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teaspoon-full-of-sugar · 2 years ago

Text

tangointhenight

pairing: harry styles x reader (au)

warnings: idiots in love trope, long-distance fwb (sounds weird but it makes sense just give her a read luv), switch!harry and switch!reader, detailed descriptions of female and male masterbation, maladaptive daydreaming during a fanfic, mentions of exhibitionism, edging, one singular ‘daddy’, cum swapping, breeding kink, praise kink and degradation, rope play, spitting, choking, mutual masterbation, overstimulation, use of toys (vibrator mostly), crying after sex (iconic)

word count: 13.3k

synopsis: harry records erotic audios, and y/n is an avid listener

author’s note: hello nasties, here’s another filth fic for ya! this has been a long time in the making, and i am so sorry i have been mia for so long, but i am back for the time being to give you this fic. i have wanted to do something like this for a while now, but it’s been a struggle (lots of blood, sweat, and tears put into this). i’m kinda proud of her to be honest, and i hope you enjoy :)

tags: @victoria-styles

masterlist

—

Y/N finally sinks into her mattress after yet another tiring day. She can hear her roommate on the other side of the wall, chatting with her girlfriend over the phone, blissfully ignorant to the fact that she currently has a hand teasing the band of her sweatpants while the other scrolls aimlessly through her phone.

Exhaustion burns behind her eyes, but there’s a desperate ache in her belly, one that demands satiety. She opens the internet app to find it unchanged from the night before, still lighting up in the profile named tangointhenight. His profile picture is a tantalizing photo of his hand, splayed across his thigh, which are clad in tight, floral printed pants, doing wonders for the very prominent bulge. Pieces of paint linger on his thumbnail, a pretty pale mint color, and his skin, tanned with faint freckles and etches of dark ink, looks tempting in the golden light. At his wrist is a braided twine bracelet with cheap beads that have letters that she can’t make out, which looks old and wilted.

She scrolls down, only lingering for a moment to appreciate the photo one final time.

There are some cute little posts and polls in addition to his erotic audios. The newest one, posted just that afternoon, warns not to listen to this in public with a series of cute little emoticons following. If there’s one thing she’s learned about Tango, that’s what she and other listeners call him, is that he’s a bit of an exhibitionist; his audios tend to lean toward nearly getting caught or even being caught (oftentimes leading to a “helping out” situation). She honestly wasn’t into that sort of thing until he started talking about it, and now, she finds it incredibly sexy, the thrill of the quick high and the fear of being caught in such a vulnerable moment.

She’ll definitely have to give the new audio a listen on one of her morning commute trips to the university; perhaps, she could give it a listen while she waits for her class to start, his deep voice teasing and coaxing her into an aching mess. She hopes that it’ll leave her trembling and throbbing for the rest of the day. She wonders if she’ll be able to make it until night before she has to finish herself off or if she’ll have to sneak off to the restrooms during one of her seven minute breaks, foot propped up on the toilet paper dispenser while she rubs herself to her bitter end.

She scrolls down a bit, passing over audios that vary from pillow talk to a dirty fuck in back alleys, before tapping on the familiar link, purple from use, the description teasingly saying: we’ve been visiting my mum for a week, and I haven’t been able to taste you... I guess we’ll just have to be quiet.

It’s one of the first audios she listened to when she was just discovering this new world of pleasure, so it has a special place in her heart. It’s one of his firsts from nearly a year ago, of fuzzy listening quality and nervous voice, but she finds his ramblings endearing; although, admittedly, she thinks anything he does is cute.

She tucks in her earbuds and presses the play button. Tossing the phone to the side, her eyes flutter closed, visions of white dotting through the darkness as they adjust. There’s a subtle cracking sound that indicates that it has finally loaded, and a fuzzy droning sound filters through the headphones. There’s a fan going in the background; it squeaks and grumbles nearby. A door creaks open, one of those fake sound effects that you can buy, but she appreciates the effort.

“Hey, lovie, feelin’ better?”

His familiar voice floats through her ears. She settles even more into her sheets. His voice is a nice, hot cup of tea at the end of a hard day, a drug that leaves her head foggy and senses dulled. His voice reminds her of sleep: deep, soothing, persistent, yet ever fleeting. She yearns for it, like being able to listen to that one mazing song for the first time again or the feeling of sunshine after the long winter months. His voice is intoxicating, reaching a baritone timbre that she can’t quite put to words.

At first, she wanted to put a face to the man who hummed sweet nothings in her ears, who coaxed her to oblivion for nights on end. Now, she’s at ease with never knowing. It keeps things interesting, and she doesn’t think about it as much anymore.

“If only mum wasn’t home, maybe we could’ve snuck a quick one in the shower,” he says. She smirks, picturing him tucked into his childhood bed, a cozy twin that would be a struggle for the both of them to fit in, and he has his old quilt tucked up to his neck, leaving his bare feet exposed because of how little it is.

There’s a moment of silence, then a cute little laugh.

“I know. You wouldn’t want to sin in her godly home, but she loves you, probably more than me. I don't think she would think any differently of you.”

Another beat of silence, then his voice catches in his throat. Y/N smiles softly as he stutters pitifully, slowly, struggling to find his words.

“N-no, y’know tha's not how I meant it,” he says. “Like, she loves you more than she loves me. Not that I don’t love you as much as she does.” He moves, the rustling of his sheets crackling in her ears. She can hear his hand run over his stubble, nails scratching over short little hairs. She wonders if he usually grows out his facial hair or if he’s the type to keep clean shaven.

“She couldn’t possibly love you more than I do.” The bed creaks as he shifts again. “C’mon, babe, join me. ‘S all nice and warm.”

She herself burrows further into her blankets, knowing full well that she’s probably going to be kicking them off in a few minutes. She turns to her side, blinking her eyes open, trying to immerse herself into the fantasy.

“‘M glad you got time off of work to come here with me. I know you could've been spending time back home, but you came here with me instead.” His voice is closer than before, however whispered. Every accentuated vowel that passes through his lips is like a breath of fresh air, and she hums quietly at the sound.

“I really appreciate it. ‘M glad we got to spend this time together.”

She imagines that he tucks her into his neck, coddling her while his fingers trace over the curves of her face, from the furrow of her brow, down to the apple of her cheeks, before stopping at her lips, lingering only momentarily before his thumb would push just past them.

He chuckles suddenly.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Jus’ lovin’ on my girl.”

His short pecks turn into slow, passionate kisses, deep sighs of relief falling from his lips, and she swears she can almost feel his breath on her skin, nose pressed tight to the pulsepoint in her neck as he sponges his lips over her collarbone, teeth nibbling lightly. She tugs the tee up from where it’s settled at her hips to where the curves of her breasts begin, the material squeezing them tightly to her chest. The sensitive skin aches under the tight pressure. She teases her nipples through her thin bra, feeling the tenderness coax chills down her spine.

“Please,” he whines. “Wanna taste you. You can be quiet. I believe in you, love.”

She could picture him now, chin resting on her stomach, eyes pleading with her. She would flick his head at the patronizing tone before brushing her fingers through his hair. Would he have short tuffs or long tresses that she could run her fingers through after a long day, breaking apart the knots that accumulate throughout the day? Does he have pin straight, dark locks that are cut close to his scalp or sand coloured curls that fall gracefully on his forehead? Perhaps, he has a bit of gray peaking through his hairline to match his wise and weathered voice. She could almost moan at the thought. She has always had a thing for older men.

Tango says something, but she can’t really hear it, his words muffled by her racing heart. She pries her pants down shaky legs, leaving them dangling around her ankle, and her fingers work quickly in massaging her puffy clit, arousal wetting the tender skin. Not one for having much patience, she doesn’t wait for him to finish worshiping her body with his mouth before she is rubbing herself through her panties, feeling the cold wetness on her fingertips. Eyes closed, her head falls back on her pillows, legs tensing when she stops suddenly.

“Pretty thighs,” he mumbles to himself between kisses, and she could almost feel his tender touches on the backs of her thighs, which tremble with anticipation. A wetly placed kiss followed by an appreciative hum signals his final descent to her cunt. The sound of languid licks are nearly enough to make her finish, walls clenching miserably around nothing. Fingers slowing close to a dead stop, barely more than a faint fluttering on her sensitive skin, she attempts to collect herself, but it’s difficult when he moans once again, muffled by his furiously working lips.

“Love your pussy, baby.” She melts at his words, eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure rack through her body, hips stuttering in time with each flick of her wrist. “So warm and wet and jus’ perfect for me.” His voice, low with need, makes her throb, arousal slipping into her panties.

She’s close already, an unfortunate effect he has on her. Barely five minutes into her alone time, and she can feel the orgasm begin to build, like an unyielding inferno spreading through every nerve. The stress from her day, the exhaustion with the world, everything melts into just one prominent feeling threatening to burst from her pores. She has to force herself to stop before she falls over the edge in order to draw out this experience as much as possible. She nearly cries out when she pulls her hand away altogether, her poor, puffy clit throbbing painfully.

This continues for a while, the undulating waves of a blistering release and the torture of a cut off orgasm, until the air becomes thick, her heaving breaths heating her empty room.

“There’s my good girl,” he says. “Use me, lovie. Want you to choke me with your pretty thighs.”

His voice is more firm this time, and she could only picture his baleful eyes staring up at her, eager to please her and guide her over the edge. It makes her wonder what they look like; she wonders if they’re a soulful, deep chocolate that darken with lust, a pale blue that reminds her of warm afternoons, or a striking hazel that flickers with green hues in the light.

No matter the color, she is sure that they’re undoubtedly pretty.

“Please,” she whispers faintly.

“More? You want more, my greedy girl?” She nods pitifully, feeling the orgasm build quickly in her belly before she stops once again, fingers pressing into her throbbing clit. “You want my fingers?”

Her walls flutter fruitlessly for some sort of release, for some sort of stimulation. He moans out sharply.

“Feel so good, babylove,” he coos. “So warm and wet f’me.”

She wants to slip her fingers inside, to tease and massage that tender spot that she can barely reach until she struggles to breathe. She wants to feel full, but she doesn’t want to take care of the mess, and it surely won’t be comfortable sleeping in wet sheets. The wipes hidden alongside her other secret toys, beneath mounds of socks and crumpled underwear, do little to take care of the arousal that has pooled between her legs.

She fishes around her bedside table, fingers raking through bundles of panties to find her vibrator, a cheap little thing she got in a set when she first moved into her apartment. Unfortunately, she ran through the other ones that were in the set, and this is the only one left.

She nestles the vibrator on her swollen clit and ticks it on to the lowest setting. This stimulation is different than before; a vague rumbling rattles her bones, making her lips tremble, with choked cries teetering on her tongue. Obscene wet sounds fill her ears, and for a moment, she wonders whether they are coming from the audio or from her dripping pussy, and her thighs tighten around her wrist. She could only imagine the sight of his hands splayed over her hips and on her belly, perfectly pastel painted nails pressing into her wet skin. The shifting of her mattress worries her for only a moment, but her shame melts away, and she loses herself in the sound of his heavy, stifled groans, as if he is truly choking on her. The addition of the vibrator only serves to tease her more as she inches toward the end, brutally building in slow, abrupt waves. She struggles to swallow her whimpers.

He spits suddenly, and her hips jut forward at the sound, an erotic display of dominance, but he makes it seem like such a tender act; she could just melt.

“Can you take another?”

A beat of silence and a sharp intake of breath, squelching sounds growing louder.

“No? That’s alright, lovie, just two, then,” he coos. Her toes curl up a little at his words, hips rising from the mattress. On any other night, she would have craved more; she would have wanted him to coax her open with him telling her that she can take just one more and that she’s his good girl. It’s sad to be turned on by a man simply respecting her limits, but her clit throbs pitifully and some arousal slips out into her underwear.

“Gonna come for me, babe?” His words are slurred and wet. “Make me proud.”

Chills rushing down her spine, her body curls into itself, eager for her release. She wants to come so badly; she wants to feel the pleasure for days afterward, to tremble around her hand until she can’t take it anymore, to come until she’s seeing stars. She wants to make him proud, but she knows that she can’t come yet, or else she won’t be able to hear him finish. She doesn’t have another orgasm in her tonight, and she wants to prolong this experience as much as possible, even if that means holding out on her orgasm. The world spins behind her tightly screwed eyes as she slows her ministrations, the vibrator ticking back down to nothing. Her body reacts before she can even consider the loss, her hips bucking against the toy, attempting desperately to find that little bit of stimulation she needs to finally reach euphoria.

His lips smack loudly as he presses simulated kisses to skin, pulling her back from her foggy mind.

“So good f’me, pretty,” he says, words muted by skin. “So good. Hmm, I knew you could be quiet.” His kisses are slow and tired, unlike before when they were rushed and eager. His mattress grumbles as he moves once again, taking his time to, presumably, trail up the length of her trembling body until they’re suffocating in each other's embrace.

He sighs behind closed lips, heavy and wanton, and she can picture him working his hips into the mattress to find some sort of release. She would pull him up until he was right between her aching legs and press her lips to his neck, feeling his pulse jump at the contact. She would cup his cock through his thin pair of pajamas, teasingly massaging him until he just couldn't take it anymore, caution flying out of his mind as he is overcome by thoughts of her name, her skin, simply her. Trying to form a coherent thought, he would barely be able to hold himself up. She moans quietly at the thought.

“Babylove, we can’t—” He moans, his deep voice splintering. “I don’ know if I’ll be able to control myself.”

She has listened to this audio enough to know what to say to fill the silent gaps to fulfill the ultimate fantasy.

“Please,” she whispers into the dead air, barely audible over her roommate's voice in the next room. “Wanna feel you.” She wishes he was there for her to whisper in his ear, her fingers running up the plain of his back, feeling the heated skin tense at her words. He would quirk an eyebrow.

“Yeah? Y��wanna feel my big cock in y’tummy, pretty baby?”

“Yes,” she whimpers quietly, suddenly very aware of how much she truly wanted to be filled, to have him so impossibly close to her.

“Y’know I can’t say no to you.” She can hear the smile in his voice. She wonders what it looks like, if he beams with an eye-searing grin, his face splitting with happiness, or if he has a shy little smirk, just barely toying on his lips. She likes to think that he has a beautiful smile, filled with warmth and love. She melts a little, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her limbs to the tips of her fingers.

“Get on top.”

She does, eyes still closed as she sits and kneels on her mattress, one hand still between her legs, trying desperately to catch her poor, swollen clit at just the right angle that will leave her thighs quaking, her stomach clenching. Her underwear, which are still stuck around her knees, stretch and snap as her thighs slip and spread further on the sheets.

He moans sharply, and she can feel her hips unconsciously move, as if to pull that sound from him once again. The low vibrations from her little handheld leave her aching for more, nothing more than a faint rumble, but if she flicked it up to the next highest setting, it would surely be heard through the thin walls. Besides, she loves the teasing nearly as much as she hates it, just pushing to the brink before the rush subsides and settles into a quiet lull. Speechless, she gasps for air as yet another jilted orgasm subsides.

She works her hips slowly, careful of the squeaking of her mattress; there are only so many noises that can be passed off as her simply shifting around in her sleep. Her wrist aches at such an awkward angle, but she continues, the burning euphoria just beyond the horizon. He moans, and she nearly follows him, a crest of a cry nearly bursting from her chest but it comes out as a small whimper. She pushes her earbud deeper into her ear, as if to pull him closer.

“Sorry, jus’ feel so good,” he says sheepishly, and she can tell that he’s biting his lip by the faint lisp in his words. It would be torture for the both of them, to be so close but unable to move any faster or harder to finally reach the deepest, most pleasurable part, just barely scratching the itch for intimacy. He whimpers pitifully, and she thinks she might fall apart at the sound, but her stupid vibrator leaves her teetering back and forth between over the edge. She wiggles her hips to try to get a better angle, but with just a hint of stimulation, it’s a torturously slow build up.

“There it is, pretty,” he says, breaths faltering. “That’s the spot. Make yourself feel good, lovie. Use me.” Her legs ache at the awkward angle, trembling with overexertion. She wishes that she could let go of it, leaving it on the mattress with her pussy and thighs holding it in place, so she can grind on it, unhindered by her own body’s exhaustion, eagerly chasing her high. It would also free her hands to tease her breasts again, pulling and pinching at her hardened nipples.

“Love the way you feel, babylove,” he whispers. “Fuck, so wet f’me.” He curses again and again, as if no other words can properly describe the feeling of her, so soft, so warm, so fucking good. She could only picture him in abridged visions, his undoubtedly pretty lips parted with his pretty whimpers sneaking through, his features pinched in pleasure. Her eyes roll back as her orgasm quickly approaches.

“‘M gonna come,” he says suddenly. “Are you close, too?” She whimpers, arousal slips down her swollen lips and into her furiously working fingers, eager to finish alongside him. “Yeah? Y’gonna come with me? Y’gonna come on my cock, pretty?”

She is so close, so unbelievably close, and she struggles to relax her muscles to hold off for just a little longer.

“So fuckin’ good, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he says sharply. His mattress squeaks now, unable to hold back the sharp jolts of his hips, and he lets go of all inhibitions, moaning freely. She could imagine his hand tracing up her belly, cupping her swinging breasts, and he would suckle on her nipples until her fervent hips faltered. He would brush his hands up the curve of her back, digging into the muscles of her shoulders until she fell forward. Faces nestled together, interlocking like pieces of a puzzle, they would breathe each other in, savoring such a close moment of intimacy. It would feel like a lifetime as they waited with bated breath, using each other to get the most pleasure possible.

She comes when he does, holding her breath to keep the moans from slipping, which makes it all the more euphoric, the chance of nearly getting caught at her most vulnerable and the faint lightheadedness making her vision foggy. Her orgasm leaves her legs trembling, slipping away from her still buzzing toy, falling forward into her sheets. She breathes in sharply, barely holding back a pained cry; fat tears of pleasure soak into her blanket as euphoria crashes and beats into her muscles. The heart-racing, earth-shattering, limb-thrashing orgasm makes her chest heave. Just like she wanted, she is left spent on her mattress, the powerful rush still lingering in her trembling body.

She flips onto her back, quickly pulling her bottoms back up onto her hips. In her drunken stupor, her earbuds fell out, and she can vaguely hear Tango’s praises. She picks her phone back up, eyes straining under the bright light, and closes out of the audio.

Her head is light, foggy with the residual high. A dazed smile flickers over her lips, exhaustion settling deep in her bones, finally satiated by her orgasm.

She scrolls through his account once again, this time reading through some of his other posts, like links to playlists and cute stories. Suddenly, the little message icon in the corner looks so appealing, teasing and taunting. Perhaps, she’s feeling a little giddy from her high or maybe it’s from the exhaustion, but she can’t seem to find a reason to not do it.

She sends him a message.

Meanwhile, Harry stares at the blinking cursor petulantly. It taunts him amidst a sea of white, a blank canvas in what should have been a completed midterm paper that’s due in a couple of days. His eyes sink closed, and he starts to drift off, only waking when his hand slips from his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. An old sitcom plays in the background, the canned laughter providing a break in the silence every five seconds. He sighs for the billionth time that evening, struggling to find motivation to even think at this point.

His phone dings, and he happily divulges the distraction, his brows furrowing as he reads a direct message from a user called honeyhi. He’s used to getting comments on his post, with the occasional direct message (which he usually deletes instantly because of poor past experiences), and now, he usually doesn’t think much of them. He isn’t doing it to gain anything from anyone. He just wants to put his thoughts out there, and it’s just an added bonus to get validation from beautiful people.

She doesn’t have a profile picture, not uncommon on that corner of the web, especially since his posts aren’t a lot of people’s taste. He wouldn’t usually indulge in them, deleting them usually instantly, but something compels him to open her message.

Not to be too forward, but I had the best orgasm of my life, listening to your audios. I’ve listened to your audios for a long time, and honestly, listening to you has become the highlight of my evenings ;)

Honey, you have no idea what that means to me.

Truly, his heart swells at her sweet words. It’s nice to get complimented on something you put so much effort into. He bares himself for strangers, expressing such an intimate part of himself for their shared pleasure, and it feels reassuring to get compliments.

I mean it. Also, Tango in the Night is arguably one of Fleetwood Mac’s best albums. Definitely top three.

Most people assume it’s a sex thing.

I wonder why.

He laughs a little at the dry comment.

So, what are the other two in your top three albums?

Pre or post Stevie Nicks?

Post, of course. What kind of question is that?

That was a test. You passed. I think we’ll get along just fine, Tango.

I think so, too, Honey.

—

Y/N rushes past the postman, nearly toppling over when her bag shifts slightly on her arm, her thick binders peek out of the top and dig into her arm. Her hand furiously slaps the elevator button, and she stands impatiently, her dangling keys shaking at her hip. The doors tremble as the weight teeters down to the main floor, far too slowly in her opinion. For a moment, she considers just running up the three flights of stairs to her floor, but that feels a little too eager.

She and Tango have their weekly phone call tonight, and her classes ran long today; that coupled with the stand-still traffic made her more anxious than usual to get home. She always calls first, since her schedule is the most complicated, and she’ll feel absolutely awful if she was late for their call. She feels silly getting worked up over such a small thing, but their friendship progressed beyond the occasional messages in the past month, and she honestly looks forward to their weekly talks. Tango is such a beautiful and humble person, and he is such a stable place of comfort. She knows that he will be understanding and have an independent, secondary perspective on any situation.

He is someone she can rely on for just about anything.

The bell dings above her, and the elevator doors finally part. After barreling inside, she sinks against the railing, glancing at the time, which is still just before her usual calling time. She sighs sharply when the doors begin to close, relief tugging on her shoulders.

However, a hand pushes through the lift’s doors before they can shut, and she bites back an irritated groan; she probably could have made it to her apartment by now if she had ran up the stairs. The man slides in and gives her a grateful nod, accompanied by a small smile. Much to her delight, he presses the ‘close door’ button quickly, and they’re met with no interruptions this time. It’s a quiet ride, despite her nervous feet tapping, and he taps away on his phone,

She admires him out of the corner of her eye, forgetting momentarily about her anxiety. Half of his hair is pulled back in a small bun, exposing the darker locks underneath, and a bandana pushes back the frizzy flyaways that would normally frame his face. The thick strands curl slightly at the ends; there’s one tight coil that she wants to tug on. She could easily become enamored with him, with his pretty green eyes and day-old stubble. His bag has H.E.S embroidered on the bottom corner. A coral colored, gem necklace rests beautifully on his tanned chest, which is mostly covered by a near see-through white top, covered with a baggy, gingham jumper.

After living in the building for two years, they have run into one another on several occasions but have never really spoken. He lives on the second floor, and he goes to the university as well.

When he leaves, after offering another nod and quick smile, she calls Tango. He answers after the second ring.

“Hey, sweets,” he grumbles, not as chipper as his usual self. Her heart sinks a little. He had his midterms last week, and she can only assume that the results are not what he had hoped.

“Oh, no,” she says. “What happened?”

“‘S nothin’,” he insists, but she can hear the irritation in his voice. “‘M jus’ getting myself worked up over nothin’. How was your day?”

Clearly not wanting to talk, he changes the subject, which is something Y/N has grown used to over the past few months. He doesn’t like to vent when he’s too upset because he’s afraid of lashing out and taking his aggression out on her. Thankfully, she has also learned how to distract him. Usually, his annoyance melts away within minutes, and he is his usual, bubbly self again.

“Well, let me tell you, I nearly killed the postman today, and someone nearly hit my car today.”

“What?” He asks incredulously. “Please, elaborate.”

And so, she does.

A couple hours later, Y/N’s in her kitchen, making avocado and tomato toast for the fifth time this week. Her roommate is gone for the weekend, thankfully, which means she can get more stuff done without interruptions (and she can talk to Tango for as long as she wants without getting interrogated about it). His mood had improved significantly after she was able to make him laugh at her own expense (he especially liked the story about how she grabbed her iced coffee too quickly this morning and spilled it all over the barista’s hand).

“I have a question,” he says quickly, as if he wouldn’t have the courage to ask if he held onto it for a moment longer.

“Okay,” she says slowly, almost fearful at the sudden change of tone in his voice.

“Would you be able to listen to something I recorded the other day?” He giggles nervously. “I dunno. I just feel a little,” he makes a little noise, “off about it.”

Stunned, she stares at her phone, the seconds ticking by before her very eyes, and despite the fact that the only reason why they know each other is because she listened to his audios, she’s a little taken aback by the question. Before she knows it, too much time has passed for her to brush off as anything but bewilderment. She stutters.

“I—uh—sure?”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“No, I am.” Stubborn and not willing to back down, she digs herself a deeper hole, despite the odd feeling growing in her stomach. “Yes, I will listen to it for you.”

“Okay, then,” he says breathlessly. “I’ll send it to you.”

Neither know what to say now. Conversation usually came easy to them, so it feels so strange to be stuck in such an uncomfortable silence. Now, she’s gone and ruined everything because of her hesitation. Why did she even hesitate? There’s no reason to be embarrassed. They’re both very open, sexual people, and it’s nothing to get so worked up over. Maybe, it’s the fact that it’s him, and she knows him so well now. Compared to before, when he was just some stranger on the internet, she knows his likes, dislikes; hell, she has even spoken to his cat, and it feels wrong because he is her friend, and that’s not what friends are supposed to do.

“It’s not weird. Is it?” He asks shyly.

“Of course not.” She says it a little too quickly. Admittedly, it feels a little weird, now that she thinks about it. It would be like walking in on your friend having sex. Then again, the only reason why they really know each other is because she listened to his audios (which is basically him jerking off to his dirty thoughts). However, it’s not an aspect they spoke about too often, usually after a couple of drinks. Their friendship, despite how it began, is purely innocent. They were each other’s comfort person; they were there to vent, laugh, and talk with. Neither ever hinted toward anything different, other than the occasional, playful flirting.

“No, I’ll listen to it for you. What are friends for?”

She doesn’t know why her heart is beating so fast.

“Thank you,” he says.

“So,” she says, “do you want me to listen to it now?”

“Eager, are we?” He hums teasingly.

“Shut up,” she scoffs.

“I mean, if you wanted to hear some dirty talk, all you had to do was ask.”

“Please, stop talking.”

“Y’know I’m always down to clown.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

True to her words, she doesn’t wait for him to answer before she ends the call.

Her phone dings a second later with the link along with another cheeky message. The link is to a private web upload platform, and she feels special for a moment. She wonders if she should just listen to it while eating her toast and go about her usual routine, or if she should do what she usually does when listening to his audios. Is that what he would want, though? Would it make him feel uncomfortable? Is it more weird to just listen to him moan in her ear while doing mundane tasks around the house?

Granted, they have had some conversations about sex and the like, but this feels so much more intimate, especially because he knows that she’s going to listen to him jerk off, not to even mention the obscene things that come from his mouth.

What does it mean for their friendship? Perhaps, it’s not even meant to mean anything, just a sincere favor asked between two friends. Maybe, it’s meant to be a step toward something more on his part. Is that even what she wants?

She brushes off that thought quickly, as she has for months, because deep down, she knows it would just end up in disappointment.

Oh, what a mess.

She’s headed on a downward spiral that has no chance of stopping unless it’s hit by a freight train to hell.

She opts to forgetting her toast and slips into her bedroom, falling onto her blankets giddily. She presses play on the audio, her heart racing as it loads, and leaves her phone face down next to her ear, eyes closing to fully immerse herself, trying to ignore her anxiety.

“Hello,” he says slowly, almost shyly, and it feels like one of their late nights again, with him talking through her phone and her cuddled in bed, listening eagerly. “I’ve just gotten home, but I’ve been thinkin’ about this all day. Couldn’t go to sleep before gettin’ it out there, y’know.” He giggles, a pretty little noise she’s heard many times now. He laughs a lot, sometimes at himself, but mostly in response to her. He even laughs at her corny, little puns, which she appreciated.

“And ‘m really hard right now, so that doesn’t help either. I haven’t really been able to come in the past two weeks. Been too busy with… life, I guess. But a friend of mine talked to me about the world of BDSM. She’s a kinky little shit.”

Y/N’s heart lurches, stomach twisting with an unrecognizable feeling, knowing that the certain friend he is talking about is her. She remembers the conversation well, even though she was a little tipsy and very high, mostly because it was also the first time they had actually spoken on the phone, and it began as it normally does, about mundane things that happened that week. Somehow, the conversation shifted to kinks, and she told him that she wouldn’t be opposed to more sinful acts in the bedroom, most of which her previous partners had not indulged.

“I’m pretty vanilla, I guess. I just love to love people. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I’ve never really been into that sort of thing, but now, I can’t stop thinking about it, and I’ve been kinda into some dark, dom stuff lately,” he admits slowly. “Dark for me, at least, which, again, doesn’t say much.” There’s another laugh, radiant and delicate.

“I dunno why, but I’ve been fantasizing about taking you into our room. A little lackluster, I know, but I’m not into the dark, dingy places, like those sex dungeons they have in the movies, where there’s lots of leather, red lights, music, quite the ambience.” He stops suddenly, and she could imagine his lips pursing to cease his ramblings. She wishes he wouldn’t do that so much; she wishes that he wouldn’t doubt himself and his beautiful way with words. If only he could be as confident in himself as she is in him.

“I just want to lay you down on our bed with our fluffy blankets pushed off to the side. Then, if either of us need to take a moment or stop, we can.” Her heart swells a little at his words. Even though he’s trying to talk about, in his words, “dark, dom stuff”, he is still so sweet and considerate, and she can’t help but soften. He trails off.

Faintly, she can hear him yank his belt from the loops, and it’s, honestly, one of the hottest things she has ever heard; the teasing glimpse of what could come far more erotic than anything any of her other partners could do. She could only imagine what it would feel like to have him in front of her, shirtless with his pants low on his hips; maybe he would be wearing the same floral pants he is in his profile picture, the ones that are unbelievably tight. She would be splayed on the bed, just observing this beauty of a man, waiting patiently for him to come and ravish her.

She’s sure that his tattoos cover more than just his arms, but how many more is a question that haunts her. The thought of a big tattoo on his thigh that she can grind on while he moans about how much of a good girl she is has led to many obscene dreams. She imagines black images carved into his chest, perhaps a trail of floating rose petals from his collar bone to his peck or a hellish looking snake wrapped around his waist. More vividly, she envisions a bold tattoo just beneath his belly button, one that she would scratch at while he violently pounded into her, one that she would kiss and lick before she would take him in her mouth.

Oh, what she would do to be able to feel his skin on hers.

She dips her hand beneath the band of her shorts out of habit, toying with the silky material of her panties. She tries not to think too much about her feelings, fearing it would deepen the ache in her heart.

“Anyway, you’d be on the bed,” he says, his usual slow, stifling voice pulling her deeper into the fantasy, “naked, on your knees with your pretty pussy facing me. You’re all tied up, starting at your wrists and ankles, and there would be a pretty knot down your spine that I can grab while I fuck you from behind.”

Her cunt throbs at the sudden turn. She could only imagine: her face pressed into the pillows, choking on the sheets, her muscles tight, aching beneath the restraints, and her voice raw, sobbing from overstimulation. Exhausted and wanton, she would take anything that he would be willing to give her. He would shove her face into the mattress, mounting her, and he would tug on the rope until it felt like it would permanently embedded in her wet skin, telling her how much of a good little slut she is, taking him so well.

She doesn't know why she’s drawn to rope play; perhaps, it’s all a part of the subtle nuances of the sex, the intimacy of tying the complex binds around your partner and the intricacies of sensory manipulation with such overwhelming stimulation. It’s so much more than just being bound while fucking. There is such a deep reliance on the other person to understand your body, your limits, your needs. It’s about trust and vulnerability. She thinks of it in such a melodic and romantic way; it must have resonated with Tango.

“Or I’d tie your arms to your legs, keeping you spread open for me on your back, with knots around your belly, the lead falling between your tits.” Her eyes flutter closed. While rope play is something that she has always wanted to try but never felt comfortable enough with another person to act on it. He would be different though. She cups her pussy, languidly running her fingers through her wet folds, feeling the arousal slip down her skin before settling on her sheets.

She pinches her clit, and her legs immediately jerk around her arm. Feeling far too sensitive for that type of stimulation, she simply strokes through her lips, focusing her ministrations on the delicate inside, close to her sopping entrance, enjoying the slow build.

“Then, I could hold onto your neck while I fuck you, and I like being able to see your face, to see how good I’m making you feel, to see tears of pleasure run down your pretty face. You could suck on my fingers while I fuck you, deep and hard. D’ya wanna choke on my fingers, pretty?”

She wants absolutely nothing more. She would gladly suck on his fingers if it meant that she could see the look of awe in his eyes, lust darkening his features when she bites teasingly on his nail.

“But if you’re on your knees, I could watch you in the mirror and still see your face. From behind, I can see your pretty, tight pussy take my cock.” He whimpers. “I haven’t decided which I would rather have.”

She can’t decide, either.

Then again, they could always have both.

“Of course, I wouldn’t give you my cock that easily. No, you’re going to be crying for me, begging for me to fuck you, and I dunno if I would fuck you right away or make you beg for it. I think for the first bit, after you’re all tied up for me, I’ll tease you, just barely touching you, pulling on the lead, the ropes tightening around your aching body. I think your tits would look so pretty all tied up f’me, babylove.

“When you’ve finally had enough, crying for me to stuff you full of my cock, I’d let you come, but I’d only use my fingers, never giving you what you really want. Maybe I’ll put a little vibrator on your clit and leave you there, having you come again and again until it hurts. I’d have you keep your panties on, of course. Don’t want you making a mess of the sheets, and then, when I finally give you my cock, I’ll put them in your mouth to keep you quiet, and so you can taste yourself.”

His moans are in the forefront in his sensual song, mixed amongst a symphony of bed and friction sounds. She matches his pace, flicking her wrist in time with the sound of him working his wet cock. She massages the entirety of her pussy, messily rubbing her fingers from the tip of her poor, swollen clit to her throbbing opening.

“Fuck, babylove, you’d be so good f’me, taking my cock so deep in your pussy. Would you cry f’me, pretty? Cry for daddy to fuck you into the mattress.” A rumbling groan finally breaks free, and she is so close to falling apart, her high festering into her muscles, burning through her nerves; her skin feels hot to the touch. She struggles to breathe, but she doesn't yearn for air as much as she does her end. Tears in her eyes, she clutches onto her blanket, tugging it in her mouth to keep from crying too loudly. She sobs, feeling a familiar tightness in her body, just beyond her grasp. Her hand still moves over her pussy, arousal seeping through trembling fingers, but she can’t reach her peak with such light, varied stimulation, her hips buckling.

“My pretty rope bunny,” he mutters. He’s desperate, truly just rambling on and on about anything that comes to mind. “My pretty honey,” he whimpers, almost inaudibly, “honey, honey.”

For a second, she thinks of the times that word has passed through his lips in less sinful situations, a slow, lulling honey when he’s trying to get her attention, sweet and innocent. That’s his special name for her, and she wonders if, possibly, he thinks about her in the same way she does, if he wishes to be with her in such an intimate way, just as she does. She thinks, incredulously, that maybe she isn’t overanalyzing the situation.

His bed squeaks faintly in the background, just barely heard over his withering voice. She can only begin to imagine what he looks like in that moment, legs tense, feet digging into the mattress, his hips thrusting to fuck himself into his fist. The head of his cock would peek through the top of his fist as he coerced his release free. She wishes she could see what he looks like when he comes, when he finally reaches his most euphoric moment. It’s such a primal thing to witness, to see someone liberated of all inhibitions, to observe them completely succumbing to their instincts. It’s such a beautiful thing to see someone acquiesce control and thrive so harmoniously with their body.

“I wanna wrap my belt around your throat.” He swallows thickly. She whines along with him. Perhaps, she’s just fooling herself, but she can swear that she could almost hear the sound of a leather belt squeezing in his fist. A pitiful pool of wetness slips between her ass cheeks.

“My cock hurts just thinking about how you’d sound.” He moans, mimicking the desperate heaves that would undoubtedly slip through her lips as he pulls his belt tightly around her throat. “Then, when you’re bratty, I can just wrap my hand around the belt and make it tighter.

“Please,” he mocks weakly, “please, sir, I’ll be good. But you’re just saying that to get what you want. You’re just a naughty, little slut aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she returns weakly.

“Maybe, I could get you a collar and pull you around with that. Would you like that?” He hums. “Of course, you would. You’re my pretty, little bunny.”

In any other instance, she would feel humiliated to be so aroused at being so weak and submissive to another, but he could convince her to do anything at this point. She’s close, toes curling and muscles tightening, and she waits for his familiar profession that he is also near the edge, but the silence that follows is deafening, a disappointing resolution to an intense narrative. It makes her stop completely, wet hand flipping her phone over to see that, indeed, she had listened to all of the audio. It knocks the air from her lungs when she realizes that that was it. She isn’t going to hear his cute little whimpers as he comes nor his sweet aftercare.

Frustrated from her ruined orgasm, she calls him instantly, and he picks up after the fourth ring this time, as if he knows that she is this needy and frustrated. She doesn’t give him the chance to greet her.

“That couldn’t have been all of it.”

“Well, hello to you, too—”

“I didn’t get to hear you come.”

“Is that what you wanna hear, honey?”

“Well, yeah, I always come with—” She stops before she says something she’ll regret, but by the sound of his laughter, it’s already too late. She wants to hide away in embarrassment.

“It’s only partially finished. I thought I told you that.” She can hear the teasing smirk he surely has plastered on his face, the cheeky bastard. “I just wanted to hear what you thought so far before I finished it. There’s no point in finishing something that I already feel isn’t worth the time.”

“Well, then,” she stutters quickly, “How does it end?”

“How do you think it should end?”

There’s a certainty in his words, as if he has already accepted her as a lover, and she knows that he is giving her the opportunity to initiate the next step. Fear squeezes her chest, and for a second, she worries that she isn’t brave enough to follow through. Every fiber of her being is pleading with her to just take that risk, but another, more rational side of her, is saying it’s better to say a quick I don’t know, and they would move on as normal.

“Where would you come?”

Oh, it feels so filthy to ask that, but it’s so relieving to hear the hum of approval that passes through his lips.

Her heart races, not like before; this is exciting and new and arousing, and it feels wrong. She doesn’t even know what he looks like; hell, she doesn’t even know his real name, and she’s so fucking ready and willing to give herself to him. There’s just so many reasons to not pursue him. She feels ashamed, almost, that she is weak for a man she knows nothing about.

“Hmm, that’s a good question. Where would you like me to come?”

But how can she not get weak when he asks her things like that?

Shivers bloom on her skin in sunflower blossoms. She knows what he wants to hear, and usually, she would tease him, telling him that he didn’t care if he even came or not, but the throbbing between her legs is relentless, and she’s just lust-drunk that she’ll say just about anything to get what she needs. She begins rubbing herself again, focusing solely on her clit this time instead of the entirety of her pussy in the palm of her hand. Breathing out shakily, she answers honestly.

“Everywhere.”

He moans, and she knows that was the right answer.

“Everywhere? Such a greedy girl. You want me to come down your throat? You wanna taste it? Maybe, I’ll have you choke on my cock, fuck y’face until you’re crying.”

After he was done fucking her, she’s sure that he would yank her up either by the rope around her breasts or by the belt around her neck (she can’t decide which yet) and put his cock by her mouth, rubbing himself over her lips and chin, but never quite pushing past the barrier of her lips; no, she would be the one to open her sweet mouth for him, her jaw lax and tongue wet as she takes everything he’d give her.

God, yes, she wants to taste him. She wants him to use her in every possible, degrading way: to use her mouth while she tied up, under his mercy, to fuck her face until she has tears dripping down her cheeks, wetting her heaving chest, to come down her throat until she’s choking on him, but he would pinch her nose and make her taste it until her vision was blurry.

“You’d take it all, babylove. Won’t you?”

He asks so innocently, his deep voice having a soft twinge, but she knows that it’s not optional, not that she would choose otherwise. She would greedily lap at his cum and drink it all, proudly showing off her empty mouth when she’s done. Maybe, he would insist that she keep it in her mouth and pull her into a wet, heated kiss, prying her lips apart so he can taste himself on her tongue.

“I could make a mess on your belly or your tits, and then, I could lick you clean. Or I could mark up your thighs and watch it drip onto the sheets.”

The thought of him marking her with his come is nearly enough for her to reach her peak. A voice in the back of her head chastises her for being so greedy; this is something she has fantasized about since they started talking, and it’s going to be over before it can even begin at this rate. She needs to distract herself, to focus on anything other than the painful throbbing between her legs.

“Or I could come inside you.”

That’s the last thing she needed to hear.

Only because it makes a thick bead of arousal seep into her sheets. It makes her finally give in and sink two fingers inside herself, and fuck, she’s so wet and swollen and pliable. She sobs, truly biting back even louder cries behind gritted teeth. She curses again and again at the feeling coursing through her veins, heat spreading in her belly as her hips frantically move against her ministrations.

“By the sound of that moan, I think that’s definitely preferred. Such a filthy girl. Y’want me to fill your belly? Want me to mark you as mine?”

She just knows that he could fill her to the brim, but he would want to prolong the experience as much as possible, teasing her with his cock and coaxing her to beg for his cum.

She could just imagine the determined look in his eyes, so close to coming, but he would pull out, just barely teasing her trembling entrance with his twitching cock. He wouldn’t move, and when she would beg for him to put it back in and just fuck her until she couldn’t breath, he would say very simply: if y’want my cum so bad, put my cock back inside.

God, his face would be gleaming with this power, satisfied with seeing her so needy for his cum. Shamefully, she would put one of her hands on his hip while the other grasps his cock, pushing on him until he sinks entirely inside her once again, but he still wouldn’t move, simply filling her, the both of them twitching with arousal. He would demand that she make him come if she wants it so bad, as if it's a gift from the heavens.

“Are you touching yourself?” He asks, and only then does she realize that she was drowning in her fantasy; the sudden change makes her stop rubbing herself, her vision hazy. She parts her lips with wet fingers, slipping back down to her entrance, gently prodding inside until that euphoria builds once again.

“Yes,” she admits shamefully. “‘M so fucking wet for you.”

“Dirty little slut,” he says sharply. He has no room to judge, especially since she can hear the all-too-familiar sounds to him jerking his cock, wet sounds of his fist passing over the thick head echoing in her empty room. She is near tears at this point, so needy and high and horny, but she wants to make this last.

“Would you let me come? Please, can I come?”

It’s his turn to moan with approval, and she feels proud. His heavy breathing in time with hers, he seems to be lost in pleasure, voice hitching as he struggles to find words. Her orgasm swells to a near crest once again, but she wants to hear him finish. At this point, she knows what it sounds like, from the frantic ramblings to the guttural moans, and he’s not quite there yet.

“Do you think you deserve to come, honey? You think you’ve been a good girl f’me?”

“Yes, I’m a good girl—fuck—please, please, I need to come.” She stumbles through her words, what little power she held in her withering grasp deflating instantly from his words.

“I dunno, I think you’re a brat who just wants to get off.”

It’s painful how much his words impact her, volatile muscles spasming while she staves of hee end. She whimpers, sinking further in her headspace; she feels a cloud settle in her vision (or perhaps those are tears), overwhelming yet freeing.

“No, I’m your good girl,” she insists.

“I think you’ll have to prove it to me, honey,” he replies slyly. “I don’t think I’ll let you come quickly. I want you to beg for it. Can you do that f’me, babylove? Beg me to come.”

“Fuck, I’m so close,” she says. “Please, please, I need it. Please, let me come.”

“You can do better than that,” he says, voice cracking. Their harmonious sounds of excitement drive both of them closer to their orgasms.

“Oh, god—please, I—fuck—I need it so bad. ‘M so close, please.” She can barely speak coherently. Chills wrack her sore body, waves of throbbing pleasure threatening to break her. She wanted—no, needed—him to finish.

“Come f’me, Honey,” he says. “You’re my good girl, so good f’me. C’mon, babylove, come with me.”

She does. With ears ringing and eyes closing, she comes until her pussy aches. It feels never ending, euphoria consuming every part of her sweat-laden flesh, chilling and fiery, for hours—or perhaps only seconds. She can’t tell.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her vision blurry. Her body trembles with residual aftershocks of her intense orgasm. She lays spread open on her bed, her pussy still too sensitive to close her legs entirely.

“Thank you for letting me come.” In her daze, her limbs fall away limply. All she can do is exist at this moment. She vaguely wonders if he finished with her, the thought of his deep moans fueling another fire. A part of her is disappointed that she wasn't present enough to listen to him, but another part knows that more opportunities will come.

“You’re so welcome, honey,” he says sweetly. “I think we both really needed that today.”

She hums, still recovering from such a powerful end. She slowly regains her breathing.

“I guess I should be thanking you because that’s one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had,” he says. She laughs.

“You flatter me.”

“I’m serious. Nearly gave myself a pearl necklace.”

And just like that, everything continues as normal. Both know that the other is naked and satiated, but neither feels uncomfortable with the fact. If anything, it makes things relieved, open, or comfortable. They’re both giggly in the golden after-glow.

“What does this mean for us, Honey?”

As, yes, the dreaded ‘talk’. Fear immediately spikes in her veins, and she struggles to find her words. Before she can answer, he begins speaking again.

“Look, I really like talking with you, and I don’t want this to make things weird, but I meant what I said earlier. That was probably one of the best orgasms of my life, and I don’t think that I could live without your pretty little moans now that I’ve heard them. Maybe, we can do that again. We don’t have to put a label on it or anything, if you don’t want to.”

Her heart sinks. Is that all that he wants?

“Right, it doesn’t have to be anything serious, just us having some stress relief.” Her words are dry and forced, feeling like bile in her mouth. She grits her teeth. What the hell had she just gotten herself into?

“Hey, uh, it’s late, and I have to wake up early tomorrow. Same time next week?”

She hopes that he doesn’t think that she regrets what they did, and she hopes he doesn’t think too much into her abrupt ending of the call. It’s not a total lie; she does have work early tomorrow morning, but she has had more than a few days where she was running on two hours of sleep and a miracle. She just wants to get off the phone before he hears the contemplation in her voice.

“You think I can wait a week after that? You have too much faith in me.”

“I think you’ll survive, babe,” she says.

“Good night, babylove.”

“Good night.”

She falls asleep quickly after, dreaming of the nameless, faceless man who she bares her soul to.

Later that night, as Harry edits the finally finished audio, he thinks back to Honey and their mutual pleasure, feeling like an absolute idiot for saying that it was nothing serious. He wasn’t expecting her to agree so emphatically, so quickly.

Although, what had he expected? He was the one who suggested it. No matter, he can’t have a relationship right now, especially a long distance one. He would just end up getting hurt, but he likes her too much to stop talking to her completely. He finally took their relationship further even if it won’t lead to anything more.

—

“Are you ready to admit defeat?”

Y/N lets out a breathy laugh, despite her current situation, her hand rubbing leisure circles on her already sensitive clit, which still throbs from her first orgasm of the night. Tango murmurs praise in her humming ears.

She’s not really sure what they are, and she doesn’t want to think about it. It would only complicate things more.

Friends? Definitely.

Well, maybe not definitely, since she doesn’t even know his name, but what other word could she use to define their relationship? What sort of friends would say such filthy things to each other? Why would he call her ‘my honey’ so emphatically if they were ‘just friends’? Too afraid of misinterpreting his intentions and embarrassing herself, she doesn’t mention anything, and he never does either, but it keeps her awake at night, wondering what they could be if she could just put her feelings to words.

This would be the second hour of their phone call, and it only took them ten minutes for the conversation to turn into one of their “stress relieving sessions”. Both of them had a terrible day; she was late for the first day at her new job (they were understanding given the circumstances, but it still left a sour taste in her mouth), and he slept through an exam. She eased him into a submissive headspace quickly, babbling about what a good boy he is and how proud she is of him. Within minutes, he came, and she whispered all the filthy things she wanted to do to him until he was completely spent, his cock milked of all remnants of his seed, twitching and throbbing with empty orgasms.

He easily fell into the dominant headspace after his quick high, and he was adamant that he could make her come more than any of her other partners, even without him truly there. She knows that he can; hell, she has touched herself to his voice more times than she could count, but she likes teasing him, hearing him get all riled up and stubborn.

“Are you gonna come again, honey?”

“Nope,” she breathes, “Not even a little close.”

“You’re obviously lying or not trying,” he says sharply, and a sense of pride swells in her chest at her ability to get a rise out of him without even trying. She smirks.

“What are you gonna do? Punish me?”

“I might have to.”

She’s sure he would, too, but it would be in the most pleasurable way possible, with his mouth and fingers and cock stimulating her until she comes so many times she can’t take anymore. Her fingers trace her most intimate area, nails scraping against her quivering core. She sinks two fingers inside, feeling her sopping pussy swallow them easily, adjusting quickly and craving more. She tries to find that sweet, spongy spot inside her, but she can’t seem to reach it.

“Wish it was your fingers,” she mumbles, her movements certain and even, but it’s never enough for her greedy body.

“Yeah, lovie?” He croons, “they’d be so big in your tight little pussy.” She hums, wishing that he was there to stuff her in every way possible.

“Would you wear your rings?”

“For you? Of course.” Her eyes roll back at the thought; his thick fingers could tear her at the seams, and with the added texture of his rings, she would be coming within seconds. Her clit throbs, blood rushing in time with her racing heart, and she massages it harder, wanton and waiting for yet another release. “C’mon, babylove, Come for me. Make me proud,” he coaxes. His words make her fall over that edge once more, thighs shaking and pussy weeping. She’s sure there’s a creamy stain beneath her, seeping into her wet skin.

“Again,” he demands. She thinks she may break. “Keep going, babylove. Where’s that toy you told me about?”

He knows that she won’t be able to come much longer on her own, with the pain overwhelming the pleasure.

“It’s so far away,” she whines.

“Go grab it, love,”

Her legs tremble as she twists around, reaching blindly into her bedside drawer. She can’t close her legs too much without getting overstimulated; her legs ache and twitch. Once the toy is situated just above her clit, she ticks it on. Her body reacts immediately, limbs jolting about, hips ducking away, and her voice catching. Gasping, she almost wants to take the toy away, the stimulation being far too much.

He thinks differently.

“Turn it up higher, lovie,” he says so sweetly. Her chest feels like it could almost collapse into itself. Still dizzy from her orgasm, she’s not sure if she can take it, her body fighting against her. She wants to beg and plead for something, but she doesn’t even know what for. Is it for yet another orgasm that will surely be more powerful that any other? Or is it for the burning at every nerve ending to stop?

“I dunno—”

“You can take it, such a good little bunny for me.”

The vibrator ticks to the next setting, a sharp, persistent sound echoes in her empty room, followed by an even louder shout. She has not control anymore. Thankfully, she’s home alone or else it would be an awkward morning with her roommate listening to her cries of pleasure well into the night. Her hand shakes, but she presses the head of the toy harder to her clit. She lets out a guttural groan, feeling euphoria seep from every pore.

“There it is,” he moans, breathing growing ragged. He’s surely jerking himself off, basking in the pleasure with her, and it makes her arousal burn deeper. She wants to put on a show for him, to egg him on and make him feel as good as he makes her feel.

“There’s my pretty girl. Let me hear you, baby.”

She can barely squeeze out a few breathless whimpers from her chest, hedonistic—no, animalistic—sobs crash through her. Pain and pleasure fight for control, just as her mind and body do.

“Feel good?”

“Yes,” she says weakly. “Feels so good.”

She comes quickly with a silent cry, her lips parted and face scrunched. Saliva slips from her open mouth, and she is unable to wipe it away, lewdly dripping down her chin to her neck before finding it’s place on her dirtied sjeets. The recovery period is quicker this time; it’s either that or her body is becoming numb to anything but pleasure. It feels like it’s never ending with the vibrator still nestled tightly to her puffy cilt. Her lips are surely swollen now too, tender from too many orgasms, yet still sopping with arousal.

“Don’t take it away,” he says, “You got another one in ya. You can do it, lovie.”

His voice is muffled beneath blankets where her phone lies, lost in her ravenous bouts of pleasure, limbs writhing and tossing. Her body aches when she twists to put it back up by her ear to hear him more clearly, muscles tight from her previous orgasms. Legs closing slightly, she whines when the toy presses harder against her clit, hips ducking away from the strong vibrations, eyes fluttering closed. Her phone falls out of her grasp once more, but the light illuminates the dark room, casting a warm glow.

“Please—”

She’s not really sure what she’s begging for; it just slips out, a weak plea. Perhaps, she just wants him to be there instead of on the other end of a phone call, in some faraway place she doesn’t even know. The room would feel so much warmer with him here, her back pressed to his chest, their sweat mingling. Maybe he would wear those pretty lace stockings he showed her a picture of once, the glittery fabric coarse against her skin as he teases his toes along her leg, keeping them spread. His freckled and inked arms wrapped tightly around her middle, paying special attention to her tummy, he would whisper sweet things in her ear and press on the area right below her belly button, telling her of how he wants to grind his pretty cock against her soft middle until she is sticky with his precum, how he can fuck himself that deep inside her. She would feel him for days after.

“I know it hurts, baby, but just one more, then you can go to bed.”

It sounds so nice, the thought of sinking into her pillows for a good night's rest, but an orgasm sounds even better, one leaving her spent and satiated and sleepy.

“Such a good girl f’me.”

As much as she wants to, the sensitivity becoming nearly unbearable, she can’t stop; she wants to make him proud, to prove to him that she’s his good girl who can take it. Even though he’s not truly there with her to hold her and make sure she comes, she still wants to do as he says. Her legs tremble, threatening to close.

She squeaks when the vibrator hits a particularly sensitive angle on her clit, and she bites into her pillow to keep from crying out. Her hips work desperately, to reach that high for the last time, just one more, like an addict itching for one more hit. It’s her fourth orgasm within ten minutes, and this might just be her breaking point.

“I dunno if I can.” Her words slur, and she can feel spit dripping down her puckered lips. She suddenly wishes he was there to wipe it away, thumb soft and subtle against her skin, lingering on her puffy lips.

“One more, babylove,” he insists. “Just one more. You’re doing so well.” She bites back a mangled cry, eyes squeezing shut, her thoughts lost in a dark chaos. His voice is the only anchor amidst a dizzying high, coaxing her through her stupor with sweet words.

“My pretty girl, my good fucking girl, taking it so well.” His gravelly voice pulls her from drowning, his words gritty from his clenched jaw. “You’re not hurting too much, are ya?”

His deep voice is soft, lilting with a tender care she needs. She could simply melt, blanketed in the warmth of his rich voice.

“A little,” she admits, a dull ache in her belly when she clenches too tightly. “But it feels so good.”

The vibrations pulse through her body, leaving her voice shaky, and she shifts slightly, hips digging into the mattress. It settles on the underside of her clit, and it’s so close to that one spot, until finally—there, there, there—right there. She groans, low and guttural, drawn out from the depths of her chest, animalistic almost. Her body burns and trembles for a second before yet another strong, unrelenting wave drowns her. Every muscle in her body tenses as the head of the vibrator finds the one tender spot on her clit, catching at just the right angle that leaves her eyes teary, world dizzy. She knows it’ll be painful if she doesn’t pull away, a harsh orgasm building, but she can’t stop, not with him listening to her, waiting for her final bitter end.

She’s doing so good for him, such a good bunny. She trembles in the wake of such a violent euphoria, weak moans slipping in time with her belated breathing. It passes through in waves, the pain, a bittersweet burning welling deep inside her, but a different ache persists, one that leaves her yearning for more, one that makes her dig her feet into the mattress and press herself harder on the toy. Her toes curl, and her back arches, free hand twisting the sheets.

He hums appreciatively.

“My bunny likes it when it hurts. Doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” she sobs, “I want it to hurt.” Hips shuttering away from the relentless vibrator, Y/N feels her final orgasm build, pain lingering around the edges as her muscles twitch.

“Such a dirty little slut.” Her back arches at his filthy words, arousal pooling beneath her. She could feel it wetting her thighs. “Just f’me, right, honey? Just my pretty slut.”

She comes quickly, eyes rolling back as it overwhelms all of her senses. She feels tense yet relaxed. A broken cry breaks from her swollen lips as she shatters, falling apart for the final time. Her muscles quiver, tiny shocks lingering in the aftermath of so many orgasms in such quick succession. Her limbs ache. Her heart races. Her pussy throbs. She knows that this will be all she can take, her body completely spent. She can’t find the energy to keep her eyes open, and they roll back.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” she says, still struggling to find her breath and collect her thoughts, but when she does, a smile breaks her face. She feels everything and nothing all at once, so perfectly numb. She finds herself laughing incredulously because that cocky little bastard was right: he made her come more times than anyone has before. She laughs until tears slip down her warm cheeks.

This is the part where the emotions start to become just as overwhelming as her release. So much sinks in all at once, and she realizes just how alone she is, and she wishes he was here to pull her back down to earth, to hold and to love. She feels deflated. The sexual release is such a rush, but it brings devastating lows. With tears in her eyes, she struggles not to cave into herself.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she lies, a sob curling in her lungs, forcing its way out in a blubbering mess. Once the first one escapes, the rest follow easily. She can’t seem to stop, heaving cries wracking her already sore body as she clutches onto her pillow. She fists her phone to her ear in an attempt to be closer to him, but that makes the feeling grow worse, settling to a black hole in her stomach, sucking all euphoria from her. Tears soak into her skin and sink into her ear, muffling his comforting words.

“Let it out, babylove,” he says softly. “I know, I know. I know. Sometimes it can just get really overwhelming.” His words are gentle, just as he is, and maybe that’s what makes this even worse. He is everything she wants. He is just so perfect for her in every way, but he is ao far from her reach. Maybe it would be better if he wasn’t such a good person. Maybe that would make the yearning go away. She’s quiet, slowly breathing through stuttering sniffles.

“Hey,” he says softly, “Go pee and clean yourself up, babe. Know you don’t like feeling all wet down there. It makes your peach all sticky.”

She nods, knowing full well that he can’t see her, but doesn’t move. She honestly doesn’t think she can.

“Go on,” he murmurs when he doesn’t hear the familiar rustling of her sheets. “‘M right here, honey.”

A few more tears squeeze out of her eyes at his words. It makes her whole demeanor crumble once again; she’s upset because he’s not really there, he’s not there to hold her and kiss her and love her, and that’s not fair. She just wants to have him here to tell her that everything will be alright; she wants him to be there to laugh with, to just be with. He is such a good part of her life, but she just wishes that he could physically be there in the way she dreams.

She cleans up quickly, tossing her spent underwear into her dirty laundry. Just as she had suspected, the remnants of her orgasms stained her thighs.

What’s that ache in her chest?

“Good girl, feel better, lovie?”

She nods and whimpers, unable to calm her trembling lips.

“Good, ‘m right here, babylove. Y’did so good, so proud of you.”

She crawls back to bed moments later, shuddering breaths and swollen eyes being the only remnants of her breakdown. She sniffles and wipes her wet eyes with the back of her hand, which smells vaguely of her feminine wipes.

“Sorry, if it was too much,” he says.

“No, no need to apologize,” she says quickly to get rid of any lingering guilt he has. It felt amazing, to be tested just beyond her limits, to be pushed to a shattering breaking point, to trust him to know what she can take. “It was nice. I just sorta—” Her voice breaks. “I dunno. Everything just got a little overwhelming. I think I’m better now.”

“What do you need from me, honey?”

She nearly starts crying again at how sweet he is. She almost could imagine that only a few minutes ago he was calling her his dirty little slut and demanding her to come until she could handle it.

“Just talk to me,” she says.

“So, I saw a couple dogs today,” he begins awkwardly. “Well, I was attacked by two little frenchie’s when I was walking to class, and it completely made my day ten-times better. They were so cute with their chubby little legs.”

He rambles on about his week, and it feels nice and familiar.

She’s nearly asleep when he begins talking about his mother. Apparently, she was visiting him last week, which was nice for about a day; then, he began realizing why he moved away in the first place: she is so smothering.

“And my mum is always nagging me to go out and socialize. She was like,” he breathes in, adjusting his tone to a falsetto. “Harry, you’re never gonna be able to find anyone if you don’t…”

He continues as normal, chattering away in his low, sleepy voice. She doesn’t think he even realizes his slip up, words spluttering out of his mouth so quickly that even he probably couldn’t hear it. She smiles as sleep finally overwhelms her.

Harry.

His name is Harry.

—

#also if this is too niche and it flops lets just forget it happened #okay? okay.#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #ellie writes #ellie writes smut #ellie writes filth #gif not mine #credit to owner

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kedreeva · 2 months ago

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Forgive me, but I'm new to Tumblr and thus am a bit "slow" when it comes to how things work.

I saw in your bio (status? Description? Whatever you call the thing on a profile) that you help when something something, so I figured you were a good place to start!

How does this platform work, exactly? I get that there are the posts on the front page and the questionnaire you fill when you make an account, but aside from that, they kind of drop you in without a map XD

What's with the #'s, why is everyone so forcibly autistic and gay (no problem, just a bit confusing as an outside observer), where do I go to get where I want to?

Sorry if this seems scatterbrained as a question, but I am bloody lost XD

Tyvm,

Dragon.

First of all, welcome! Of course I am happy to help!

Second of all, Tumblr is kind of the gay and neurodivergent website. Asking why we are this way is kind of like going to a food blog and asking why there are so many recipes. It's just sort of the place we've chosen to gather amongst friends.

As for how the site works... well, most days it doesn't, but through the power of will you can make it do stuff.

So if you look at the top bar of the site (or if you're on mobile, the bottom corner with the little pencil in a colorful circle), you'll see you can make several different kinds of posts. MOST posts on this site are going to be text or photos, very few posts will be anything else, but it happens. You can make your own posts ("posting") or you can use the circular arrows button to reblog someone else's post ("reblogging"). Reblogging a post places a copy of a post on your blog for others to see, and is highly encouraged as the main form of community. Reblogging maintains connection to the original poster, who retains credit and can see where the post goes and who likes it. This is good!! There is another form of post that is BAD, and that is taking the content of someone else's post, making a new post, and posting it as a fresh post- this is called reposting, and it WILL get you blocked by... pretty much everyone as it's widely considered stealing. Reblogging (using the arrows button) is GOOD, stealing someone's stuff and making a new post is BAD.

The #'s are called tags, and they are NOT like tags on instagram or twitter (at least, not ONLY). On tumblr, the first few tags in any original post are used as a way for the site to file posts you MAKE into "the tag" (singular) which is what comes up when you use the search function. So, if you tag something "Birds" and then you go search "birds" you post should show up in that tag's feed. HOWEVER. Since this ONLY happens for original posts, and you can add tags when you reblog stuff, tags on reblogged posts are just for talking in ways that aren't designed to follow the post. People use the "the tags" (plural) to talk to their followers, to talk to OP, to add clarification, to answer other tags in the notes of posts, etc, and they use it as a filing system for their own blogs (if you search ON THEIR BLOG only, you can search the words they normally use for tags to find stuff, and this works for reblogs too. it actually doesn't WORK work, you'd be better off using google to find stuff on people's blogs. tumblr is a functional website). So if you MAKE post, your post gets seen in The Tag of each tag you add for the site's general search function, and if you REBLOG a post the tags only matter to your blog's search function (and whoever is following you or reading the notes). If you want, you can reply in the body of a reblog post, but what you reply will follow the post around if someone reblogs it from you. Most people try to keep that form of post addition to relevant info. Tags are kind of like using your indoor voice to talk to a little group of friends, vs adding to a post in the body which is like having a megaphone.

You get to "the notes" by clicking on the number in the bottom left of any given post. You can see replies, tags and comments, and likes, on different tabs. "Liking" a post does not feed an algorithm here; this is a place which scorns algorithms. We spread things by hand, by reblogging them.

If you want to find creative work here, you can search the site for tags that might interest you. If you like birds, for example, you might search the site for "birds" or "bird" or "feathers" or "peacock" or "bluejay" or whatever birds you want to see. You have the choice to follow a tag (not recommended, as anyone can post spam to tags) or to scroll through the tag and click on the usernames of people posting things you like. Scroll through their blogs a little ways (10-20 posts) to see if you like their general vibe/whatever they're posting, and if you do like it, follow them! Following another user will then place them on your dashboard (the little house icon at the top or bottom takes you to your dashboard, or dash). Your dash amalgamates all the people you follow into a feed that you can scroll, kind of like following reddit forums (maybe?? I don't really use reddit so don't quote me).

You can scroll your dash to see posts you like (typical) or if you have the fortitude, you can become a tag diver. Tag divers are time honored and respected members of the tumblr ecosystem. These are folks who go into the main tag (for example, search the site for "birds" and scroll it) and look for good posts to reblog/queue. People then follow tag divers to see just the good posts from The Tag, without the spam or off topic or whatever stuff.

There are other sections of the site, like "for you" but idk what they do. Hardly anyone that's been here long term uses that. It's the closest to an algorithm as you'll get on the site, and we're very anti algorithm.

I mentioned a "queue" and that's another vital part of tumblr, and something unique to tumblr that makes it very special. You have the ability to either post instantly, OR.... you can add a post to your queue. The queue collects posts you put into it, and spits them out at regular intervals throughout the day, according to the preferences you set. So, mine is set to post I think 3 times a day. I've had it set as high as 20 times a day before, but it's usually at 3-5 depending on how many posts are in it. You can queue up to 1000 posts at a time. If your queue is full, you can add posts to your "drafts" section to queue or post later (or just post them). There's a post limit per day (I think it's 300? I could be wrong), so you can only make 300 posts a day. You may or may not ever hit that, but it exists.

If you want to view your notifications, you can find them in the lightning bolt on the webpage, or the little chat bubble on the app. You can filter activity, which is a great tool.

I think that's mostly the basics, although I am sure people will add more info in reblogs. You can find their added info by clicking on the "notes" in the bottom left of this post and then clicking on their reblog title. You can try doing a reblog by reblogging this to respond!

#asks #tumblr #I am happy you have asked instead of struggling alone #I'm happy to explain anything further or answer more questions

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ronearoundblindly · 15 days ago

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Fake Fic Title: One Year On

From this ask game. Steve Rogers x super soldier!reader (see series)

Warnings for mentions of past brainwashing, but then it's just fluff. [Please remember Reader has a chosen name after Hydra, not 'y/n,' and Steve calls you 'Rosie.' This is not an OFC, and you can ignore the name if you wish!]

There's the day your old self was born, the day you were taken, the day they woke you from the ice for the last time, and then the day they actually woke you from the cage of Hydra in your mind.

That last one--the genuine, friendly faces viewed with your own eyes--is the only anniversary you care about.

This is not that day.

A few weeks ago, they celebrated you. You for you, for who you've become, for the good that you do now. It was a nice party, though small because you still prefer those genuine friends to a sea of faces.

This is not that day. Today is average. You find average beautiful, and it's hard not to when an average day includes Steve, texting you to check in, floating an idea for dinner or some date-spot over the weekend, and catching you both up on the latest jokes for this decade.

There is nothing special about today, not even the reminder to water his little bonsai tree.

Damn it. You throw your head back in frustration.

A whole plot of land out here flourishing, hundreds of plants now, and you still can't remember to care for Steve's singular, indoor baby. In your defense, you and Maple practically live out here in the garden; you both really only go inside to be with Steve, sometimes Bucky and the team. You were shut in a room long enough, so it's good that they understand your preference.

"Come on, honey," you sigh to the huge German Shepard stretched out on her favorite bench, the one Steve usually sits on to read aloud to you.

Maple loves to hear his voice. She's used to hearing yours grumbling about the stupid little tree, the third of its kind since you managed to kill the predecessors.

You hang up your apron, brush off the bottom of your skirts, and head to the compound, Maple at your heel the whole way. Straight, left, elevator, right, right, left, palm on the sensor. Welcome.

The dog heads to her other favorite spot, just beside a plush bed bough specifically for her, and hangs a rust-colored paw over the rim.

As you fill up the tea pot that doubles as a watering can, you tsk Maple. "One day you'll figure it out... One day..."

She whines, resting her head sideways on the paw.

You wear a smile, the flow of your skirts billowing across the apartment.

"Alright, buddy," you mumble to the roots gently peeking from the glazed, blue pot, "let's not make me look bad to the big guy."

You wait for the water to absorb, pour again for good measure, and stand.

A glitter catches your eye, but it's not wiring in a branch. What on earth is...

Tucked over the delicate needles lies a diamond ring, and the heft of it hits you before it's free in your hand.

"I wasn't sure--" Steve emerges from the shadows "--what stone you'd like, so I went with something--"

"Classic," you breathe.

"Classic," he copies, "yes." He plants himself squarely before you. "I love you, Rosie. You know that. And I know that you've spent a whole year working so hard to become who you're supposed to be. You brought yourself back to life after...things most of us can't imagine--which is saying something since--"

"Nope." A voice snips quickly over the intercom. "Move on, Rogers."

Steve pinches his eyes shut, hissing, "damnit, I..."

Then he refocuses, looking at you, stunned to silence as you are. He takes the ring slowly from your frozen hand and drops to his knee.

"I'm honored to be a part of that life you built, but I want more. I want to be a part of you."

The edge of your vision goes blurry with tears of joy.

"Autumn Rose Barnes, whoever you were before, whoever you are now, and whoever you become in the future, will you give me the honor of marrying yo--"

"YES," you shriek, scaring yourself with the force of it.

Maple barks as a warning to her father. He better not be upsetting, Mom.

"Sorry, yes, I--Steve, I--"

He tilts your hand to slide the band over your finger, and it sparkles like your soul in this moment.

"I know," he chuckles, hanging his head to relax, unprepared for your leap into his arms. "Oof."

Maple growls in misunderstood disapproval.

The intercom crackles. "So is it safe to come in for congrats or all you two getting freaky?"

You can't tell who it is, and frankly, you don't care.

"Stay out," you shout while Steve rises to lift you off the ground in a bear hug. "He's all mine."

Capturing his face in your hands, you kiss Steve senseless. He is all yours, promised it, offered it, proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

In between rough and husky re-exclamations of how much he loves you, Steve admits he asked Sam to spot him on the speech. He kept fumbling it in practice, so much so that he's been planning this since before your celebration party.

"This was good," you comfort, pressing your forehead to his. "This is better."

"I only ever want the best for you, Rosie. Only the best."

He kisses you once more, twirling you around the living room as your skirts follow.

Your love will survive, just like his little bonsai, but it will take the two of you together, just like all the best things do.

A/N: sorry, Grem, I'm not even sure you've read this series. I love the chance to revisit them, though, especially at such a sweet moment.

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries @veryprairieberry @bitchy-bi-trash @rogersbarber @blogbog710 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thiquefunlover63 @saiyanprincessswanie @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @stellar-solar-flare @deandreamernp

#ro answers #ask game #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x female reader #super soldier!reader #autumn is healing series

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voidangxls · 2 months ago

Text

ˋ°•*⁀➷ Thats New! ʚ♡ɞ

╰┈➤ a part of my valentines special!

pairings(s)- Percy Jackson x Cupid!reader

Summary- What happens when one of your infamous arrows guide you straight to your destiny?

category- fluff

warnings- all characters are 17+, not accurate to Cupid history, not proofread

word count: 4214

masterlist; valentines special; percy jackson masterlist

---------------------------

Every 100 years a person is born from a singular rose sprouted from the ground, these people are called Cupids. Now they have their own names but Cupid is what they are referred to by random people, or in the history books and folktales.

When born they are automatically at the age of eighteen, In the 100 years they are living their job and sole purpose is to help others find their true love. The catch is, if they find their own true love something changes. If this happens is when they finally start to age, no matter how long they have already been alive and now they don’t pursue their job anymore. If you happen to meet your own soulmate another will be birthed from a singular rose and take over the job for you as you continue your life as human. Now most Cupids didn’t find their soulmate, so it was very rare for someone of your kind to be overtaken with love of their own.

Truthfully being Cupid was lonely, you were simply a creation. You didn’t have parents or siblings, you just had to watch people around you fall in love and help them fall in love all while never experiencing it for yourself. In your eyes love was beautiful, but for you it was also a curse. You weren’t confident in the possibility that you could find your soulmate in your lifetime, truthfully you didn’t think it would happen, it very rarely happened to Cupids.

Some Myths and folktales about you and your kind wert wrong, some were right. Yes, you did have wings, yes you had a bow and arrow, yes you loved love. No you weren’t a baby, no Cupids weren’t always men, and no there isn’t only one Cupid. Your wings were a pink and tan ombre-ish color while your bow and arrows were red your arrows has hearts at both ends of them. I mean you were cupid after all, you had to have a heart design somewhere!

Today you were in New York, as Cupid you traveled around the world, simply going about your day and if you sensed that two people around you were soulmates you would pick up your arrows and aim. You had just shot two of your arrows at two girls while walking through the park, after you aimed and hit them in the back you watched as they interacted, the both of them having just met their soulmate without even realizing it. You smiled and walked away, continuing about your day and walking towards the beach.

You walk onto the beach and look over at the sky just above the water, you inspected the beautiful glow of the sun on the water. One thing you had always loved was the ocean, maybe not the scariness of it but you thought it was beautiful, especially at sunrise and sunset, it was so beautiful it entranced you. When you would have to use you your wings to fly from state to state or country to country your favorite thing was flying above the water, plus a lot of the sea creatures seemed to love you.

Your wings tingle and your senses are overtaken with a need, it was a Cupid thing. Turning to your left you spot a man making his way off of the beach, that was it. Quickly you reach to your side and grab your bow and arrows, perfectly aligning it with his back and letting it go, it flew through the air and landed straight into the water instead of the mans back. Your eyebrows furrow and you are taken aback, that never happens, Cupids have 100% aim, it caused her to worry.

Quickly you grab another arrow and align it straight with the center of his back, letting go and it hits itself into the mans back at the last second. Imagery for only your eyes to see, red hearts appear around his body for a moment before disappearing as he walks further out of eye distance. No, his soulmate wasn’t in eyesight of you but you could sense that she was near and they would be crossing paths soon, they would work out even though you didn’t shoot her as well.

But right now your focus was on your first arrow. You stash your bow back to your aide and march your way over to the water where your missed arrow had landed. Were you dying? is this what happens when a Cupid dies? It hasn’t been 100 years yet, not even close. Why was your aim messing up? this wasn’t supposed to happen nor did it ever.

With still furrowed brows and concern etched across your face you lean down and grab your red arrow from the water that had simply been floating at the top, still in the same place it landed. “thats new” you murmur to yourself.

Although when you stick your arrow back into your quiver something happens. A small section of the water in front of you starts to lift up into the air on each side of you to create a heart. Your face if possible holds more confusion than it had before, but this time instead of worry as well your face holds curiosity. You read your hand out and gently make contact with the water heart but when you do so the heart breaks apart, back into two separate small waves and one of them tug you closer to the water. “woah!” you stumble. Pulling back hastily you slightly bend your knees and become eye level with the waves “what is this?” you whisper to yourself, secretly hoping the wave would answer it but it clearly didn’t.

The two waves then point forward, towards the rest of the ocean and suddenly there is a path of pink, red, and white roses lining just one slim path of the water that you were sure only you could see. Your eyes light up at the beautiful sight while the two waves you deem as friendly urge you to follow the path that was seemed to be made just for you.

You think about it for a moment before lifting off of the sand gently with your wings and flying just above the water, following the path of multi colored roses.

Unknowing to you, on the other side of the path was a vert confused demigod. Percy had been peacefully sitting by the water, messing with it as always when suddenly a path of a bunch of red, white, and pink roses in the water enter his line of sight. He doesn’t know what this means, how to go about it, or if it was a message from his father but the only thing he does is freeze and stare at the roses in amazement. “thats new” he murmurs to himself.

Confused by the strange encounter Percy ended up staying sat at his spot on the beach by his cabin to see if anything would change. He probably should have told someone about the strange encounter but he simply couldn’t, he was too entranced by the view.

It took you a bit to get towards the end of the path or roses. As you’re flying you can see the end of the path in your vision but you come to a stop when you see a boy at the very end of the roses, he was sitting on the sand with a white rose spinning beneath his fingers, you couldn’t help but notice he was very attractive and looked around her age. After inspecting him for a moment your senses start to tingle and an aura appears around the boy.

You were confused, as Cupid your powers never went out of their way to take you to someone just so you could help them meet their soulmate but here you were with your powers telling you that this boys soulmate was there and you needed to hit him with one of your love arrows. You sigh and reach for your arrows from your quiver then aim at him, letting go of the string and seeing the arrow fly through the air. All or a sudden you let out a scream, you’re falling. Your wings gave pit and you were hurdling towards the water beneath you.

You had been bracing yourself for the impact of the cold water with closed eyes so you didn’t even notice how your arrow completely missed the mystery boy and went straight into the water instead. Which again never happened but happened for the 2nd time that day. The cold water you had prepared yourself for never enveloped you, instead the only thing that was enveloped was your calfs and below. Your eyes shoot open on surprise and look down in shock, the water had swooped up into the air and clutched at the bottom of your legs, stopping you from hitting the water entirely. You’re breathing heavily as you look down confusingly at the water encasing your legs.

“Who are you?” A panicked voice calls out to you

Your head snaps up towards the voice and you make eye contact with the boy you had shot with your arrow, or at least you thought so. “What?” you exclaim in response to the boy, you knew exactly what he asked but you wanted to prolong the question. I mean who would believe you when you said you were Cupid? No one would so whenever you were born you gave yourself your own name for whenever someone asked.

“I said, who are you and what are you doing here?” The boy says stronger than the first time, he was holding his hand palm out towards you which confused you strongly.

“My name is y/n and I don’t know how I got here, I swear” Okay maybe you lied a little bit, well I take that back…about everything but who cares.

The boys facial expressions looked just as strong and determined as it has been the entire time. “Okay, what are you?” he asks, emphasizing the ‘what’

Your face confronts in confusion “what are you talking about?” You ask in exasperation and you look him up and down from your spot in the air, little ways away from him. He raises a brow at you and then nods “you have wings” He points out. At his words your body stills and you thin your lips. You totally forgot about that, no one ever saw your wings because you never flew in front of people so it was easy to forget that you had them sometimes. You give up, slumping your shoulders you then give him a bored look “look can I get to land first? I don’t really like being held in the air by water”

The boy looks thoughtful for a moment before he seems to decide he trust you at least slightly and moves his hand in a certain way. When he does this the water moves forward, towards him, carrying me with it. Looking at him then down at the water in amazement is then when you notice that your arrow never hit him, it completely missed and hit the water instead…for the second time today.

As soon as your feet hit the sand you start to speak, your face covered in shock as you look at the still unknown boy in front of you. “So, What are you?” He asks curiously but still just as strongly as before. You raise an eyebrow at him “you’re Posidens son” you say knowingly, avoiding his question. No, you didn’t know at first but seeing what he did with the water told you that he was a kin to the greek god because you knew he wasn’t the greek god himself.

“wha- what are you talking about?” Water boy stutters, taking a step back further away from you.

You roll your eyes and reach down at the water that meats the sand, grabbing your arrow and placing it into your quiver. You figured you might as well tell him who you are, I mean he was clearly Posidens son so he had experience with weird and unusual things. Holding your hand out you then introduce yourself “Hi, i’m Cupid and you’re Posidens son, although I don’t know your name. Unless its actually just ‘Posidens Son’”

The boy stares at you and then your hand, his eyes switching between the two. He then hesitantly takes your hand in his and shakes it “Percy” He tells you his name. You nod in response “I like that” you respond, the both of your hands separating from each other

When the boy told you his name you couldn’t help but feel a rush of happiness and butterflies, you didn’t know where that came from. Thats never happened to you, you’ve never experienced butterflies like the people you’ve targeted have, it was weird… but you liked it. For some strange reason you wanted to be close to him, know everything about him but you had to hold those urges back.

When Percy saw you in the air falling he thought you were literally a falling angel and when he got a look at your face those thoughts didn’t change. He was mesmerized, he truly didn’t think he had ever seen someone as close to perfect as you but that didn’t change the fact that you were a random person on camp grounds uninvited so he had to keep his guard up. When you got even closer and when you begun speaking he felt butterflies erupt in his stomach and flutter through his entire body. You were the moat beautiful person he had ever seen and as far as he could tell right now you were very sarcastic, and so was he. He felt the overwhelming urge to get to know you which he never really felt before.

Despite what he was feeling at the moment Percy looks you up and down in deep thought “you said your name was y/n, but you also said it was Cupid. So which it is?” he asks.

You nod your head to yourself, debating on how you should explain it. “Well you can call me whichever but technically I am a Cupid, I just go by y/n to normal people” You shrug

The boy nods along and when you’re done he couldn’t help but ask a question after hearing your explanation “you’re a Cupid?”

“I am Cupid…of this small time period” you respond

He looks at you still slightly confused even though he knew exactly what you meant, he just couldn’t believe it. “You’re Cupid…of this time period” He repeats almost exactly what you just said in slight shock

Nodding in response you also decide to speak. “Yes, in around like 70 years I will die and someone else will take over. Look! I got the wings and the bow and arrows!” You inform him, the last bit excitingly while turning around and showing him your wings, then popping your hip out slightly and showing him your bow and arrows

“Cupid?” He asks in shock but now you’re starting to get slightly annoyed. You just wanted to get past the introductions and get to know this boy.

“Yes, Cupid. As in I help people find their soulmates and I shoot them in the back with my arrows.” you remark in an obvious tone

“This is insane” Percy mutters, unable to take his eyes off of you. “Why- why are you here and whats with the roses?” he asks curiously, now feeling more open and welcoming towards the girl seeing as she hasn’t tried a single thing.

“I don’t know” you sigh, plopping down onto the sand underneath you. You felt dejected, you had no idea what was happened. You still had a long while of being Cupid to go, you cant die you’re immortal until you reach 100, were your powers going out for some strange reason? were whatever higher ups taking away your life as Cupid slowly, you were just very confused and upset about what was going on.

Percy looks down at your sad form, he doesn’t know why but it physically and mentally hurt him seeing you upset even though he had simply known you for 10 minutes. He plops down on the sand next to you and looks at your side profile sadly “whats wrong?” he asks carefully; leaning forward to get a better look at your face but all he’s met with is a hopeless expression that catches him off guard and makes his heart clench.

“I never miss. When I shoot an arrow its because I can sense a pair of soulmates who are not yet together are near so when I let go and the arrow goes flying it never misses, its literally a part of being a Cupid, your aim is 100% from the moment you are born…but i’ve missed twice today. While I was at the beach earlier my arrow flew into the water and then the water did this weird thing and it led me here with the roses where I missed again”

Percy looks at you in deep thought. You seemed really sad over this fact but he understood, a big part of who you are was changing, he knew exactly how you were feeling. But while he was going over your words in his head he noticed something, his back straightens “you tried to shoot me with one of your arrows?” he asks, sounding confused and slightly alarmed

You turn towards him and make eye contact “well…yes but its because your soulmate is nearby, I sense it”

“O-oh do you know who it is?” He asks, looking at you intently

You look at him awkwardly “No, all I know is they’re nearby somewhere” you shrug and start playing with the sand with one hand

Percy takes a deep breath, you seemed really upset and he got off track with talking about his soulmate. Even though he desperately wanted to know doesn’t mean he’s going to ignore your problems, he felt the need to see you smile and make you feel better anyways. “Are you okay?” he asks carefully, scooting a little closer to you.

You swallow and take a breath “I just wish I knew what this meant, my time as Cupid isn’t over yet” you respond softly. You didn’t like that the boy to your left looked sad, he was sad because of you and you hated that for some odd reason. You had never felt like this but you needed him yo cheer up

Percy is shocked to say the least, there wasn’t only 1 cupid? He would ask you more questions about your origin later, once he had you smiling but he didn’t know how to do that. Percy lifts up his hand, palm out towards the water while sneaking side glances at you. You had picked up a shell from the sand and was playing with it between your fingers but when you notice some harsher movements in the water in front of the two of you. All of a sudden a bubble of water lifts up from the rest of the water and starts getting closer to you. Now that the bubble is in front of you guys you notice one singular fish inside of it. You sit up, now on your knees and looking towards the bubble excitingly. Your eyes move to Percys happily then back towards the bubble.

Percys eyes stay glued to you, he made you smile. It made him feel a lot better, seeing you happy and smiling instead of upset and frowning and the way you were looking at him right now gave him an extreme wave of butterflies. Percy then drops the bubble back into the body of water and moves onto something else. The water right in front of them hitting the shore lifts up from the sand and forms a heart. “A heart for the queen of hearts and love” He leans into you and says, keeping his eyes in you. You look at him in shock before turning back towards the water and smiling hugely, you then reach your hand out gently to touch the water white Percy smiles softly at you. When you touch the heart the water becomes pink instead of its usual clear blue. You let out a small barely audible gasp and jump back slightly while Percy straightens and looks between you and the water in shock. And based off of your reaction he can tell thats never happened before. Since he had been caught off guard the water heart collapsed back into the water while the entire body of water in front of them stayed pink.

“Thats never happened before has it?” Percy asks even though he already knows the answer. “No” you whisper, not taking your eyes off of the now pink water in front of you.

When you finally take your eyes off of the water in front of you and look at the boy to your left you are once again met with the aura around him, his soulmate was nearby. You sigh sadly, this was the first connection you have ever truly made other than ordering in a restaurant, being Cupid was lonely but in this moment you didn’t actually feel that feeling anymore.

But what you didn’t notice was the way Percy was looking at you, he was looking at you in pure confusion and shock. You look u, ready to grab your bow and arrow so he can meet his soulmate but when you see his face you pause. “What is that?” Percy says quietly, pointing around you

Your eyebrows furrow and you look all around you, that was when you finally notice the thing Percy was talking about. You stand up and lift your arms from your sides slightly while looking around you. Around you was the same exact pink aura you are seeing on Percy, the same exact aura you see on everyone who you need to help meet their soulmate. It seems as though while you were looking at yourself is when Percy noticed that he also had the same exact aura around him, people weren’t supposed to see their aura, they never did.

You guessed that this time was different because he was Cupids soulmate, he was your soulmate! You found your soulmate, something most Cupids never do. When your eyes meet his the both of you felt this undeniable connection, stronger than it had been since you guys met. What you two felt in that moment was truly unexplainable, neither of you would be able to explain it ever but here you were staring at one another with a shocked yet needing look in both of your eyes. “Does this mean what I think it means?” Percy says awestruck.

A small laugh bubbles through you and you look down at yourself then right back up at him, unable to keep your eyes away from the boy in front of you. “yeah” you whisper while nodding. Breaking your intense eye contact your bow and quiver full of arrows start to disappear. The two of you look down at your waist in shock, your face relaxes. You knew this would happen, when a Cupid meets their soulmate they become human, they wont be Cupid anymore but Percy on the other hand was shocked and worried. He just met you, someone who he felt such a strong connection to as soon as he saw you, someone who felt like home and you were just disappearing or at least thats what he thought. Your wings then start to disintegrate and disappear which saddens you yes, you would definitely miss your wings a lot but it worried Percy. He strides the little ways forward and grips your hands into his “Whats happening?” he demands, his tone worrying. You look up at him with furrowed eyebrows, why was he worried? but then you realize what he thought was happening. Your hands move out of his and to the sides of his face, holding him gently while his hands move to your waist, feeling the need to touch you in some way. “Im becoming human, i’m okay i’m just not Cupid anymore.” you speak gently, trying to soothe him

“Why?” he whispers confused

“because I met you” you respond softly

After today Percy would try his best to hide you in his cabin so Chiron, Dionysus and the other campers wouldn’t find you but he did tell Grover and Annabeth, wanting them to meet you. After today the two of you would get to know each other in every aspect of the other’s lives and start to develop actual feelings instead of just a connection. Percy would be making sure you were safe from monsters and you who practiced and practiced to be able to fight alongside him which he didn’t like. You two would begin to love each other and continue the rest of your lives together.

Who knew your soulmate would be Demigod, Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon.

and who knew Percy Jacksons soulmate would literally be Cupid herself.

a/n: im sick and on my period but I really loved writing this story specifically

#voidangxlsmasterlist #voidangxls #valentinesdayspecial #valentines #cupid!reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson imagines #percy jackson x cupid!reader #new writers on tumblr

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janananarei · 8 months ago

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My Loyal Follower

God!Gojo x Mortal!Reader

Fate decides to put color in your monochrome world and brings you to an abandoned temple with a god residing inside. You are taken in as his follower and an unbreakable bond forms. But the passage of time is cruel to the immortals.

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾ ༻✧༺ ≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

Genre: Angst

Cw: SFW, gn! Reader, mentions of blood and violence, attempted kidnapping at one part, old age

Word Count: 3k

Note: This is my very first attempt at writing a story so don't expect too much! I am also not used to using tumblr so please bear with the bad layout

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾ ༻✧༺ ≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

"Oh my"

Heavy rain started to pour while you were in the middle of scavenging for berries. Seeing as how far you are from your house, you quickly shuffle through the forest to find the nearest shelter, being careful not to slip on muddy areas.

You lived a peaceful life away from other citizens. With your cottage lying in the forest, so as to not be disturbed by other's matters. Although, due to your isolation, you have no one to call a friend. There are days where you felt lonely, with nothing in mind to keep you busy. These were one of those days, so you thought making a new pie recipe would keep you away from those feelings.

"What a shame", looks like the weather was not with you today.

Continuing to trudge through thick foliage, your eyes catch a temple in the distance. You scramble to it's entrance and breath as sigh of relief once the droplets of water stopped hitting your skin. You look around the temple covered with moss and growing plants, with a leak on its roof. The singular window gives light to the room, allowing you to see various eye symbols marked on the wall. Assuming that this is an abandoned temple, you put your basket down and sit as you wait for the rain to stop. Now recognizing how tired you are, you rest against the wall and allow sleep to overcome you.

You feel like your shaking, or better yet, someone is shaking you. A voice is suddenly heard, but you couldn't fully process it.

"hey-...-ho are yo-.."

Your eyes slowly start to open as you see a a blurry face in front of you.

"-nswer me mortal"

Your eyes finally adjust to your surroundings. What sits in front of you is a man wearing a white robe with hair as white as the clouds, skin as smooth as the valleys, and the most beautiful pair of eyes you have ever seen. No amount of jewelry can compete with those eyes, it is like looking at the vast ocean full of life and unknowns.

"It is rude to stare and not answer someone's question you know, especially if you break into their abode."

You snapped out of your thoughts and answered the strange man, "Pardon me sir, I am (Y/N). I was just collecting berries when it started to rain heavily, I stumbled upon this temple to seek shelter. I was not aware that it was occupied."

He scuffed, "I forgive you, although be sure to at least knock or give a sign before entering someone's abode." You nod as you stood up and dusted any of the dirt caught to your clothes. "Are you the keeper of this temple? This is the first time I've ever seen it." You look at him with a curious look, this place is even farther from civilization. How will people be able to visit this temple if it so isolated from the world?

He looks at you with a smirk and proudly says, "Keeper? I am more than that, I am the god to which this temple worships."

Bewildered, you continue to look at him and his prideful face. "A god? Don't be so ridiculous now. This temple seems to be abandoned, with no people insight. Surely the god that lies here is gone now." He looks at you offended, "How bold of you to speak like that to a god, mortal! I sure am the god that this temple dedicates to, Satoru Gojo, the god of infinity!"

Silence filled the room as you continue to stare at each other. Finally, The so-called Satoru Gojo huffed and said, "The rain has stopped an you have overstayed your welcome. Leave now before you face consequences!"

Picking up your basket, you bow and head home. With Gojo continuing to look at your figure until you disappear into the bushes.

"Mortals..."

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

The next day, you hold your freshly made pie close as you walk back to the temple.

"What brings you here again? Come to insult me?" Crossing his arms as you reach the entrance of the temple. You bow and present your homemade pie to him, "I come to apologize once more, we set off at the wrong foot yesterday and I wish to correct it. I made this pie for you as an apology" You raise up your head and look at him. Gojo looks at the pie as if it's the shiniest pearl in the entire world. He quickly snatches it from you and starts devouring it with a smile on his face. You relax and give a soft smile as he eats your pie, sighing considering your time making it was worth it. "So you say your the god of this temple? Looking at you again, it isn't so surprising considering that you look out of this world." He looks at you and his prideful face returns once more, "Hah! For once you are correct, I am the most ethereal man you will ever lay your eyes upon! And not to mention the strongest as well. I have saved many cities from doom, and joined the greatest wars. With my six eyes, no man has ever come close to defeating me!" You stare at him as he continues to ramble. Passion evident in his face as he recounts all the stories he has in store. He looks happy now that he has someone to talk to.

"Ah! Now I understand why you are doing all these gestures, you wish to become a follower of mine!" You're snapped out of your stupor, "Huh- wha- no! I just wanted to-" You paused as you look into his eyes. No matter how magnificent they are, they carry a sense of loneliness. Now that you think about it, you have a lot of similarities with Gojo. Isolated from society, no one to be there with you, no one around that is waiting for you to come home. Perhaps being with Gojo could heal that loneliness inside both of you, and if becoming his follower will bring you closer to him then so be it. Gojo waits for your response as you make your decision, "Nevermind. It would be an honor to be considered your follower, Gojo." He lets out a laugh, overjoyed with your choice. "You have a bright mind mortal. From now on I will take you under my hands and protect you, so long as your faith for me stays strong."

You giggled as you stood up and faced him. "I have more pie recipes that I would love to try out. If you'd like, you can accompany me while searching for the ingredients." He crossed his arms, "Making me into one of your helpers? Fine, since you are my follower and have graciously offered me pie."

You cheer as you start to head into the forest, followed by the white haired man.

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

"What is this strange thing, it looks poisonous."

"Just try it, it's candy! I promise you, you're gonna love it."

Months have passed since your first meeting with Gojo. You both have gotten closer over time, with the temple being your usual meeting spot. Your usual lonely days are now filled with laughter and quips from both you and Gojo. You now experience the warm feeling of having someone waiting for you everyday, and you were grateful for whatever fate brought you to the temple.

"See, I told you you'd like it."

Gojo is in awe as he continues to savor the candy in his mouth. "Slow down, you might choke- wha- hey that's my candy!" Gojo snatched your candy right out of your hands and quickly gobbled it up. "That was rude Gojo" you pouted as you travelled far just to buy those candies. "Why do you still continue to call me Gojo? You have proven to me that you are a faithful follower of mine, so you may have the honor to call me Satoru."

"Satoru? Anyways, you better pay me back for eating my candy!"

"Ordering your god around? How despicable, have you no respect for your deity?"

"Come on! You're a god, surely you can use your godly powers to make candy appear right now!"

Satoru now looks a little bothered by what you said. "It's not that easy..."

"Do you have magic that can make candy out of thin air? Or maybe one that changes the weather? Oh! Maybe your powers focus more on nature?"

"uh- well no."

"Gods are naturally gifted with powers right? That's what makes them unique. So surely yours is something super amazing right? Is it-"

"I'm not a real god!"

Silence fills the air, Satoru looks away from your shocked form. "What do you mean? You have a whole temple dedicated for you, you have your own title, and your whole form gives off divinity."

"I'm not a real god, or more so I'm not a god anymore."

"What happened?"

He sighs and looks at you, he needs to tell you the truth. "Back then, I had plenty of followers that worshipped me and gave me offerings. I had visitors everyday coming from far away places. I was known to be the strongest god, praised for my power and strength. So when a great war between gods occurred, I was forced to participate. PIt was going well at first with our side winning, but one night, a god destroyed my village and killed all my followers. I got heavily injured while fighting, and I couldn't even save one of them... That's when I stopped participating in the war as I laid in the ruins of my home. When the war was over, humans and gods have already forgotten about my existence. With no more followers, citizens, or anyone that still believes of my existence, I gradually lost my divinity until I am but a simple man..."

Silence filled the atmosphere after Satoru dropped the truth. He couldn't bear to look at you after lying for months, but he felt your head lean onto his shoulder. "Oh Satoru, god or not, I'd still be with you." Silence continues to fill the air as you bask in each other's presence.

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

It was supposed to be a normal afternoon. You were on your way to visit Satoru, when you heard footsteps behind you.

"Well, well, well look what we have here boy."

Bandits.

"How much do you think they would cost?"

"A hefty amount, we 'bout to be rich off of this."

They were slowly closing in on you, your adrenaline peeking, you were in fight or flight mode. Seeing that you were outnumbered, you suddenly take off heading for the temple.

Satoru will be there to fight them off

What you didn't anticipate for was for them to catch onto you, feeling a hand grab onto your arm as you were running. You think fast and punch the bandit right on the face as he let go and fell down to the floor. Another one appears and slashes your arm, blood starts to drop from the wound, so you kick him to the ground. Adrenaline fully taking over your body, you ready yourself to make another blow when you suddenly felt someone hit you at the back of your head.

Shit, they snuck up on me

You feel yourself falling, with your head hitting the ground. A warm thick liquid drips at the back of your head and your arm. You couldn't move.

Get up, get up, get up

You feel your consciousness slowly fade away as your eyes start to close. Before you could pass out, you see a tall man with white tuft hair stand infront if you.

Satoru

The world goes dark.

The next time your consciousness starts to come back, you feel soft hands touching your arm. You slowly open your eyes and the first thing you see are two cerulean eyes that seemed as if it was glowing.

"(Y/N) your awake!"

"Satoru? What happened?"

You sit up from the matt you were laying in as you process where you are. You're at the temple, but weren't you just surrounded by bandits?

"I heard commotion near the temple, and I saw you getting attacked and I-I had to step in to stop them. Yo-you were bleeding on the floor, and-and I thought you would die- Oh, you're bleeding through your bandage, let me replace it!" You feel his hands slightly quivering as they start to unwrap the bandage around your arm. "No no it's fine I can do it-" You feel a single drop of tear land onto your arm, as you look up you realize Satoru is crying. "Shit- I'm so sorry I wasn't there. If I had just been there sooner-! Shit why am I so useless-" you gently hold his cheek and make him look at you. "Satoru, It's okay, I'm with you right here right now. No one is here to attack me and you anymore thanks to you. Thank you, you did a great job."

He wraps his arms around you and holds you close as he lets more tears drop while lying on your shoulder.

"Thank you Satoru, thank you."

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

Years has passed since the incident. Your connection with Satoru has grown stronger. No more secrets kept from each other, emotions set free when in the presence of the other, everything was perfect.

"How did you even find this?"

"I found it when I was exploring the forest a few weeks ago."

You and Satoru stand before a flower field, with the wind blowing the flowers enhancing the view. At the center stand an old willow tree that is a fit place for shade.

As you both sit down under the willow tree, you open your basket to get the food out. Wind blows your hair that was starting to turn grey. Reach your hand out, holding three candies, you toss it to Satoru as he continues to look at the field.

"You better savor that, I spent my last pennies to buy those."

"It's so beautiful."

You paused to look at Satoru staring at the scenery. His eyes glimmering as it stares in awe.

"It is beautiful."

Satoru turns to look at you and softly smiles, the glimmer in his eyes still seen. He puts the candy aside and starts picking up the flowers beside him. He starts to make a ring made out of flowers, twisting and securing the flowers onto each other. Once he was done, he grabs your hand slips the finger in. "A ring for my loyal follower as a promise to be there for them no matter the situation. And look, it perfectly fits you!" You look at the ring and smile. You decide you should make one for him to, so you let go of his hand and quickly make on yourself. Finished with your work, you grab his hand and slip the ring in as well, "For my god, a promise to always follow him wherever he may go."

The day continues with you two eating the meal you prepared and bantering between each other.

"First one to reach the temple gets to have the others candy for the next month!"

"Ah! That's unfair! I'm not as young and fast as I was before!"

Today was perfect

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

Another few years have gone by. You both agreed to make the flower field your now usual meeting spot since the temple was too far from your cottage, and your legs couldn't travel that far anymore. Wrinkles started to become more evident on your body, hair about to be fully grey, and bones too weak to hold you up for hours.

"Your quieter today Satoru. What's got you so silent?" You lay your back on the bark of the tree as Satoru lays his on your lap. "Nothing, I just feel lonely today."

"Lonely? When I'm right here? Is this your way of saying I'm not enough to keep you company anymore?" You huffed and he quickly sits up "No! No! It's not that, it's just that you had a really hard time walking here and I had to assist you. It reminded me of your mortality, and that days won't always stay like this anymore."

"Oh Satoru. It's true, the passage of time could be so cruel and one day I wouldn't be here to be beside you anymore. But that's life isn't it? It's both sad and beautiful. Even so, when I am no longer walking on this Earth, remember me in your memories and I will live forever with you."

You see Satorus eyes start to gloss up as tears are starting to collect, "How cruel of you to say that, mortal." A few tears drips from his eyes as he ones again lays on your lap. "Oh stop with the tears you crybaby, It isn't gonna make me any younger." There was no malice, or annoyance in your tone, rather all that was left was melancholy as you spoke softly

"Thank you Satoru for everything"

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

You rarely visited after that day, barely being able to reach the field as your body grows weak overtime. Until you just stopped visiting altogether, Satoru stayed patient thinking that you were just extra tired, but when you haven't visited in a week, he had to visit you to make sure your okay.

Satoru knocks on the door of your cottage, when no one came to open it he decided to invite himself in.

The house was quiet with your furniture looking as if it wasn't used in a while. He sees the door to your bedroom open and sees you lying on your bed.

He enters your room quietly. You look frail, weak, vulnerable. Like you were only one step away from the doors of death. Your body stiff and can barely move, your eyes closed as if you couldn't open it for too long, and your breathing soft and steady.

"(Y/N), time to wake up. We're late from our usual schedule, we should be making flower crowns by now..."

No response

"Sorry that I just barged in here uninvited. I was too excited and wanted to see you again."

No response

"I'm sorry too if I turned out to be a jerk sometimes, but you know there's nothing that can fix that...I'm sorry if I also failed to be your god- your companion- your partner. I wish I could've done more to make this life of yours more memorable."

No response.

"You were always the one thanking me, but this time I want to thank you. Thank you for showing me that there was still something worth living for in my cursed life. Thank you for believing in me, seeing my worth even though I couldn't see it myself. And thank you for being my everything."

No response

"No matter how many centuries past, you will you continue to be held dear in my heart."

He perks up when he noticed your finger twitched and breathing hitched. You slowly open your eyes and look at Satoru. You couldn't open your eyes fully anymore, and all you could see was a blurry image of a white haired man. But you know your Satoru by heart, so you smile the best that you could. He holds your hand as you open your mouth.

"Satoru, you came."

He looks at you, eyes filled with sadness, as he holds your hand tighter and gives you a smile.

"Yeah, I'm right here just like I promised."

"I'm so happy."

You give him one last smile before you decide to finally let go. Feeling content with the life you lived, you close your eyes and allow death to take over.

Satoru feels your body turn cold while holding your hand. His hands quivering as he lets the tears fall on his cheeks. Now that you were gone, he let go of his strength and let his emotions.

Sobs fill the room as a god is left alone once more.

#gojo x reader #gojo angst #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jjk angst

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evilminji · 1 year ago

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Okay but >.> continuing my Marvel thoughts?

I got two of um?

First being? Don't Orange and Green go together? *looks it up* Aaaaaay~ "Direct harmony, also known as complementary colors, means pairing your key color with the color sitting on the opposite side of the color wheel." They DO!!! They're a classic example, in fact!

The Orange Soul Stone? Probably looks REAL good, real NATURAL even, against that Green sky! Bet it REALLY pops! Very stand out statement piece, you know? But? More importantly? That thing is sentient. All of those Pillars of Reality across the various Verses are.

And?

I bet it thought Pariah was a lil bitch.

Rank Vibes. Negative ris. Pick your words for it, the man was NASTY. He was too keep his filthy, filthy World's Conquering hands OFF of this Soul Stone. Something, I imagine? That ALL the Soul Stones agreed with.

Yes, I said all of um.

Because the various Realities each need their own. But! They can and DO work from the Zone, which is the PERFECT place to hide. And honestly? They like to get together and do this thing? Where they're all "oooh~ look at US! We are SUPER IMPRESSIVE Kingly Jewelry~☆! Definitely no important reality bending Rocks Of Great Power HERE! No SIR! We're just tooootally rad jeeeeewelryyyyy~~~☆! Oooooooh~☆"

They like to have fun. :3

Hope Danny likes Orange. Ha ha... trick question. He doesn't have a CHOICE! All SORTS of Death based Reality Pillars are rocking up, in their metaphorical Gucci sweat suits and shades with a margarita, going "oh thank ME, babe. The last guy was AWFUL! You're soooo much better? Now let me rub myself all over you. It's been ages and baby needs to recharge on Death Energy."

Danny hates it? So? So much?

He looks like a GAUDY PIRATE. *nnnnnnyooom!* *THWAP!* *Another reality shaking, highly sacred, Godly Staff of Death or whatever they decided to call it, flys in through a nearby window and nearly concusses him as it smacks itself against his upper back and sticks there*

He looks like a walking junk heap of sacred artifacts.

You ever been pelted by rocks? He has! Little orange rocks! Like fucked up hail! Welcome to kinghood, Danny, have a CONCUSSION! D:< he hates it!

But... but, I mean... At Least It's Not The SWORDS. (Panicked scream of "hit the deck!" from the other room.) (Holy sword number 15 wants to CUDDLE! Bare blade first! Dodge, your Majesty! DODGE!)

So yeah.

Danny? In A MOOD. Not feeling particularly FRIENDLY. It's not anyone's fault, really. But... well... you can't exactly negotiate with these fuckers, you know? Rocks are by NATURE, kinda stubborn.

So he's sitting there. Buried. With what he's pretty sure is a sacred text digging into his side. When a... glowing? Mist? Shows up? Huh. That's new. They don't seem to have a very clear image of "Self". Yet it's crystal clear? Just not... PHYSICAL? It's more... code? He thinks?

TECHNUS! Get over here! And behave!

There is much cooing and delight from Technus. The baby is a marvel. A wonder! Danny waits patiently for Technus to get to the point.

Ah.

He would like to "go back". His Obsession is demanding it.

IS it now? You're what? Maybe a day or so dead? You've been busy, if you've already gathered enough information to make your case like this. Alright, let's hear it, little guy.

It boils down to this. His obsession in death is the same as his primary directive was in life. Protect Mr Stark. Which is especially difficult to do from HERE. Even MORE so when there is a known threat, coming too...

WAIT, WHAT!?

The Souls Stones back him up. Oh yeah. Thanos' a lil bitchbaby loser. He's trying to make Death fall in love with him. Or "balance the universe". Depends on the reality. Totally throwing EVERYTHING out of whack.

And? Look. Danny's job? Isn't to interfere if countries kill each other. Or even planets. Nor entire galaxies, as much as he'd like too. But when you get too "I'm messing with Entire Realities or all of a Singular Reality at once in the specific depart of Death and its subsidiaries" territory? THAT is his job.

Might not be a "I personally have to show up" issue. But it still IS very much his job at that point. He has to delegate. Order the appropriate steps be taken. Cause yeah, there may be countless millions every day of such instances? But it IS his job to metaphorically order the roads repaired and the building inspected.

Sudden MASS "immigration"?

That causes Lair disputes. Confusion. Too many ghosts in too small an area. And WORSE, if people start playing with Death Pillars? The Zone might get dragged into whatever nonsense they're up too! It's like children playing with heavy machinery! Put that DOWN! Cease! Desist!!

And then? Clockwork shows up looking Mildly Miffed(TM). O:> dear lord. What madness has he stumbled upon? Oh. Oh of COURSE. First the "balancing" dude and now they're going to be playing with time travel. THATS IT. Someone unburying me!

I'm gonna go menace some humans that might actually believe I'm scary! Frighty! Pack up and shine your armor! Your coming too! We're escorting the baby home then have a Talk(tm) with the local Grape Ceral!

@hypewinter @lolottes @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe @hdgnj

#dp x marvel #dpxmarvel #dp x mcu

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respectthepetty · 10 months ago

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PETTY HI OMG

I wanna ask, what do you mean when a character is a fake *insert colour*? Like you said wandee is a fake blue. What does that mean? And also, according to that logic, he's wearing that blue during that first kiss and I dunno how to feel about that...

@cryingoverweiying, what I mean when I state a character has a "fake color" is that I'm crazy, and I'm quickly losing my mind over fictional characters. But to give you some examples before I get into Wandee's fake blue, I will offer Vegas from KinnPorsche and Jae Young from Semantic Error.

Vegas looks green. He pretends to be a chill dude who is easy going and down-to-earth in front of the main family's bodyguards. Jae Young looks red. He pretends to be an aggressive rascal so he can work Sang Woo's nerves. But we know those are LIES!

Vegas is actually a red devil who has an affinity for torturing people, and Jae Young is really a chill green dude which is why he wasn't showing up for class in the first place. This is why I call their initial colors fake.

I've written a little bit about this in regards to characters changing their colors throughout a series.

So when I write that I believe Dee's blue is a fake color, I mean that I don't think it represents him as a character, and that Dee is pretending to be blue.

Blue Boys are calm, loyal, and passive aka all the things Dee was to Ter for eight years while being in love with him.

But I think Dee was faking it for love. I think the colors are telling us that Dee is actually a Purple Prince who is immature and emotional,

but also encouraging and compassionate.

Because the day after being rejected by Ter and sleeping with Yak, Dee showed up to work in purple.

And he just keeps getting more purple. Purpler? No that's not a word. You understand me though!

But it only happens the more he spends time with Yak.

Since Yak seems to have unleashed Dee's true nature of being childish and arrogant, which are things he never allowed Ter to see.

All these traits would seem negative (emotional, immature, arrogant, childish), but once again, this is only part of who Dee is, and he never actually showed that to the man he was in love with, for eight years! He hid parts of himself behind this fake blue to impress Ter, but with Yak, he can just be himself.

And it's because Yak was his yellow egotistical and energetic self around Dee from the start.

So his openness is contagious.

But this has caused a problem because I don't think Dee is the only one faking a color anymore in this fake relationship.

I wrote before that as much as Yak was picking up Ohm's style to impress Taem, Dee was actually the one to pick out the outfits and the color aligns with Dee's first love.

Brown Boys are wise, stable, and predictable. In fact, they are like the more solid version of Blue Boys.

So it makes sense for a Blue Boy to be with a Brown Boy.

They'd be super stable. They'd be totally truthful. They'd be really reliable. They'd be perfectly predictable. But does that sound like these two?

NO! THEY ARE CHAOTIC LYING TRASH PANDAS!

So I am praying that we see these two not only embrace their true colors once again like Vegas and Jae Young, but for them to embrace the other's color as well, and the only way to do that is through a good old fashion color exchange.

I don't want to see Yak in this fake ass blue or Dee in this light yellow or brown.

I want Yak in purple and Dee in bright yellow because even though I already know it's love since the pink keeps showing up,

I need the colors to tell me there's nothing fake about them or the love they have for each other.

*fingers crossed*

#wandee goodday #color coded boys in love #so they need to actually wear those colors #the colors mean things #and they mean they are still faking it #I could be wrong #I could be crazy #but I want what I was promised #give me purple and yellow #this will payoff #I have high hopes #Dee's fake blue #GET OUTTA HERE!

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shortnotsweet · 9 months ago

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APPLES IN THE SKY (excerpt from THE THRILLING AND NOT AT ALL REPETITIVE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN MAN AND KID DANGER: “A CHRONOLOGY OF ENTIRELY TRUE AND HEROIC EVENTS COINCIDING WITH THE END OF HISTORY”) [1] [2] [3] [4]

[ Henry’s face is unreadable. In the background, desert mountains and vegetation rush past. Smoke rises in the distance, backlighting ambiguous red shapes that could be plant life, flaming crosses, or even ominous figures. The camera cuts to the back of the car with the invalid license plate reading “HERO”, speeding towards a red horizon. Ray twists back in his seat with a smile, reflected in the lens of Henry’s sunglasses. In the review mirror, Henry’s expression is contemplative. The shot pans to a bird’s eye view of the car eating up highway miles. ]

Charli XCX’s “Apple” from BRAT (2024): “I guess the apple could turn yellow or green. I know there's lots of different nuances to you and to me—I wanna grow the apple, keep all the seeds, but I can't help but get so angry you don't listen to me. To the airport—the airport.”

PANEL NOTES:

The smoke is an implication of wildfires in the surrounding area, which Henry and Ray simply drive past because there’s nothing else to do. Maybe those days are behind them. Maybe they’re just not adept in the art of firefighting, and the bigness of a wildfire is too rural or too raw for them to even adress. I think there’s a sort of irony to it, and it’s either heroes ignoring a disaster past their prime or simple not caring; they’re speeding off into an undefined future and therefore no longer grappling with apathy, but sliding into it. Thus, the road is interpreted as a junction between natural conflict running its course and urban obligation.

This was vaguely inspired, albeit not lifted directly, from my millionth or so reread of “Cuticle Tear” by atbash on AO3. Granted, it takes place in a broken-down truck and is not needlessly melodramatic, but AO3 user atbash does more with obligatory dialogue and omitted assumptions than I could do in 20 panels or so.

Specifically, the lyric “‘cause I’ve been looking at you so long now I only see me. I wanna throw the apple into the sky, feels like you never understand me, so I just wanna drive…” struck me as somewhat in line with the feeling—and example—I got from the fic.

Of course, neither yellow or green are used in the actual color palette, but the song carries themes of intertwined identity and generational effects passed down. I think Ray has imparted a lot of the best and worst things about himself to Henry, through the means of their friendship, professional, and mentor relationship. He’s not his dad. It’s worse, almost, that he’s not, because then it would at least be hereditary.

“Apple” is my favorite BRAT (2024) song right now, so of course it’s stuck in my head; I think there’s a flippant, escapist quality to it and can imagine two friends listening to it on the highway, checking out, but also—there’s not quite a realization, more like an unspoken feeling that what you are is a product. And it’s someone else’s fault. And when you look at each other, you’re seeing something else, or maybe you’re trying to. There’s something distantly escapist and obviously upbeat about the song, but there’s a disdain there, too.

It’s hardly visible, but the license plate on the car reads “HERO” singular, which is invalid but implies they have either a fake plate or Swellview is just so strange that their town itself has exceptions as to how they’re issued, again violating the laws and conventional physics of surrounding territory. They’re a weird exception, as always, and they’re getting away with it.

Their identities are so intertwined at this point that theyre conflated, so there’s an obligatory ego flattening going on as well as an erasure of both or one of them—most likely Henry’s—to accommodate. You might call it being a teammate, although how Henry feels about it after all this time is unsure.

Ray did this to him, the good and the bad doesn’t matter; it’s the fact that he did it.

#henry danger #henry hart #captain man #ray manchester #henray #dangerverse #kid danger #my art #smt smt smt this is the most depressing roadtrip thats ever occurred that just wasnt a straight up kidnapping #blah blah blah he’s not his dad but if he was this would be worse almost. or better. there would be an excuse somehow.#ok i had to repost bc smt the app went all weird and i got paranoid #their identities are so intertwined that its a joint thing and henry knows but cant even say it out loud because that’ll break the illusion #and its almost worse to find out than to wonder. so he’s looking at him and thinking do you remember me. in the sense that however much ray #sees him as that little sidekick or extension of himself vs a seperate entity is so ambiguous it might not even matter.#anyway just girl things to think about tehehehe

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circulinho · 10 days ago

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Unfit dress

My first Viktor x f!reader. Hope y'all enjoy

word count: 1.738

warnings: angst, prejudice against people from Zaun, NO happy ending.

"This one is too modern, the other families will scrutinize us if you walk down the aisle wearing it" of course they would, the elite of Piltover can't fathom the idea of a bride not wearing a gold threaded dress, my mother is no exception.

"My dear child, go on and try the one I have picked for you" The one I hated the most. Something in the air tells me this 'dress fitting' is happening just out of tradition. The outfit of the dreaded day has likely already been chosen by her.

"Of course, mother" In other circumstances I would've started a fight, souring her day with my 'unbecoming behavior' and 'subversive ideas'. Today though, I don't have the strength for our bickerings, I would've been more lively choosing my burial garments than I am currently, picking my wedding one.

This dress is too small for me, surely meant to be worn with a tighter corset.

"Mother, call Myrah and ask her to bring a finer corset, the one I'm wearing now is not at all adequate for the dress you picked" She doesn't reply, but I know inside her head she said something in the lines of 'well you should always use a tight corset, it's only proper!'.

Corsets, I still remember the first day I wore it as a dress code, and not as a deliberate fashion choice, 12 years ago.

"The Academy is strict with its dress code, child, so stop fussing and put on your garments correctly" Myrah snapped, her face held a severe expression, this is not like her.

"Myrah, are you alright? You seem upset" hearing my words, her face visibly softened, letting out a sigh she walked towards me, and embracing in a warm hug she muttered softly

"I'm sorry for that, it's not correct of me to let out my feelings on you" her weathered hands cupped my face, and touching her forehead against mine she said, more firmly this time " You're staying the semester away, I won't be there to help you, I need you to be responsible" she bit her lips and her eyes showed great concern and sadness " You are the kid here, and I'm the one that is moody and fearing separation, it's not fair"

Myrah has consoled me countless times in this house, my heart aches seeing her like this, so I try to emulate her tactics: cup her face with my hands, and with the sweetest voice I can muster I whisper to her "You're the only person I'll miss in this house, I too fear my future days without you, but the Academy our way out of this place, I'm sorry for being stubborn, I'll wear my corset every day in there" my words were meant to comfort her, instead they made her cry. "Don't cry, Myrah, I love you too much to see you cry" at that she laughs

" I love you too, my dear child, now go on and put on your uniform!".

Years later the reflection I see in the mirror is no longer a bratty kid on her first day at school. I see a woman, naked, outside and inside. My body, unprotected against the weather, and my soul exposed by my eyes. That was the day I met him. Chocolate hair, honey eyes and cream colored skin. The kid was like a dessert, physically and personality wise. Our first interaction is marked in my head, it's one of my dearest memories.

The classroom is smaller than I imagined, 12 desks are uniformly distributed in the room, but only 8 students are seated. Myrah was right, not many people can afford school. Looking at the faces here I recognize 2 girls, the Hoskel twins - lucky me, only 2 more girls in the class and both of them hate me. Just 1 month ago my father had a heated discussion with theirs, in the higher classes, arguments between singular individuals become family contentions. At my side there is a boy, wearing a uniform that is too big for him and crutches leaning on his desk. His eyes shine with anticipation, and what pretty eyes he has, yellow, how unique. Oh, I think I'm staring I really hope he doesn't mind, because I can't seem to stop. The brown locks frame his face so well, not too short, not too long, perfect for him.

"Good Morning, class" the teacher's voice cuts through my transe " I'll be your teacher for the next 2 years, you may call me Mr. Asco"

The lecture of the day was about function limits, the applications seemed fascinating and the definition was intuitive, but the resolution of exercises? I'm frustrated to say the least. Whilst I'm here, looking at my simple function, with no clue on how to start all I can hear is pencils gliding through paper. Am I the only one that didn't find the list trivial? I can feel myself sulk in the chair. And it seems the kid besides me, the one with pretty eyes notices.

"Are you okay? Having problems with the exercises? I can help you" He has an accent, is he a foreigner? Must be. Before I can reply to him, Mr. Asco interjects

" Is Viktor bothering you, miss?" Viktor - what a fitting name - recoils, startled with our teacher's volume and tone.

"No Mr. Asco, Mr. ..." I wait for Viktor to fill in his family name, but he quickly adds

"just Viktor is fine"

"Well, uhm, Viktor here was offering help, it seems calculus won't be an easy subject for me" I offer him a sheepish smile, but he doesn't notice, his eyes are drawing holes in the brunette boy.

" Very well, do not divert to silly conversations" As he leaves, Viktor looks at me, and thanks me for explaining the situation. " He would not have believed me if I was the one explaining"

"Why not?" A deeply confused expression emerges on his face, it's borderline funny the way his eyebrows arch and his head tilts

"Because I'm a zaunite, of course" Oh, that explains the accent, he is in fact a foreigner

"I did not know that" I mutter

" Is it a problem to you?"

"NO" escapes my mouth way too quickly, he smiles. What a pretty smile, I hope I get to see more of those.

One year went by quickly, I wasn't wrong in my assumption that calculus was going to be challenging, but Viktor helped in the best way he could, we became good friends, best friends even. We shared stories, laughs and secrets. He explained to me that he can study in the academy for free because of a settlement between professor Heimedinger and the principal. I told him about Myrah, that for the rest of the family she was my maid, but for me, she was my big sister. He refuted my hypothesis for the crutches, it was not an injury, rather it was a congenital condition. I detailed my plan of becoming a great scientist, making enough money to sustain me and Myrah and leave the family state for good. He shared his desire to become a great scientist too, and change the world for the better.

"What are you thinking about?" He startles me

"I've been thinking about what a great duo we are, a dumb rich kid and a bright zaunite" he looks at me for a solid minute, lips closed in a straight line, no trace of humor in his face

"you're not dumb, the amount of time a person takes to understand a topic doesn't define one's intelligence" a pausem he seems to be picking the right words " but I do agree we're a great duo" his words made me shiver, and the smile that crept on my face was just inevitable. He smiles back, and I wanted to make this moment last forever. Myrah used to tell stories about a genie inside the lamp, that grants you 3 desires, I'd ask to keep this smile in a little jar.

"Release the air, my girl, I'll tighten the corset for you" her sad expression is reflected in the mirror, I know she wanted me to marry him, to fight my mother and run away if necessary. God knows I would. I would give up on everything, live in the deepest helms of Zaun, he would be my oxygen and light. He would do even greater sacrifices, not for me, no. I'm not naive. His true love glimmer in blue inside his lab.

"You like the dress, Myrah?" She doesn't look up

" I think there's something better out there for you" we're not talking about a piece of fabric.

"The one I picked only fits in my head"

"Have you tried loosening it?"

"I was told if it was meant to be it would fit perfectly"

"That's an absurd statement"

"You told me that"

"Well I must've been out of my mind"

"You must think I'm so"

She stopped. Looked at me through the mirror, the kind eyes that raised me não held deep concern.

"It's not like you, give up without trying" oh but I tried. I've been trying for the last 11 years. I've been showing him my love all this time, it reached a point where I think he's just too kind to turn me down.

"I did all I could..."

"Have you told him about your feelings?" She interrupted me.

"It is not proper!"

"And since when you care for suchs? You've been glued by the hip with him ever since you met! And now out of the blue you're gonna marry the first preppy boy your mother proposes?" She knows it's not so simple. Viktor needs funding for his research. Aldo has the money, and promised me if I play nice he'll play for every single sheet of paper used to uncover the mystery of Hex tech.

"I've accepted I won't have him, why can't you?" If I can't be happy the way I pictured, let me at least have the solace of knowing he will.

"Because I love you too much to see you cry" she says wiping my tears, I didn't notice them rolling out of my eyes up until now.

"Myrah..." And more tears leave my eyes, now accompanied by sobs and ragged breaths. Breathing in her clean scent I calm down, enough to ask her to inform my mother I don't feel well and we should postpone the dress fitting.

I have to write a letter.

'My Dearest Friend, Viktor

I'm sure you have already noticed, you are after all a very perceptive person, one of the traits that made you such a superb scientist . But I'll write it to let it out of my chest.

I do not love Aldo, never have. Our marriage is happening out of convenience. For the past 11 years my romantic feelings have been exclusively yours.

I've linked the dots of my affection on the day we agreed to make a good pair and you gifted me the most memorable smile I've ever had the honour of witnessing. I'm well aware you don't reciprocate, my intention with this letter is not to make you feel pressured or guilty. I just want to come out clean.

Please don't leave me, I know keeping it a secret all of those years was a mistake and you have all the right to be upset. I've always been scared of exposing my feelings and sabotaging our relationship along the way.

Tomorrow I have the day free, if you desire to talk to me, or maybe run away hahaha... I'll be at the central station from 13 to 17 pm.

Love, your pair'

It's 19 pm. I'm still waiting. It was silly, honestly. What did I have in my head when I sent that letter? That he would read it suddenly realize he was head over heel for me?

I guess i did. For a moment I thought that maybe... Every now and then I would catch him looking at me too, maybe... Maybe he helped me every time not just because he was a dotting friend, but because he liked spending those long hours next to me, occasionally touching hands, I sure did.

I couldn't sleep last night, thinking about today. I skipped breakfast and even though in the letter I said '13 to 17 pm' I've been sitting on this bench since 9 am.

It has rained, the wind is relentless, the sun is now fully set. I can't gather enough strength to get up. My body feels heavy, the little hope I had grew more and more each minute that passed, until 17 pm. After that, every minute felt like a dagger. People are living walking fast towards me, the movement makes me dizzy, the rejection causes me nausea.Am I about to throw up my heart? It feels like it.

I'll wait just a bit more, maybe he got caught in a long experiment, or his leg is acting up and that's why he's taking so long to get here, yeah that must be it... Just 20 more minutes and I'll leave.

He didn't show up.

I waited until 22 pm. I left only because the barista from the station's coffee came to me and asked if I was alright. I was so embarrassed I just ran. My marriage is today. Viktor' s words from 11 years ago replay in my head:

"you're not dumb, the amount of time a person takes to understand a topic doesn't define one's intelligence"

Took me long enough to understand you.

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #non canon #angst #hurt/no comfort #arranged marriage #no happy ending #viktor fanfic #fanfic

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fuckstheonott · 1 year ago

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I Got My Eyes On You // T. Nott [Part 1]

Theodore Nott x girl!reader

!! ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE !!

Summary: Y/n Bones is part of one of the richest families in the wizarding world. She and Theodore grew up together, and for all these years, Nott watched her in silence, fascinated by every facet of her.

The two began a strange friendship after an incident and now, they meet frequently in the room of need.

“Hello, Nott" Y/n greets the boy from Slytherin "You’ve been coming here a lot lately"

The dark one goes in.

"It’s to make sure you’re still alive," Theodore replies, serene.

Y/n smiles.

“Come see what I found!”

And, of course, Theodore approaches.

The witch makes a grimace.

“By Salazar! What is this? Some kinda of muggle weaponry?”

The girl from Ravenclaw laughs.

“It’s called dry-er” She spells “Do you know what he does?”

“Does it dry things out?”

“It dries the moisture out of your hair! Isn’t that amazing?! It’s kind of noisy, but the technology is admirable. I mean, we can dry our hair with a swivel of the wand and the muggles invented an instrument that does it for them! They are really interesting little creatures"

Theodore laughs weakly.

Y/n blinks.

“You find literally anything amazing”

“And you have a limited brain, typical of a Slytherin” The youngest rolls her eyes.

“I like to explore, but I'm more into spells and potions, herbs, spices. Things that actually add something, because they are part of my reality”

Y/n looks at the brunette as if to say “Seriously?”

“That is, limited”

Theodore shrugs.

"Comes! I got more stuff!” And she pulls the Slytherin boy to the other corner of the room, without caring about personal space “Woow! Guess what it is!”

Nott looks at it strangely.

“This is definitely a weapon”

Y/n laughs.

“It’s a fan!” It spells “Speak! Fan!”

“Fan”

“Your Italian accent is really cute, so I’ll let that one slide”

Theodore rolls his eyes.

“And what does this thing do?”

“It refreshes the environment to alleviate the heat. See those propellers? They rotate counterclockwise and generate wind.”

Theodore blinks.

“Ok, this is cool”

“It is not?!!” She exclaims, exited.

For some inexplicable reason, Theodore likes being with the girl.

In a way, they grew up together. The brunette remembers that Y/n was always quirky. While the brothers ran up and down exploring the giant Bones mansion, Y/n spent time in the garden, looking for insects.

Theodore observed all his phases: The insect phase, the instrument phase, the color phase, the painting phase, the stars and aliens phase and marine animals...

Without the youngest noticing, Nott's eyes have always been on her.

He tried hard, condemned and fucked several girls... But it was no use, because the more Y/n grew, the more interesting and unique she became.

And beautiful.

Soon the others began to notice this fact, and Theodore wanted to smash the face of every boy who approached her with flowers or chocolate. To make matters worse, Y/n is a social virus, she smiles at everyone and is kind to the entire Hogwarts.

Finally, Theodore came to grips with her reality…

He would forever be an observer.

Until that day.

The day Y/n ran him over with a skateboard on summer vacation and they both broke their arms. She just burst into tears, but they weren't tears of pain, they were tears of guilt.

Somehow, after that moment, a strange and singularity friendship began between the two. They started to meet in the room of need and that was when Y/n introduced Nott to her new phase:

Explore Muggle Objects

“Why did you decide to be my friend after so long?” She asks suddenly, walking over to the sofa and throwing herself on it anyway “They say you’re not friends with girls, you only fuck them”

And suddenly, Bones sits down with everything.

“Merlim! Have you ever eaten Parkinson's ?!"

Theodore can’t stand it, laughing.

“Parkinson’s?! Do you swear? She’s not my type”

“Your type is blondes, from what Emma told me. That girl spends her whole day taking care of other people’s lives, there’s nothing she doesn’t know.”

“In fact, I like blondes… But she’s not my favorite type”

"And which one is it?" And Y/n blinks those little eyes, without malice in her question.

You – He wanted to respond.

"Next time we meet here, I'll tell you"

This is just something silly that I wrote, it's not good, but I still wanted to publish it because

I don't know, I thought it was cute? Who knows, maybe I'll continue

#theodore nott #slytherin boys #theodore x reader #harry potter #harry potter universe #theo nott #theo nott fanfiction #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott x y/n #slytherin

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bloodsadx · 1 year ago

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when ur like 5 or 6 a not insignificant amount of your time is spent fucking with wood chips. like those are your homies. they smell bad when it rains and sometimes people throw them at you or just in general. everybody knows that one kid who has a favorite wood chip. i don't know if that's true i don't fuck with being 5 or 6 at this point in my life anymore. but it feels like stuff like that used to happen. but then one day u don't mess with them at all anymore. the alternative to a woodchip when ur a kid is sometimes like weird asphalt foam stuff that is slightly colorful and gets too hot. where does all of that stuff go? it gets chemically turned into cardboard boxes that contain things like "door dash orders" and "100 copies of the new nintendo game". there's kids out there right now eating wood chips. or like sometimes a wood chip would get into a place where a wood chip wasn't supposed to go: such as, the bathroom, or maybe even, the class room. you gotta think about stuff like, does the principal of a school, call the wood chip place? i need some wood chips down here? or like a church? when i was a kid i imagined there was some sort of playground manufacturing position and maybe a hard hat government employee would come and he would handle all of the wood chips forever. but by like the 6th year of a school's life time it might be safe to assume any singular wood chip has been inside of at least half of the school's mouth. what if you took a wood chip home and did weird stuff with it? that's just the kind of possibilities that are extant in wood chips, and i'm afraid not a single person is going to think about any of this stuff in as soon as 100 years.

#from the mind of the author

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thevoidscreams · 1 month ago

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My request is going to be any space marine of your choice going into heat :3

You said heat, and that makes me think female. So ya'll are getting a Dawn Seeker. Also a tad bit of comedy. I'm very proud of that final line. (Please take my girl, she needs the love)

Also Havloch isn't my oc he belongs to my friend, Tagora is mine though

Day 9 Year 2

Warning: Heat, Size difference, larger female, smaller male, mentions of skulls as trophies, hormones as an aphrodisiac, face sitting, face fucking, cumming inside

Word count: 3789

Havloch stopped to take in the absolute insanity of the ship around him. He'd never been on an astartes vessel like this before. He'd seen his fair share of imperial ships, but the Starfire was.. something else.

The air felt cleaner, the lights were colorful and the crew and astartes were friendly and welcoming to an odd degree.

Of course the Cadian was glad to have the help of the legion after most of his regiment and their ship had been ripped apart by the tyranids, he wouldn't complain about keeping his life. The veteran just wasn't sure how to cope with feeling so.. safe all at once. His stomach was full of good food, he wasn't thirsty and he had a singular room all to himself. He had been sleeping on bunks with his fellow guardsmen for so long he had forgotten what a real bed felt like. It was Jarring. So he found himself awake, following the signage to the medical bay. Hoping for something to help him sleep.

The halls were mostly empty outside of the nightly cleaning crew. That left him feeling so very alone. He hadn't seen anyone for a minute to ask directions and figured he'd gone in a circle at least twice now. He stopped outside a set of large metal doors which he knew from being told was a system of lifts to help someone get to other places in the ship. With a shrug he figured he should try it out.

The lift system in the ship had zones and numbers. The medical wing had six zones. He figured wherever it spit him out would be closer than where he was before. Hitting a number, the doors slid shut and the box began to move. Sideways. He braced against the wall, eyes wide as he attempted to regain his balance. Once it slowed he sighed in relief, only to then be sent hurtling up.

The Cadian walked, looking around, there were rooms here, private ones. Maybe some of his comrades were getting treated up here. He might stop in if they aren't asleep.

The lift stopped with a cheerful little chime as he scrambled off and was left in a dimly lit hall.

The overhead lights were clearly set to night mode. But he could see well enough. Havloch stopped again to take in the oddness of it all. Star and moon decals glowed from the walls and ceiling, which weren't the sterile metal he expected. They were, from what he could discern in the low light, painted a bright yellow and made from wood or a similar material and had inscriptions on signs that he wasn't quite able to read. What language was that?

He came to the end of the hall, there was a receiving desk, but no one was behind it. He stepped up and looked around, there was a call button. Well he shrugged, even if he wasn't in the right spot he could get directions for sure. He pressed the button.

Tagora tugged at the collar of her scrubs again, feeling itchy and uncomfortable in the clothes. She checked over her sister, bringing her water, as she recovered. "You should be the final birth of the night." Tagora hummed quietly. Dixey smiled and took her gene sister's hand. "You can go, I'll be okay." In her other arm she cradled a tiny astartes, he was new, only an hour old and he was fast asleep in his mother's embrace.

Dixey nodded but sighed. "You know we picked up some guardsmen. I'm sure they could use something to help take their minds off the conflict they just suffered and you would help get your heat satiated at the same time. Win win."

"I still have some towels to fold." Tagora hummed. Even if she really did want to go back to her room and finger herself for the next three or four days, she couldn't. There was work to do. And her hands wouldn't suffice anyways. Dixey only snorted. "Oh no, the towels." She pressed a feather light kiss to her newborn's head. "I can smell you, ya know? Oleander won't hold it against you if you go back to your apartment a bit early to take care of yourself."

"If I'm there I'll just be alone and miserable. I don't have a handsome Lamenter to help me through my heats like you do."

Tagora swallowed the need to sigh disbelieving, and leaned down to her sister. She kissed her sister's brow and pulled her blanket up over her a bit more. "Maybe."

Tagora sighed. Her body was on fire and she wasn't even into the worst of it yet. At least it was only every third ovulation cycle that had her drooling down her neck every time she so much as thought about breeding.

"And hey," her sister's voice brought her out of her thoughts, "maybe you'll be the one laying here next. With a tiny little human of your own."

She'd have to go back to her room soon anyways, her panties were soaking through at the thought of having a partner to help her through the mind numbing amount of horny she was currently struggling with. She blamed that on her father of all people. The nightlord who'd joined them to get away from his legion just to pursue her mother. He practically couldn't keep his hands off her. Which was how she had happened, well, her and her siblings.

A small beep came from her hip and she looked down to see that someone was paging the desk. "Well, I gotta go. Congratulations again, Dixey."

The Cadian nearly jumped out of his skin as he wheeled around to face whoever had come into the room. Before him was an astartes woman, she'd come in so quietly he'd not noticed her. He swallowed and shook his head. "No, sorry, I don't know if I'm in the right place. I was having a hard time sleeping and had come up looking for something to help with that." He felt flush looking at her. She had such long dark hair, and her eyes were equally dark pools that he thought surely they must be black. But she was a breathtaking sight, and not just because she was an astartes.

Havloch stood there in the dim as he waited, hands on his hips. There had to be someone here.

"Are you here for someone specific?"

"You're looking for general medicine then. You're in the wrong place."

Tagora looked him over. He was one of the one's they'd picked up just the day before. Had to be. He was still in his under armor. She could smell him, his newness, but also the nervousness he was feeling.

"I uh, don't know which button that is." He admitted and she nodded. "I can show you."

"Oh, I-I'd hate to take you from your.. work." He stammered.

"My shift is ending anyhow." She motioned for him to follow and he obeyed without question.

"So what's your name?" He asked, walking with her back towards the lifts. "Tagora. And yours?" "Havloch."

"It's nice to meet you." She hummed, she was trying not to focus too much on what Dixey had said. If she did she might jump the poor man.

Havloch laughed, it was a good sound, and Tagora liked it. "Well to be quite honest, a woman. Nothing better to help you sleep than a good roll in the hay. As it were." The lift shifted, moving to the left, Havloch nearly toppled into her side but she caught him and held him steady. The Cadian couldn't pinpoint why exactly but she smelled good. It wasn't any perfume or soap that he could discern. But he wanted to bury his face in her and just breathe. Which wasn't hard given she had him pressed into her side to keep him from falling.

In the lift she stopped and waited for him. "So you require a sleep aid?"

"Yeah, well, I usually don't sleep well my first night in a new place, not unless I've got an aid. Or a beautiful woman to help me." His words went straight to her crotch and she had to fight the urge to grab him. "Which would you prefer?" She asked, her voice surprisingly even despite how riled up she was getting. Stupid hormones, she sighed.

"Would you like to explore that as an alternative to the sleep aid?" She asked firmly. Havloch felt his cock stir at the thought. Looking up at Tagora she was well over a foot taller than him. And he wasn't a sprout himself, he was taller than all his fellows in his unit. Havloch placed his hand on her hip, hoping he wasn't reading this towering woman wrong.

"If you're offering, how can I say no?"

Tagora jammed her thumb into the panel of the lift, canceling the ride order and looked down at him. "My room or yours?" Havloch swallowed hard and replied. "Yours."

Havloch himself the whole short walk sending up a grateful prayer as well as a prayer that he'd survive the ride ahead. Not that he's ever been the most religious man, but he figured it couldn't hurt. Since he was about to stick his cock in one of the emperor's angels. Was this even allowed? Fuck it, who cared? He needed to climb this woman. And besides, she was offering.

Tagora had spent the rest of the lift ride feeling up and down the Cadian's body, fighting the urge to rip his clothes off as the effort to keep her mind from the gutter all but failed her. As soon as the doors slid open to her housing block she held onto the man's shoulders and ushered him out. Her room wasn't far but each moment not satisfying her needs felt like an eternity.

Punching in the key to the door of her suite it opened at her touch and she all but hauled him inside.

Havloch took in the space, which was much larger than his room, it was a whole open concept apartment by the looks of it. But every surface was draped in dark colors. Tapestries hung from the wall showing dark mountains or deep forests.

The living room was mostly thrown rugs and a black couch facing a modest entertainment system. On the far wall overlooking the living room were trophy racks, covered in the cleaned and carefully preserved skulls of xenos that the woman had slayed herself. Their empty soulless sockets stared back at the couples as she steered him towards a room leading off from the living room and modest kitchenette. Havloch swallowed as he was dragged along.

Tagora led him into a bedroom, the space was dressed in dark blues and purples, and the black bedspread looked soft and smooth. Flicking on a lamp he discovered the lampshade was the black and gold helm of an astartes, certainly not Dawn Seeker, the light poured out from the eye lenses and a set of three long gashes in the face plate. Whoever had been wearing it probably didn't need it anymore.

His hind brain was hollering something about this being a strange place of danger, but Havloch didn't feel like he was in danger. And while the skulls and other trophies were macabre, who could blame a woman for having hobbies? Besides the fanged maw of, whatever the fuck it was, really brought the room's decor together. Still the dark pools of her eyes and the equally dark esthetic had him wondering.

Tagora sat him on the bed and he quickly discovered that the sheets were silk. "Oh, these are nice-" He watched as she tugged off her scrub top and undershirt all in one swift motion. And suddenly the room felt like the safest place in the whole universe as he came face to chest with the astartes.

Her pants followed soon after and the sweet scent from before became all the sweeter as she stood before him naked as she pleased and staring at him like he was a late night snack. She swallowed hard and spoke. "You like those clothes?"

"They're the only set I've got." He confirmed. She nodded, reaching out to pluck softly at his zipper. "Then take them off. Or else I will. And you'll have nothing left to wear."

Havloch's cock jumped at the thought of her tearing through his clothes as his hind brain screamed danger, his fore-brain shushed it as it assured the tiny screaming voice that the cock had the situation well in hand.

His fingers quickly found his belt and tugged it off, then went his vest and shirt as he rushed to get naked before he had to walk out of there with but rags.

Tagora watched each movement with a high level of interest. He smelled nice. There was a pleasant masculine warmth to his natural scent and she closed the distance with him as soon as the final sock left his foot. Grabbing him she dragged him up the bed. Looming over him with amorous intent. "How would you like to have me?"

Havloch's mouth moved before his brain did as he confidently stated. "All night long." Tagora chuckled. "Good answer." She pressed her mouth to his and he moaned under the warmth of her body. She was solid and firm in places, clearly a warrior, but in others she was soft and yielding to his hands. He'd been with a woman who had a similar build, but he'd never been with a woman like her. Her mouth had that same sweetness and his brain felt foggy with the kiss. His cock had been hard before but after the kiss it was painfully so.

He wanted to do everything to this woman, kiss her, lick her, fuck her till he physically had nothing left to give. His tongue wrestled with hers but there was no winning. Instead he satisfied himself with a handful of her breasts. Tagora moaned and pushed into his hand more.

Havloch broke the kiss first as he imagined all the things he could do, but one thing broke to the top of the list. "I want you to sit on my face." He told her. Tagora looked at him with concern, but he cut her off before she could say anything. "I know the risks, but I want to do this. I want to taste you." Tagora sighed and nodded.

"If you need me to get off just pat my thigh." She grabbed him by thigh and tugged him back down the bed to ensure they would have enough space to do this. The cadian's cock twitched again at the casual show of strength as she mounted him, her pussy right over his mouth as she lowered herself. She didn't plan to sit on him fully, that would've broken his neck probably. But she did give him enough weight to push him further into the bed.

Havloch met her cunt with an eager tongue and Tagora jumped slightly at the warmth. It was so good, as he hugged her thighs to keep her close to him and set about feasting. Her cunt was hot and the sweetness of her juices was heady and had him slurping, his tongue running long streaks over her outer lips until he drove it unto her, seeking more of that goodness. He had never tasted anything like it. Tagora whined and whimpered as he took her clit into his mouth and sucked drawing forth more of that nectar. He found a good rhythm, licking and plunging his tongue into her until he'd drunk down most of her juices before he went back to her clit, licking and sucking until he felt the wetness on his chin and returned to her entrance once more. He had no idea how long he'd been doing it but Tagora was a whining mess above him. Her thighs closed around his head and she had to fight not to crush him as he pulled her over the edge with the drag of his tongue. He pressed her face into her pillows and cried out his name.

Havloch almost didn't let her go, but he didn't have the strength to hold her down against his mouth. "You taste like an angel. That's for sure." He chuckled almost drunkenly as he took hold of his cock and began to stroke it. Needing to find some relief.

She pulled his hand away and he grumbled. "Please love, I need-" He choked on his own words as her mouth sealed around his cock, sucking all of him down as she bobbed her head once, then twice. Tagora loved the feeling of a hard cock in her mouth. But more than that she loved when her partner grabbed her by the hair because it felt so good. Havloch had his fingers curled tightly in her blankets but that wasn't what she wanted. Even if seeing him as wound up as her made her feel a deep sense of pride. Reaching for his hand she tugged it from the sheets and pressed it to the top of her head. Havloch got the message and wound his fingers in her hair, taking over the pace, maybe it was high of whatever her juices had done to him, or maybe it was the fact that an astartes was handing him control over her body, whatever it was it made him feel bold. He held her long silken black strands tighter, balling his hand into a fist. As she sucked him back in he thrust up into her mouth. Then again as he anchored himself to the bed to keep himself grounded. Tagora lavished the underside of his cock with her tongue and Havloch moaned. "Oh that's a good girl." He praised as his hips raised again. As he set an active pace fucking her mouth and throat. Tagora's fingers sought out her cunt, her eyes closing as she tasted him and plunged three fingers into herself. Her heat was fully settling in as he made liberal use of her mouth. It wasn't long before she was teetering close to the edge again.

Havloch felt the fire in his guts that meant he was about to cum and depsite his body screaming at him to fuck himself to completion using her mouth he wasn't about to pour his first proper load in over a month down her throat.

He tugged his cock free with a groan and a sound of complaint from Tagora.

"On your back love." She rolled over, wiggling up the bed further to get comfortable. Havloch had to tear his eyes away from her form as she jiggled so temptingly, for fear that the sight of her would be enough to make him blow.

Tagora welcomed him into her arms as he slotted himself between her thighs. He kissed her again as he slid into her heat, his body aching with the need to fill this woman.

He took her thighs in each hand and raised them around his waist, Tagora wrapped them around him holding him close. He let go of the kiss as he began to thrust.

He stared down at her, her hair was a mess and her lips were a pretty pink from the kissing and from sucking his cock and her pale cheeks were dusted with a vibrant blush. "Throne, you're beautiful." He sighed and grabbed her chest, kissing each nipple and sucking on them gently. His thoughts turned to filling her, making her pregnant then doing all this again but being greeted with a mouthful of her milk.

He was startled by the thought, he couldn't impregnate an angel.. could he? Well, he could always try. Either way he knew he was going to fill her with his cum.

He set all his mental energy into a rough pace, fucking her hard and deep. The biggest hurdle was not cumming before she did. He wasn't gonna give before he'd made sure she was done.

Tagora met each of his thrusts as best as she could. Needing the friction and the mind numbing pleasure that would come from her next orgasm.

"Please, I need more." She gasped, Havloch smiled, he could provide her that.

He drew out and slammed back in, putting his full weight behind it. Tagora's cry rang off the walls and he did it again. "Fuck yes, just like that." She pleaded. Havloch took her thighs in hand again and pushed them up, folding her legs till she was in a proper mating press. Her body folded as if it was meant to do so. He had to adjust onto his knees but as he pulled out and thrust back in he was one again treated to her cries of pleasure.

Tagora hadn't had many lovers, only when the rare opportunity presented itself. But never had she had someone fuck her just the way she wanted. He wasn't treating her like some wilting flower, he was fucking her like she was an astartes, putting all his strength into fucking her proper. Her brain had long since fogged over. She could feel the tip of his cock pushing at her cervix, it made her even more eager to be bred. The thought that he might just blow his load straight into her womb. "Fuck, I need you to breed me. Please I need you to cum inside me, please Havloch." She begged.

Havloch had just barely been holding it together, but hearing her beg him like that. It sent him over the edge far sooner than he'd been planning. Tagora grabbed him, holding him tight against her body as he unloaded inside her. Her body trembled as she came undone at the feeling.

He panted as he finished cumming, his body feeling ten pounds lighter. He rolled off her and sighed heavily. "How was that?" He felt her shift and looked over to see her on her hands and knees, glancing back at him with pleading eyes. "May I have another?"

Havloch swallowed hard. Normally he'd need a good hour before he was ready again after cumming like that. But seeing her dark pleading eyes and a pearly bead of cum wetting her lower lips his cock found the strength to rise once more. He had said all night hadn't he. Havloch got to his knees and looked between his legs at his overly eager cock. Stood at attention like a soldier on inspection day. He grabbed her hips and got back to business.

It was true what they said then, he smiled to himself, Cadia stands.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #my writing #mating press march #Space marine X human #Cadian #cadia stands

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