#it’s not a lack of drinking water because I’m VERY good at that
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hi gang. moisture question. does anyone else turn into a horribly dry beast at night. I’m talking fingers so dry they feel weird to straighten out. NO sweat. so extremely thirsty. constantly drinking never quenched. but during the day even out in the heat I am thriving I drink plenty of water I am a sweat MACHINE (bandaids fall off as soon as I put them on). why are my moisture mechanisms just fucked.
#it’s not a lack of drinking water because I’m VERY good at that#and it’s not like. diabetes or something. I have blood tests frequently and all my levels for everything have been fine#also. hypochondriac so I will get SCARED if you say I have stupid gay disease or something#listen to my gibberish boy#my moisture musings at midnight
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𝗜'𝗟𝗟 𝗚𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧
pairing: old man!logan howlett x young female!reader
warnings: staring, rude people in public, Logan with no emotion, begging, oral (male receiving), riding, doggy, neck kisses, slightly forced cream pie, multiple orgasm, moans from both sides, very rough sex, angry animalistic Logan, etc.
request: Hi! I love your work, Could I request Oldman!Logan x young fem!reader (22 years) that has a baby fever and really wants to have Logan's baby (also to shut the mouths of those who make fun of her dating an older man), she decides to prepare a surprise for him so that he can get her pregnant soon. Reader is needy and Logan is rude.
note: Logan as always is mean and an over-thinker, but he can’t seem to not give what his perfect girl wants. A breeding session.
teaser - Logan gets kinda subby in here. can’t stop cumming…
———
How do you guys feel about an X-Men story with the reader? Logan is rude Logan at first, then slowly shows small affection towards the reader. Jealousy and things of that sort. They soon hit it off, and after Logan starts acting rude again because he’s scared of the love he grew for her. It’ll be a long story, but something to read at night. ALL ON WATTPAD! Comment below, please!
———
“Stop gettin’ in your feelings, Bub. They ain’t gon stop,” Logan said, talking about the people looking their way in the expensive restaurant Logan decided to take y/n out at.
“But, isn’t it rude? Why do they care so much about who I’m with? Or who you’re with!?” Y/n tried whispering and keeping her facial expressions normal. She didn’t want them to know she was bothered, but it wasn’t hard to see.
“Just relax, Bub — Ain’t nun gon happen with a few eyes lookin’ attcha,” Logan had picked up the menu to continue searching through what he wanted to order for himself and his girl.
“Are you two ready, or shall you get more time?” The man asked in an accent that made Logan roll his eyes. “Just appetizers for now. Gonna get the cheese bites with a side of marinara sauce, and two Caesar salads,”
“And drinks?” The waiter asked as he looked at y/n, wanting to hear the young lady talk as he was done listening to the older grumpy man.
“I’ll have a whiskey, no ice, and she’ll have water for now,” Logan ordered for her, eyes still on the menu as y/n faked a bright smile on her face so at least one of them looked like they wanted to be here.
“Are you sure that’s all you want? We have a lot of cocktails. Even mocktails if you’re not feeling alcohol going lady,” Logan laughed at the small sign the water gave. They always go.
“She’s fine, trust me,” Logan said, leaning his girl from head to toe. He knew her like a book. He knew her life at the back of his hands. He loved showing it too.
“I’m fine, thank you,” y/n smiled at the man as he looked at Logan. He wanted to speak, say something, but he couldn’t. Logan wasn’t actually doing anything to make the man complain.
“Get a load of that guy,” y/n rolled her eyes as he walked off. “Yep,” Logan said, not really caring. “Why are you always so calm? He was disrespecting us. Disrespecting you,” y/n said, confused about why the man never cared.
“I’m still alive, aren’t I? You’re making it seem like that fetus of a man shot at me,” y/n rolled her eyes and sat back as she crossed her arms, upset at the lack of care Logan had. She felt like she was the only one who cared about things.
Throughout the night, Logan made small talk with y/n to ease her mood. She tried to stay upset at the man, but the hand grabs, foot nudges, and complements made her melt
“Said you had a surprise for me, Bub?” Logan asked as the two made it into the hotel that Logan bought for the night. The top floor had a good view, a view he knew y/n would love.
“Yeah, but I thought we were going back to the house,” y/n pouted, a bit tipsy as Logan carried her through the door. “I know, and I apologize, princess. If you left it at the house, you can give it to me tomorrow. Or I can go get it now?” Logan suggested.
“No, no, you don’t have to do all that. I-I got it. I got it,” Y/n said as she kicked her heels off and walked towards the bed with Logan.
He had a few drinks, but that never affected him. She prayed it would tonight so she wouldn’t have to work hard, but she’ll deal with it.
Y/n knows Logan’s a hard one to crack, but the man loved her. He’s so anything for her, so a long session of begging or anything of that sort, would make him crack. Only for her.
“Get comfortable — I’ll be back,” Y/n said as she stumbled to the bathroom. Logan chuckled as he got undressed, already knowing y/n wanted to have sex. She always does, and he never says no.
Y/n didn’t take long to get stripped and walk out of the bathroom slowly. The lights were dim, and Logan sat up against the headboard of the bed, legs spread and waiting for his perfect girl.
“I-I know you’re against it, and I know you always shut me down, but tonight is special. I-I really, really want you tonight,” Y/n said, slowly crawling on the bed as Logan’s chest rose.
“You always get me, Bub, so what’s there to beg about?” Logan said as he rubbed his thighs. “I want you to cum in me,” y/n looked at him with those eyes he could barely say no to.
“Y/n, don’t start tonight. Ian tryna ruin the night,” Logan has rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Baby, please,” y/n begged, trailing her hands up his legs until they were mid-thigh.
“Keep beggin’ for that shit, and ima turn around and go to sleep,” Logan warned the girl, but she ignored him and put his cock in her hand. “C’mon, daddy, please,” y/n said, bringing out the word she used in once in a blue moon.
“Nah uh, get off, y/n. I told you what was gonna happen-“ Before he could finish, y/n wrapped her wet mouth around his tip, sucking down hard as her tongue moved up and down his slit.
“F-Fuck,” Logan’s legs shook as he gripped the sheets. “Y/n, remove your fucking mouth,” Logan demanded, but she ignored him, looking into his angry dark eyes as she slipped down onto his cock, taking all the inches in that she could.
“Y-Y/n!” The man groaned loudly, hips bucking as his hand went to her hair, pulling her up to get her off, but not strong enough. He was physically stronger than her, so she knew if he wanted her off, he’d get her off.
“Fuckin- Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ bad,” Logan said as his other hand cupped her cheek. “But you take my cock so well,” Logan admitted with a chuckle as he slowly began moving her head at a pace he wanted her to suck in.
“Always so fuckin’ needy — Needy little slut can’t just enjoy my cock. Always needs my cum to satisfy her,” Logan said, now moving his hips, allowing his cock to thrust up into her throat.
“That’s it, kid — Fuckin’ suck me up since you want it so bad. You ain’t gettin’ it in that cunt. You ain’t earn it yet,” Logan said, watching spit spill from her mouth.
Y/n did her best to look up and into his eyes. Her was glossy, streaming tears as he grew dark. He couldn’t hold back his deep groan at the sight of her taking his cock like this.
“Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that,” Logan said, getting angry at her. He hated how bad she was, but loved that she’d do anything to get what she wanted from him.
“Fuckin’ brat,” Logan growled, snapping his hips faster to make her gag and cough on his cock. Maybe if she was too busy trying to focus on taking him, she’d stop silently begging for him to breed her.
It’s not like the man didn’t want to. He was just insecure. Yeah, he and y/n had been dating for a while, but the people roaming about are right. At least that’s what he thought at the time.
What if he is too old for her? He’d basically be baby-trapping her if he gave her what she wanted. He swore she’d regret it.
He forced himself to think that way, but every time y/n took his cock, rather that was with her mouth, cunt, ass, or anything, she’s beg him to breed her. Something in him knew she wanted it, but the other part held him back.
“Fuck, y/n, stop it! Stop fucking looking at me like that!” Logan shouted at the girl, an animalistic tone slipping out as he fucked her throat.
Y/n didn’t stop. She continued, whether her eyes could barely stay on him or not, she kept looking up at him, begging him to breed her.
“Y/n, I can’t — I fucking can’t,” the man had thrown his head back, whining as he felt himself near. He’s me we did that before, but him trying to yell her no but also seeing her beg, was too much for him. He was overstimulated by his thoughts.
Y/n slapped Logan’s hands off of him and quickly crawled onto him. She grabbed his cock and aligned herself with him before sitting down.
The moan that escaped her mouth made his eyes widen. “F-Fuck, kid, stop it!” Logan said, but his hands came to her waist and kept her in place. She tried to bounce, but he didn’t even allow her to do that.
Logan’s feel curled as his fingernails dug into her sides, causing her to feel in pain, but also pleasure. “Do it, daddy, please,” was all had to say on his cock before he jumped over the edge.
Logan’s mouth parted as his whole body stuttered. No noises came from his mouth for a second as y/n felt his warm seed coat her walls.
“Yes! Yes, daddy, yes!” Y/n cried out with happiness before she buried her face into the crook of his neck, sucking into his skin hard. That pulled all of his groans and moans out.
Logan’s hands wrapped around the girl's back and waist, pulling her into his body as she grinned against his pelvis, letting her swollen bud feel all the affection it needed.
“Please, more, Logan. Please. Please,” y/n continued rubbing against him as her whole body felt numb. She was going to cum, and Logan knew it. Damn her.
“Fuck, kid — F-Fuck,” Logan’s legs kicked as he tried keeping himself in, but he couldn’t. She squeezed him so hard for him not to do what she’d been begging for, for the longest.
“Y/n,” Logan’s voice cracked as his nails broke the skin on the young girl's back and waist. “Yes, yes!” Y/n almost cried as her body kicked up and she came, sucking the man too hard. To damn hard.
Logan’s mouth parted once again as his eyes crossed, feeling too much pleasure as he spilled into y/n for the second time and took the love bites y/n gave him on his neck.
Logan was pissed. He was so damn pissed at y/n for not listening to him. He wanted to punish her, but how? How could he after he bred her? He wouldn’t be able to pull out. And fuck a condom. He was fucked. He broke the promise he kept to himself. He really fucking loves her to let her do this to him.
“You’re so fuckin’ bad, y/n,” Logan breathed out into y/n’s ear, alarming her. He wasn’t relaxed. He was angry. “You like gettin’ what you want?” The man asked as he slowly lifted y/n off of him. She was being held in the air.
“Then ima give you what you fucking want,” before y/n knew what he meant, the man flipped the two, allowing him to hover over her.
“S-Sorry, I just- I really needed you. I-I love you so much, and I-I — I want you to give me a baby. I-If you don’t want it, I-I’ll just take the plan b tomorrow. I promise,” y/n couldn’t stop stuttering.
She felt a slight fear. She knew how Logan got, and now that he’d already come in her, he’d be worse.
“Fuck that plan b. You wanna baby? Then deal with the fucking consequences,” Logan turned y/n around and forced her onto her hands and knees. Before she could process anything, he plunged into her.
“Fuuck!” Y/n screamed at the new angle and the hard thrust. “Shut the fuck up, and take it,” the man groaned as a hand came down on her ass. “Take my fuckin’ kid, since you wasn’t em so damn bad,” he added.
Y/n cried into the sheets, thinking he couldn’t fuck her hard until his claws came out. He’d never done this before, but she knew what he was up to.
The man’s claws punched into the wall right in front of the two. He gripped tightly, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere before he pounded her into the mattress.
The young girl's neck and back belt pain. He was breaking her and didn’t care. She wanted this.
“Lot,” y/n whined, not being able to say what she had to say. She was beyond fucked. “Don’t worry, Bub — You’re gonna make a damn good mom,” Logan said, making sure she knew he was up for this.
Y/n slightly smiled as her cunt quivered, finally letting out another orgasm as her eyes closed. “S-So good,” she said as she slipped away. “I know, baby — I know,” the man growled.
Logan never stopped his thrust, making sure she’d feel the soreness when she woke up. And the loads he was going to leave in her.
#james howlett x reader#logan howlett x reader#james howlett#james howlett smut#logan howlet smut#logan howlett smut#logan howlett xmen#wolverin smut#wolverine#wolverine smut#the worst logan x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlet x reader#dark!logan howlett#dom!logan howlett#james howlett x you#dark!james howlett#dom!james howlett#wolverine x female reader#wolverine x you#wolverine xmen#wolverine x men#wolverine x reader#dark!wolverine#dom!wolverine#hugh jackman x you#hugh jackman x reader#hugh jackman smut#hugh jackman#x men smut
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James being a big bear of a boyfriend and always just like lifting u up so easily to hug and sit on his lap and even tho u hate when anyone else does it he’s so BEEFY that you’re fine with him doing it
Yessssss I'm not much of a physical touch person irl but James I would allow
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 847 words
Sirius is trying to follow Remus’ example and focus on the puzzle, but his eyes keep flitting up to you worriedly. You’ve monopolized the couch, laying flat with a hand cast over your eyes and your mouth pinched in obvious discomfort. Sirius had tried rubbing your leg and Remus had offered you tea, but they’d both given up when the attention only seemed to worsen your mood. Remus suggested they work on the puzzle while you rest (not Sirius’ favorite activity, but forced upon him because it keeps him quiet) and now they’re both simply trying not incur your wrath.
“Quit looking at me,” you growl without opening your eyes.
In Sirius’ case, not doing a very good job.
“Fine, sheesh,” he says, and you press your lips together like you’re restraining yourself from snapping at him.
You cringe when the door opens, every line of you pulling taut. James is all smiles as he tosses his gym bag to the floor with a heavy thump. “Hello, my loves!” His voice is a decibel short of booming, but it softens when he sees you on the couch. “Oh, sorry, is she napping?”
Remus shakes his head, lips pursed as he watches your hand tighten over your eyes. “Headache,” he explains quietly.
“Oh, I’m sorry lovie.” James reroutes from the kitchen, heading for you. Sirius tenses. “How bad is it?”
“Prongs,” Sirius whispers urgently, “don’t—”
But James has already lifted you, one hand under your knees and another supporting your back as he moves you smoothly from your chosen position of rest and into his lap. He makes it look like nothing, which is the first offense (Sirius isn’t sure which of you he’s more jealous of), but the second is that you let him. Sirius and Remus have both looked up in alarm, waiting for a biting protest that doesn’t come. Instead, you remove your hand from your face, burying in it James’ brawny shoulder instead.
“Bad,” you grumble, but your tone lacks the venom you’d spat at Sirius a moment before.
James coos like he’s got a kitten in his lap instead of a viper, bringing his considerable arms around you. His palm cups the back of your neck, kneading gently at the tensed muscles there. “Where does it hurt, darling?”
“Everywhere.”
“By your eyes?”
“No.”
He hums, brows furrowing as he works steadily at your neck. You’ve gone nearly lax in his arms, trusting him to hold you up as you slump against his front. “Have you been drinking water?”
“It’s not that.” Some of the irritation is back in your tone, Sirius notices, but it’s been markedly softened for James. “I had tons of water this morning.”
“Probably a tension headache then, yeah?” He looks to Remus, who nods. The quiet boy looks as dumbstruck as Sirius feels.
James moves his grip to your sides and lifts you again, rearranging his legs to get more comfortable before placing you back in his lap. He places a hand on each side of your head, thumbs pushing into your temples and rubbing in slow, soothing circles. You begin to look like you might fall asleep.
“This is so unfair,” Sirius hisses to Remus.
“He has a power,” Remus admits weakly, “which transcends understanding.”
“Do you want some tea?” James murmurs to you after a while. Sirius’ eyes have gotten stuck watching the movement of his forearms, and he snaps them reluctantly back up.
You hum, uncertain but definitely considering it. Behind you, Remus throws up his hands. James sees him and smiles, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter.
“I’m getting the sense this isn’t the first cup you’ve been offered,” he says, looking immensely entertained.
You sigh, but even that sounds pleasurable as his big thumbs drill diligently into your temples. “Yeah, but I just wanted to be left alone.”
Remus and Sirius exchange a look. You seem perfectly fine with company now.
“Don’t be silly,” James chides lightly, “a warm drink will make you feel better. Remus, love, would you be so kind as to make her a cup?”
“Sure.” His voice is gruff, but then you murmur a quiet thanks, Rem and Sirius actually sees the moment his boyfriend’s heart turns to mush. “No problem,” he says, softer now.
“Attagirl.” James’ hand drops to give your shoulder a squeeze, his bicep flexing slightly with the movement. Christ, Sirius might have to fake a headache later, if this is the sort of treatment those receive. “Drink your tea and then we’ll get you to bed, yeah? You can sleep the rest of this off.”
“You know, I offered to carry her to bed earlier,” Sirius says, still slightly bitter, “and she told me very clearly to fuck off.”
You don’t sound so much exasperated now as exhausted. “Siri, when you carrying me doesn’t involve setting me down every five steps for a break, then we’ll talk.”
James’ laugh surprises both of you, and he apologizes hastily for jostling you, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before resuming his ministrations. You don’t seem all that upset about it.
#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders scenario#poly!marauders one shot#poly!marauders oneshot#james potter#sirius black#remus lupin#james potter x reader#sirius black x reader#remus lupin x reader#the marauders#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#hp marauders
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Please write about curvy reader with her 3 inches dick husband, Konig is reader's neighbor then helps her what's real sex feel like with his 10 inches cock😩
Can you imagine to difference😮💨 I'd want to cuck my husband🤭🤭🩷🩷
Let Me Love You Right (fem)
MDNI🔞
Master List
>cw: fem/afab, oral, p in v, cheating
2.9k word count
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You’ve been married to Chris for eight years now, you both got married young and he’s your first and only. To say sex has been lack-luster… would be kind. You both waited for marriage, Chris’s idea. That meant you fell in love with him FOR him. You try to remind yourself that every day since finding out Chris only has a 3-inch cock.
Every time you have sex, you lie there looking at the ceiling while Chris moans loudly and gets off in six minutes. He doesn’t know where the clit is either and his finger game is weak. He just isn’t good in bed. The fact you catch him staring at a very slender woman online adds to it all, you’re a thick and curvy woman. He makes you feel rejected so it’s hard to enjoy anything with him. At some point you began to question if maybe you’re truly asexual because you became so turned off to sex and to him.
Then one day, your new neighbor moved in. You were sitting on your couch sipping coffee as you watched a moving truck pull in. You thought nothing of it and went on with your day. Your husband left for work so you decided to go outside and water your garden. You haven’t worked the last three years; you both have been trying for a baby, but nothing has happened yet. You’ve learned how to fill your time with small hobbies.
You got dressed in comfortable clothes and went outside. You turned the water on and began to pull the hose. As you pulled, it got stuck. Assuming you were outside alone, you began to curse the water hose, bending over to fix it and struggling. Just then you heard the sexiest Austrian accent from behind you.
König was about to go on a walk when he saw you leave your house, wearing tight black biker shorts and a tight white t-shirt. Your body was…perfection. He stood watching your breast bounce slightly with every step you take. Your hips sway so gracefully side to side. He picked the right house to move into. Hearing your struggle snapped him out of his lustful day dreams and began to approach you.
“Do you need help? Miss?”
He looked down at you, his eyes traveling over the curve of your plump ass. Imagining how soft it would feel to squeeze. When you turned to face him, his eyes dropped to your breast. Again, his mind went to imagining his hands squeezing them. He’s a man with big hands, and your breasts look like the perfect size to fill them.
As you turn your eyes meet the most beautiful sleepy pale blue eyes you’ve ever seen. The man towered over you as if you were a tiny ant. His body is massive and solid looking. His blonde hair was shining in the bright morning sun. His face is handsome, rugged, with some scarring. You felt yourself get turned on for the first time in years.
“N- no, I’ve got it. Thank you.” You caught his eyes wandering over your body.
“I’m König, I just moved in next door.” He held his hand out for you to shake.
“I’m y/n.” You put your hand in his, it looked so small. “The accent, are you German?”
“Austrian.” His thin lips pulled into a small smirk.
“Oh, sorry.” You chuckled from embracement.
“It’s okay, the accents sound similar.” He chuckled as well.
You both stood there for a while just letting your eyes drink the other in. You could cut the tension with a knife. His blue eyes returned to yours and he gave you a small smile. The rest was history. Everyday after your husband leaves for work, you’d see each other. Drink coffee together, he’d help you garden, just talking about your personal lives. Nothing sexual. That was until today.
Sitting at his kitchen table with him as you sip your coffee and chat just like you both always seemed to do. Today was different though, you both being more outwardly flirty with one another.
“Your husband is a lucky man Maus, I’d love a curvy housewife.” His eyes travel down to your cleavage before back up to your eyes.
His comment makes you blush, you playfully nudge his arm. “Yeah right.”
“No really, I bet he is all over you.”
“Not really,” you tap your nails on the mug in your hands.
“No?” König tilts his head, he’s aware that he’s prying but he can’t fathom a man having you and not being obsessed.
“Nope…” You look into his eyes. You debate on whether or not you want to disclose all of your marital issues to him or keep it light.
“May I ask why?” His eyes drop to your fingers tapping. He reaches his hand out and grabs your off the mug, caressing your soft skin with his thumb. “You can talk to me.”
“Promise you won’t judge or laugh?”
“Promise, Maus. You have my word.”
“So, when we dated, we never did anything sexual past kissing. Like traditional and all.”
König nods his head along, listening to your words as he sips on his own mug of coffee. His eyes follow your lips as you speak.
“When we actually… you know…fucked,” You and König chuckle, “He pulled it out and was incredibly small.”
König raises his eyebrow with curiosity, “Small?”
“Small,” you nod, “like three inches small.”
König sat with his jaw dropped looking at you in disbelief. Three inches? He’s bigger than that when soft. No way three inches can get past how thick you are…
“And how was that?” His hand squeezes yours slightly.
“Terrible. I didn’t feel anything. I’m pretty sure I’m still a virgin because it barely went in…” You chuckle slightly at how embarrassing this is. “We’ve been trying for a baby for YEARS now and nothing because I just have no sex drive. On top of all of this, I catch him gawking at skinny women constantly. Women that look nothing like me.”
You take a deep breath, feeling like you’ve been ranting. König still caresses your hand with his thumb.
“I think you’re beautiful. Perfect just the way you are.” He says in a soft and tender voice. “I also think it’s a shame he doesn’t please you sexually.”
You give him a warm smile before your eyes move to your hand in his. You look at the drastic size difference between both of your hands before looking back up to him.
“Why don’t you leave? Find someone new? Someone compatible?” König means himself.
“He’s all I’ve ever known.”
“Don’t you think you deserve romance? Passion?”
You can feel your face getting hot as he asks you this. You do want it. He is the reason the spark of desire was reignited in your life to begin with, but you can’t just tell him this. You can’t just have sex with your neighbor.
All the while you are inside your head, König looks at you. He takes in your features, the way you rest your head in your palm, how soft your lips look.
“Maus?”
“Hm?” You look up after being lost in thought. “Oh, I guess. I actually had a period of thinking I was asexual because I just didn’t have that desire or drive.”
“Do you still feel this way?”
“No,” you look back down at your hand in his.
A short period of time passes before König speaks up, “Do you find me attractive?”
Your eyes shot up to his shocked he was so forward. You hesitate for a while because you’re still married. Saying the truth might open up pandora's box, but you feel stuck, stagnant.
“I do…” you respond meekly.
“I think you’re attractive too.” König lets that linger in the air before continuing. “I desire you, and I think you feel the same.”
König tightened his hand around yours. He reached out with his other hand and caressed your face. You both look at each other for a while before you speak up.
“I do.” You lean into his hand that caresses your face.
“I don’t mean to cross lines, but I think I could love you better than your husband. I could appreciate your body better. I could fuck you better.”
His hand moves from your face to the back of your head, his fingers combing through your hair and grasp firmly. He tilts your head back slightly as his eyes roam down the curves of your jawline and neck. You felt a heat rush over your body.
König stands and walks closer to you, leaning in and kissing your neck tenderly. The warm sensation of his lips sends a chill down your spine. You don’t stop him even though you know you should. This would break your husband, but you don’t care.
Kissing up your neck to your ear he whispers, “Let me worship you, bitte.”
“What if I don’t like it?”
You’re still worried that it’s a you problem. What if you just don’t like sexual encounters?
König chuckled, “I can make you cum. Don’t worry.”
Your cheeks go hot as you laugh nervously. He pulls away and gently pulls you by your hand, “Komm mit mir”
You stand and follow him through his house to his bedroom, his bed a massive king size bed. The bedsheets are a dark gray color with a black comforter. He gently guides you to the room and lays you on the bed. Leaning over you, his lips find yours as you share a deep passionate kiss. His lips made yours actually tingle; you’ve never felt that before. His hands begin to trace the curve of your waist to your hip before moving up to your breast and squeezing.
König breaks the kiss and moves off of the bed. He gently takes your shoes off your feet and places them neatly by the bed. His eyes traveled over your body before pulling his shirt off to expose his physique to you. He can see the desire in your eyes, causing him to smile.
As he went to reach for the waistband of your leggings, you stopped him.
“What if you don’t like how I look?”
“I’ll love it, trust me.” He reassures you in a low soft tone.
Nodding your head, you let go of his hands and let him take them off. His eyes glide over your juicy thighs and the light blue cotton panties you’re wearing. Your legs are a little stubbly, you weren’t expecting to do this. You feel slightly embarrassed by the hair, but König doesn’t seem to mind as he glides his hands up your legs once they’re bare. His lips kissing from your calf up to your soft thighs; once there he begins to nibble on the soft flesh.
“Mien Gott, you’re so soft.” He whispers as he rests his kisses on your thighs more.
“I’m sorry I didn’t shave-”
“It’s natural. I don’t mind hair Maus.” He smirks.
You relax back on the bed as his hands go up to the elastic band of your underwear and pull it off. His eyes falling on the small bush between your legs as he smiles. He can’t wait to bury his face in it.
“Are you okay?” König asks as his eyes meet yours.
“Yeah,” You look down at him as he begins to spread your legs apart. Your heart beat is pounding and, in this moment, you begin to think about the life you wanted to build with Chris but then, oh god. You drop your head back on the bed.
König sticks his tongue out and begins to lightly flick over your clit. Instantly your legs begin to tremble and you moan loudly. Your hands find his hair and comb your fingers through it. You can’t believe oral sex can be this good. König stops licking your clit to suck it.
“No, no, please lick it.” You look down again, begging in a pathetic voice.
König nods and goes back to flicking his tongue rapidly over your clit. You had a long morning of sweating so your natural musk is strong and König is savoring the smell. Listening to your loud moans he slowly moves his finger to your pussy and teases the entrance. Slowly slipping his finger in your gasp. He loves the reactions you’re giving. It’s insane to think you’ve gone your whole life without feeling this pleasure.
“König,” you moan out loudly as he begins to pump his finger in and out of you quickly, your back arching. A new sensation consumes you as you scream out, your body trembling. König closed his eyes, smirking, and enjoying hearing you orgasm.
He pulls back and moves his finger once you relax. You prop yourself on your elbows and look at him, wondering why he stopped.
“Take your shirt off, Liebling.” König’s voice dripping with lust.
You sit up and pull your shirt over your head before reaching behind you to take your bra off. König watches eagerly to see your breast for the first time. Watching them full and heavy, come out from your bra makes his mouth water even more. He can’t believe how perfect you are.
König begins to pull down his jeans and you watch, jaw dropping once you see the outline of his erection. He pulles his boxer briefs down completely and you see his hard cock full for the first time. Not only is it thick but it's long. You can’t help but to stare and König notices.
“Don’t be scared, I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt.”
“How…how big are you?”
“Uh, ten inches, I think. A little over. But don’t worry, I won’t push you.”
“Ten?”
König laughs and walks to the bed and lays beside you. He moves his body so that you’re resting close to him while he is on his side. He leans down and kisses your breast, slowly making his way to your nipple to suck on it while he is lifting your leg up with one hand, and moving his cock to rub your pussy with the other.
“Are you ready?”
“I am.” Your voice is weak with pleasure of him touching you.
Moving his mouth from your nipple he begins to kiss your lips. He rests your leg over his body to keep your legs spread as he wraps that arm underneath the back of your head. He breaks the kiss to look at you as the other hand still on his cock slowly pushes into your slick tight cunt. König’s breath goes shaky from the pleasure it’s giving him. He slides his hand up your leg and holds it up for a better angle.
You look back at him and your hands grasp whatever they can find, his pillow and his forearm. Your eyebrows knit together as you moan out his name. His cock pushing deep inside of you like you’ve never felt before. Your walls clench tightly around his fat cock as you feel stuffed for the first time ever.
König begins to thrust into you quickly, his eyes traveling to watch your breast bounce with the motion. Panting hard as his body begins to glisten with sweat. Your sweet moans and sopping wet cunt driving him to his breaking point.
“Y/n,” König moans as he leans down to kiss your lips.
You move your hand from his forearm to his jaw eagerly pressing his lips into yours harder. Moaning into his mouth as his tongue pushes past your lips and begins to circle around every corner of your mouth.
You feel the same overwhelming feeling of pleasure, you know you’re about to cum. You try to turn your head to let out moans but König moves his hand from your leg to your face to keep you kissing him, his tongue dancing with yours as you begin to orgasm.
Without warning König pulls out and steps off the bed. Your body is still trying to calm down. You look at him as he grabs your legs and drags you to the edge of the bed. He rests your legs over his shoulders as his hands grasp your hips. He slips his cock back into your needy pussy and begins to thrust as hard as he can.
Your back arches and you reach out grabbing the bed sheets as you loudly moan König’s name. König has sweat dripping from his forehead as he looks down at you not being able to handle his cock.
“You can take it, Maus, I’m going to cum.”
“Please, cum. Please fuck your cock is so- big.” You moan now looking up at him. Your face contorted from the pleasure.
“Beg for it more.”
“Please cum, please cum in my tight little pussy.”
“Oh, fuck ja, mehr!”
“Please cum in me.” You whimper out as his thrust picks up even more, the sound of his hips slamming into your ass fills the room.
König listens to you beg, watching your eyes glaze over with a lustful look. He nods his head as you beg him to fill your precious little pussy full of his cum. He does.
“Y/n! Fuck!” König moans out, dropping his head back as his cock throbs deep inside of you.
.
.
“Hey sweetie, did you have a good day today?” Chris asks as he walks to you and kisses your cheek.
“Yeah, I did.” You sit still thinking about König, excited for tomorrow.
“Did you do something different with your skincare routine? You look like you’re glowing.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Well, whatever it is, you should keep doing it.”
“Oh, I will.” You smile, holding your secret.
#konig#konig x reader#konig x y/n#könig#konig cod#könig x reader#konig smut#könig smut#könig cod#könig mw2#konig x reader smut#cod konig#könig call of duty#könig x you#könig x y/n#cod smut#könig x reader smut#smut#konig x female reader#konig x you#könig x curvy reader#konig x curvy reader
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Lightning Love
Hi guys!
Like I said, after seeing Steph in that outfit I just COULDN'T not write something for her.
It's longer than I expected to be honest, but I hope you will like it!
TW : Some Angst maybe, Alcohol consumption, mention of breakup
It’s always strange to be at a wedding while your ex-girlfriend just ends things with you. Until early November, you were due to come here with Leila Ouahabi, your former girlfriend.
She broke up with you after an eight-month relationship but, with the reasons she gave you, you can’t really be mad at her. She accused you of not being as involved in your relationship as you should have been after so long. It was true that with her being in Manchester and you in London, you aren’t able to see each other very often.
But it was good for you, you had fun dates, you laughed a lot, and you had good moments with her.
Leila was right to say that though, because the real reason for your lack of involvement is probably very related to the fact that you are dead in love with your Australian teammates, Steph Catley.
And seeing her today at Emily and Kat’s wedding doesn’t help.
Steph is absolutely stunning, and you have trouble looking somewhere else.
You never told anyone about your crush on her, you never wanted to make things strange with anyone. Steph was in love with Dean, happier than ever and that is all you want for her. You never had a talk with her about her preference before she met Dean, but for you Steph is as straight as a ruler.
So, you totally have not a single chance with her.
You were happy for her when you learned about her engagement and genuinely sad when you learned that her and Dean broke up.
And right now, as you are looking at her laughing with Caitlin and Katie, you just can feel your heart clenched. Maybe it’s the consumption of alcohol that makes you feel sadder than you actually did. It doesn’t stop you from accepting another glass of champagne when a waiter comes for you.
“You alright?”
You turn your head towards Kristie, Sam’s girlfriend, you are sitting next to you. You promised to Sam to look for her while she takes some pictures with some of your friends, but you probably weren't good company after all.
“Yeah, sorry” you turn yourself towards the blonde. “Do you need something to drink?”
You realise that her glass is empty when you glance at it and that the waiter didn’t bring something alcohol free. With her being pregnant and the heath around today, you hope that he will get fired soon.
“I’m alright” she smiles.
“No, please drink at least water. Sam is going to kill me otherwise”
Kristie smiles when you fill her glass with cold water and it’s only two minutes before Sam comes back with Steph and Mackenzie Arnold.
“Have you been treated well?” Sam smirks towards you. “I’ve heard that she doesn’t know how to treat girls right”
You roll your eyes and let yourself go against the back of your chair. You know that Leila hasn’t said anything bad against you, your breakup was pretty chill, and you are still talking from time to time. But the woso-world is a small world and some of her friends probably made some assumptions.
“What do you mean?” Mackenzie asks while Steph frowns.
“I’m just saying what I’ve heard” Sam says, raising her hands defensively.
“I’m sure that is wrong. Y/N is the cutest of all of you”
Steph statements and the defensive hands she puts on your arm make you feel warm inside. And stupid to react like a teenage boy.
Sam smirks before inviting Kristie to go dancing, leaving you with Mackenzie and Steph alone at the table. It’s a little bit depressing to see all these couples to be honest. A moment of silence floats between you three, all of you probably lost in their thoughts.
You know that Mackenzie broke up with her girlfriend some weeks ago too, or that her girlfriend broke up with her. Either way, it’s never really great to be in that position for a wedding.
“Well, that’s surely depressing” Mackenzie finally states, looking at you three.
You can’t help but giggle at that, Steph smiling next to you. You know that there are more single people there, by the way where the hell is Alanna?
“You don’t see someone who might be interesting for you? Weddings leading to another wedding are great love stories” you say, looking at Mackenzie.
“No, and I’m not sure that I want to” she sights softly. “On another hand, Steph probably could try something with the way our waiter looks at her every time he is near”
You hold a grimace of disgust thinking about that waiter and glance towards Steph, to see that she has the same expression you just retained.
“No thanks” she mumbles.
“She deserves someone better than him anyway” you add, before taking another sip of your drink.
You feel Steph’s gaze on you, but you distract yourself by looking at Caitlin and Katie dancing a little further than the other people in the crowd.
“I’m going to see if I can find Lany” Mackenzie says before standing up.
You watch her leave before turning your head towards Steph. She was already looking at you and you are glad that the night has fallen otherwise she would have seen the red colouring your cheeks.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” she asks softly.
“Sure” you accept with a smile.
You stand up and have some trouble finding your balance, between your heels and the champagne you drank in probably too much quantity. You feel stupid at first, before feeling Steph grabs your arm to give you more balance.
“Are you okay?” she laughs.
“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t stand for a long time and the Champagne kept coming back in my glass” you smirk.
She laughs again and you feel the habitual feeling in your stomach. At first you were sad to learn that Steph signed to Arsenal and not Tottenham where you are playing with Charlie. But then you realised too that it’s probably better like this. You wouldn’t have been able to hide the reality of your feelings in another way.
It’s already too hard to do it when you are at Australian camp. Thank God Kyra is always here to distract her, you are pretty sure that other than that you would have been caught since a long time.
You silently walk next to her, your arms always linked together. You like it that way, feeling her against you without you being the one making the first move.
Steph and you are pretty close, you are the same age and started to play at the same time. You played together in Melbourne until she left for the USA, and you went to Tottenham. With her being in London from 2020 it’s easier for you to see each other, usually for walking Calvin or drinking coffee.
“Seriously, how are you dealing with your breakup?” Steph suddenly asks.
Surprised, you turn your head in her direction before shrugging. You didn’t really talk about it with her to be honest. Leila broke up with you early November, then you had all of those games and after that Christmas break was there. It is only thanks to the wedding that you are able to see her before January.
“I’m okay, for real. It wasn’t that serious from my side, and I think she understands it. I liked her but I wasn’t in love, you know” you shrug.
“You were in a relationship without being in love?”
You can hear Steph’s surprise and almost discontent in her tone. You know how that girl is romantic, and you cringe a little after saying what you said.
“I was hoping to really fall in love with her” you precise. “I mean she’s funny, beautiful and everything… But I don’t know. Something was missing”
“I think I can understand” Steph says slowly.
“It was comfortable, but we weren’t meant to be”
She nods and you keep walking in silence a little more. You are in the vineyards now, the noise of the party coming from far behind you. It’s quiet and peaceful here. You like it.
“What about you?” you ask quietly.
“I’m okay, I think. I wasn’t expecting this to be honest, but I can’t fight against it”
“Are you still in love with him?”
You realise when Steph looks at you how inappropriate your question is. You are not her mother, her sister and even her best friend. You are just a friend who has nothing to say in her relationships.
“I’m sorry, I –“
“I don’t think I’m in love with him anymore” Steph cuts you.
By then you stopped walking, and you are facing each other. With the sun going down Steph gets ride of her sunglasses but she’s still stunning. You could look at her pretty face all day long anyway.
You weren’t expecting an answer, so you shut your mouth and let her talk.
“I don’t think I was for a long time now… I can’t say since when, though. It doesn’t mean I don’t have any affection for him, you know? I just fall out of love with him”
She seems sad though and you take all the strength you have in you not to crush her against you. You take her hand back in yours instead, giving her what you hope is a comforting squeeze.
“You will find the right person for you” you smile at her, continuing when she makes a pouty face. “Of course you will. I mean, every single person would be lucky to have you in their life.”
“We’ll see”
You hum, looking at the landscape around you. Em and Kat made a good choice by coming here. It’s really beautiful.
“You’ll find someone too, you know?”
You pout and shrug, not really believing this. In almost ten years you never found someone able to make you forget Steph, it’s not going to change now. You just have to live with the fact that you fall in love with someone straight and will never be able to be happy with her.
You can’t say that to Steph like this, though.
“Want to go back?” you ask.
But Steph shakes her head no and when you look around you spot a bench between two lines of vineyard. You make Steph wait before sitting down, using your jacket to protect her dress.
“Can I ask you a question?” Steph asks a little after.
“Sure” you mumble, looking now at the stars.
But after that there is only silence and you turn your face to Steph, to see that she seems to be thinking about how to tell you what’s in her mind. It attracts your curiosity, and you tilt your head on the side, silently questioning her.
“Don’t take that the wrong way, but… I’ve never seen you really into your girlfriends, you know? Sure, you liked them and treated them well despite what Sam said before, but I never saw you fond of them. Have you really been in love once?”
You sigh softly, now turning your eyes back on the stars. She seems scared about your reaction at her question, but you are not mad. You are more jaded by the situation than something else.
“Once” you finally answer.
“You were in love once?” Steph asks for clarity.
You nod, still without looking at her. You are scared that she would be able to understand if you look her in the eyes.
“With whom?”
“I never told her”
“What? Why?”
Steph seems genuinely surprised and almost concerned by this statement. She sits to be able to lean and be able to look at you correctly, not only the side of your face. It’s hard to ignore her like this and you bite your lip unconsciously when she’s still looking at you.
“It’s complicated, Steph”
“Why?”
“Because it is”
“Is she in a relationship? Is it someone who’s here?”
“Can we please talk about something else?” you whisper.
Realising that she was maybe put too much pressure on your, Steph sits back and seems a little bit embarrassed by her behaviour.
“Of course. I’m sorry”
You give her a small smile. It maybe would be great to able to talk about it to someone, but you don’t know who. All of your close friends are close to Steph, and you don’t want to put them in a complicated situation. You don’t like lies and secrets, even if you keep this one for years now.
“Do you want to go back?”
“Yes, please.”
You totally can do with more alcohol.
Even if you offered her your hand to help her walk in the dark, the way back is filled with silence and just a glance at Steph makes you understand that she’s lost in her thoughts.
You wonder what it is, hoping that she’s not thinking about Dean. That boy has fallen far down in your esteem since her breakup with Steph. You refer to him as “Calvin’s dad”. It amuses Steph though, so it’s probably okay that way.
“Ow, look who took the most beautiful girl away to kiss her in the vineyard?”
Alanna’s voice makes Steph and you jump. You don’t really know which one of Steph or you let the other hand go first, but you blush stupidly.
“Shut up” Steph answers.
You are surprised to see that she seems flustered too, but Steph is taken away from you by Mackenzie for something related to a new cocktail to try. You are a little sad to watch her go away but try to concentrate your attention on something else.
Like the glass Hayley gives you.
********
You watch Steph from afar for the rest of the night, staying with Hayley during this time. You had a lot of fun to be honest, even if you feel a pang of jealousy in your chest every time you see her laughing with Mackenzie.
You haven’t realised that they were so close, to be honest.
At some point of the night, you decide that you are too drunk to stay any longer and take advantage of Clare leaving to do the same thing. After saying goodbye to the married couple, you take your taxi and leave to go back to your hotel room.
You are almost relieved to find the silence here and even if it’s late (or early in the morning) you take the time to take a hot shower. It helps you sober up a little bit. You are still glad to find the softness and the warmth of your bed.
You were almost asleep when someone gently knocks on your door, making you groan in your pillow. But you still get up, opening your door just a little bit to be able to see who it is.
“Steph?” you frown, opening it a little more.
“I didn’t see you leaving” she says, playing with her bag.
“You were busy dancing with Macca” you shrug with a soft smile.
You weren’t jealous at all, of course.
(That’s a lie)
“Do you want to come inside?”
You open the door completely now and after a second of hesitation, Steph comes inside.
“I just wanted to say goodnight” Steph says, sitting on your bed. “And I wanted to be sure that you know you can talk to me about anything, at any time. You know that, right?”
“I know” you smile at her. “Thanks, though”
You are leaning against the desk in front of your bed, looking at her. You are glad that you put an old jersey and a shorty to sleep. Steph is still in her dress, and you love that you are able to look at her longer with this dress.
“And about that girl you are in love with…”
“Mh?”
“It’s not Hayley, is it?”
“No” you laugh. “The problem isn’t for her to be in a relationship. Hayley is just a friend”
You see her looking at you for several seconds, just like if she wants to be sure that you are saying the truth. But you are and she finally smiles again.
“Good. Do I know her?”
You hesitate to answer this time, biting your bottom lip thoughtfully. You know that if you say stop about this conversation at any time, Steph will accept it and talk about something else.
“You do” you finally answer.
“Is she a footballer?”
“She is” you smile.
Steph seems to have fun asking you those questions and you don’t want to suppress her smile. She said earlier that she never saw you fond of someone, it’s only because you aren’t allowed to show it. But you are so whipped.
“And it’s not Hayley” she thinks aloud while you shake your head. “Macca?”
“No” you laugh softly.
“Right, you told me that her relationship state isn’t the problem”
She still seems lost in her thoughts and you smile softly at her before talking again. You really hope that she will forget this conversation after a good night of sleep and having sober up.
“I do. But now you probably should go to bed. You look tired”
“You really know how to talk to women”
Steph rolls her eyes while you help her to get up, making you laugh. You guide her to the door that you open for her, smiling softly.
“You can look tired but still be beautiful, you know?” you point anyway.
She doesn’t answer but smiles before kissing your cheek. You froze, not expecting this gesture now. Your skin tickles you where she kissed you and you have to take all your concentration to stay focused in the moment.
“Sleep well” you say at the same time.
You smile and she giggles before going to her room. You close the door of yours, before letting yourself go against it and taking a big breath. Why is your life so complicated? Why aren’t you able to forget her and have a happy relationship with someone? Leila was great, for example.
Thinking about your ex, you look for your phone several minutes before spotting it in the bottom of your bag. You have several notifications there, including two messages from Steph asking you where you are. They came one hour before and you imagine that it was before she came back to the hotel too.
When you open Leila’s conversation, you see that she was online twenty minutes ago. Probably because it’s the middle of the afternoon in Spain. She went back to her country too to spend Christmas with her family.
You go in your bed again, looking at Leila’s goofy profile picture. After some hesitation, you start to write something like “Hello. I hope you are okay and have a great holiday for now. Can we just please talk about something if you have time?”
After all, Leila understood that you were totally into your relationship with her for a reason. She deserves to know why and maybe talking about it to someone will help you to pass to something else? Leila told you that she was still for you if you needed anything. And right now you really need to talk to someone.
Just after you send it, someone knocks at your door… Again. But you choose not to go answer this time, Steph is safely in her room, and can’t a girl have her beauty sleep?
But the person insists and at the third knock, you finally get up. If it’s Lany asking for a makeup remover, you are going to crush her.
But it’s not her. It’s Steph, again.
She has meanwhile removed her makeup, and her hair is down now. But it’s not what is the first thing you spot. She seems strange.
“Are you okay?” you ask her, frowning.
She doesn’t wait for you to propose to her to enter your room this time, passing in front of you to go inside. But you let her. After all she’s Steph, she can do everything she can.
“The girl you love. She’s a footballer and she’s single, because her relationship status isn’t the problem”
You watch her pacing around in your room, only nodding when she looks up to see your answer. What the hell is happening.
“Your problem is that she’s straight”
It’s not a question, but a statement. She doesn’t say it accusatively either, she makes you think about someone who is exposing his theory about something. You bite your lip when you nod again.
“And it’s not Charlie, is it?”
“No” you whisper.
Charlie is great and beautiful, but a little bit too young maybe. And definitively not Steph, once again. You look at Steph when she takes a big breathing, still not understanding what she’s up to.
“I think I know who it is, then”
“No, you don’t” you giggle softly.
She will never know and that is comforting and depressing at the same time. She’s still wearing this damn dress, and you want to rip your eyes apart for not being able to see her for any longer. She’s so beautiful it hurts.
“I do”
You heard that sentence several hours ago, pronounced by Emily and Kat and you found it cute at this time. But right now, coming from Steph’s mouth it feels strange. Maybe because she’s really close to you now.
“I have one more guess, but you have to tell me if I’m wrong”
“I will”
She’s so close that you can see every detail of her face and tell with certitude that she brushed her teeth too.
You still don’t understand what is happening, but by now she has closed the last centimetres existing between you and before you are able to freak out, she presses her lips against yours.
An uppercut probably might have made you less groggy than that. It was just a small press against your lips, but it was everything and you take a step towards Steph when she takes a step back.
“Maybe your problem isn’t really a problem” the left back whispers at you.
You lose two seconds to look at her deep in her eyes, before kissing her too. You don’t know if you are dreaming or hallucinating because of the alcohol, but it feels real and fucking amazing. Steph kisses you back and you take her against you by her waist.
********
The morning after you need two seconds to remember why you feel so happy and content. But you don’t open your eyes directly, scared to have only dreamed it. You are lying on your side, under the cover still with your pajamas. You didn’t sleep with Steph last night, it was “just” kisses and sweet nothing whispered, before you both fell asleep in your bed.
When you finally slowly open your eyes, you can see that Steph is still here and that she’s already up. The light in the room tells you that it’s probably pretty late, even with the blinds closed.
“Hello” you mumble shyly.
“Hi”
“Did you sleep well?”
Steph only nods and you understand immediately that something is wrong. You feel your stomach squirm uncomfortably. Of course, she would have regrets about it. She was probably at least tipsy last night; you shouldn’t have accepted any kisses from her in this state.
“We still can do it as if nothing happened” you whisper.
She frowns again and you want to erase those lines between her eyebrows with your thumb. At some point last night, she changed her dress for one of your shirts and it’s an unbelievable feeling to see her in one of your clothes.
“Is that what you want?”
“No” you admit before sighing. “But I want you to be comfortable”
“It’s not about yesterday” Steph says before rolling on her back and looking at the ceiling. “I mean, it does, but not exactly”
“Okay?”
You see her take a deep breath, just like yesterday before she kissed you. Waiting for her to talk, you put your head in your hand to have a better look at her. You are nervous, not knowing what to expect at this point.
“You said you love me” she begins and you nod. “So, I assume that what happened last night means something to you”
“It means everything” you whisper.
The smile that is on her face after hearing you saying that is breathtaking. But she is still looking at the ceiling, concentrating on what she wants to tell you.
“I know we have a lot to talk about, but before everything I need to know if you are still involved in any way with Leila Ouahabi?”
You frown at that. You talked about it yesterday at the wedding, so you don’t understand why it is coming back now. But if she still needs reassurances, you will say at every minute if it allows you to have something with her.
“No, I told you yesterday. We are just talking from time to time but that’s all”
You would rather for Steph to look at you, but she’s still looking at the ceiling of your room, her frown deepening.
“In that case, why has she tried to call you several times and sent you messages like Sorry I was busy, What do you want to talk about or Please answer I’m worried?”
Looks like Leila took your message from yesterday in a very serious way.
“Oh… It’s not what you think” you start, but then Steph is turning her head very slowly towards you.
“Those are the exact words Dean told me when I saw the conversation he was having with that girl from his work, the very same he’s going on dates with as we speak”
You feel your face getting soft at her confession. She doesn’t talk a lot about Dean, not wanting for her friends to diabolise him, you think. But it looks like he deserves it finally. You move in the bed to be closer to her, wanting to offer her as much comfort as possible.
“Yesterday after you left my room for the first time, I sent a message to Leila asking her if she was free to talk about something” you explain while sitting up on the bed. “But then before she’s able to answer you came back and… well I hope you remember what happened”
She looks at you for several seconds, scanning your eyes and your face with attention. She’s probably looking for any possibility of lies, but you won’t take it against her.
“I do” she whispers and your mind flies back to yesterday.
“I can show you the conversation if you want to, I have nothing to hide. And I should probably write to Leila to excuse myself” you add, frowning softly.
“No, I – I trust you” she sighs “What did you want to talk about?”
“You” you smile this time.
“Me?”
She seems genuinely surprised by your answer and your smile grows wider. You nod at her and shyly put a strand of hair away from her face.
“Yeah. I needed someone to talk about it. And Leila already understood that I wasn’t really in our relationship for a reason. She was the easier one to talk to, especially because other than Lany, she doesn’t know a lot of Australian people”
“You wanted to talk about your feelings for a girl to one of your exes?”
She seems rather amused now and you realise that I might be a little weird finally. It wasn’t maybe your best idea, but Leila is the only one who came to your mind at that time.
“My feelings about a girl I’ve been in love with forever” you precise with a soft smile. “And that I really want to kiss again, because she’s the most beautiful sigh I’ve ever seen in the morning”
Steph rolls her eyes and smiles, before opening her arms for you. You don’t waste any time before cuddling against her, cupping her cheek before kissing her softly. And just like yesterday, you wouldn’t be able to describe what you feel at every kiss. But you just can’t get enough.
You stop at one point though, when your stomach groans with discontent. It makes Steph laugh and you hide your embarrassment in her neck. Your wild appetite is a big thing, known by a lot of people around you.
“How are you seeing things, back in London?” you ask while you are eating a toast from the meal tray you request at the room service.
“I’m still looking for a flat, I’m living with Beth now and even if Calvin and Myle are great friends I can’t wait to have my own flat”
You nod while looking straight in front of you, munching your toast slowly. You love Steph’s dog, but like everyone around. He’s the best honestly. But that wasn’t really what you were referring to. Steph kept Calvin with her after her breakup, giving it to Dean when she’s away like those days in Australia.
“I’m looking for something in St-Albans, but I could look a little more eastbound maybe?”
You side-eyes her, only to see her looking at you with a knowing smile and you can’t keep yours at bay. Maybe she knows you better than you thought, or maybe she can read you better than you thought.
“That’s a great idea. Like this I could take you easier on a date”
“Oh, do you now?”
She pinches your ribs, making you squeak and almost throw the trail away. After a not very fair tickles fight, you finish on your back with Steph lying on you. You totally could get used to that. It’s Steph's turn to stroke your hair now and you take a look at her before asking what you have in mind.
“Will you say yes? To go on a date with me?”
“Of course. I didn't kiss you last night for nothing. But would you mind taking things slow? I mean – sorry for bringing him now – but I’m not separated for a long time, and I’ve never been with a girl before”
“We will go as slow as you want” you promise her before kissing her.
You feel her smile against your lips as if the feeling of your kiss is as good as it is for you. You like the idea, to be honest.
“Do you want to know a secret?”
Steph whispers and you just hum in answer, distracted by her caresses on your arms.
“I’ve always had a crush on you, but before last night I was saying to myself that it wasn’t something serious. But when I realised yesterday that you might be into me… I don’t know it’s like everything made sense”
“Do you want to know a secret too?” you smirk when she nods “I’ve been in love with you for years. That is the reason why you never saw me fond of someone. It was because I’m fond of you.”
“I love this explanation”
She smiles at you, and you find it hard to breathe easily when she smiles and looks at you like that. You don’t mind hiding your relationship for some time if this is what she needs or waiting for her to be ready to take some steps together. As long as it’s you and her, that’s all that matters.
Next Chapter
#woso imagine#woso x reader#woso fanfics#woso one shot#steph catley#steph catley x reader#steph catley imagine
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LN4 | Vexing Vacation – Part 4
Summary: When you agreed to join your brother on his vacation, sharing a room with his best friend wasn’t part of the plan. Now, that you’re constantly stuck with Lando and his relentless teasing, you’re not sure whether you want to strangle him or kiss him.
Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader, one-bed trope, a lot of banter and a hint of forced proximity :)
WC: 4.1K
Warnings: mentions of sex/sexual insinuation, cursing and my lack of golf knowledge
Part 1 | Part 3 | Masterlist | Part 5
Y/N groaned when she woke up, her head already throbbing with a pounding headache.
“Good morning!” Lando said cheerfully from beside her.
“Shut up,” she muttered, pulling the comforter over her face to block him out.
Lando laughed at her. “Sounds like you had a good time last night.”
“No, I didn’t. Because you guys had to pull me away before the fun could start.”
She buried her head deeper into the pillow and sighed. “I’m comfortable,” she said, her voice muffled.
“Okay, well, I’m going down for breakfast. Don’t stay in bed too long or you’ll miss it. There’s water and aspirin on the bedside table.”
Y/N hummed in response, drifting asleep again before Lando had even left the room for breakfast. When he reached the hotel restaurant, he spotted Max already sitting at a table, scrolling through his phone as he waited. Lando slid into the seat across from him.
“Good morning,” Lando said.
“Hey, morning,” Max responded, looking up from his phone at the new voice.
They got their breakfast and talked about their plans for the day. At the lack of female presence, they decided on something they would enjoy very much, but the girls maybe a little less; golfing. Max heard there was a good course nearby, and wanted to try it out, and Lando was not about to protest.
“Where’s P?” Lando asked after a while.
“You’ve only noticed now that she’s not here?” Lando rolled his eyes. “She’s sleeping in. She had quite a bit to drink last night. Not as much as my sister, though. Speaking of her, how’s she?”
“She’s okay, I think. Definitely hungover and very tired.”
Max laughed. “Didn’t expect anything different, to be honest.”
“You were pretty touchy last night, weren’t you?” He continued.
“What?” Lando asked, surprised at the direct and unexpected question.
“Don’t think I didn’t see you when you were guiding her out of the club; you were all over her. And P told me you couldn’t keep your hands off her yesterday while you two were alone. The day before that too, apparently, she was holding your hand, you said? And the arm on her chair at dinner?”
Lando was in shock. Usually, Max didn’t notice anything that happened between him and Y/N, but this time he had seen, or heard about, whatever was going on between the two. Of course, Pietra had something to do with it, Max was too thick to realise it himself. Although he had touched her more than usual, maybe he wasn’t as subtle as he thought.
“Uhm—”
“You like her don’t you?”
Lando nearly choked on his tea at the blunt question, landing himself in a choking fit. “Uh, yeah, I suppose you could say that. Look, I don’t want—”
“It’s okay, man. I trust you, You’ve got my blessing. I think you’ll be good for each other, you’ll just have to convince her of it first,” Max said, laughing at the image forming in his head.
Lando blinked in disbelief, not really believing he got Max’s permission. It wouldn’t make a difference, but it was good to know their friendship wouldn’t be ruined. “Thanks, man,” he said, before joining in his laughter. “Convincing her though,” he breathed in sharply, “yeah, that’s going to be tough.”
– – – – –
Y/N shot up in bed when she heard the door of her room close loudly, rubbing her eyes tiredly at the abrupt end to her sleep.
“You awake?” Lando asked.
She hummed, moving herself into a more comfortable sitting position as she watched Lando enter the room. “What’s that?” she asked, hinting at the covered plate in his hands.
“I brought you some food, you missed breakfast.”
“Oh, thanks,” she mumbled, accepting the plate from him.
“You didn’t drink your water yet?”
“Hm?”
“The water? On the bedside table?” He clarified.
“Oh, I didn’t see it, I fell asleep again.”
“Don’t forget to take the aspirin. We’re going out in a bit,” he told her as he walked around the room.
“Where are we going?” Y/N asked before biting into one of the strawberries.
“Golfing,” Lando answered from the bathroom. He could hear her groan of annoyance through the wall.
“That’s what you get when you miss breakfast; the men get to decide.”
Y/N scoffed. “Very daring, calling yourself a man.”
“Excuse me?” Lando said in fake offence.
“You heard me.”
“Now, don’t forget who brought you breakfast, water and aspirin. I can’t believe I went through all that trouble, and this is the thanks I get,” Lando said, shaking his head in disappointment.
Y/N shrugged, a small, satisfied grin on her face when they made eye contact. She got up from the bed not much later. “I’m going to shower,” she announced, quickly grabbing her stuff before disappearing into the bathroom.
She took her time in the shower, giving Lando a moment to get changed into his so-called ‘golf clothes’ before she returned. Her jaw was slack in surprise when she saw him; if these were golf clothes then she needed to go golfing more often. He looked good; the tank top he was wearing showed off the lean muscles in his arms and shoulders, making him look stronger than usual, hotter. She quickly banished that thought from her mind – she couldn’t be thinking things like that, it was extremely inappropriate of her; he was her brother’s best friend.
Y/N scolded herself when she realised she’d been staring at him. She brushed a hand along her hair, as if checking there were no loose strands from her ponytail, and straightened her skirt in an attempt to distract herself. She walked towards Lando, who was busy on his phone as he leant against the armrest of the couch. He looked up at her when she stopped in front of him, eyes slowly raking over her body while she put her wallet inside her purse.
“You ready to go?” He asked, clearing his throat.
“Um…” She looked around the room, checking if she had forgotten something. “Yes, I’m ready.”
Lando got up from the couch at her answer, grabbing his bag of clubs from the closet – of course, he would have his own golf clubs, and travel with them – before opening the door. He stopped when Y/N followed after him with only her purse. “Aren’t you bringing your clubs?” He asked her.
Y/N rolled her eyes. “You think I’d carry them myself? They’re already there, of course,” she said sarcastically, before clarifying, “I don’t have clubs, Lando. I never golf.”
“Oh. Okay, then. Let’s go,” he concluded, before walking towards the elevator, where, coincidentally, Pietra and Max were already waiting. Y/N was surprised to find out her brother had taken his own clubs, too.
The group headed out in the rental car, Lando driving as he didn’t seem able to give up control over any vehicle he could drive himself, while the girls sat in the back. They were summing up all the things they’d rather be doing instead of golfing until Max snapped, telling them to leave if they wanted to do something else. The girls smiled in success, but stopped pestering him, they wanted to stay; Pietra wanted to spend some time with her boyfriend and Y/N was convinced by the opportunity to drive golf carts, plus she didn’t feel like spending the day alone.
When they arrived, the boys got everything set up, including two carts and clubs for the girls. Y/N claimed a set of keys as soon as Max showed them. “I’m driving,” she exclaimed before rushing to one of the carts and promptly placing herself in the driver’s seat. She watched with a grin as Max sighed and loaded her rented clubs into the cart.
He walked up to where she was sitting. “P and I are gonna share a cart, so you’ll have to convince Lando to let you drive.”
Y/N pouted. “Lando again? We already spent all of yesterday together, and he’ll never let me drive,” she complained.
“Don’t mope,” Max told her off before walking to the other cart and driving off with Pietra.
Y/N sighed when Lando joined her, holding his hand out for the keys. “I’m driving,” she protested his unspoken question, “you already drove here.”
“Y/N,” Lando scolded her, but she ignored him, pushing him away.
“It’s your time to be a passenger princess,” she told him as he walked around to the other side. He sighed when he sat down, already fearing for his life. “Be sure to hold onto something,” Y/N said before pressing her foot down. Her words increased his fear tenfold as he grappled for something to hold onto, eventually settling for the edge of the roof.
“Now, which way do we have to go?” Y/N asked.
“Dear Lord, slow down,” Lando said, panicking at her unsafe driving style. He desperately wanted a seatbelt right now.
“Tell me where the first hole is, then I’ll slow down,” Y/N said with a grin.
“Why are you driving full speed if you don’t even know where to go?” He asked in confusion. Y/N nearly giggled at the stressed look on his face, and his unnecessarily strong grip on the cart.
“If you don’t tell me where to go I’ll just keep driving in circles until we’re out of petrol.”
“Y/N!” He yelled, when she took a rather sharp turn.
“Lando!” She yelled back, taking another turn so they were actually driving in circles.
“Okay, okay!” Lando shouted, gripping the edge of the cart for dear life. He frantically scanned the course, his eyes darting between the signs and the other golfers. “That way! Just follow that cart, I think it’s Max!”
Y/N smirked and didn’t slow down quite as quickly as he’d hoped, taking another sharp turn before easing off the gas. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Lando exhaled in relief at the slower pace but his hand kept its strong hold on the side of the cart in fear she’d speed up again when he’d least expect it.
Y/N laughed at the sound. “You need to relax a little more, Lando. I thought you liked driving fast.”
“Only when I’m the one driving,” he muttered, pointing toward another cart in the distance. “Just follow Max and Pietra, and please no more crazy turns.”
She sighed dramatically. “Fine, but only because I’m a nice person.”
Y/N continued to follow Max’s cart at a reasonable speed, though she couldn’t resist speeding up for the occasional bump, just to keep things interesting. When they caught up, she glanced over at Lando, noticing the tension in his shoulders and the way he was still tightly gripping his seat. She suppressed a smile at the comedic sight.
“I honestly didn’t expect you to be such a baby,” she teased.
“I’m not a baby, I wasn’t scared, I’m just trying to make sure we don’t flip over. There’s a difference,” Lando told her with a smirk.
“Mhm,” she hummed, clearly amused. She slowed the cart as they approached the first hole where Max was already waiting.
“You two alright?” Max called out with an obvious grin on his face. He knew exactly what kind of chaos Y/N had caused from the look on her face and Lando’s; the fact that she was behind the wheel said enough.
Lando shot him a glare. “Barely survived. Your sister’s a bad driver.”
Y/N scoffed. “Bad? I manoeuvred the cart perfectly at a high speed. If anything, I’m a great driver.”
“You’re a bad driver,” he repeated.
Y/N huffed. “I’m insulted, I will now proceed to pout. You should be glad I livened up your day a little.”
Lando looked at her incredulously before shaking his head with a grin. She had once again surprised him, and kept him on his toes, but he’d never be a passenger to Y/N again. At least, not without a seatbelt and maybe a helmet, too.
Y/N hopped out of the cart with excitement. The short drive had gotten her energy up and she was ready to hit some balls. She picked out a club with the help of Max and lined up for her first swing while he moved on to help Pietra. Lando stood back, watching her with amusement as she put the ball down. She knew she was terrible at golf, but didn’t seem to care, swinging wildly at the ball and completely missing it in the process; it was a sight to behold.
“Need help?” Lando asked, raising an eyebrow.
She huffed, shaking her head before she readjusted her stance. “No. I’ve got this.”
Her second swing wasn’t much better, and Lando couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sure you do.”
She glared at him. “I don’t need your sarcasm right now.”
“Not sarcasm,” he said, stepping closer. “Just offering my expertise.”
Y/N crossed her arms and gave him a sceptical look. “You think you’re some kind of golf expert?”
Lando shrugged casually. “Better than you, clearly.”
She was about to fire back another snappy retort but held it back. She could definitely use some help; she certainly wasn’t an expert – and if Lando offered to provide it, who was she to stop him?
“Alright, fine,” she said with a sigh, stepping back. “Show me how it’s done, then.”
Lando smirked as he stepped closer, his hand sliding down her arm to adjust her grip on the club. The subtle touch sent that familiar tingle coursing through her body, but she did her best to ignore it, focusing on his instructions instead. He positioned her arms and angled the club just right before moving behind her, his chest lightly pressing against her back, his arms covering hers as they practised a swing together. She tried to stay focused on the task at hand, but his closeness was impossible to ignore—it was all too distracting.
“You got it?” he asked her. Y/N hummed in response and he stepped away. She immediately missed his presence, his warm body, as the slight breeze hit her skin, but she refused to let it show.
“Alright, go for it,” Lando said, egging her on.
Y/N swung, this time actually hitting the ball instead of a lump of grass. It moved through the air quite smoothly, not exactly how far and where she’d hoped, but in the right direction. She squinted her eyes, trying to find her ball in the grass, a grin spreading across her face when she spotted it.
“Hey, that wasn’t so bad,” she said excitedly when she stepped away, watching as Max taught Pietra how to golf.
Lando hummed in agreement. “You just needed someone to show you.”
Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Lando leant a little closer – so close that she could feel his body warmth radiating off him. “Too late,” he whispered in a low voice, a teasing smile on his face.
Y/N shook her head at the comment, although a small smile slipped onto her face. She watched as her brother helped his girlfriend hit the ball, leant over her as they swung the club together, just like Lando had helped her mere moments ago. The image made her blush; Lando had stood just as close to her before, she had been able to feel his chest against her back and she had enjoyed it. She suddenly realised that he was still standing close—that she could still feel his warmth, and took a quick step away from him, trying to maintain the distance that Lando was so keen to close. She watched as Max and Pietra finished their turns from her new spot, before turning to Lando. “Your turn, golf expert,” she said in a mocking tone.
Lando laughed as he grabbed his golf club and placed his ball on the tee. His playful demeanour faded into focus as he adjusted his stance, a serious expression settling over his face. As much as she wanted to deny it, he looked good: the sunlight kissed his skin just right, hitting his tan in a way that made him glow. Not to mention, the top he was wearing perfectly displayed the strong muscles twisting under his skin as he hit the ball. Y/N was mesmerised as she watched him in action, blatantly staring at him while he stared after his ball. He caught her gazing when he turned back, a cheeky grin spreading on his face, causing her to blush in embarrassment.
“I guess you really are the expert,” she said while they walked back to the cart. Lando grinned at the compliment, but didn’t look up as he placed his club back in the bag, not wanting to show how much her simple sentence affected him.
At some point during the game, Y/N and Pietra had enough, annoyed at how bad they were at the sport and how boring it really was. They decided to just watch from the golf cart as the boys hit their balls, counting down the minutes until they were finished. Every time they drove to the next location Lando tried to steal the keys from Y/N, but so far he hadn’t managed to grab them. She was surprised her reflexes were quicker than those of an F1 driver but was happy about it nonetheless. She enjoyed the look of fear on Lando’s face whenever she took a sharp turn just a little too fast.
When the boys finally finished the game, they quickly returned the rental clubs, and unfortunately, the carts, too. Y/N dramatically bid farewell to her beloved golf cart before handing in the keys at the reception. Lando was very relieved he could drive himself again when they stepped into the rental car, teasingly copying Y/N’s behaviour as he greeted the car excessively, doing everything but kissing the steering wheel while she rolled her eyes at his antics.
The drive back to the hotel was short, but after the long day they’d had, the group settled for a quick dinner at the hotel restaurant before retreating to their rooms. Y/N was yawning as she walked around the room, tired from the day and last night’s bad sleep. After Lando was finished using the bathroom, she quickly changed into her pyjamas and brushed her teeth, ready to go to sleep.
She grabbed a bottle of water on her way to the bed, opening it as she walked – not a good idea since she spilled it all over her pyjamas. She gasped at the cold water and dropped the bottle on the floor, causing an even bigger mess. “Fuck,” she muttered, hastily picking the bottle up before more water spilled and putting it on the desk nearby.
Lando glanced over as she walked back to the bathroom for a towel, his brow raised. “What happened?”
She sighed, looking down at herself, “I just spilled water everywhere. I’m completely drenched.”
Lando smirked, sitting up to look at the situation. “I can help you with that.”
“Don’t even start.” She glared at him. “It’s not funny. I don’t have extra pyjamas.”
He shrugged, unfazed. “You can wear one of my shirts.”
She gave him a look. “Lando, you’re short.”
“How did we get to insulting me?” he said, frowning in feigned offence.
“I mean,” Y/N sighed again, softer this time, “we’re the same height. Your shirt won’t cover enough...”
He grinned. “I’m not seeing the problem here.”
She rolled her eyes. “I do, you already saw my butt once.”
“Exactly, what’s the harm?” He said teasingly before his tone turned more serious. “Look,” he sighed, walking to his suitcase, pulling out a shirt, “it’s either this or sleeping in wet pyjamas. It’s the biggest one I’ve got.”
Y/N hesitated for a moment before taking the shirt from him – she didn’t really have another choice. “Fine. Thanks,” She said before heading into the bathroom.
She changed quickly, turning around to check in the mirror how much the shirt actually covered. It was good enough. It smelled good too, like Lando, but she would never admit that. Y/N sighed and walked back to the bed.
Lando looked up at the sound. “What now?” He asked teasingly, watching as she walked around. She looked good in his shirt, like she belonged in it. It suited her better than Lando.
“Just, my skin’s cold from the water,” she muttered, not thinking about what she said and what responses it might solicit – she blamed the wine at dinner.
Lando raised his eyebrows in surprise at the admission. “I could help with that too,” he volunteered cheekily.
She shot him a look, clearly flustered at the blunt offer as her mouth hung slightly open in surprise. “Just go to sleep,” she told him, climbing into bed and pulling the covers over herself. Maybe if she was fast enough, he wouldn’t notice the blush creeping up her neck.
Lando lay down next to her, shifting in the bed until he was comfortable. She could hear the bedding rustling and pulled her own comforter further up till the top reached her chin. Previously, the air conditioning hadn’t bothered her much, but now that she was only wearing Lando’s flimsy T-shirt, the cool air suddenly felt much colder.
It didn’t seem to bother Lando as much; he wasn’t tossing or turning like she was. She turned around to see him lying on his side, his back towards her. His bare arm over the duvet made it seem as if the air conditioner wasn’t making him uncomfortably cold, but of course, he was still properly covered up in his pyjamas.
She lay still in the bed for what felt like an hour, unable to fall asleep with the cold air brushing past her, effortlessly penetrating the thin duvet that covered her. She sighed, finally giving in to the intrusive thought that had been racing through her mind for at least half an hour.
“Lando?” She whispered.
No response.
“Are you awake?”
Silence.
She pondered if she should try again. Maybe he was asleep already, she didn’t want to wake him up and disturb his sleep. But then again, she really was desperate – she had been trying to warm herself up for God knows how long, and it wasn’t working. She sighed again.
“Lando?” She tried once more, her voice just barely above a whisper.
“What?” He responds groggily.
“I just wanted to,” she paused, doubting whether it was worth it. “I’m sorry, never mind.”
“No, tell me.”
She bit her lip. How should she approach this? After a moment of hesitation, Y/N asks, “Are you cold?”
Lando turned to face her, even though he could barely make out her face in the dark. What kind of question was that? He was about to fall asleep – did she have to wake him up for this?
“No, I’m fine.”
“Oh. I’m cold.”
“Okay,” he responded confusedly, “What am I supposed to do with that information?”
Y/N hesitated again. She thought her hint was pretty clear, but Lando didn’t get it, or he wanted to hear her say it, she wasn’t sure.
“I don’t know. You’re always offering to warm me up,” she trailed off.
Lando suddenly felt much more awake. Was she asking him to hold her? To keep her warm? He smiled smugly. “Finally taking me up on the offer, hm?”
At the lack of response, he continued. “You want me to hold you?” He asked softly, his voice sincere instead of teasing.
She tensed up at his directness, watching as Lando moved around on the bed to make himself comfortable before stretching his arm out as an invitation. “Come here, then,” he muttered.
Y/N slowly shuffled closer until her body was touching Lando’s, one arm tucked between them, the other tugging the duvet higher before settling on his chest as her head rested on his shoulder. Lando wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer into his warmth. She stiffened at his tight grip.
“You could’ve just asked, you know,” he muttered against her hair.
She could feel his thumb rubbing circles on her waist and her body slowly relaxed against him at the feeling. “You’re so annoying,” she whispered, already feeling herself becoming drowsy.
“Mhm,” Lando hummed, smiling into her hair. “But warm, right?”
“Shut up.”
– – – – –
Part 5
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Bad Idea
Summary: feeling a bit neglected by your mate, you decide to try to make him jealous by dancing with another male. Very little plot, mostly just smut ngl.
Warnings: Azriel is a mean dom, so uh literally.. spanking, cockwarming, degradation, light choking.
Author’s note: fuck it, I want jealous Az, and dammit I’ll have jealous Az. Also I’m headcannoning that Az wears boxer briefs idk why I feel like he’d like the sleekness of them.
-
You knew it was a stupid idea. Stupid, stupid idea. You couldn’t help yourself, though. Your mate had been gone all week on a mission, his return culminating in everyone at Rita’s - dancing, drinking, having a good time.
Your mate kept talking to his brothers, hardly passing you a second glance when a male approached you at the bar. You looked to see if he’d noticed, and growing tired of his lack of attention, you decided to indulge the man at the bar. Truth be told, the man wasn’t really interested in you. You two struck up a conversation about your shoes, leading you to discussing your own mates.
Wren, he told you, was here because he loved dancing, but his mate did not. You could understand the sentiment, the same opinions being held by you and your mate. So you asked Wren to dance and made your way to the dance floor.
You danced for what felt like hours with Wren, having an incredible time. Lost in the music, through the haze of alcohol, it was easy to push aside your feelings of neglect. Every so often you’d look towards your mate, only to find him looking elsewhere. You and Wren left the dancefloor for some water, him telling you he should be on his way home. You bid each other farewell, and you realize your mate is nowhere to be found.
You stumbled home, forgoing your heels a block from Rita’s. The house is dark, not a single light on inside. You roll your eyes walking up the steps to your door, assuming Azriel was still speaking with Rhys and Cassian somewhere.
You slipped through your house, tossing your shoes on the floor as you walk up the stairs to your bedroom. You pushed open your bedroom door, closing it softly behind you. You pad through the room, reaching to unzip your top when a heavy weight presses into your back, pushing your front into the wall.
You start to scream, but a scarred hand wraps around your mouth. The force has your hands above your head with one hand, your mouth covered with the other.
“That’s no way to greet me, my love.”
Your mate’s voice eases the primal fear deep within you, but the tone of his voice causes a new fear to ripple through you.
“In fact,” he says, his whisper sending chills down your spine, “nothing you did tonight was an appropriate way to greet your mate after a week away.”
You muffle some sounds, trying to explain to him that he wasn’t even looking at you for most of the night, but he keeps his hand steady on your mouth, curling some fingers around your jaw to keep it locked in place.
His wings wrap around both of you, coccooning you from the world, as if his next words were meant only for the two of you.
“You’re mine,” he whispers, “my mate, my wife, my soul.”
He releases your hands, but the loss of contact is quickly replaced by his shadows holding your hands together.
“I’ll spend however long it takes to remind you of that fact, until you’re so fucked out you’re just left a drooling, twitching mess.”
He releases you from the wall, your weight sagging from him holding you up, but before you can fall, he holds you around the hips, dragging you to the bed. His shadows were in a frenzy around you, and he pushes you down onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress.
“I’m not the only one possessive of you,” he says, as shadows start swirling around your legs, your arms, your waist, your neck. You tried to lift yourself up, but they held you down. Azriel turned, walking to the bar cart you two kept in your room, pouring himself a glass of whiskey as his shadows held you down.
“They were so upset with you,” he says, the whiskey coming close to his lips. “They wanted me to make a big show in Rita’s about who you belong to, but I told them to wait, and I’d let them have their fun.”
Two shadows traveled up your thighs, and your eyes widen, remembering what’s underneath your skirt.
“Don’t worry,” he drawls, sitting in his leather chair to have an unobstructed view of you. A shadow swirls behind your back, unzipping your top and pulling it off of you. They do the same with your skirt, but they leave your overly optimistic crotchless panties and matching bra on. “I’ll make my way to you, eventually.”
Your mate tsks as he looks at you, his shadows holding you down so you can’t move. They start touching your entrance, their cool, airy touch leaving you needing more.
He stands a few feet away from you, his drink in his hand as he watches his shadows hold you in place to keep you from squirming. Your back arches as they snuck under your bra, pinching your nipples. He chuckles into his drink as a few shadows start circling your clit, your moans a clear indication of how good they feel against you.
His shadows found their way in your shared bed, usually assisting Azriel in touching you or holding you down. On rare occasions such as this, Azriel lets them do as they please, allowing them to lay as much claim to you as he does.
It was euphoric the way they caressed against your exposed skin, never staying still. They whirled and swirled up your legs, your arms, through your hair, around your waist, your breasts. They were enjoying this time with you.
Azriel walks over to the bed, lust coating his eyes and his scent as he asks, “had enough yet?”
You open your mouth to speak, but some shadows circle your neck, applying a light pressure so you can’t speak. Your futile attempts to respond cause him to smirk and in a flash the shadows have stopped roaming your body. Your skin warms at the loss of their cool touch, and you start to move your arms when scarred hands replace the shadows, keeping a harsh grip on your wrists.
He leans down, practically laying on top of you as he leans in and tells you, “undress me.”
Your thoughts still, that need for his skin coming back to you. You sit up immediately, reaching to unbutton his shirt, but he stops you.
“Undress me without touching my skin.”
You whine at your mate knowing exactly why you did everything that led you here. You sit up, hands shaking as you unbutton his shirt. He even turns around so you can undo the buttons underneath his wings. You can’t stop yourself from staring at them, their veins just calling out to you to stroke them, that one spot that you know drives him wild calling to you like a siren.
He chuckles at how long you’ve spent observing him, your eyes taking in every inch of his back. The toned muscles, the tattoos on his upper back, the spot where his back meets the wings.
You find yourself starting to reach out, your fingers inches from his wing when he clears his throat.
“I’m still wearing pants,” he says, in an unimpressed tone. You gasp, the trance on his wings broken as he turns around, allowing you access to his front.
Your eyes roam his torso, the tattoos on the front completing the shapes from the back. You watch his chest rise and fall as he breathes, as your eyes get caught on that line of hair that delves into his pants.
You reach a hand out to undo the laces of his pants, your hands shaking a bit as you do so. From need for him and from fear of punishment if you break another rule, you’re not sure which is influencing the shaking of your hands more.
You take a deep breath as your hands find the top of his pants, taking extra care to avoid his skin. You start pulling his pants down, receiving no help from your mate until they are around his ankles and he steps out of them.
You look at him, standing there in his black boxer briefs, practically drooling thinking about what lays underneath them. You’re gazing at his thighs, looking at the toned muscles he trains every day. He flexes a little at your gaze and you gasp at the movement.
The urge to run your hands up and down his thighs is taking over your senses, until his hand grabs your jaw, moving your gaze to look at his clothed hardened length.
His silent command gets you moving again, and you grab the waistband of his undershorts, pulling them down, taking care as it moves over his length.
His hard cock springs up, hitting his abdomen as it’s freed. You moan at the sight of it, but continue your quest to pull them all the way down. He steps out of them again, and moves to the side of you to lay down on the bed.
He lays there for a beat, his Adonis-like stature warming you from the inside. He grabs your waist, moving each of your legs to straddle him, but keeping you about a foot away from him.
He lines up his hard cock to your entrance, leaving you to hover a few inches away from him. You moan, needing him to let you slide onto him, needing him inside you.
“P-please,” you moan, practically drooling at the sight of the pre-cum spreading down him. He purrs, “My greedy little mate needs my cock, does she?”
You nod your head, but he tuts at you. “Use your words.”
You look at him, his teasing smirk telling you just how much he’s enjoying this. “Can I p-please sit on your cock, feel you inside of me?”
His smirk deepens, and he tells you to go ahead. You start sliding him into you, moaning at the way he’s stretching you. He’s still keeping you in place with his hands, and he helps you guide down onto him.
Once you feel him completely fill you up, you start to move, only to be held back. His hands keep you still, not allowing you to budge. You whine, needing to ride him, needing to fill him pumping in and out of you. He sees how desperately you need him and smiles.
“But darling, this is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
It’s too much, you need to move. His hands were pressed so hard into your hips, keeping you both in place and keeping himself as deep into you as possible. You can feel them digging into your skin, leaving perfect finger shaped bruises to be found tomorrow.
You could have been sitting there for minutes or days and you’d have no clue. Time crept on, your mate keeping you in the same spot, despite your whining and pleading.
His shadows kept busy, keeping a hold on your hands behind your back, but also by circling your nipples, pinching you. They continued swirling up your thighs, enjoying overstimulating you.
The stimulation becomes too much, with tears eventually leaking down your face, which the shadows gently caress away. Azriel finally speaks, his long silence another form of punishment. His words are usually full of praise for you, except for when you misbehave.
“Now, why am I doing this to you?” He asks, looking into your face.
“Because I was a bad girl.”
He spanks you, hard, the action startling a whimper out of you. His hand rests back on your hips, keeping you in place. “Tell me every bad thing you did tonight.”
And so you did, each action earning a swift slap on your ass.
“I left you to go to the bar by myself.”
Spank.
“I talked to another male.”
Spank.
“I danced with another male.”
Spank.
In between each confession, he held tightly to your ass, rubbing the pain in. At this rate, you’ll hardly be able to sit tomorrow without feeling the sting of this punishment.
After finally reaching the point of the night where you had greeted him with a shriek, the tears were streaming down your face, your ass covered in his hand prints.
“Now, who do you belong to?”
“You.” You tell him, tears clouding your vision. “I won’t disobey you again.”
He chuckles lowly, “oh I know you won’t.” He lifts you off of himself, a whine coming from you as he pulls you off his cock. “Now you’ve made quite a mess on me,” you look down, his thighs and cock covered in a sheen of your juices. “Clean it up.”
Hands still behind your back, you lean forward, licking his thighs, tasting yourself mixed with his sweat.
“Can you taste the desperation?”
You whine, as he holds your head down to his thighs. After successfully cleaning both of his thighs, he guides your head right in front of his cock, the tip mere inches from your mouth.
You’re staring at it, needing it inside you, watching pre-cum leak out of the tip, when he laughs at you.
“Drooling over my cock already?”
You blush, not realizing you had actually drooled over the appendage in front of you.
“Do you want a taste?” He asks, and you nod vigorously. “Stick out your tongue,” he tells you, and you immediately obey. He allows you to roam his cock with your tongue, tasting both of your juices mixed together.
“Put me in your mouth.”
You open your mouth, allowing him entry, and he immediately begins pushing in and out of you. He grabs your hair, holding you in place. You look up at him and he makes direct eye contact with you as he pushes himself as far into your mouth as he can go. He tells you, “I’m going to cum in your mouth, but you’re not allowed to swallow it. Got it?”
He pulls a little harder on your hair to tell you he’s serious. His shadows hold you in place as he fucks your mouth, until you feel him pick up the pace.
After a minute of his intense thrusting, he’s cumming in your mouth, his hot seed shooting into your throat.
“Now open.” He tells you, and when you open your mouth, he smirks at the semen in your mouth. Before you realize it, he spits in your mouth and tells you to close it.
“Now,” he tells you, his face right in front of yours, “no swallowing. I want you to be full from my cum in your mouth and your cunt, in hopes you can get it through your dumb little head that you belong to me.”
He’s pushed you onto your back and has slid back into you. An attempt at a moan comes out but is blocked by the semen in your mouth.
He chuckles, “you don’t want to know what will happen if you swallow before I tell you to.”
He starts pumping into you, filling you with his cock. He’s thrusting in and out of you, and you’re not sure you can take anymore when he moves a hand down and begins fingering you.
You close your eyes and tilt your head back in pleasure, unable to moan because of the cum in your mouth. You’re getting close, all of his attention and teasing being too much. You feel it building for both you and your mate. You know he’s close, his speed increasing drastically.
“You’re going to swallow right as I cum in you. Can you do that? Can you be a good girl for one minute?”
You nod your head yes, but the ecstasy you feel is making thoughts incredibly difficult. He wraps a hand around your throat, his thumb stroking the front of your neck.
“Swallow. Now.”
It all happens so fast. You swallow the mixture of spit and cum, the salty tang sliding down your throat. Azriel finishes inside of you, his cum filling you up triggering you to finish.
You lay there, him on top of you. Both of you are panting, unable to form thoughts or words to describe what just happened. Azriel rolls off of you, moving to your side.
He strokes your cheek and asks, “You okay?”
Your hand slowly rises to his field of vision, and you give a thumbs up. He laughs, caressing your face before getting up and getting you a rag. He comes back, helping you clean up while you’re half asleep.
“You’re hot when you’re jealous,” you tell him, falling asleep as he discards the washcloth and crawls into bed with you, wrapping you into his arms.
#acotar fanfiction#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel fanfic#azriel smut#acotar writing#azriel x y/n
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Chapter 18
Series Masterlist
Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; mention of injuries; sexual themes; illness
A/N: I know I say this almost every time but this chapter is very lackluster and not my best. I had some major writers block and I struggled to get this done to the point where I was ready to give up altogether. I knew where I wanted to go, but words just weren’t happening. Hopefully, now that I’m past this part, it will be easier. Thank you for reading. I’m so sorry for the subpar work. 😢
You were actually a good patient, following Hershel’s recommendations by staying in bed, drinking more water, and not skipping or sharing meals. Daryl, to your surprise, returned to the room just a while later with a plastic bowl of some tasteless stew Carol had made. You didn’t complain, the woman always did the best she could. They had run out of any seasonings or herbs and with the cold weather, it was unlikely you’d find anything growing.
“Ya need anything?” Daryl asked. You regarded him as he stood at the foot of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck while avoiding looking at you.
“No, I’m okay.” You took another bite, eyes following him. He retrieved his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder, heading for the door. “Where’re you going?”
“Gonna try an’ hunt. S’cold as fuck out there but maybe I can manage some rabbit.” He shrugged halfheartedly. You hummed and stirred your stew until you heard the sound of the doorknob turning.
“Daryl?” You blurted out.
“Yeah?” He still wasn’t looking at you. You could feel the difference in the atmosphere. It wasn’t hostile, just uncomfortable.
“Please don’t disappear.” You meant it in more ways than one, though you weren’t sure if he would pick up on the entirety of the request. Please don’t leave us. Please don’t hide away. Please just come back.
“I won’t.” And then he was gone. He left the door slightly ajar, in case you needed something.
Daryl didn’t lie aside from his constant use of ‘I’m fine’ when he was always so clearly not. So, you knew he’d be back. He wasn’t just going hunting. He was going to clear his head. You knew that because it’s what you would do, were you able to seek refuge in the woods safely. You missed hunting, the safety and comfort of the trees surrounding you. The stillness and quiet sounds that provided much needed calm in times of overwhelming chaos. You wanted to believe that you would feel it again, but you would have a newborn in a few weeks. A little person that would rely on your constant presence. Maybe those days were over for you.
Daryl wanted more. He had made that clear. He wasn’t going to run away from the newness of what you had both expressed you were seeking. He needed time. It was fresh and formidable. You weren’t sure of his past experiences with relationships or perhaps even lack thereof, but it was clearly overwhelming for him.
Especially since you had proclaimed to love him.
That had shaken him. You could have kicked yourself for burdening him with that information. It wasn’t the right time. He had only just accepted that you meant more to him than you could have ever hoped and you just had to go and complicate it. You could only hope that it wasn’t so much that he’d change his mind.
Rick had taken Glenn and Maggie to rummage through some nearby homes and a small town, returning with a bottle of meds for you that was about a third full. They had managed several cans of vegetables, two bags of rice, and a box of angel hair pasta. It wasn’t much but it would keep the group from starvation.
You managed most of the stew, getting out of bed to join everyone else downstairs. Hershel had been apprehensive until you immediately stretched out on the couch and wrapped up in a blanket to continue resting without being trapped in isolation. The silence upstairs had been too much, the voices of fear and doubt in your head speaking too loudly.
“How are you feeling, young lady?” The old man asked. He checked your stitches, used a stethoscope to listen to the baby’s heartbeat, and felt around on your belly, chuckling when he was continuously kicked at each disturbance. “Someone’s lively this evening.”
“Yeah, they’re tap dancing on my bladder but I don’t—” you trailed off and looked out the window. You had needed to pee since coming downstairs but didn’t feel safe going without Daryl anymore. It almost made you nauseous how dependent you’d become. Always the damsel in distress, the wimpy princess who couldn’t do anything for herself.
“Things change when you find yourself in your condition.” You slowly brought your attention back to Hershel. The veterinarian was wise, had proven to be so back at the farm. Not always reasonable—as a barn full of walkers had shown—but wise, nonetheless. “You’re accustomed to living a certain way, taking care of yourself. And then there’s suddenly this little person depending on you to keep them safe. It’s not always easy to make that transition.” He gently rolled down your shirt and pulled the blanket up over you. “I could sense from the day I met you that you were a free spirit. You didn’t always want to listen. I’ve watched you shift from a woman who took care of herself by any means necessary to a woman who would do anything to protect her child. There’s no shame in that and the rewards will be sweeter than anything you’ve ever known before.” Hershel stood, knees cracking. With a gentle smile, he patted your shoulder. “You’ll see.”
You returned the smile, rubbing a hand over the swell of your belly as the old man took his leave. “He’s right, Thumper. You’re worth it.” Glancing back out the window, Daryl was trudging tiredly toward the house with two rabbits. You smiled, resting your head on the back of the couch to watch him interact with Rick. “You’re both worth it.”
“Whatcha doin’ outta bed?” Daryl was pulling off his crossbow, watching you warily. You wiggled until you were sitting up against the couch arm.
“Don’t worry. I asked Hershel. As long as I rest, I’m okay.” He watched you for a moment longer before giving a nod, disappearing to prep the rabbits for cooking the next day. Carol smiled at him in passing. You couldn’t see his face but heard him grunt in acknowledgment. Maybe one day you’d be fluent in the complicated language of Daryl.
“How’re you feeling?” A bottle of water was handed to you. You hadn’t even realized you were thirsty until you were removing the cap and tilting it to your lips.
After several generous gulps, you lowered the water and sighed contentedly. “I didn’t know I needed that.”
“Well, you’ve been—” she turned her head toward where Daryl had walked away, looking back to you with an arched brow, “preoccupied.”
Your face warmed and you ducked your head. “Is it obvious?”
“Well, I’m not deaf.” She chuckled, patting your knee.
“You heard?” You blanched, knowing you had grown impossibly redder.
“I think everyone did.”
“Oh god.” Mortified was an understatement. You were suddenly trying to recall the moments they could have heard but only succeeded in encouraging a sudden wave of arousal between your thighs. Well, that’s not helping. “Don’t say anything to—they can’t tease him. He’ll never—”
Carol reached out to rub your upper arm, shaking her head. “No one is saying anything. We’re all just glad some of the tension around here has eased.” She meant Rick and Lori, that wasn’t hard to figure out.
You had barely opened your mouth to reply when Rick came in, moving quickly but quietly.
“The fire.” He whispered harshly. You sat up straight, ignoring the pull of the stitches, and looked out the window, the scene becoming clear once the reflected light from the flames was doused.
You managed to duck your head just as a walker passed by the the glass, its arm dragging across the surface with an eerie scraping. A myriad of shadows danced across the wall, your wide eyes following them until Daryl was crouched in front of you with a finger to his lips. His crossbow was by his foot while his hands held your boots and jacket.
“Be quick.” He whispered so quietly that he may have only mouthed the words. You nodded and took the items, pulling on your boots without tying them and shrugging on your jacket. “Stay low.” It was hard not to smile, even with danger lurking so closely, when he wrapped his hand around yours. You let him guide you, walking as low as you could manage.
Carol was coming down the stairs, your bag on one shoulder and her own on the other. Daryl let go of your hand to grab his bag on the way to the back door. Everyone had already gathered, Rick falling in behind Carol. The archer held up a hand to have you wait further back while he checked outside.
“Here.” Carol whispered from your right. You glanced at her only to find her looking down, your knife held out to you. “I’ve got your gun and holsters in your bag.” Nodding your thanks, your hand wrapped around the handle and you brought the weapon in close, meeting Daryl’s eyes for a fleeting moment before he cracked open the door and peered outside.
“S’clear. Go ‘round the right. Straight to the cars.” He began to wave everyone through, catching your hand as you passed. “Stay close to Carol. Be right behind ya.”
“Okay.” You agreed quickly and followed the other woman out. Only the pale moonlight illuminated the snowy ground as the lot of you bobbed and weaved your way around the herd. You couldn’t hear steps behind you but that wasn’t uncommon with Daryl. Even with the extra weight you carried, your own footfalls were light.
It was close to impossible to see the dead and with the symphony of moans and snarls echoing from all around, you barely had time to stop and take a step back before the walker crossed into your path. Knife ready, you took down the woman with ease, lowering with the body to keep the noise to a minimum.
She looked to have been a pretty lady, maybe in her thirties. Her blonde hair was missing in patches and her skin was torn and gaping in places. She was sporting a t-shirt that read No. 1 Mom.
You let that simmer after Daryl pulled you to your feet, urging you to resume the trek to the van. It was within view now, with only three walkers circling. Glenn, Maggie, and T-Dog dispatched them quickly enough, creating an open path straight to the vehicle.
Twenty minutes on the road was long enough to lose yourself in consideration of the woman you’d put down. It wasn’t hard to imagine yourself meeting a similar fate, maybe forced to bear witness to the grizzly death of your child or dying without knowing what became of them. What if she had been the one to kill her kid? What if it was an infant, a toddler? Unable to understand why this person who was meant to protect them was causing them pain?
You cried for her. You cried for the child. Silent tears that you didn’t attempt to hinder while you sought out the comforting rumble of Daryl’s bike just ahead. Even if you did fall victim to the dead, he’d never allow your baby to be hurt. You could take comfort in that. As long as one of you was breathing, your child would never know harm.
The weather only grew more unforgiving as the days wore on, chipping away at any shreds of hope that were managing to survive in your little group. Another home found and lost. Freezing nights huddled against Daryl in the backseat of the van. A great deal of the blankets had been sacrificed when fleeing the dead. Of course, you, Lori, and Carl were given the heaviest ones that remained. Daryl would wrap you snugly and then hold you tight, claiming that alone would keep him warm enough. Apparently he still thought you were stupid.
Food was dwindling. Once again, you were arguing with the archer about eating meager portions so that you could have more. If each bite wasn’t worth more than gold had been valued in the old world, you would have surely thrown many a bowl at him.
His hunting trips grew longer and longer, now gone for no less than two days at a time. Measures were in place to ensure he knew how to find the group should the need to flee become necessary in his absence. Still, you worried. He manged to bring back more, usually rabbits but had lucked out with a small doe on the last excursion. With an extra few runs, enough salt was procured for the majority of the meat to be dried into jerky. It was sorted into each of your bags so it was sure to not be left behind if you had to leave quickly. The rest of the meat was prepared into a stew that could be reheated for a couple of days.
It was nice to eat well for once, surrounded by full bellies and sleepy faces. The one face you wanted to see was absent, however. Daryl was on first watch at the small ranch style home. There were no fences but the land was open for a good distance before the treeline. Walkers would be spotted and the group could move on before the dead even made it halfway to the house.
You bundled up, pulling up your hood, meaning to sit outside with him for a while. You grabbed one of the smaller blankets on your way out. Whether he admitted it or not, the long sleeve flannel under his vest was not enough to keep the frigid temperatures at bay. He was coughing into his elbow as you passed over the threshold, noticing his stew, long cold, was hardly touched. Pointing it out would only lead to another argument and at 28 weeks pregnant in an apocalypse, you just didn’t have the energy to spare.
He was scrubbing a hand roughly over his face when you draped the fabric over his shoulders. For once, he didn’t argue, simply nodding while watching you move his bowl aside to sit down.
He cleared his throat, his voice quiet and raspy. “Weren’t that hungry.”
“I can heat it for you later if you change your mind.” Shoving your hands into your pockets, you leaned onto his shoulder and watched the gentle flurries pepper down from above.
“Ain’t gonna nag me?”
“Nope.” You smiled fondly to yourself. “You’re stubborn as ten mules and this baby has been kicking me non stop for two days. I don’t have the energy to attempt and force feed their father.” He nudged his shoulder upward, jarring a giggle out of you. “We do need to find you a coat. It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here.”
“Your tits ain’t never cold.”
Rolling your head on his shoulder, you feigned offense. “Why, Daryl Dixon. Did you just call me a witch?”
“If the broomstick fits.”
That coaxed a startled laugh out of you. “Huh.” You stared at him a moment longer and then settled back into watching the snow.
“What?” He leaned a little to angle his head in order to see your face.
“Thought you’d misplaced your sense of humor, that’s all. Maybe you found it while your head was so far up your ass.”
“Think you're funny?” He huffed, clearly not annoyed. It was refreshing to just talk like two people in a relationship on a cold, snowy night. Maybe you could pretend the world hadn’t ended for at least a moment.
“Oh, I know I am. It’s part of my irresistible charm.” You retorted cheerily. Daryl made a pfft sound and joined you in watching the snow. It was almost hypnotic; the peace of the moment drawing you in until you were sure you’d fall asleep.
When Daryl coughed again, you startled and sat up straight. He had turned away and buried his face in the crook of his elbow, muffling the sound to the best of his ability.
“Are you okay?” It was hard to keep the concern out of your tone, terrified he’d withdraw from you. He had been trying, the evidence of his efforts displayed in his own ways.
Over the last month, you’d never felt closer to him. He had found a truck, loading the bike in the back so that you would be with him anytime moving was necessary. There wasn’t much time for intimacy, not sexually, though he’d made you cum on his fingers a few times while the others laid behind him, sound asleep and none the wiser. He seemed to enjoy your company, especially while on watch. He didn’t speak much but when he did, he was soft and attentive. He would watch you in silence, tinkering with his crossbow or prepping a kill to be cooked. He still agitated easily, but he was trying. You couldn’t ask for more than that.
“M’fine. Just a cold.”
It made sense. He was out in the elements more than anyone. He wasn’t eating or sleeping nearly enough. His body could only take so much abuse.
“We have the venison, Daryl. Why don’t you stay in for a few days?” Pulling your hands from your pockets, you dragged the sleeves down to cover them. How did the man stand it without proper clothing?
“Could always use more. That jerky ain’t gonna last forever an’ the stew will keep a day or two.” The flickering glow from the lighter’s flame cast a soft hue across his face, gone too quickly for you to truly admire. Pulling the cigarette from his lips, he turned his head to blow the smoke away from you. Such a small gesture, but it made your heart flutter.
“Well, I can’t argue with that, I guess.” In truth, you couldn’t. Food was food and it was necessary. “Maybe I could go with you. You know I can hunt and—”
“Nah. No way.” He barely got the words out before coughing again. “You’re stayin’ here with ev’ryone else.”
“I can help and you know it.” You weren’t angry, but still found it difficult to keep the bitterness out of your words.
“Know ya can. Don’t mean ya should.” He took another draw from his smoke, exhaling while rubbing at his throat. Was he even aware he was doing that? “Best way ya can help me is stayin’ here an’ keepin’ the two’a ya safe.” It was dark but you could still see the pink beginning to cover his cheeks. “Get inside ‘fore ya get sick.”
You smiled slyly, crossing your arms. “I’ll go inside if you go too.” He turned his head toward you, brow drawn inward. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed, angry, or amused. Either way, you tipped up your chin defiantly. “Someone else can take watch. You’re leaving to hunt tomorrow and need to sleep.”
Those blue eyes narrowed, the flare of the cigarette giving them the illusion of burning like the hottest flame. He never looked away, exhaling from the corner of his mouth to keep the smoke away from you. “You’re a brat.”
“Yep.” You grinned.
“Fine. Jesus, go inside. Be there in a minute.” He grumbled something under his breath and continued his smoke, shaking his head after looking away from you. With a triumphant HA, you grabbed the dilapidated railing by the steps and pulled yourself to your feet, cradling your belly to bend enough for your lips to press against his cheek. “Pain in my ass.”
He made you cum twice that night but not before denying you for an agonizing amount of time.
“This baby is definitely a Dixon. Doesn’t ever stop moving.”
Carol chuckled, stirring the stew she had just removed from the fire in the other room. “You’re gonna miss it once they’re born, I promise.” Her smile faded, a morose air encasing her. As your baby moved under your hand once again, a pang of guilt came with it.
“Oh, Carol, I’m sorry.”
The silver-haired woman rarely spoke of her daughter anymore, but that wasn’t to say that the pain ever left her eyes. There was a permanent sadness etched there. Now two women she traveled with, survived alongside, were pregnant. It was a slap in the face from the universe.
But Carol? She handled it with a grace you weren’t sure you would ever possess.
“Nothing to apologize for, silly.” She reached for the hand that lay across your rounded middle and squeezed it. You smiled solemnly as she went back to stirring the day’s meal. “Daryl should be back today. He never stays out more than two days.” She chuckled quietly. “I think he only does that much out of necessity. He’d likely stay right here with you if he had a choice.”
“I think he leaves for two days cause he needs a break from me.” You mused, plucking a piece of venison right from the pot. Carol shot you a sarcastic look of disapproval but refrained from scolding you. “I’m not easy to get along with at the best of times. Forget being in a relationship with me while I’m 92 weeks pregnant.”
“So you did take that step.” When you blinked at her with wide eyes, she shrugged. “He’s not exactly forthcoming with details regarding his personal life but sightings have been noted of cheek kissing and even a little hand holding.”
“Glenn never could keep his mouth shut.”
“Don’t worry. He’s been informed that if Daryl ever hears him, he’s likely to lose a limb. He’s aware of the dangers.” While the two of you laughed, Maggie stuck her head in the door.
“Daryl’s back.” She waggled her eyebrows at you, prompting a one-fingered gesture in return. “Real classy, Y/N.”
“Hey, I am the perfect representation of a lady.” You winked at Carol and squeezed her upper arm before meeting Maggie in the doorway, bumping her with your hip. You quietly released a tense breath once out of sight. It was getting late. Try as you might, you couldn’t help but worry when it took him a little longer to get back.
Grabbing your coat, you quickly pulled it on and zipped it. There was still plenty of room for your growing belly. It should last you the remainder of the pregnancy. The snow was at least four inches deep, quite the difference from when the archer had left two days prior. Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog were out scavenging for the usual food and medicine, but you had cornered them before they left and made them promise to find a warm coat for Daryl.
The wind was frigid in the evening hours, the temperature steadily dropping. Your face stung from only seconds of exposure when you walked down the steps to meet him. At first glance, everything seemed fine. It wasn’t until he was closer that you noticed his unsteady gait, the way he was dragging the string of rabbits through the white powder behind him.
“Hey.” You called over the gusts, smiling at him when he slowly looked up. He didn’t return the expression but he wasn’t a teeth and gums smiler anyway. That much you could brush aside without concern. It was the wet, barking cough into the crook of his elbow that shifted your concern to something just short of panic. “Daryl?”
“Got some rabbits.” He croaked, walking right past you and into the house. You followed on his heels, leaning forward to relieve him of the four animals before he could object. He fixed you with a sharp glare but you only smiled and backed toward the kitchen.
“Just gonna put these in there. We can clean them together in just a bit.” There was no time for either of the other women to question your hurry. You deposited the rabbits on the counter by the old sink and exited just as quickly as you had entered.
Daryl was coughing again when you returned, a painful sounding hack that jarred his entire body. His chest seemed to rattle with each breath, his movements sluggish while he removed his crossbow from his back.
“Hey, are you okay?” You moved closer but still gave him several feet of distance.
“M’fine.” He gestured vaguely around his upper torso. “S’just this fuckin’ cold.”
“Right.” You answered, watching him remove his poncho and vest. He must have sensed your eyes on him, an irritated glance thrown your way.
“What?” He snapped.
“You look like shit and sound even worse.” Your feet were propelling you toward him but he somehow managed to sidestep around you. “Daryl, hang on.”
“Ain’t in the mood for your shit, Y/N.” There was a sharp retort on the tip of your tongue that you swallowed when he began to cough again and staggered to catch himself against the wall.
“Daryl?” You were at his side in an instant, your arm winding around this back to help support him. You couldn’t miss the heat you felt beneath his shirt. “Fuck, you’re hotter than a jalapeño’s ass!”
“Told ya, m’fine.” He hissed, probably attempting menacing but only managing a weak rasp.
“You’re not fine, Daryl.” You held on tighter when he tried to shrug you off, a good thing since his legs buckled a moment later and took you both down. You managed to control the fall, ending with the two of you on your knees. Daryl coughed harshly, only managing to stay upright with your support. “Maggie! Maggie, get Hershel!”
“What’s wrong?” The eldest Greene ran into the room, followed by Carol. “Shit.” One look and she disappeared, yelling for her father while Carol came around to Daryl’s other side.
“Ain’t—no reason—for all this fussin’.”
“Shut up, Daryl. Daryl?” Your eyes met his briefly, fear and panic flashing through them before they rolled up and he slumped forward against you. “Daryl!”
#murda writes#blood ties#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon fanfiction#the walking dead#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon angst#daryl dixon smut#daryl angst#daryl smut#daryl the walking dead#daryl#daryl dixon walking dead#daryl dixon the walking dead#daryl x reader#the walking dead daryl#daryl dixon twd#daryl fanfiction#daryl twd#twd daryl#twd daryl dixon#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl x female reader#the walking dead daryl dixon
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Tipsy...?
A/N: Quick little blurb!! Mapi comes home to find that Ingrid accidentally drank a little too much.
TW: alchohol
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“Cariño?” Mapi called from the entryway, leaning down to pull of her shoes and lay them neatly on the rack. “Are you here?”
“Si.” A voice called from the living room.
Mapi had met Aitana for dinner, leaving the apartment to Ingrid and Frido who wanted to have a girls night. It would be good for Ingrid to see her best friend, Mapi thought, so she happily left them alone.
Now, she returned to find her girlfriend tucked into the corner of the couch. Legally blonde was playing, though it didn’t seem like Ingrid was paying very close attention. Mapi put her bag away, and settled herself beside Ingrid, happy to be home with her.
“How was Frido?”
“Good.” Ingrid mumbled.
Mapi glanced at her girlfriend, who had never before been one for short answered. It was early enough that it was strange for her to be this sleepy.
She turned her full body around to face Ingrid’s, taking in her slumped form with wide eyes. “Did you drink with Frido?” She asked incredulously, eyebrows raised.
“Just a little.” Ingrid slurred a bit, trying to act sober as she reached a hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear.
Mapi took her face between her hands and studied it, feeling as Ingrid unconsciously leaned her head into Mapi’s palms. She laughed out loud. “Dios mio, you’re drunk!” She exclaimed.
“No I’m not.” Ingrid shook her head messily, clearly lacking coordination.
“You are! How much did you have?”
“Just one.”
“One what, mi nina?”
“Frido made cocktails. I just had one!” Ingrid said, rubbing a hand through her hair. She, too, didn’t understand why she felt so out of it.
“Oh my god, my girlfriend’s a lightweight.” Mapi laughed.
“I’m not a lightweight.” Ingrid slurred. “And I’m barely tipsy.”
“Si, amor.” Mapi laughed again, rising to get Ingrid a glass of water. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Mapi pulled Ingrid onto her feet, but she promptly sank back down into the couch. Mapi sighed. “Come on, up you get.” She said again, wrapping an arm around Ingrid’s waist to support her.
“I love you.” Ingrid giggled, pressing her thumb into the soft skin of Mapi’s cheek.
“I know, cariño, yo también te amo.” Mapi laughed loudly, starting to really enjoy this. She sat Ingrid down on the toilet and went to grab her pajamas.
“I’m not drunk. I can get myself ready” Ingrid frowned as Mapi helped her to the sink.
“Of course.” Mapi continued to guide her, knowing that she would topple over if left alone.
Finally, Mapi led her to the bed, where she sank back against the cushions, not bothering to climb under the comforter. “It was a very strong cocktail.” Ingrid mumbled, and Mapi tried to hold her giggle in.
“Tomorrow I will have to have a talk with Frido about getting my girlfriend drunk.” Mapi said, tucking Ingrid in and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
Ingrid hummed, forgetting to disagree. “Don’t be mean to her, she’s sensitive.” She snuggled into her pillow and fell right asleep.
---
The next morning, Mapi loudly told the locker room that Frido had gotten Ingrid drunk on a single cocktail. Because it was Ingrid-- whom no one but Mapi had seen past tipsy-- the group laughed loudly at the story. Ingrid’s face turned bright red and she shoved her girlfriend’s shoulder before digging in her bag for an advil. She glanced at Frido, who was laughing with her teammates, and stuck her tongue out.
#mapi leon#ingrid engen#mapi and ingrid#barca femeni#fc barcelona#alexia putellas#barca women#mapi x ingrid#alexia putellas imagine#woso imagine#woso#fanfic#mapileon imagine#mapi leon fanfic#angst#fridolina rolfö#woso x reader#woso fanfic#drunk
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In Love and War Pt II
Summary: Warlord!Rhys takes his mate back to his mountain camp and Tamlin's!sister!Reader has to decide the best way to try and escape
Content Warnings: Morally Grey!Rhys, talks of violence
Part I
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We ride for hours. The first two riders I’d seen join us after the first; they too have wings, tucked tight against their backs. Under different circumstances, I might be tempted to ask why they bothered with horses at all when they can simply fly, but thought better of it. The less I learn about them the better. All the easier to keep them in my mind as some faceless evil so I feel a little less guilty about putting an arrow in their eye when I escape. Rhysand has foolishly left me with my weapons, I'll put that mistake to good use when the time is right.
By the third hour, we’ve left the bog and the forest behind, riding through what was once a sprawling plain but is now nothing but weeds. There is no magic left to keep this place fertile and thriving. Hybern’s Cauldron backed powers have stripped most of the land of its power, leaving ruin and famine behind in its wake. Little has managed to grow since, he’s been using the Cauldron to make sure a majority of the crops grow in his fields, where his slaves can tend them and ensure he gets the bulk of the harvest. There's nowhere to run out here.
Especially not when the rest of the riders regroup. There are twelve of them in total, all falling behind my captor as his great, midnight black stead takes the lead.
I haven’t ridden a horse in a long time, could not afford to keep one, but the ones that I had, back in my youth, had never been this graceful. Even with my added weight the horse gallops like it has wings, swift as the wind, its blue-black mane trailing gracefully behind it. I almost don’t mind the ride, minus the circumstance and company, as the sun begins to set ahead of us, the sky a symphony of purple, orange and pink.
Eventually, we come to a river, flowing with large chunks of ice from a not yet frozen ice flow further upstream, where they stop to water their mounts.
My captor dismounts first, large, gloved hands gripping my waist to help me down. By the Mother, his hands are so large against my hips! I’m suddenly very aware of my own size.
“Don’t try and run,” he warns.
I glance around to my lack of escape routes and roll my eyes. “Darn, I was planning on throwing myself into the river.”
One of the others, the male I’d spotted first I think, snorts beneath his hood.
Rhysand grunts out a warning before leading his horse to drink and filling a canteen he had tucked in his saddle bag. His back is, foolishly to me, I could easily draw my knife and stab him right here, but a quick glance around tells me that really would end with me taking a trip down the river. All his men carry swords and knives and there’s one with a wicked looking dagger strapped to his thigh; I barely reach the chin of the shortest among them, and that doesn’t account for at least a hundred pounds of muscle difference between us. I know that I have thinned, my ribs poking out beneath the heavy, hole ridden sweater. Some days I feel… brittle. Today especially. I’m not winning any fights against one of them, let alone twelve.
No, I just need to be smart. Wait for an opening, steal a horse, and run as far away as possible. So far, whatever this monster thinks I’m supposed to be to him has saved me from harm, I don’t plan on sticking around to see how long that protects me. Even if I did believe in mates-- as if the Mother ever cared enough about me to give me a soul tie to anyone--I’ve seen the worst in people enough to know it didn’t mean much in the end. What’s a mate but someone obligated to be a breeding mare? What’s a bond if not a magically induced aphrodisiac? I have little doubt that I’m actually safe here; just alive and conscious because it’s too much of a hassle to try and drag my limp body around.
My scheming comes to a grinding halt as Rhysand returns with the canteen, water sloshing the edge as he holds it out for me. It hasn’t occurred to me just how dry my mouth is until I see that water.
Of course, I’m not going to let him know that. “No thanks.”
“I’m not going to poison you,” he returns.
“Poison's the least of my concerns,” I retort.
He grabs my hand and pushes the canteen into it. “Drink.”
“Bite me,” I snarl.
His men chuckle at that, which must upset him because his wings twitch behind him. He draws a deep breath before saying, “Ask nicely, mate.”
I should dump the water directly on his head, and my hand twitches around the canteen as I debate it, but in the end I decide against it. This male murdered half my family in cold blood, whatever thin amount of protection I might have remains only as long as he doesn’t think I’m a threat. To escape, I need to be smart.
On that subject, does he even know who I am? Does he remember riding into our camp that night, sword drawn, slaughtering my people as they jumped from their mats? Or were we just another blurred face in the mass of lives he’s taken in the name of conquest? He’s as bad as Hybern. Even if he has forgotten, I won’t.
I twist the lid back on without drinking anything, ignoring the way my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
“Don’t say I didn’t try,” he growls as he takes it back and slides it into his saddle bag. There’s a rolled up sleep mat, a blanket, and another sword all tied neatly to that bag. Nothing too heavy, meaning their encampment can’t be far. I need to find a way to get away before they reach it; there will be too many eyes there.
“Your bow,” he says, holding out his hand.
My hand tightens instinctively around the belt across my chest, the leather worn and cracked from years of use. “No.”
“You can’t ride into camp with them.”
“Great, then you can just leave me here.”
It takes him two steps to be back beside me, and I’m embarrassed to admit how easy it is for him to snag the strap and yank it over my head, despite my best efforts to keep that from happening.
“Give that back!”
“The knife can stay, as long as you don’t do anything stupid,” he says like I’m a misbehaving child.
He keeps his back to me as he ties my bow and quiver up next to his second sword, my stomach rolling at the sight of my things next to his.
Rhysand orders his men to mount up as he turns back to me, and I get the impression he’s looking me over for more weapons beneath the hood. I still have no idea what he looks like. Ugly and scarred, like most warlords are, I imagine. I’d never gotten a good look at him that night, had only seen those three stars on his hood and that giant sword between his wings, dripping blood.
“You won’t need any weapons,” he says, in what sounds like it’s an attempt to be gentle, but falls flat. “You’re safe with me.”
I’d have been safer with the kelpie. But I don’t say it, I don’t say anything at all as those large hands lift me back onto the horse, or when he swings into the saddle behind me. I don’t say anything when we cross the river, icy water biting through my thin pants, making my teeth chatter, or when the wind whips relentlessly at us as we leave the grassy plains and head into the mountains. The chill feels like a thousand needles being jammed into my skin, but I will bear it silently. He will not get the satisfaction of seeing me weak; will not be gratified by any sort of conversation for the duration of our journey.
Or at least, that was the plan.
“You’re shaking,” he says, one hand gripping the reins as he uses the other to slide his cloak off his shoulders and over mine.
The material is thick, lined with fur inside, so startlingly warm between his own body heat and the fur that when it settles over me I give a little sigh of relief. The sleeves are too big, swallowing my hands as I try to pull it more fully over my body. “Thanks.” It slips out of me before I can stop myself.
“You still haven’t told me your name,” he replies as he settles around me again.
The smell of him, jasmine and citrus and the sea invades all my senses. I want, more than anything, to get it out of my nose, to keep the knowledge of him far, far away from me, but yet, despite my mind’s protests, my body burrows deeper into it.
There’s still no encampment or settlement on the horizon, the horses moving deeper and deeper into the mountains as night falls around us. As long as we’re not stopping to make camp, I think I’ll survive.
“And you haven’t told me yours.” If there must be a conversation, best I can do to buy myself time is steer all conversation away from me.
“I’ve had many names, but most call me Rhys.”
Most called him Death Incarnate amidst a number of things that would make a sailor blush, but I don’t think I’d ever heard anyone call him Rhys. That was entirely too normal.
“Ok, Rhys,” it tastes like bile on my tongue, acknowledging him as anything other than the monster he has always been called back home. “Where are we going?”
The moon shines bright above us, illuminating the slender path we take through the mountains, a steep drop off on one side of us, nothing but sheer rock wall on the other.
“Home,” he replies.
I can’t help the scowl that escapes me, but at least he can’t see it. “And where is home exactly?”
“You’ll see soon,” he replies as he expertly guides his mount up a rocky path. There is no hesitation in his movements; he’s ridden this path many times.
I run a hand over my forehead. “I don’t remember coming this far out.” It slips out of me. If he knows this path then we’re close to the Illyrian borderlines, where his warband can make a semi-permanent encampment. These are grounds I’m not supposed to be anywhere near, nor did I think I was.
“Where were you headed?”
My brother’s made his claim through the Grasslands, the ground barely fertile to feed the livestock in the summer. With winter coming fast, he’d tried pushing his boundary lines into the forests near what had once been the Human Lands. I meant to go through the woods, skirting around Hybern’s slave camps and slip into the Uncharted Territories to find some game. I must have skirted too far past the slave camps when I’d lost my map running from those Highway Men.
“The Uncharted Lands,” I say because I honestly can’t come up with a lie that doesn’t make it look like I belong to Hybern or Amarantha. The boundaries between the warbands shift too often, encroaching too close. Sometimes I can barely tell who’s who and this is the only world I’ve ever known.
“Why?” He asks as we crest an incline and lead the men over a long, smooth plateau on the mountain’s western face. The wind is worse here, snapping at us like whips and before I can even burrow into my borrowed cloak, he’s drawing the hood of it over my head.
His arm tightens around my waist as he barks at his men to start riding single file.
“Was looking for food.”
The horse’s hooves echo between the valley of rock beneath us as we press forward, the precariousness of our situation buying me time to figure out my lie. If I’m not hunting for my brother, what am I doing out here? It’s been a long day; a long week honestly. The rumbling of my stomach and the wind at my face and the warlord at my back seem to occupy the limited space in my quickly tiring mind. The hood of the cloak doesn’t help. It is embedded with some sort of magic, because even though it makes everything dark and warm, I can somehow see right through the fabric, right where that cluster of stars are, as if they’re eye slits. Magic items are rare these days, and expensive, I could probably buy out the Grassland’s market of deer jerky for this item alone.
Eventually the plateau dips, taking us down the other side of the mountain, into the misty canyon below. If I didn’t know where I was before, I really don’t now. Mountains are Illyrian territory, as forbidden and unwelcoming as the Imperial City Hybern had erected in The Middle centuries ago. I need to be paying attention so I know the way back; my eyes are sharp, sharper than most, I should be able to make out a deer path or trail easily, even in the dark, but my eyes are so heavy.
I give myself a little shake. Gotta be paying attention.
The swaying, even gate of the horse reminds me of being a small child, sitting in my mother’s rocking chair as she reads me to sleep. She and my father had always loved telling us stories, my father his made up theories and tales from the road, my mother her books and poems. I try to sit up and adjust my position in the saddle so I’m not slouching forward.
“You do not ride often,” Rhys says, his grip pulling me back more solidly against his chest, so I can feel all the hard planes of him. He’s got to be freezing without his cloak, even if he is still wearing long sleeves and gloves.
“No,” I bite back the rest of the story; how my people had suffered with the loss of my father. How Tam hadn’t been able to organize our survivors in the aftermath, how he’d been unable to store enough food for us that first winter and many of our rider’s had deserted. How he’d had to decide if keeping our stables full was worth the price of the lives hunger was stealing from us; how we’d been forced to eat and sell a few of them, my father’s prized war horse included.
“We’ll change that,” he says, half to me, half to himself. “I think I like having my mate ride with me.”
I bite the inside of my cheek until it bleeds. At least I’m awake now.
“You still haven’t told me your name.”
The mist settles around us as we step into the valley, even as the path ahead becomes nearly invisible, he doesn’t slow or get down to walk the horse. He knows where he’s going, has done this so many times he could do it blind. A rare gift many of our traveling cities don’t receive. Envy swells in my chest. I have never had a place secure enough to set up a permanent camp. The Grasslands are our borders sure, but we move through them daily in fear of an attack, keeping ourselves vigilant for whenever Hybern or Amarantha decide they want more than they’ve already taken from us. Always changing our paths, our camp layout, always moving. How come this monster gets this luxury and my people don’t?
“You are so hesitant to give it,” he muses, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Do I know it already?”
Shit.
“No, that can’t be right. Our bond is too obvious, I would have remembered.”
He’s as clever as he is quick on his feet, unfortunately.
“So I will know you by association, is that it?”
I should just fling myself off the horse and try to lose myself in the mist. If I’m lucky, maybe one of his men will trample me by accident and this horrible nightmare will be over. At least, if I’m dead I will not have to explain my failure to Tam, or face the alternative of being this male’s breeding mare. Neither is a future I wish to meet.
It is only then that an alternative solution occurs to me.
Tam said I couldn’t come back without food; I’d made a nuisance of myself back home and had swiftly suffered the consequences of it, and with winter coming in fast, my brother has to know he sent me on a fool’s errand. Perhaps intending to keep me out of his way for a while; or to finally get me to bend the knee and submit to his authority as warlord. I hadn’t been of age to take father’s mark, and my allegiance had fallen through the cracks in the years after. Until I was integrated, Tam couldn’t marry me off, as I suspected he wanted to do often, and was probably using this opportunity to try and make me see reason. A future I also loathed to picture. Perhaps, if I played my cards right here, then I could find something more useful than a deer to bring back. If I played along with this little mates concept, what could Rhysand show me? Couldn’t I use any knowledge he gave to my advantage? Surely Tam would find other uses for me than marrying me off with this sort of leverage. My brother was known for his grudges, if I found a way to offer up his enemy on a silver platter, perhaps I’d never have to worry about being married off again.
My stomach twists as the plot plays out before my eyes: This fool taking me into the lands my people had never been able to access before, convincing him to let his guard down, to show me where his people were vulnerable. I could get my hands on camp movements or their supply lines; I could count the fighting men or the horses, make list after list to take back in the place of a few meals I know deep down I’d never be able to find before winter.
My parents faces flash before my eyes. My mother, so gentle and…sad. She had been sad long before my birth, always missing a home she couldn’t go back to because of Hybern. But she had always tried to be there for me. To sing to me and hold me. She had been good and kind and if she knew where I sat now… what I thought I might do…
And my father. He was cruel and cold and I’d spent a long time wondering if he’d ever loved me at all, but he had been a good leader. He had inspired the men, even on days that had been bleak. He’d been willing to shed whatever blood was necessary to ensure the survival of my people. If this opportunity had been presented while he was alive, he would have tossed a collar around my neck and dragged me to Rhysand’s doorstep himself.
As for Tamlin, well if he so much as saw Rhysand’s arm around my waist as it was now he would have torn him to shreds. He would hate it, but I think my brother was as calculating and ruthless as my father had been. His protective nature could be overruled by what he deemed necessary to keep us alive.
I’d need to play my cards right, if I was to make this work. “Yes,” and I force my voice to a whisper, my shoulders hunching in feign defeat. I will have to find ways not to look so utterly revolted about this male touching me; will have to bury all my base instincts to run and claw and fight every time he calls me his mate. But I can do it.
I will do it. For vengeance. For my angel of a mother. For the survival my father died for. I’d damn myself a hundred times over for a chance Tam had never found.
He rests his chin on my shoulder, thinking and it takes every inch of willpower I possess to not shrug him off. A few hours together and this prick thinks he can just touch me so casually? As if I have no say in the matter because he is my mate and therefore owed whatever affection he sees fit to grant me?
“You can tell me, I promise I won’t hold it against you,” his voice is… gentle. Far more gentle than a man in his position should be and I have no idea how to respond to it.
“My name is Y/N,” I saw softly, like I’m scared the wind will hear me. “Tamlin is my older brother.”
He stiffens behind me and I find myself holding my breath. This is it.
“He never mentioned he had a sister,” he says more to himself than me.
I almost audibly let loose a massive sigh of relief. “Yeah, well he isn’t too fond of me at the moment.” Never mind I didn’t know that he and Tamlin had ever talked on a mutual basis. Sometimes, usually over a mutually beneficial wedding ceremony, did rival camps come together and exchange weapons, food and sometimes training. If I remember correctly, I think there might have been times when we’d done so with the Illyrians, but never did Tam mention that he knew Rhysand personally. Rhysand was always a name whispered like a curse, as if saying it too loud would bring death and destruction upon us.
“He sent you out here? Alone?” That last bit comes out like a growl.
“Banished, is more of the term he used,” I say under my breath, hoping the tone conveys embarrassment.
“For what?” He hisses, his tone promising violence. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Now what would convince Death Incarnate that I was something meek and fragile and in need of protection from my big, bad brother? If we really were mates, it would be in his nature to want to protect me, from both physical and emotional harm, but I needed to be careful. Too extreme a lie and I was likely to restart the war between our camps that had cost me my parents. I needed something to pack enough punch to convince him he needed to keep me close, to be looked after, but not so bad that it sparked a fight.
Perhaps my best bet was to appeal to the bond. “He wants me to take his mark,” I twist the sleeves of the cloak between my fingers as I speak. “So he can reap the benefits of marrying me off to one of Autumn’s commanders.”
Rhysand has gone still as death itself behind me and every nerve ending in my body feels like it’s on fire as whatever dark power lives within his skin comes to life. All my instincts scream at me to run, hide.
“But Eris is… cruel and I told Tam I couldn’t do it.” Eris was probably too old for Tam to try, but there had been talks, even when I was a girl, about how my father had wanted an alliance with Autumn, and Eris had his own history with the Illyrians. “He told me I needed to sort out my priorities and when I didn’t, he threw me out.”
“That’s just like him,” Rhysand snarls.
I bite down on my tongue to keep from snarling all the things I’d rather say in my brother’s defense.
“How long have you been out here on your own?”
“About a week, I think,” I could say longer, but on the off-chance he has spies that could check that sort of thing--and I’m fairly certain the stories about Illyrians and their shadow agents are not far off--I’d rather play it safe.
He brings his mount to a brief halt as two, looming carvings in the mountain’s face appear through the fog. The touring statues sporting the same great, talon tipped wings as Rhysand, stand guard over the pass ahead of us, their hewn sword held aloft. Sleeping wyverns lay at the base of each statue, their carefully carved eyes at eye level with us as the men fall in line behind us. The air is tinged with magic--overly sweet and oppressive-- as we approach, some sort of shield.
“From here,” he says softly in my ear, the mask still shielding the lower half of his face from the wind rough against my cheek. “You’ll never have to worry about being alone again.”
I’m going to be sick! Play it safe. Play the game. For Tam. For Mom and Dad. I will myself to picture their faces again, to keep reminding myself what is at stake.
Rhysand kicks the horse into motion again, passing through the shield with a flick of his gloved hand, soft ripples of magic parting for us like someone had pulled back a curtain. I’ve never seen anyone use magic so casually, so fluidly. Once all the riders have passed through, I feel the shield fall back into place behind us. No turning back now.
Ahead, the path begins to widen. At the far end of the path, still shrouded on either side by the mountains, sit two torches, the light guiding the way. When we reach them, the path dips dangerously into a valley, all filled with large, midnight black tents. More torches and bonfires light the cloth city, the sounds of drum beats and revelry beckoning from beneath us.
“I see the party started without us,” one of the men says from behind us.
“Devlon must have had a good run,” Rhysand muses as he takes us down into the valley.
As the lights draw closer, I can start to make out the tribal markings and depictions sewn into the sides of the tents. There’s singing to go with the drum beats, all in a language that makes no sense to me, just like the markings. Something from the Mountains none of my people had ever been privy to.
When we reach the outskirts of the city, we are greeted by two towering males, wearing little other than loose, dark paints and a smattering of blood red paint along their bare chests and faces. Each holds a spear, a dagger strapped to their muscled thighs.
One barks something at Rhysand in Illyrian, his slate colored gaze fixed on me, still wearing the lord’s cloak. I’m grateful they cannot see my face, the fear I know will be clear in my eyes. It is hard enough to hide the trembling in my hands.
Rhysand dismounts to greet them, still speaking in Illyrian until they retreat into the maze of tents beyond. Despite the raucous laughter and music coming from the center, the rows of tents are organized into clear streets and sectors, some dancing bodies visible in between the rows, though most of the camp seems to be in its heart at the moment.
He runs a gloved hand over the horses neck as he turns to face the men, their mounts dancing beneath them. “We will strategize in the morning.”
That is apparently dismissal enough, as his men bow their heads and kick their steads into motion around the outskirts of camp, soon disappearing into the darkness. My stomach drops as I realize I’m alone with my enemy for the first time all night. My anxiety only heightens as he takes the reins and guides the horse forward without a word of where we’re going.
I’m too scared to ask either.
Staying on the edge of camp means I cannot see any of what is happening within, though I glimpse bonfires and revelry often enough to guess. It is not unlike our own celebrations, even if the music is different.
Rhysand still doesn’t speak as we pass another group of sentries and head up a well worn path in the heart of the valley. The grass is lush here, would be up to his knees were it not for the cleared stretch lined by torches. It is quieter here, the music distant.
Overhead, the stars glitter like a million little diamonds, all the constellations I have memorized a stark contrast to the dark shadows of this hidden mountain world. We’re surrounded on all sides by mountains, shielded from view and harm by stone. It is so different to the rolling hills I am used to, it is nice to know that the stars, at least, have not changed.
The path leads to a secluded circle of larger tents, still black but stitched with stars not unlike the ones on the cloak I’m still wearing.
We pass yet another group of sentries as we approach, and only once we’re face to face with the largest tent in the circle does Rhysand finally stop.
I swallow the lump in my throat.
I should have run. Should have thrown myself into the river. Should have risked a quick death trying to fight my way out of this than subjecting myself to this.
Rhysand grabs my waist again and lifts me off the horse as if I weigh nothing. Compared to his size, I’m sure I do. In the torchlight, this is the first time I’ve managed to glimpse his face. I’d been drastically wrong about his appearance. The monster that haunted my nightmares was not some old, scarred thing as I had pictured, I wasn’t sure he was even older than Tam. A young lord, his features sharp, but clean cut. Some of his raven black hair fell loose around his sun kissed face, framing a set of violet eyes so bright they practically glittered like stars in his head, the rest was braided with strands of blue and purple thread. By far the most beautiful male I’d ever seen in my life and I think I hate him a little more for it.
“You must be tired,” he says finally.
I don’t know what to do or say, so I just nod, which I think might be a mistake because now we’re heading inside the tent and all I can hear is the pounding of my heart in my ears because I have made a terrible mistake!
By some magic trick, torches flair to life as we enter, the soft orange glow cast in eerie patterns against the sleek black leather walls. On one side of the tent is a bed large enough to accommodate someone with such massive wings, piled with furs and pelts of various animals. On the other end, a table with some chairs and various weapons and books and trinkets scattered about the top of it. There’s chests piled in the corner, locked and dusty like they haven’t been opened since they’d been moved in. The floor is covered in a dozen different rugs, all overlapping in an attempt to make the place feel cozier but the patterns and colors are all so different that it looks like a whacky patchwork quilt. Clearly a layout chosen by a male.
“I apologize for the mess,” he begins as he takes off the scarf tied around the lower half of his face and places it over the back of a chair. “I… was not expecting to come across anybody out there, let alone bringing anyone back.”
“What were you doing out there?” My voice shakes too much for my liking and I’m convinced I asked that far too quickly to not be totally obvious, but it’s too late to take it back now.
“Scouting,” he says with no further explanation as he tosses his gloves onto a heap of more gloves on the edge of the table.
My muscles stiffen as I watch him warily. If he starts undressing I might really change my mind and try to run for it.
I am prepared to do what is necessary for my people, but that is a line I cannot cross yet. Not tonight.
He steps closer to where I stand dumbly in the center of the room, drowning in his cloak, and he nudges the hood off my face with his knuckles.
I have to remind myself to stop biting my lip as the fabric slides off my head. Even fully clothed, standing this close to him, with those violet eyes drinking me in like that, I feel very exposed and vulnerable.
“You’re shaking,” he says softly, his hand drifting down the side of my cheek.
I hate that I shiver under his touch. Hate that my eyes go to his full lips and how soft they look in this torchlight. I hate that I find him beautiful, hate that I do not pull away as he cups my cheek. I hate myself for putting myself in this position in the first place.
“I…” this is not an act, I really don’t know what to do or say here. My chest aches with the way he’s looking at me, like maybe there really is some strange, mystical thread linking us together and it’s coming awake the more he has his hands on me. Yet my mind balks and screams all the same and I cannot tell which of them is supposed to help me do this. “This is a lot.”
“There’s no need to be afraid,” he assures, his voice low and husky, a tone I think might be better suited to the bedroom. “You are safe with me.”
Safe.
As if he could ever make me feel safe.
His thumb rubs circles in my cheek, the calluses along his palm from years of sword play scratching pleasantly across my skin. Violet eyes rove over me, studying the plains of my face like he’s cataloging every detail. “I’ll get you something to eat.”
I let loose a breath as he heads back to the tent flap, where his horse is still waiting.
“For now, it would be best if you stay here. Don’t go anywhere without me. At least, not until you take my mark.”
And then he’s gone, finally leaving me alone for the first time in hours, but even if I wanted to do some snooping, I can’t. All I can do is stand there as my stomach rises in my throat.
His mark.
How the hell was I supposed to go home bearing Rhysand’s mark?
I rub my temples with my fingertips. I need to find something useful to take back to Tamlin and get out of here fast, because if I don’t, I may never be allowed to go home again.
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hiii can i req a yeji fluff where she picks you up at the bar since you drank with your friends then you didn't recognize her, thinking she's a random girl flirting with you trying to take you home so you refuse telling her you have a girlfriend and how your girlfriend will kick her ass and such. and yeji and your friends are very amused and she's coaxing you reassuring you and everything until you recognize her, and you tell her how a girl flirted with you and such and she's just going with your flow finding you cute when drunk hwhwhw thank uuu
tbh I’ve had this thought before and now I have an excuse to write it cuz this is so frickin cute!! enjoy!
yeji x drunk!fem!reader
fluff
You don’t usually get drunk. You don’t drink very often, and you know your limits. However, you make exceptions on certain occasions, this one being your best friend’s birthday.
She had arranged an open bar at a club, and you and your closest friends were all invited. Yeji, knowing you were in good company, bid you off and told you to have a good time.
The moment you arrive at the club, a drink is immediately shoved into your hands. Not wanting to be rude, you drink it and go over to the dance floor with your friends. You sway to the time of the booming music and sing along to the songs you know.
After some time, you get the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. You turn around and see a man looking at you from the bar. You shake it off and ignore it, thinking it’s nothing, until, a few moments later, he taps you on the shoulder.
You face him, immediately repulsed by the smouldering face he’s trying to pull off.
“Hey,” he says, leaning uncomfortably close to your ear. “You look beautiful tonight. What’s your name?”
You make a face and back up.
“I’m taken, sorry.”
That doesn’t deter him, however, and he soldiers on, making a show of looking around the club.
“I don’t see your man anywhere.”
You raise a brow, unimpressed.
“That’s because I have a girlfriend. Anything else?”
He at least has the decency to look embarrassed, and he leaves you alone after that.
A few songs (and drinks) later, you stumble off the dance floor, needing some fresh air. You ask the bartender for some water, and as he passes a glass to you, someone slides in beside you at the bar.
It’s a woman, dressed in a short (too short, you think, with some distaste) black mini dress.
“Hi,” she greets you with a charming smile, and you nod awkwardly. “You’re stunning. Can I buy you a drink?”
“Thank you,” you say, wanting nothing else but to exit the conversation. “But I have a girlfriend.”
The woman shrugs, and leans closer. What was it with these people and their lack of respect for personal space?
“That’s alright. It’s just a drink.” She cocks her head. “She doesn’t have to know.”
You frown at her implication and stand up, taking your glass of water with you.
“No thanks. I’m not drinking anyway.”
You walk away, deflating as soon as you slide into the booth your friend is sitting in.
“Woah,” she says, laughing. “You don’t look too good. What’s up?”
“Why does everyone keep trying to hit on me?” You whine, making her laugh harder.
“You’re complaining about people trying to pick you up? You should be flattered, if anything.”
“I don’t like it if it’s not Yeji.” You grumble, burying your face in your hands, and your friend chuckles.
“You guys are so cute.” She snaps her fingers, as if in a eureka moment. “I know what will make you feel better.” She grins, and you get a bit nervous. “Shots!”
Your friend orders a round of shots, and calls everyone from your group to join.
You play rock paper scissors, and whoever loses has to take a shot. You’re terrifyingly awful at rock paper scissors, and, to no one’s surprise, you keep on losing.
You’re on your fourth shot when you begin to slur your words and struggle to sit up straight. Your friend calls for an end to the game and asks you if you’re okay.
“I miss Yeji,” you pout, your eyes watering as you thought of your girlfriend, probably alone at home. “I miss herrrr,”
“Okay, you’ve definitely had too much to drink.” Your friend plucks the shot glass from your hand and dials Yeji on her phone.
She’s at home, getting ready to go to bed, as she knows you’ll probably be back late. So she’s surprised to see your friend’s caller id light up her phone, and she picks up at once, worried something might have happened to you.
“Hello? Is everything okay? Is Y/N okay?” She asks, already pulling on her coat and shoes.
“Yeah, yeah, she’s fine,” your friend reassures her. “She’s just very drunk, and I think she wants you to come get her.”
“I’m on my way,” Yeji says, halfway out the door.
She starts up her car and drives to the address of the club you had sent her. Luckily, it’s not too far from your place, so she gets there really quickly.
Your friend had passed her an invitation, which she shows to the bouncer, who lets her in, though a little confused at her attire, a simple hoodie and sweatpants, topped off with a cap.
She speed walks through the crowd, sidestepping people as she makes her way to you. When she finally sees you, she breathes out a sigh of relief, and approaches you with a smile.
“Hey, baby!” She chirps as soon as she’s in earshot. “You ready to go home—”
“Don’t call me baby!” You interrupt her without even looking at her, holding up a finger. She stops, surprised. Were you mad at her? For what?“I’m not yourrrr baby. I,” you point at yourself, swaying a little in your seat, “have a girlfriend. So I am not going home with you, understand?”
Yeji gapes, her mouth opening and closing several times.
“But, babe, I have the car outside—”
“Stop insisting!” You cross your arms with a huff. “My girlfriend is beautiful, and kind, and selfless, and she’s the best person in my life. She’s strong too, and she’ll kick your ass if she sees you talking to me this way. And I love her a lot, so don’t even try to win me over, because it’s not going to work.”
Yeji’s face splits into a wide smile, and she shakes her head fondly before tucking a finger under your chin and making you look at her.
You go from confused to elated in a split second.
“Yeji!” You throw your arms over her shoulders and pull her into a tight embrace. “When did you get here?”
“I just got here. I was trying to—”
“Well thank god you’re here. There was this girl that was flirting with me and trying to take me home, can you believe that?”
Yeji swallows down a laugh and bites back her smile.
“Really? It’s good I got here on time then. Can’t have anyone that isn’t me taking my girl home, can I?”
You interlace your hands and try to stand up, but stumble a bit. Luckily, Yeji catches you and holds you up. You both say goodbye and wish a happy birthday to your friend and she leads you out of the club, a strong arm around your waist.
She helps you into the car and buckles you in, and you unexpectedly kiss her as she’s leaning over you, checking your seatbelt.
She smiles and pecks your lips a couple more times, and you trace her jawline with your finger. She truly is beautiful. The perfect balance of her handsome and pretty features makes your heart skip a beat.
“You okay?” She asks you, and you realise you’ve been staring into space. You nod and stretch in your seat, your tiredness catching up to you.
You yawn and grab her free hand as she pulls out of the driveway of the club and starts on the road home.
“A lot of people tried to flirt with me tonight, Yeddeong.” Well, perhaps ‘a lot’ is an exaggeration, but you’re drunk and sleepy.
Yeji’s hand tightens momentarily on the wheel.
“Yeah?” You nod and tuck a loose piece of hair behind her ear.
“But nobody was as pretty as you.”
She blushes, and relaxes her grip on the wheel. She doesn’t say anything, but you smile at the knowledge that you flustered her.
“I love you, Yeji.”
She looks at you, her eyes crinkling as she smiles.
“I love you too, baby.”
When you get home, she helps you out of your uncomfortable clothes and into some pyjamas, and wipes off your makeup too. She tucks you into bed and curls up beside you, her arms wrapping around your waist as she kisses your shoulder. You start snoring the moment your head hits the pillow.
She definitely teases you about it in the morning, how you were so drunk you couldn’t recognise her, and you flush red with embarrassment, on top of the pounding headache you have.
She doesn’t torture you about it though, and presses a warm kiss to your temple as she slides a bowl of haejangguk across the table for your hangover.
#itzy#yeji#itzy imagines#itzy x reader#yeji imagines#Yeji fluff#itzy fluff#hwang yeji#itzy fanfic#itzy headcanons#itzy yeji#yeji headcanons#yeji x fem reader#yeji x reader#itzy x fem reader#itzy x you#yeji x you
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bffs with the rookies- incorrect quotes 1!
Just a lil sum sum to show more abt the relationships in the AU
Y/N: A stake to the heart won't kill a vampire if their tits are big enough. Oscar: Yeah, you just catch it. Logan: Nah nah nah, deflects it. Stake? Just bounces right off. Done. Back to doing hot girl shit. Arthur: Then I just use a spear instead. Y/N: You are trying so hard to kill a vampire with big bazongas, and for what? Why would you do that to the ecosystem?
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Oscar: It’s Christmas! Are you all in a Christmas mood?! Logan: Merry crisis. Arthur: Jingle bells, jingle bells, single all the way. Y/N: Hoe hoe hoe. Oscar: Guys, please.
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Oscar: Who would you kill out of the four of us, Logan? Logan: Arthur, easily. Arthur, laughing: What the fuck, man. Logan: Well, Y/N would be too easy. She’d probably be into it. Y/N, now standing in the doorway: What the fuck, man!?
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Logan: How do I ask someone out? Y/N: Roses are red, violets are blue, guess what, my bed has room for two. Logan: No! Arthur: Twinkle twinkle little star, we can do it in a car. Logan: Stop! Oscar: Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily I can make you scream. Logan: I feel like the last one is verging dangerously into serial killer territory.
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Y/N: Fight me! Arthur: Ha, look at your size! What are you gonna do, kick my ankle? *Later* Logan: Why is Arthur crying? Oscar: Y/N kicked him really hard on the ankle.
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Y/N, to Oscar: When was the last time you let someone hug you? Oscar: *thinking* Oscar: 2012. Arthur: 2012…? Oscar: Yeah. I almost died and it really freaked Logan out so I let him hug me.
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Lando: You know what? Lando: When I joined this friend group I thought you guys would be dealing with my bullshit. *Y/N, Arthur and Oscar continue screaming about mold water* Lando:Not the other way around. Logan: I dunno, sounds like you need to drink the mold water.
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Lando: Mice are having sex in my walls. Arthur: Tattletale! Logan: You're just being ungrateful. Y/N: It's their home too, you know. Oscar: So what? Don't slutshame them. Lando: The mice are fucking AND now I'm getting heckled.
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Oscar: Team A will consist of myself, Arthur, Lando, and Logan. Oscar: Team B will consist of Y/N, cause she scares me.
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How Lando and Y/n became friends:
Logan: Why aren't there friend pick up lines? Pick up lines to make friends like- Logan, to Arthur: Hey, that's a cute outfit. You know where it would look better? On nobody else, because you're a beautiful individual. Y/N, to Lando: Be my friend or I'll set your entire family on fire. Oscar: There are two types of people.
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Charles: I’m not mad, I just need to know why you two had a fake ID. Arthur: *Incoherent mumbling* Charles: Huh? Y/n: …You need to be 18 to hold the puppies at PetCo.
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Charles (brainstorming ideas for pranking Max): How much could a serial killer mask possibly cost? Y/n: Well it’s hard to find a high-quality one made out of leather or silicone, but if you did find a good one like that it’d be a couple thousands of dollars. I can try to hook you up with one but I don’t know if I’d be very successful. Charles: Huh, that’s pretty interesting actually- Wait, how the hell do you know that? Y/n: …I am very passionate about Halloween, Charles.
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Y/n: I'm gonna eat the chicken breasts! Arthur, snickering: Yeah, eat what you lack. Y/n, deadpanning at Arthur Then maybe I should order brains on delivery for you.
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Arthur, reading a recipe: Beat three eggs? Charles: It means like in hand-to-hand combat. Arthur: Ohhhh- Y/n: Both of you get out of this kitchen.
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Logan: Have I ever told you that I love you with my whole heart? Y/n For the love of all that is holy, I am not taking you to McDonalds. It’s 2am! Logan: Mean.
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Y/n: Dumbest scar stories, go! Oscar: I burned my tongue once drinking tea. Charles: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it. Logan: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade. Arthur: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and I got a really bad burn. Max: Max: I have emotional scars.
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When Max and Charles got spam called by Y/n and the group after their party:
Max: I CAN'T DO IT! Charles, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER! Max: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE Lando: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US. Max: Max: I appreciate it, Max: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH- Charles: Max- Max: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE! Lando: Max we gotta- Max: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT. Max: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?' Max, motioning to Y/n, Oscar, Arthur and Logan: NOT FUCKING THIS
#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 incorrect quotes#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargeant#lando norris x reader#lando norris#arthur leclerc x reader#arthur leclerc
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Heyyy hope you are having a great day! Could I request a Valentino x daughter fic, where the reader had just arrived in hell and he helps her adjust? Thx
-🕯anon
HAPPY WEEKEND! The editing continues (in between adulting of course!)
Enjoy!
It was the smell she couldn’t get used to.
The scent of rotting garbage that filled her nose every time she stepped out of the V tower- every time she stepped out from under her fathers direct protection. The clangs and clamors, yellings and beepings of car horns surrounded her. It was almost like being home…except, maybe a touch more dangerous. She turned to walk away from the red limo that sat, waiting for her. She had made it this far, after all.
Her phone rang, adding to the noisy chaos that was the pride ring. Startled, she pulled it out of her pocket and scowled at the caller ID. Of course he knew the second she stepped out of the building.
“Uncle Vox? What’s up?”
“You left the tower without telling us, everything okay?” Vox’s voice floated through the line.
Reader rolled her eyes as she scanned the street. “I did tell you- this morning. I have an appointment to get my school uniform fitted, remember? Dad said I have to finish high school…there was a whole discussion…”
“Your appointment is at noon. It's eleven and it takes ten minutes for the limo to get there. You’re too early.”
On the other end of the line, she could hear what sounded like the ting of the elevator. Fuck. She was sure he was on his way down.
“Uncle Vox, I was going to walk to the shop. And maybe stop for a coffee on the way, I mapped my route with VoxQuest before I even walked out the door.”
“You can’t just leave the tower whenever you please sweetheart, it’s dangerous out there. This is a much different world than you’re used to.”
The dial tone buzzed in my ear and I turned around to see Vox walking towards me. I tried to hide my scowl. Three months. I had been in hell for three months and the lack of freedom felt like chains around me. On Earth I had the freedom to come and go throughout the world as I pleased. People feared me. No one messed with me. Partially because at the end of the day, I was a nobody- just another soul scraping my way to survive. But my arrival in hell shed light on exactly who I was- who my father was. And that made simply existing dangerous.
My father passed when I was five. My mother before that- in childbirth, or so I was told. I didn’ have very many memories of him when he was alive- and even less so of his two best friends, Velvette and Vox. And none of my mother. All I knew of them is that when they died, they left me alone in Earth’s version of hell.
I grew up fast, like most kids in my situation. So my early death wasn’t exactly a surprise. But what was a surprise was meeting my father within the first twenty four hours of my arrival in hell. Even more so to be thrust into a life of luxury- a stark contrast from fighting to survive.
“Ah. Not to mention you don’t know any of the good places in town. Also does your father know you drink coffee? You’re a little young- not that I’m judging.” He continued as he tucked his arm around me. “Come along now, let me escort you if you insist on walking.”
There was a part of me that chafed at the supervision. I was almost a sophomore in high school, and I had been on my own for years. But another part of me, a bigger part of me, relaxed ever so slightly, the pounding fear in my heart, the wonder if I would survive another day melted with each passing week.
The bell rang as we entered the coffee shop and I crossed my arms uneasily. As I studied the menu I scanned for the least expensive item. I hadn’t actually planned on buying anything. Even with the bright gold credit card I now carried in my wallet, it seemed like a waste of money- an unnecessary luxury- when the apartment never seemed to run out of coffee pods. It was more the warmth, brightness and safety of the shop that I craved. The memories of warming cold hands on hot water filled cups, scraping together pennies to save for an occasional teabag.
“What looks good to you?” Vox asked. “Their blueberry coffee is killer.”
The uncomfortable feeling of embarrassment settled in my gut. He wouldn’t understand, even if I tried to explain it.
“Just uhm, a small black coffee,” I replied as I shifted my weight uneasily.
He raised an eyebrow, “you take cream and sugar at home.”
“Yeah but that’s extra and I don’t want…”
He gave me an odd look but reached over and squeezed my shoulder comfortingly. “Why don’t you let me pick something for you? Go find us a spot to sit, your dad should be joining us in a few moments.”
Grateful to be free of the burden of ordering, of the anxiety I couldn’t kick that surrounded paying, I slid into a window seat and watched as the crowd passed by. A few moments later I heard the bell ring and looked up as the tall figure that was my father made his way into the room.
My memory of him alive was sparse, but in death, the man was larger than life. People moved when he walked, listened when he spoke and the fear they emitted around him was practically tangible. I watched as he scanned the room, and when his eyes met mine they practically lit up.
“Bebita, darling,” he cooed as he took the chair across from me, “Vox tells me you snuck out of the tower?”
I felt myself flush, “I’m sorry Dad I…”
“Forgot?”
He reached across the table and took my hand in his. To my surprise he gave it a gentle squeeze.
“I understand, cariño. It must be tough, going from all the freedom in the world to being locked into a cage. Let’s try to be a bit better going forward, okay? Death in this world is far more permanent than on Earth.”
“Yes, Papi,” I muttered quietly as I looked down.
“It must be strange to you,” he continued. “It was for me, when I first entered hell. For you, it’s an even bigger change. An overnight princessa.”
I looked up at him to meet his gaze.
“I looked up where you lived- or at least, where they claimed you lived. The rest of my intel says you ran the streets on Earth. And at such a young age,” he continued. “So to find yourself here- thrust into the lap of luxury and comfort, no longer fighting just to put food in your tummy, that lack of adrenaline rush must leave you feeling as though something is missing.”
“I don’t know what to do,” I blurted out. “I have everything I ever dreamed of at my disposal. And I…and I don’t know what to do with it.”
Valentino studied me. A moment later, Vox joined the table and slid a steaming cup towards me.
“This is what I’d like to suggest,” Valentino continued, taking the proffered cup from Vox’s hands. “And what I think will help you adjust the best. Help to ease you into this new life, since what we have been doing just doesn’t seem to be helping.”
The familiar panic settled over me. Was he kicking me out? Was my lack of obedience, lack of adjustment too much for him to deal with?
“Hey, kiddo, take a breath,” Vox said quickly with a sharp look to Valentino. “There isn’t any reason to worry.”
“Not at all,” Valentino said with another squeeze to my hand, “I was going to suggest that when we get you fitted for your school uniform, we review the list of clubs and sports that you can partake in. I think getting you involved in something, and establishing a day to day routine will help you adjust.”
“We all have one,” Vox added as he took a sip from his mug. “A routine, I mean. And we well know those survival instincts don’t just go away overnight. Finding an alternate way to access that adrenaline will help you settle in.”
I considered as I took a sip of my coffee. Sweetness exploded on my tongue- sugar and chocolate and cream, all combined into one. It was a heavenly treat, and I almost couldn’t believe it was real. That this was real. I looked out the window for a moment.
“Bebita? Tell us, what is on your mind?” Valentino asked as he studied me, “Please. Speak.”
“I’d like to do something to help. Not everyone who ends up in hell ends up in the life I now can lead…right? There must be some way to give back, to help those who used to be in my..situation.” I said finally.
Vox and Valentino exchanged looks. Slowly, Vox nodded.
“We can look into that, sweetheart. That could be something we do…together, if you wish?” Valentino said slowly. “It isn’t something we…I…feel comfortable letting you go out and do by yourself.”
“We could even make it a family thing,” Vox added helpfully, “get Velvette involved.”
I could feel myself start to perk up. The more hands that helped, the better, right?
“Yeah, I would appreciate that. Thanks, Dad.”
I saw him smile and I took another drink from my cup, letting the warmth spread through me.
“We’ll get you settled in, sweetheart,” Valentino told me, “I promise.”
#vox hazbin hotel#the vees#hazbin hotel#valentino x reader#valentino x you#valentino#the vees x reader#vox x reader#valentino hazbin hotel#hazbin fluff#hazbin hotel vox#vox#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel valentino#vees#voxvel#voxval
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Wine tasting with Shadowheart
Early on in your relationship, Shadowheart had expressed her interest in going to a wine tasting with you, though you quickly found out about the lack of wineries near Baldur’s Gate.
Sure, you would often find half empty bottles of drinkable wine along the road in your adventures, but the only good wine worthy of drinking is found in very few expensive bars and the occasional brothel. If you were lucky, you could snag a bottle from the docks after a recent import, though they’re often kept under wraps to be sent to the nobles or churches.
You and Shadowheart have been collecting a variety of good wines you have found (stolen) around Baldur’s Gate most prestigious bars and have been hiding them in your camp for ages now, separating them from the average wines kept in the group cache. You wait for the perfect night to host your own private wine tasting.
When the night comes around, you and Shadowheart slip off into the woods after dinner. You lead her to a rocky cliff that overlooks the nearby beach. A perfect picturesque view of the sun starting to set beyond the horizon.
You lay down the picnic blanket and pillows as you carefully place down the bottles of wine and water. Shadowheart makes herself comfortable on the blanket as she looks over the cliff, sighing in content as she watches the sunset. You place down some cheese and biscuits because you can’t have a wine tasting without some proper snacks. Though you mostly ignore them and go straight for the wine.
You spend the night drinking, laughing and talking about everything you can think of. Your favourite topic is the one that is your travelling companions. As you get more tipsy, you gossip and bitch about your friends who are only just a few hundred meters away. You groan about how loudly Karlach snores. You chuckle at how Scratch stole one of Gales books and made him chase him for it. You express your shared hatred for the blood left lying around camp by Astarion after his meals.
Hours later, you laugh together as you sip on an abundance of wine under the silver light of the moon. At this point you’re both laying on your sides. Facing each other.
“I think… I think I’m drunk.” Shadowheart giggles as she reaches towards you, accidentally knocking over an empty bottle of wine.
You grab her hand in yours, giggling at her flushed face and tired eyes. “I told you we were only supposed to taste the wine. Not… Not drink ourselves to death.” You hiccup.
“Where’ss the fun in that?” She slurs. “What, we just waste all this wine and… and spit it off the cliff?” She waves her hand around drunkenly.
“Shit, we’re going to be sooo hungover tomorrow.” You giggle. “Tomorrow? Today? I don’t even know what time it is.” You mumble, causing Shadowheart to giggle along with you.
“Oh gods, Lae’zel is going to be so pissed when she finds out we stole… stole her biscuits.” Shadowheart laughs loudly, causing her to snort through her nose. You both chortle at the sound, quickly shushing each other when you realise how much noise you’re making. You place a finger on Shadowheart’s lips, silencing her with a shushing gesture on your own as you both fight to hold back your laughs.
Your giggles die down as she takes your hand again, holding it in the space between the two of you on the blanket. You stare into her eyes. Her gorgeous, tired green eyes that slow blink at you with love and affection. Her smile tugs at your heartstrings and it’s as if you can feel your teeth rotting from the sweetness of it all. You scan her face as you slowly tuck a strand of hair behind her pointed ear.
“I can’t believe you’re mine.” She whispers, shuffling closer to you. You press your foreheads together as she hums softly in satisfaction.
“It’s surreal.” You mumble, rubbing over the scar on her cheek with your thumb. “You’re so beautiful…” You breathe, entranced by her soothing aura.
“I know.” She smirks.
Your thumb traces over her soft lips before you lean in to lock your lips with hers. Your hand moves to cradle the back of her head as she smiles into the kiss, squeezing your hand. You kiss slowly, softly, tasting the mixture of wines on her tongue.
After a few lazy kisses. She moves to place small pecks up your nose to your forehead. You giggle as she slides her free hand up to cup your face.
“Can we stay a bit longer? I don’t… I don’t want to go back to camp yet.” She whispers.
“Aren’t you cold?” You ask.
“Mm, a little. I’ve got you to warm me up though, don’t I?” She shuffles herself into your arms, tangling her legs with yours and burying her face into your neck.
“That you do.” You mumble, wrapping your arms around her as you pull the edge of the blanket over yourselves and close your eyes.
#shadowheart#bg3 shadowheart#tav x shadowheart#shadowheart x tav#shadowheart x reader#bg3 shart#shart#bg3#baldurs gate 3#baldur's gate 3#bg3 x reader#bg3 headcanons#bg3 fanfiction#lesbian#sapphic#wlw#wlw fanfic#wlw fluff#fluff fanfiction
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Never ending story
My Masterlist
Summary: After an accident something happened to you…and the accident was in 1913.
Warnings: accident, character death, brief alcohol drinking, smut, p in v sex, protected sex (i feel like it’s the first time I’m writing a smut with protection lord help me), brief handjob, light fingering, do I need to add anything more?
A/N: Jesus a one shot after such a long time omg I’m actually nervous. 😅 I recommend the movie „Age of Adaline”…it’s pretty much what happens in this oneshot too and it’s also a good movie:) the accident description is from the movie:) thank you @rogersbarber and @jamneuromain for proofreading
Steve and reader have an age gap here, with her being older but let's be honest considering he is like a 100 later on the 8 years difference don’t change a thing😂 besides I’ve probably messed up the ages and many things since it was hard to keep up😂
The story is not 100% accurate with the CA:FA movie.
Accidents often affect people’s life’s, not just from injuries but also because of the aftermath.
Yet you never expect your accident to change your life so dramatically.
In 1913, on your way to your parents house something highly unusual occurred, something almost magical... snow fell in Sonoma County, California.
Distracted from the road by the snow you lost control of your car, driving from the bridge right into a river.
The immersion in the frigid water caused your body to go into an anoxic reflex, instantly stopping your breathing and slowing your heartbeat. Within 2 minutes,
Your core temperature had dropped to 87 degrees... her heart stopped beating.
Then, a bolt of lightning struck the vehicle discharging half a billion volts of electricity producing 60,000 amperes of current.
Its effect was threefold.
First, the charge defibrillated your heart.
Second,
You were jolted out of yoir anoxic state causing you to draw your first breath in 2 minutes.
Third, based on Von Lehman's principle of electron compression in deoxyribonucleic acid, which will be discovered in the year two thousand thirty-five, y/n y/sn will henceforth be immune to the ravages of time...
At first you had never noticed it, but after over ten years you noticed something different-or rather nothing. Not a single wrinkle, not even a little change in your face nor body. Everyday was the same.
You were 36.
Yet you looked 25. Not a day older.
And people started to notice it, especially when you started to look very similar to your daughter. When she was 17, but both of you looked like sisters.
Even your husband noticed the lack of differences in your appearance. Luckily soon after he was drafted-of course it broke your heart to see him go, but considering your other problem, it was easier to think of a solution.
Moving. Running away.
So when the question started, you had to move, not expecting this would be your future from now on.
During the war it wasn’t hard to lay down, especially since everyone tried to do so, most people helped each other, while others just avoided most people.
A sigh escaped your lips as you walked around the World Exposition of Tomorrow, many people, not knowing you, nor your daughter. It was her birthday and you both decided to spend it somewhere special.
After getting some snacks you wanted to go to the front to watch the presentation of the new ‚flying car’. „I’ll go powder my nose, Y/N”, your daughter informed you. Y/N. She had stopped calling you ‘mom’ when she was 15. Sometimes, at home, but rarely. Especially now that you looked so close to the same age. You were 24 years older but…it didn’t look this way.
„Watch out-“, You called after a man that had hit your shoulder, making your purse drop, a couple of things falling out.
When you wanted to bend down someone was already holding up your purse.
His soft blue eyes looked you over once, before stopping to meet your gaze. „Ma’am, your purse”, said the gentleman, still holding the purse with a shaky hand. „Thank you, Sir”, you smiled at the young man.
He was slightly shorter, especially with the shoes you were wearing, giving you two or so inches more. His hair blond, looking soft but frail, like his frame. The jacket hanging rather loose around his shoulders, the pants held up by a belt tightly buckled around his slim hips, you could see there was an extra hole made for the belt to fit him.
„I’m…I’m Steve Rogers”, said the young man, holding out his hand. You shook it, introducing yourself to him, but just then your daughter walked back up to you.
When Steve’s friend walked up to you two, with two other dames who seemed to be rather interested in the friend himself than Steve, but that was the cue for you to go.
Besides, why were you even interested in spending time with this man? You were a married woman-and older. It might not look like that but you definitely were older than him by a couple of years.
Yet a bit of fantasizing wasn’t a crime, right? His blue eyes were probably the prettiest thing you’ve seen in a while.
During the expo you saw Steve a few more times, small smiles and gazes were exchanged before you had to leave, not expecting to ever see that man again.
Two years later you had to move again after the police accused you of having forged documents and a false ID.
But you were alone this time.
Your daughter had a husband, only married for a few months but she decided to stay with him-which you understood.
Nevertheless it didn’t break your heart any less. Especially since you knew your husband was also dead, after receiving the condolences letter.
That’s how you found yourself sitting at the small bar in Italy, a completely new country where nobody was looking for you. Briefly you’ve heard about the Captain America creation and other things, but you weren’t too interested in it, not with the heartbreak after being completely alone.
Heartbroken and alone.
Funny enough Steve felt the same way, walking into the bar, sulking and making his shoulders as small as possible, not wanting the attention of other people.
He really thought Peggy might like him-but he got it all wrong, she was seeing someone and just moments after this information he also found out Bucky's unit was missing.
Tomorrow he planned to look for them, waiting for Stark to arrange everything needed.
But tonight.
Tonight he was alone and heartbroken.
Steve wasn’t that type to flirt with random women or ‚hook up’, but tonight…he just wanted to be someone else, not the heartbroken little boy from Brooklyn, even though usually he’d be proud to be that.
But he felt like he let his friend down.
The woman he fell in love embarrassed him, which wouldn’t be the first time but it felt worse than ever before.
„Whisky”, he ordered, sitting next to you, making you lift your head at the slightly familiar voice. It’s like you’ve heard him before-but you shook it off for now.
Sipping on your cocktail, your gaze was glued to the many pictures at the wall, people smiling at the camera, while others looked away or at their friends.
The man next to you cleared his throat. „How…how is your evening ma’am?”, when you looked over at the man, your voice seemed to be stuck in your throat. He was handsome, yes, but it wasn’t what made your breath hitch. It’s his eyes. The blue eyes that you were never able to forget.
„Steve”, you said quietly, a sad smile creeping on your face as you looked at him over again. He furrowed his eyebrows a bit, before sighing. “Yeah, it’s me, Steve Rogers, the captain-“‘“wait, no Steve it’s…I mean, yeah, I’ve heard about it but I didn’t know it was you but-yeah, I can see the change”, you chuckled, placing your hand on his bicep and squeezing, before pulling away. That felt quite rude.
“We met years ago…At the…the world exposition of tomorrow-about the future flying car? You were-well, smaller-and with a friend, I was there with my da-“, you cleared your throat. “-dearest friend.”
It didn’t take long for him to remember the time you two met. After some catching up you ordered yourself another drink, Steve got another one too.
Minutes turned to hours…
“…I’m moving a bit around. I lost my husband-the war took him….”
“….Bucky was drafted…his unit…”
“….Buck always said I was stubborn and would either get enlisted or died trying, since I surely wouldn’t stop or…”
“….I wish we could just have a quiet life without wars…”
“..I remember when I was a kid…”
“…There was a time when I….”
The conversation kept going, skipping from one topping to the other, first the usual talk about what was going on, then sharing some memories and comforting words.
When the barkeeper informed you it was already time to close the place, you looked down at the drink you were still sipping. It was still the second one you had ordered, mostly untouched.
Steve helped you put on your jacket, you knew you didn’t want the evening to end.
Without saying a word you just wrapped your hand around his arm, walking with him along the streets, only a few minutes before entering your apartment building.
Steve followed. He wanted to be with you that night. He wanted to feel you close. He wanted to feel…needed….loved…cared after…
He wanted to forget about all the horrors around him.
So did you.
When entering the small apartment you took off your shoes and jacket, Steve hanging up his own and yours, before looking back at you, a nervous smile creeping on his lips.
“I don’t….usually do such things”, he started, making you take his hands. “Me neither Steve”, whispering you let your hands roam to his neck, slowly pulling him down as he placed his hands on your waist to pull you closer as you kissed.
Gentle, yet passionate. So full of…feelings. You couldn’t call it love but…but it was still close to it. It was shared pain.
And you knew the line between love and pain was so small it barely made a difference.
A quiet gasp escaped your lips when Steve wrapped his hands around the back of your thighs and lifted you onto his hips. “Where is the bedroom-“ “the couch is fine”, but Steve only clicked his tongue.
“I don’t…I don’t want it to…be rushed and meaningless”, he mumbled against your lips, making you smile a little. Not that you thought about it…you didn’t want to rush it yourself.
So you told him where to go, before being placed onto the bed, Steve carefully climbing over you, kissing your neck.
Slowly he undressed you, making sure to kiss every inch of your skin he uncovered. Your shoulders, your arms, hands…your stomach…before having you only in your underwear.
“You…you’re beautiful”, he whispered, before slowly taking the rest of your clothes off. A blush crept on your cheeks when you felt his eyes on your body, especially with him being still dressed. “Steve, come on let me help you with those…”, you chuckled, making him also smile a bit, as he sat back and started unbuttoning his shirt, revealing the white, tight undershirt beneath it.
A grin crept on your lips, sitting up, you let your hands roam over his chest and arm, before quickly grabbing the undershirt and pulling over his head. Your lips find its way to his neck, down to his pecks, making him moan quietly and letting you push him down onto the bed.
Now it was your turn to leave kisses along his body, lowering yourself till you were level with his zipper, opening it. Steve helped you push down his pants and underwear, his cock immediately slapping against his abdomen, hard and leaking.
Before you could get your mouth on him he pulled you up and once again on your back, his hands once again all over your body, spreading your legs apart, as he sat back on his heels and looked at you, especially your crotch. “You look so good…”, he mumbled, gently sliding his fingers through your wet folds.
A soft moan escaped your lips as Steve slowly pushed two of his fingers into your wet hole, wettly squelching as he pulled out again, watching his finger being covered in wetness.
You let your head drop into your neck, moaning quietly with every time he pushed his fingers back in. “Steve…I need you…”, you gasped.
It immediately made Steve’s heartbeat quicken to hear those words, hovering over you and reaching into his pants pocket, pulling out a metal condom tin and opening it, taking the condom out. “Already prepared?” “The captain has to be responsible”, Steve smirked teasingly.
You felt yourself blush at that, rolling your eyes with a grin on your lips.
Then, you watched as Steve slowly put the condom on, stroking his dick a few times, before letting it slide between your folds, brushing over your clit. You weren’t sure if he was purposefully teasing you or just doing it to…well, considering his grin he was doing it on purpose.
“Steve please-“, before you could finish, Steve leaned back down again, kissing you passionately, as he slowly pushed his cock into your pussy. A quiet and slightly surprised gasp escaped your lips, the stretch feeling more than expected.
You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, one hand buried in his hair, while he was covering you with his wide frame-which didn’t feel intimidating in any way- it was rather comforting. Feeling his warmth and the weight of his body made you feel like you were in the right place.
The rest of the night was spent in a tight embrace, skin to skin, soft pleas and moans reaching your ears and the smell of sex lingered in the air.
When the sun started to rise you fell asleep in Steve’s arms, after having spent the best evening you could imagine together.
You woke up to a kiss on your temple and a soft whisper, “I hope we see each other soon.”
But you didn’t.
After saving Bucky and his unit Steve had many other missions following, which he had written about in a letter. One letter, with a lot of explaining and apologies and…an invitation for a date, after he’d be back.
But this also never came. You waited months. Years.
And then he flew the plane into the ocean, falling to his death.
Only then did one thing occur to you.
Were you able to die? Or specifically, from old age? If you’d ever meet a man, would you be able to spend your life with him? The idea of falling in love and watching your partner die broke your heart-you had already buried your husband, then Steve died and…oh god, you would watch your own child die.
Once again you got yourself a whisky, this time just at home not wanting to meet any new people, especially since that was how you had found Steve again. You swore you’d never get close to another person again, never get your feelings involved in something. There was a voice at the back of your head, it had been there for some time now, that always reminded you of Steve but now…you knew you needed to forget about him,
….definitely not expecting to ever see him ever again.
The years passed by, every ten years you moved, illegally bought a new passport, ID…a whole new life, whole new person. You wrote letters with your daughter, meeting up with her twice a year on your and her birthday.
You watched her age.
You watched her birth children.
You watched them grow up.
And you watched your daughter die.
At the age of 86 in 1998.
While you still haven’t changed since 1913.
Her funeral was beautiful. Many people were there-even though nobody knew you-or at least not as who you were. A family's friend. Her nurse. Kid from a friend…many different ways. But not as her mom. Her mom went missing in 1943, during the war, probably killed…yeah, that was the story people knew.
So you continued living, year after year.
Until 2012 arrived.
Two unexpected things happened.
An alien attacked you.
And you saw those beautiful blue eyes again.
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NSFW- Minors and Ageless blogs please dni
Nepo-baby!Gojo x f!Reader, Gojo’s a loser/desperate, Modern AU, Masturbation (Gojo), slight public masturbation (tbh it’s just Satoru being down bad)
Word count: 4.5k
Author’s yap: Ok ok ok so- I started this when the lack of AC in my dorm was frying my brain, and it gave me an idea. Now I’m freezing my ass off and fantasizing about the heat. This isn’t too smutty, but if I’m still into this, I might expand… Enjoy pooks <3
Dive In!
It’s hot as shit outside, and you know what that means: the college rec center pool’s gonna be packed.
Every god-forsaken year, the Earth teeters a bit too close to the Sun just around the time that students are moving those obnoxious highlighter-colored carts up and down the streets carrying their belongings. Everyone’s wiping their foreheads, a content sigh when they step into the lobby of the dorm building. This doesn’t last too long, unfortunately. Because as soon as you step onto a resident floor, let alone an actual dorm room, it’s like Satan pulled apart his ass cheeks and sandwiched you right in between ‘em.
Hot as shit and there’s no AC, so for the very unlucky majority who didn’t bring a fan (as instructed by housing, who don’t live under these conditions, mind you), they’re stuck sizzling in their dorms, hopelessly opening their dusty windows for wishing for any semblance of a draft to come in.
It’s miserable. But luckily, there’s a solution! And no, it’s not fighting someone’s mom for the last desk fan in Target.
It’s the university’s recreational pool! Open to all students, it’s like a gift from Heaven (or a college alumni). Everyone, and I mean everyone, is there.
It’s like a big pool party (albeit indoors)- everyone’s got some sort of appendage in the water, trying to cool off. A few girls have their towels set up on the side, lying on their stomach as they scroll on their phone or read a book. A couple of people brought a beach ball- tossing it around. You're sitting on the side chatting with your roommate, Shoko, kicking your feet into the water, as she leans on the rim of the pool, hair up in a clip.
“I don’t get why they haven’t installed any AC units- or even central air.”
“If they even think about renovating, G. Hall will literally fall into smithereens.”
Shoko jokes, resting her chin in her hand as she looks up at you, tiredly.
“As if the Gojo clan wouldn’t be able to donate more money for a renovation. That’s pocket money for them.” You yawn, drained too. The heat is tiring. Especially after the two of you just finished setting up your dorm together for the third year in a row- this time, without your parents to help y’all. Y’all were burning up, and you needed to cool down- real bad.
You do a scan of the pool. Some familiar faces, others not so much. The school’s big as shit, and you keep to yourself and your group- you don’t need to know everybody. Yuki’s in the water with her boyfriend, playing chicken with some other people. She’s got a death grip on his pigtails, almost as if she’s steering him around, smothering his face between her thighs. A guy named Kento- your study partner from last year- is over by the stairs to the pool- wanting to be in it, but not completely submerged. He seems to be enjoying his time by himself. Ino and his boys are the ones hitting around the beach ball, splashing around in the extremely crowded pool.
“Look at all of our sorry asses…” You mutter, sighing as you sip on a drink you brought.
“When I didn’t want summer to end, I wasn’t talkin about the heat. But whatever. 2 more weeks being in the 8th circle of hell, and it’s back to our regularly scheduled progra- oh my-” Shoko stops mid sentence, her eyes glued to something as she hits your thigh profusely.
“What- what? Yaga in a jock strap?” You finally turn and see him (Shoko side eyes you- why would you want to look at Yaga in a jock strap). The man, The myth. The… nuisance.
“I thought he was too good to come here and hang with the common folk.”
“Maybe he wanted to cosplay as a broke college student like the rest of us for a day.”
Satoru Gojo- ultimate legacy, trust fund baby, nepo spawn, and just all-around spoiled brat. And he’s proud of it. Wearing blue Versace swim shorts and his sunglasses indoors, which only works for him with his scary ass eyes, he saunters into the place, expressing unbelievable childlike wonder at the sight of the pool.
“So this is what a public pool is like!”
“You don’t have to sound pretentious.” Suguru quips, walking in front of his best friend to scan the area. It’s crowded as a bitch in this place.
“I’m just- amazed, that's all. And you come here by yourself?”
“No. With other friends. Because I’m likable.”
Satoru frowns at that, shifting his beach chair under his arm uncomfortably.
“And it’s not like you’d come.” This was true. Under normal circumstances, Satoru wouldn’t step foot in this place. The water wouldn’t be good for his skin. But, when his pool’s getting renovated, he figures that he has no choice. He thought that there would be 5, maybe 10 people there. Well, he now knows he was wrong; almost all of JJU: Tokyo is here. And he’s now also made aware of the fact that most students don’t have AC.
He follows behind Suguru as he leads them through the crowd of bodies, the heat radiating from them all damn near breaking Satoru out into a sweat.
“Here- and lean that chair up against the wall or something. It’ll take up too much space.” Suguru says, as he hunkers down on the floor, scooting up to the clearing at the rim of the pool. He smooths the back of his hair up, readjusting his ponytail, sighing when his legs hit the water.
Yea… Satoru’s not doin that. He brought this chair, and he’s gonna use it, spatial awareness be damned. Ignoring all of the dirty looks he gets from people, he sets his chair right next to his friend (who is pretending not to know him) and sits, reclining with a dramatic sigh that only Satoru could argue was authentic. He crosses his legs and puts his hands woven behind his head, looking up and basking… in the industrial light.
“You can’t tan under this IKEA lighting.” Suguru says, not even bothering to look in Satoru’s direction.
“Yea- well, what do you propose that I do?” Satoru can feel himself getting slightly irritated with this public pool shit.
“Get in the water. That’s what we came here for, right.”
Satoru clumsily folds up his chair, not even bothering to go lean it against the wall in fear that he’d lose his sliver of access to the water (he doubts that Suguru would save it for him right now to be honest). Slowly but surely, he eases himself down into the water, holding his breath. He can already feel that he’s goin to need several bubble baths (extra bubbles) after this. He even closes his eyes, wading in the water and trying to get comfortable.
And then Satoru jumps into something. With a slight jolt, he looks over his shoulder and he’s gobsmacked seeing you look back at him, glasses threatening to fall off his dripping face.
He quickly gathers himself, pushing his glasses up then running his hand through his hair. And then he subtly recoils, realizing he just let that filthy shit in his scalp.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
Shoko’s got a shit-eating grin on her face, as you look at this man, somewhat horrified. Never did you think that you would ever meet this man face to face, but here he is- back to leg. And he’s hot- I mean, not in the physical way (well, you don’t think he’s bad looking but-) he’s quite literally hot to the touch. It’s abnormal- his body temperature’s like magma.
“Sorry.” He gives you a faint smile, the right dimple he has showing slightly.
“No worries.”
There’s a period of silence, and you take this opportunity to try and turn back to your friend, but he pipes up.
“I’m Satoru, by the way. What’s your name?”
You turn to look at him, gears turning in your head as your decide whether or not you want to give him a fake name or-
Yuki calls your name from the center of the pool and you almost curse at the timing.
“Wanna hop in this round?” She calls, Choso’s hands on her thighs to steady her while her hands are cupped around her mouth, calling out to you. Choso brings them closer.
“No, I’m ok. I don’t have a partner-”
“I’ll be your partner.” Satoru practically has stars in his eyes. "If... you want me to be, though. I'm a stranger, so- so stranger danger…”
Oh brother, he’s rich and a fuckin loser.
"So you wanna play, rich boy?" Yuki asks him, completely neglecting the shudder that both you and Satoru do in response to his whack ass comment. Shit, even Choso winces in response, trying to regulate his usually very expressive face just in case Satoru sees, tells his clan, and Choso’s scholarship ends up revoked.
Satoru manages to stammer out a yes, though followed by him saying he understands if he wasn't invited to play.
"This is not kindergarten- you can play with the big kids." She jokes, hopping off her boyfriend's shoulders and into the water.
"I'll be your partner for this round, if that helps. I’m good at it, don’t worry." You're absolutely elated that Yuki offered herself- you're not sure if you would have been able to team up with Satoru. You and Choso are cool, exchanging a grin as you hop off of the ledge of the pool, plowing through the water over to him.
"Ok...."
"..."
"How do you play chicken?"
Good grief.
“I’ll teach you, then.” Yuki wades over to Satoru, and his lips contort into a nervous grin. He just prays that he doesn’t embarrass himself (anymore than he already has) in front of you.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
Satoru ain't shit at playing chicken.
“I’m best friends with a bubble boy…�� Suguru mutters under his breath, running his hand painstakingly over his face as he watches Satoru look like a cat in water.
Any splash to his face, and he's completely selling, allowing Yuki to fall off (much to her dismay) or giving you and Choso enough time to make y'all's way over to them to attack. It was to the point that your body was completely dry, save for your feet. Slowly but surely though (after like, 5 rounds), he begins to get the hang of it, getting over his disdain for this rancid water touching his face and accepting the fact that he'll have to do several deep cleanings of his pores when he gets home.
He's actually starting to have fun- settling more into the atmosphere and letting his competitiveness show. And you're not minding it. You were dreading having to interact with him at first, let alone play a game with him because you thought that he would be a dick, but you were wrong. Well, not exactly wrong- but he was less dicky than you thought.
“Ok- time to switch for the next round!” Yuki says with a smile (which looks slightly elated, in your opinion) as she hops off of Satoru’s shoulders.
“Hm? We don’t stay with the same partners every round?” Satoru asks- something you were also thinking. For once you too seem to be on the same page about this game.
“No! We switch every round.” What a goddamn liar. She’s just tired of losing because the pretty princess is scared of getting his face wet.
This means that you’re stuck with the pretty princess. Fuck.
You slowly climb down Choso, who is simultaneously welcoming his girlfriend with open arms. Satoru’s mind is moving a mile a minute with every little ripple of water to inadvertently send in his direction.
You make your way over to the ledge of the pool, hoisting yourself up, and by Heaven- Satoru can see your ass jiggle out of his peripheral and he almost seizes. You turn around, and sit on the ledge, just looking at him. And he swears he’s getting closer to going into cardiac arrest with every second of him being the center of your attention.
“Come here-” You beckon, motioning for him with your hand. He nods helplessly, trying not to look too desperate with how fast he’s moving to you.
“Now I’m not as good as Yuki, so if we lose, it’s not entirely on you this time.” You smile, scooting up, placing your legs over his shoulders. Good lord does this man smell… expensive. It’s good. I’m not talking played out Dior Savauge, I’m talking Hermès, Dolce and Gabbana. You’re a sucker for a good smelling man. Even if this one is quite literally the most dramatic man on Earth.
“I’m not good at all, so anything you do I’ll watch with awe.” He places his hands on your thighs- jeez, his hands are big.
You laugh, thinking he’s joking. He’s not.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
You shift nervously on Satoru's shoulders, while Satoru is quite literally in Heaven- though, he would prefer it if his face were the other way. He has never been this close to a woman outside of his family, so this entire interaction was rocking his small little world. He's keeping his hands on your thighs while his mind is completely mush, his ears are flushed. It’s like as soon as you got on his shoulders, his ability to comprehend anything said to him was decimated.
“Satoru- Satoru!”
You call to him as Choso and Yuki splash towards you, Yuki’s face wearing a huge smile now that she’s got the upper hand. You call him again, and all this bumbling buffoon can manage to say to you is “Uh-huh, u-uh-huh.”
(Shoko runs to the bathroom, almost peeing herself from laughing too hard.)
Fuck it- thinking quick, you grab a hold of his hair, trying to Remi-Ratatouille him around. And surprisingly- it works!
Left you go!
Right- to the riiiighhhhhhhhttttt-
Satoru has no fuckin idea what’s going on right now. He’s just happy to be here, a grinning mess while you pull him around the pool, narrowly avoiding Yuki, who’s maniacal laughter trails behind the two of you.
It’s like riding a horse the way he thoughtlessly follows your pull.
“Satoru- are you ok?” You ask, looking over your shoulder at your opponents. You’re hoping that your teammate will stop being so useless, gain back consciousness, and help you the fuck out.
Getting desperate, you palm the side of his face, shaking it. Suddenly, he stops moving, and it’s like his breath is caught in his throat- a sound was caught in it? You don’t know what happened, because the next thing you knew, Yuki and Choso came crashing into you, causing you and Satoru to fly into the water.
Gasping for air, you paddle in the water, eyes burning profusely. Satoru comes up soon after this, and you glare at him.
His cheeks are flushed, as he lets out deep, heavy breaths. “Sorry..” Is all he could seem to muster out, giving you a nervous grin.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
Satoru’s starting to get the hang of it. Ok maybe not really- but he’s more active at least. You appreciate that, as well as the banter he’s contributing. His socially inept demeanor is slowly dissolving, and he’s flinching less and less at the water.
You’re actually having a lot of fun with him.
“You guys can’t keep running forever!” Yuki yells, getting kind of frustrated from how the two of you keep slipping out of her grasp.
“Oh really? watch us.” Satoru’s grip tightens on your thighs as he splashes around to put more distance between y’all, causing you to squeal.
“Satoru if I fall- go slow!” You say in between laughing fits.
“Just hold on, and you won’t!”
Maybe you too had a fighting chance with this. Actually- you think you might win at least a round or two.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
You two lost. Miserably. Yuki’s a fucking beast, and Choso’s the definition of an immovable force. You guys could only get away from them for so long- let’s not forget the pool’s crowded as shit. Y’all didn’t stand a chance. But hey- Satoru’s not too bad. Maybe he was just having a rough time adjusting to talking to people who don’t have a networth of $1 million+. But it was fun, you can not lie.
Satoru’s laugh is airy while he allows you to get off of his shoulders, listening to you teasing him for his performance. You shuffle yourself back onto the ledge of the pool next to Shoko, who seems to be in deep conversation with Suguru.
“I never thought that someone could be that bad at Chicken.”
“Hey- I prefaced this entire thing with the fact that I didn’t know how to play.” He laughs again- he’s so giggly right now, removing himself from between your legs and going to the area next to you, places his head in his hand while he looks up at you.
“Yea, but that bad?”
“Mention it again and I’ll have a meeting with Financial Aid about you.”
The both of you crack up.
…He’s kind of pretty- somewhere in the game he pushed his sunglasses up onto his hair, wet strands of white sticking to his forehead.The sight of his smile warms you up a bit inside. When he’s down here with the common people, he’s a pretty cool person to be around.
“I can see why you don’t come here often, then.” You say, tiling your head towards him.
“Ah, well, I usually just go to my par-” Satoru’s voice dies off. How about he doesn’t talk about his privilege for a bit. Cosplay a normal college student for a little- at least with you. He wants to relate to you- to get to know you on all levels- as much as humanly possible.
“I… just didn’t see a purpose for it before. But this was fun.”
“A sign for you to come more often, then.”
“Will you be here?”
You smirk. “Why, so you can get our asses whooped in a game again?”
He grins, right dimple once again making an appearance.
“Just asking- the poop- pool- pool. Fuck. The pool’s nice.” He sighs- covering his face in embarrassment, cheeks swelled up with blood.
“Sorry. Waterlog.”
You burst out laughing- his slip up and awkward responses are starting to grow on you. It’s cute.
“Well I’m sure that you have AC, so you don’t have to worry too much about being hot and sticky in a room.”
“Mmmwell,” He takes a breath, “I wouldn’t mind being hot and sticky with- hm.”
He pauses, letting his embarrassment settle in. “I’ll stop trying to talk now.”
This gets another giggle from you. “You could just say that it would be nice to see me again.” You adjust your bikini bottoms (haha) up on your hips, and then place your hand to your side to lean closer to him.
“It would be, yes.”
“I guess it wouldn’t be too bad to see you, either.”
“Satoru. We gotta go-” Suguru stands up from the ledge with a stretch. “We needa go grab groceries for the apartment.”
Satoru groans. He swiftly hoists himself up out of the water effortlessly (he hopes that you were watching, thanking the lord that he constantly worked out at the apartment gym) and quickly grabs his chair, holding it in front of himself.
“I’ll see you- and the pool again.”
“Mhm.” You wave him bye while he trails behind Suguru out of the pool room.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
He came in the pool.
He. Fucking. Came.
Sperm swimming in the chlorine.
He doesn't even know how it happened. With every tug of his white tufts, his dick throbbed and twitched, rubbing against the fabric of his swim shorts in a way that was driving him mad. He was already fighting for his life with having your pussy pressed up against the back of his neck. And the way that you called his name- Oo, it was dizzying for him.
Next thing he knew, your hand was on his face, and he was biting the shit out of his tongue trying not to moan, knees buckling while he shoots into the water.
And you smiled at him!
He practically talked Suguru’s ear off (nothing new) in the car about it while on the drive back to their apartment. Besides the cumming in his pants part- nah, he’s taking that to the grave. He was just so giddy about the day. His first flirtatious interaction with the opposite sex! How exciting!
“Yea yea I get it she’s so pretty, you get hard thinking about her, and you come in your pants just thinkin about her. Can we get out of fantasyland and go into Trader Joe’s now?”
Suguru rolls his eyes, looking out the passenger seat window, his arm hanging out. Satoru flushes.
“Why would anybody cum in the pool?”
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
But yes, where was he? Oh yea, his hand’s fisting his cock.
He doesn’t know how his hand ended up there.
Oh, he was so pathetic today. He couldn’t even speak normally to you, let alone touch you without short-circuiting. And the way you looked at him. Like he was an absolute idiot- he’s never had anyone look at him like that before… except Suguru but it’s not the same. In a weird way, it turns him on. At least he redeemed himself slightly in the end, while he was subtly rubbing himself against the pool walls, the small dips in the tiling making the friction so much more enjoyable.
What a fucking loser, getting off to the sound of your voice- and in a public place? Your pretty little laugh did wonders to him. And to be under your gaze with such scrutiny- ohmygod he was so happy he brought that chair, using it to cover his hard-on as he smiled at you like an idiot, following behind his best friend like a preschooler going back inside after recess.
He loved seeing how you adjusted your bathing-suit, nipples becoming erect as soon as you got out of the pool. The way that your pussy was a flimsy cloth away from coming into real contact with him- he is swimming in his thoughts right now.
And you smelt so good- it’s definitely nothing he’s ever smelt before (because he’s been close to any woman that’s had a scent worth below $200). The smell is just so- you (he plans on driving to every single fragrance store to pinpoint said scent so he can spray it on his pillow to smell while he plays with himself).
There’s nothing he wouldn’t give to have you splayed out on his bed with his head between your thighs, eating you out until you’re frantically calling for him, a tight grip on his hair the way that only you can do. Fucking his hand while you moan, for him- he’d go bankrupt to hear it. He would make you feel good- he knows it- he’ll make it his life’s mission. The little stutters and quivers you’d make when you would get close, pleading for him to make you cum. And don’t even get him started on how he would feel when his cock sinks into you. He’s confident that he wouldn’t last any longer within five minutes. As soon as he pushes past the rim, he’d be shooting ropes. So he’d have to eat you out first to save the little slivers of his dignity that he has left.
He wonders- would you think he was big? Would you struggle taking him? Fuck, seeing you whine and moan, begging him with cute little “slow down”s and whimpering about how good he’s stretching your cunt.
He’s so stuck up in the way that your hands entangled themselves into his hair- fuck- he lets out a helpless whine as he continues his fuck sesh, moving his hand upupup, the ring of precum chasing his hand with each stroke. You used his body with little regard to how he would feel- not like he cared. You could use him however the hell you’d like. Fuck, his dick was aching with each tug.
And you got in that water.
He’s filthy- just so- so depraved for the way that that makes him harder, causing him to stroke himself faster. You were practically bathing in his cum, albeit unknowingly. How fucking nasty is that? He pictures you accidentally swallowing it- what would it be like watching you actually take it? Would you replicate your teary, chlorine-stung eyes while you were on your knees for him, throat fucked-out, tongue lolled, and waiting for his cum?
With that, he’s seeing stars, shooting comets onto his satin sheets, utterances of “Oh fuck”s and “I’m cumming”s, and finally, with a sigh, says your name while his lower torso twitches from the sensitivity, accompanied with the cool breeze his fan is blowing onto his handless cock.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
“The amount of emails we’ve been getting about the heat is starting to get a bit concerning, I must admit.” One of the chairs of the university says, mouth full of food.
All of the important figure heads of the college are sitting at the Gojo family’s long dinner table, conversing like the old buddies they are. It’s a usual thing for them to do, where they chat about stupid, unimportant uppity-rich people things, like school funding or whatever.
“What do you think we should do about this?” The housing chair directs this question to Satoru’s father, who opens his mouth before his son interrupts quickly, voice booming in the confident air that he learned to develop with people in (or slightly below- not too far below) his tax bracket.
“My friend’s in the dorms say that the dorms are pretty cool- It’s cold in there, even.” Satoru says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders while he pushes his wagyu around on his plate.
What a fuckin liar, but it’s the cross he’s willing to bare in order to see you again. Bikini covering the parts that make his mouth water, fanning yourself from the heat- hot and bothered, just like him. It’ll be worth the possible pimples he’ll get.
With this, the big-wigs frame their decision around this.
“Oh, really? It’s already so cold…”
“it would also mean that we would have to expand the budget.”
“The students should be fine without AC. If anything, the pool is open.”
Satoru looks down, smiling to himself.
If the students of Jujutsu University: Tokyo knew that the only reason they’re not getting AC units is because Satoru Gojo, all-around nepo-baby, spoiled brat, and pussy-whipped loser wants to have a chance to see the girl he fucks himself to at the pool again, they’d barbeque and skewer him alive.
#jjk#gojo x black reader#gojo satoru#jjk x fem!reader#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk satoru#i love losers
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