sense to him. God, she hated how she sounded like a jealous girlfriend, when he wasn’t even hers. To her surprise, he simply shook his head.

“No, I did not. A random girl kissed me and I removed myself immediately. Ask my mates if you must.”

Her eyes rounded at his unexpected answer, suddenly feeling like a weight had been lifted off her. Silence filled the room.

“I…” She stopped, suddenly at loss of what to say. She took a sip of water and slowly rose from the sofa, intending to put some distance away from him. She needed to think, and she couldn’t, not with him being so close.

A gasp left her mouth when Trent pulled her back, and she somehow found herself sitting sideways on his lap, arms splayed across his broad chest. He circled her waist with his left arm, one hand cupping her face, so she had no choice but to look at him. Her heart slammed against her chest. He was so close that their breaths mingled together.

“Trent –“

“You have been avoiding me, and I let you play your game. I thought if I was patient enough, you’d come around, that at the very least we could start to talk again, really talk.”

“Well – “

“But hey, there you were, getting fucking wasted…dancing with some random fucking guy in that dress. That guy could easily be a criminal you know. Did you do it to get back at me?”

He bombarded her, rich brown eyes glinting with ire, voice sharpened with dark emotions.

“No!”

She managed to break free even though she stumbled. Feeling like she was in the danger of suffocating any minute, she walked to a large glass window in the middle of the living room, slowly as she couldn’t trust her legs at that moment. She knew the window was facing his vast garden but currently it was pitched black outside. She crossed her arms, feeling his eyes drilling her back. The room was comfortably warm, but she felt strangely cold.

“It wasn’t like that. I saw you with that girl…and I…I just wanted to escape, to not think at all, hence the drink…and Dan.”

“Dan?”

“The guy’s name…I think.”

“You can’t remember your alcohol intake, but you remember his name? Really?”

Her mind was so hazy in the club that she hadn’t really think much when he said he didn’t like it when she danced with other guys, but now….was it jealousy in his voice?

She turned around to face him, who was suddenly standing tall just a few feet away, throwing daggers at her with his eyes. She let out a deep breath, then asked her question. Her bravery improved by the alcohol which still had a grasp on her, though not by much.

“Trent…do you really like me?”

“Do I – are you seriously asking me that?”

He looked at her like she had grown two heads.

“I do. Do you really like me as more than friends?”

“I kissed you a week ago, told you today you’re all I see, then kissed you again…and more, and you still ask me that?”

The anger in him appeared to be gone, replaced by disbelief. His words rang true, but she just somehow couldn’t believe it.

“This is just….all too sudden isn’t it? Like - if you hadn’t kissed me that day of my return, I never would have guessed. Trent – wait -”

In a flash, he was right in front of her, cornering her against the window. She tried to push him back, but he deftly trapped her wrists with his left hand, bringing it above her head, then stepped forward even closer. Their bodies pressed together, as close as could be with their clothes on. Her heart missed a few beats and her body instantly lit up.

“You said you wanted me to see you, but you didn’t see me at all do you?”

Before she even could process his question, his lips claimed hers in a hungry kiss, destroying her train of thoughts in an instant. He kissed her the way he played football, passionate, relentless, like he could do it forever, and she wished he really could.

Still keeping her mouth and wrists hostage, his right hand traced her heated skin, along the side of her neck, down to her shoulders, then to her breasts. A muffled moan left her as he kneaded the swollen peaks, the dress a meaningless barrier. He then continued down, his hand slipping beneath her dress to squeeze her rear and pressed it forward against his still covered hardness.

“We still need to….talk..”

She said in a breathless moan when he finally freed her lips and wrists to suck hard on the skin of her neck, sinking his teeth in several spots. She shivered, molten heat dripped down straight to her core. It would leave marks and it would take work to cover it. However, as she had just found out herself in that second, him marking her was a total turn on.

“Okay.”

He said against her shoulder, voice thick with desire, while unzipping her dress, and the next second she was clad only in her strapless bra and panties.

“What –“

“We’ll talk, but first… jump.”

As if spellbound, she did as he asked, wrapping her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist.

“Good girl.”

He whispered against her ear, making her flushed even more, if it was possible. Propping her with his arms, he carried her across the living room and towards the – kitchen?

Still carrying her, he took an opened bottle of water in the middle of the kitchen island with one hand and brought it to her mouth.

“Drink.”

“I already did.”

She said, puzzled.

“Drink more, gonna have to make sure you’re perfectly sober and hydrated when I fuck you senseless at last.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that and her throat all of a sudden felt dry indeed, so she drank, feeling the cold water did nothing to dampen the fever inside of her. He then put the bottle down before claiming her mouth again, smothering her senses. The next thing she knew, she was lying on his bed stark naked, moaning with his mouth suckling and fondling her aching mounds.

“Have imagined about these babies for so long…”

He muttered before lavishing kisses down her abdomen, fingers pinching her tautened peaks, making her back arched. The fire in her was raging and getting more unbearable by the seconds.

“Trent – please - ”

She weaved her fingers through his soft springy hair. She knew they should talk first and set thing straight before doing something as big as this, too much was at stake, but her common sense was gone at that moment.

“What do you want baby?”

“Just….you.”

Moving back up, he pressed their foreheads together, their eyes locked, hips instinctively grinding against her soaking core. He already divested his clothes but still had his briefs on, and she needed more...friction. She could see the carnal longing in his eyes, as she was sure reflected in hers as well.

Her heart slammed against her ribcage. She had never been more nervous. She wasn’t totally without experience. She went on a few dates and had one, albeit very fleeting, relationship before she went away. She knew Trent had had some girlfriends as well, all of them short-lived, though she didn’t recall he had any in the last couple of years.

“I want you too, you have no idea how much.”

He muttered against her mouth before snatching her lips again, as if he couldn’t help it. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly before staring at her again.

“But first…”

He trailed off and swiftly rolled on the side to sit against the pillows. He then easily arranged her to sit in front of him in a kneeling position, facing him with his hips between her folded legs.

“Let’s talk.”

It took her a couple of seconds to understand what he was talking about. What the-

“Now? Seriously?!”

“Hmmm.”

He said, settling his hands on the small of her back, suddenly sounded not too certain. He chewed on his lower lip and her eyes dropped to his mouth. Damn it, she wanted to have a bite as well.

“Don’t get me wrong, I want to sink myself in you so bad, I am dying to, you can literally feel how much…but I don’t want us to do this when you still have doubts about me. I don’t want you to regret this, ever.”

She felt like laughing, crying, and kissing him at the same time. If her body wasn’t currently shouting for him, she would find their situation comical. Her and Trent, naked, in bed…just talking. Gotta hand it to him to still have logic at a time like this. Feeling like he was way older and more mature than her now.

“All right.”

“Do you like me?”

He asked her bluntly.

“I do.”

She said, managing to look straight at him although she couldn’t help the blush on her face. His lips tugged into a sincere smile.

“How long?”

“Looking back now, I think I started to feel differently for you quiet a while before I moved away...you’ve always been special to me Trent, you know that, but when I finally had to go away…there were times that leaving you felt like it was unbearable.”

Her fingers trailed along his defined jaw before she brushed her lips softly against his.

“So yes, I like you, more than that actually - but it’s fine if you don’t love me back – yet – I – I mean the important thing now is you like me too. I –“

He shushed her with a soft kiss of his own, looking deep into her eyes with unabashed affection.

“Three years then…well…I win…try five years. I was seventeen, just lost a match and beating myself up because of it, staying all day in my room. So afraid that was as far as I could go in football, that I would never make it to a first team anywhere. That I would just disappoint my family who have sacrificed so much.”

She gaped at him, in total disbelief of what she was hearing.

“You burst into my room, telling me to man up and return to training, you said I’d make it into the team because I was bloody brilliant, but that even if I didn’t, it didn’t matter...you smiled and hugged me, and said that perhaps I hadn’t seen it yet, but there’s more to life than football and that whatever path I treaded in life, you’d be with me every step of the way. That’s when I knew you’re it for me.”

Gently tucking the strands of her hair behind her ear, he continued his shocking confession.

“So I tried to be there for you for everything, hoping in vain that you’d notice me as more. I watched you go on dates, so I dated as well, wanted to erase you from my mind, which turned out impossible. Then there’s Ben, the guy’s name couldn’t be more boring, honestly, just like his personality, thank God you came to your senses quickly with him. After him, you said that you’d focus on your study, so I held my tongue, quite content with being your go-to person, even though it broke me that you’re so far away.”

“Trent…”

“I had a plan for your return you know, asking you out on a date and all…but you started spouting nonsense about being a sister and I just couldn’t cope with it anymore, so I kissed you.”

He kissed her then, slowly at first, before delving his tongue inside her parted lips, hands smoothened the naked skin of her back, creating delicious shivers as they passed. Her world shifted as he toppled her down onto the bed, him on top of her, propping himself on one forearm so he didn’t crush her, his other hand tantalizingly gliding all over her naked body.

“So yeah, I’ve loved you for five years, wishing that every smile, every hug, every call, every message that we exchange means more to you. Five fucking years…going crazy with countless dreams about you, some sweet, others are wild, and the rest…’’

He pressed his still clothed arousal against her flooded entrance in a teasing manner, earning him a soft moan from her.

‘’…borderline illegal that you’d perhaps run away from me if you knew.”

‘’I…had no idea.’’

That’s all she could say to him. Her heart filled with overwhelming emotions, shock, relief, passion, lust, and so much happiness and love that she felt like she could fly at any moment.

‘’Well now you know.’’

He said as he bestowed a kiss on her forehead then her temple.

‘’So see me now…kissing you..’’

He whispered before kissing the spot behind her earlobe, then down to ravish her mouth.

‘’See me now… pleasuring you…’’

His mouth hovered against the valley of her breasts then captured one pebbled tip into his mouth, rolling the other with his fingers, before switching up the treatment. She shuddered as another stream of pleasure pooled at the center of her.

‘’See me now…worshipping you…’’

She could feel his hot breath on the junction of her thighs and then he delved his tongue into her, slithering through her wet folds. He played her like a violin, and her body was a tight string, getting tighter with every tantalizing move of his tongue.

“You taste better than I imagine baby…my all-time favorite flavor.”

He said, voice heavy with desire, then he licked her upward from the bottom of her weeping core before twirling the swollen nub right above her entrance and gently sucked it. Massive electric current ran through her body and she was done, a high pitch scream of his name left her mouth. He seized her mouth again, letting her taste herself, before aligning his pelvis with hers, his arousal now completely uncovered, eyes almost black with unbridled passion.

‘’See me now… making you mine.’’

Trent buried himself inside of her in one swift move. She was more than ready to receive him, but still as he filled her to the hilt, a little sense of discomfort appeared. He was thick.

He stared at her with concern, muscles tensed as he held himself back.

“All right? Just breathe baby.”

He peppered her with kisses, whispering sweet nothings in her ears to give her time to adapt. It wasn’t long before she rocked her hip, signaling him to move, but he held her still.

“I’m clean. Are you still on the pill?”

She nodded. She hadn’t been dating for a long time, the pill had been more of a convenience means to regulate her period, at least until that moment. It made her realize then just how close they were, how she told him deeply private details about her, hell, even her parents didn’t know that.

“Good...for now. One day I hope you won’t need to be.”

Before she could think about his words, the younger began to move, and her brain shut down. He took her in an unhurried pace, his eyes locked on hers, clearly wanting to savor the moment, but her body was still so sensitive from her previous release that it didn’t take much for her to reach her peak again. A simple twist of his hip and her body quaked involuntarily, eyes fluttered shut as another wave of storm washed over her.

Trent stopped moving, taking a long count to inhale and exhale in an effort not to follow her. Her muscles finally loosened, though barely, and he pulled himself out. A whine left her mouth without she realized it.

“So greedy for me.”

He teased, before making themselves lying sideways and spooned her from behind, embedding himself in her again. He thrust into her in a fast pace then, branding her across every part that he could reach with his lips, one hand playing with the rigid tip of her breasts, his right on her hip to anchor his thrusts.

“Give me more babe.”

“Trent….I can’t…”

She said even as the pressure of another climax began to build quickly inside of her. She had just experiences two best releases of her life, she couldn’t bear a third one. He nipped at her neck.

“You’ve made me pining over you for years baby….I want more…you need to give me more, babe, one more.”

He sounded so demanding that even in the throes of passion, she still had it in her to give him a side eye.

“Look who’s the greedy one.”

She returned his teasing, expected him to chuckle at her jab. Trent cradled her chin between his thumb and forefinger to make her face him, before giving her a rough, thorough kiss which rendered her breathless.

“When it comes to you Princess? You have no idea.”

He said without any humor, eyeing her with absolute possessiveness. He continued to ravage her then, keeping their eyes locked together. It’s like he needed her to literally see him as he’s owning her.

He grazed a certain sweet spot within her, and she jolted, her moaning increased by numbers, yet she still couldn’t look away, trapped by his intense gaze.

“That’s it….such a good girl for me…only me.”

He hissed as he felt her inner walls began to tighten again around him. He felt unbelievable inside her, crazily good, that she lost her mind.

“Baby please…Trent…”

His name came out in a pleading voice. She was on the verge of a burning cliff and he was the only one who could bring her to absolution.

“Come for me, Princess.”

He gave a hard thrust before pulling himself back until his tip is almost out, then drove deep into her for the final time, meshing their mouth together at the same time. She burst then, breaking to pieces as her walls wonderfully clenching him, pushing him through not a second after. She then felt his warmth filled her, but her eyes had already begun to close. She was wholly spent.

“Mine....at last.”

She vaguely heard him and felt his arms around her. The sound of his heartbeat, though still fast, lulled her to the dreamland.

Ray of sunshine seeping through the large bedroom window roused her from her sleep. Her eyes flickered open, she found herself still wrapped in Trent’s embrace. For a second she tensed, couldn’t remember where she was, then last night event flashed through her brain and she relaxed. God, she was sore all over, rarely used muscles throbbing inside of her. She slowly turned around, finding him still deeply asleep and smiled. He looked so adorable in his sleep. Kissing him on the cheek, she grabbed the nearest shirt that she could find, and made her way to the kitchen.

“Excuse me Miss, have you seen my girl by any chance? I think she is around your height, pretty smile, sexy as sin, wearing number 66 on her back?”

In the light of day, he looked just like the sweet Trent that she usually saw around their family. She rolled her eyes at his cheesy lines but couldn’t resist a blush and a smile. He’s just a cute dork sometimes, well, a half naked cute handsome dork with chiseled form and grey sweatpants which was hanging enticingly on his hip.

She looked away in the pretense to turn off the stove, though it was already off.

“Hmm...I think she is right here.”

She said, trying hard not to get flustered.

“She definitely is, and ooh bonus point! She’s making me an omelette for breakfast, just the way I like it. That’s like, two of my fantasies coming true.”

He admitted, giving her his adorable smile, showing his pearly white teeth. She smiled at him, couldn’t hide the fondness in her gaze.

“You’re such a dorky cutie pie sometimes, do you know that?”

He put a hand against his broad chest in an exaggerated movement as if he's offended.

“Excuse me? I am not. I am a grown up fella.”

“One fact does not negate the other you know.”

He tilted his head then, doe eyes flickered with mischievous glint.

“Hmmm. Want to know what else you’re doing with this so-called cutie pie in his fantasy?

Cornering her against the kitchen counter, his hands slipped beneath her shirt, one squeezed her breasts, another dipping between her legs.

“What?”

Her voice came out breathless.

His whisper against her ear was a promise of an immediate action, sending tingles to her every nerve ending.

“My number….plus three, with you all tied up.”

Author’s Note: Aaand that's it! Thank you all for reading my first ever Trent story! Phew this took a while cause really, I love smut but writing smut is hard! Hopefully you enjoy reading this as much as I love making this. Apology for any mistakes as again, I'm not a native. Anway this turned out faar longer than I imagined :A: hope you don’t get bored. Let me know what you think and thank you for reading! <3

#trent alexander arnold #england nt #football imagine #liverpool fc #trent alexander arnold smut #trent alexander x reader #trent alexander x you #football fanfic #fanfic #taa66 #copingwithtransferdrama #lfc #moonlightwrites

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