#its more like my index finger moving to my thumb instead

[dawnthefluffyduck]

Drafted on 3/7, sketch of my hand made at work

[reverie-verse]

Azriel x Reader: The Bond of a Century

An old request that I decided to revamp

Request prompt: Can I request an Azriel x reader where the mating bond snaps for Azriel but not the reader? Kind of like how Feyra didn’t know Rhys was her mate till she was told.

My prompt: A bond forgotten for over a century and a half makes its way back to the forefront. All of it starts with Rhys asking for a favor.

This is a fluffy, steamy, angst-ish fic

I hope you enjoy!!!! My requests are open!!!

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This was the last thing you thought you would be doing for Rhys. Out of all the things, this-this is what he chose for you to do. Rhys had a sick twisted mind that put you in a situation you had no desire of being in or a part of. You mentally cursed at the high lord, hating him in the moment even though he was your dearest friend. Elain scoured the city for certain pots for her plants, and certain seeds for her garden. Azriel right by her side and you trailing behind them. All you wanted to do was to go back to your home near the docks. It was the first home you had when you first moved from Dawn to Velaris less than a century ago, but with some convincing Rhys and Feyre were able to get you to stay at the town house. It was only then did her sisters arrive, and at some point you were put to the task of keeping an eye on Elain with the occasional visit of Az. Honestly you wished you could train with Nesta, but Cassian was chosen for that task. You wouldn’t have minded living in the house of wind-“ I think I need to go to Day Court or maybe Spring, Oh perhaps we can go to Dawn instead. They must have better pots.” Elain speaks more to Azriel than she does you. You were eyeing the various shops, and the people delighted to be around you, each grinning and waving at you. Another beautiful thing about Velaris you’d come to love. People were kind here.

Azriel smiled softly at her “ Of course, if that’s what you want” his voice was tender and sweet. You fought the urge to roll your eyes, turning your attention elsewhere. You hated being there dealing with this shit, but Rhys insisted you tag along, “It’s good for the soul. Get some fresh air” with that insane cat-like smirk. Ooo you shoot daggers into your mind, a deep chuckle echoing in the background.

“ Yes that’s what I want, thank you Az” Elain returned the gesture.

“ Alright then I’ll let Rhys and Feyre know-“ You say as you pinched a flower petal between your thumb and index finger. You looked away from it then back at them. The two watched you with curiosity, you let go of the petal. It was no simple task, an easy reminder of what you needed to do and a simple approval came from Rhys. A gentle poke in your mind causes you to shake your head.“-Let's get this over with” You take steps towards them placing your hands on their arms you effortlessly winnow the three of you to Dawn. The landing was gentle and less sickening, the three of you placed in a Market, one that you were familiar with.. Elain squealed with excitement as she rushed over to an area where she had seen fresh flowers, a few shops down could be seen a pottery shop, the two of you already trailing her.

“ Look at this beautiful bouquet! Y/N? Should we get this for the town house?” She gestures to the bouquet filled with many vibrant colors, various shapes and sizes. You were stumped, she normally doesn’t ask you these questions most of the time they were directed at Az.

“They look lovely Elain, I’m sure they’ll fit anywhere you put them..” You replied not really sure how to respond. Honestly you’ve never really thought about what flowers you liked or didn’t . It wasn’t something that was ever given to you, nor something you found and immediately fell in love with. You didn’t have anything against anyone who knew what they liked, you just-never had the experience of looking forward to your own set of plants. Even when you first attempted gardening most of your plants and flowers died, you simply didn’t have the skill or the eye for it..but that was okay, though on rare occasions it was something you wished you had..

Elain smiles awkwardly “ Well, maybe we can get it, it might brighten up the home. Make it seem more natural..comfortable” She pulls out her coins, handing it to the shopkeeper. The three of you move further heading over to the pottery shop that she explained earlier how she wanted to visit. Your eyes searched the area, checking for predators, anyone who might cause harm to the high lady’s sister, before entering the shop. You had other plans that you needed to attend to while the two looked around, it was in the midst of Elains discussion, mostly to Azriel about the various styles of pottery, that you planned to sneak off. It was only then did a voice capture your attention from behind you.

“ Y/N, I must admit I never pegged as you someone who might be interested in pottery” Thesan, high lord of Dawn, speaks out, the entire shop haunting their work to bow at his presence. He waved his hand dismissing them easily back to work. Azriel positions himself so that he stands near you with Elain behind him, she peers her head out, trying to see who it was that spoke so elegantly. A small smile graces your features at that familiar voice you knew so well as you shifted to face Thesan, who was already grinning. Azriel didn’t miss it, taking note of it.

“What if I was?” You retorted,

“ Then that would be a surprise”

“I hate to burst your bubble High Lord but I’m here on business not for pleasure” You replied, the two of you sharing a small laugh together. Azriel forced his expression into neutrality, Elains eyes sparkled with curiosity and intrigue. Thesan looks behind you for a moment, taking in the Shadowsinger and the woman next to him.

“ Ouch, that one hurt Y/N, I see you brought friends, Shadowsinger” Thesan greets civilly no hate present.

“ Thesan,” Azriel gives a simple head nod in his direction, there was no need for malice, Thesan had always been a great friend of Rhys’s and now apparently yours. Though a feeling crept inside his chest, this odd feeling takes root, Azriel does his best to shove it away, especially with Elain right next to him..

“ And you must be Elain, one of the sisters of High Lady Night.”

“ Yes I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you” Elain smiles with a blush that creeps along her cheeks. She wasn’t sure how to respond being that a high lord, whom she never met knew she existed. The surrealness of the situation becomes a reality, the more she realizes how well known her sister is, how well known both of her sisters are including herself. A delighted yet astonishing experience for her, something she wasn’t used to yet.

“ Same to you, i hope you don’t mind if I borrow Y/N for a moment or two, there’s somethings I’d like to discuss” Thesan offered but secretly it was a meeting that needed to take place. You were in fact here on business, something that Rhys specifically shared with you and no one else. Dawn used to be your home, but when you were moved to Velaris, you became the seg way for Dawn and Night. Your job was to be the emissary for both sides, keeping the courts relationship in even better shape. You missed your home dearly at times, and you missed Thesan whom you were extremely close too, and who you cared about, even with this being only for business there was some pleasure that came out of it.

“ No of course not, I’m sure she could use a break from us, right Azriel?” Elain looks up to him but his eyes were trained on you and Thesan. You were ready to join him without so much as another word, it struck a nerve in him, why? What could possibly be the topic of conversation between you two? Why do you only need to speak with him? Surely Rhys would’ve told him what this meeting was about? Why hadn’t you come to him for advice or as a second set of ears? Why was the meeting a secret?-“Azriel?”Elain calls out to him, you were looking at him suspiciously, your eyebrows furrowed, your eyes flickering across every part of his face and bodily language. Azriel adjusts himself, shielding off whatever thoughts or feelings he harbored in the moment. He blinks, his eyes drift back to Elain then back to you and Thesan “ Go ahead, we’ll be here in the shop if you need us, we leave in about two hours”

“ Alright then I will have my men escort the two of you back to my palace.” Thesan replied, You eased the questioning look off your face, you shift back towards Thesan, the two of you walking out of the shop, the conversation immediately flowed. He could see the smile on your face, and yet again the melodic sound of laughter that left your lips. The high lords' guards remained in place while Azriel and Elain both continued their shopping. However, that didn’t stop him from taking one last look out the door.

When the two hours were up, Azriel and Elain were guided securely to the Palace where he’d find you and Thesan walking along the hall. Thesan stopped in his tracks grabbing your arm, it forces you to halt in place, your body halfway facing him. His mouth moves but Azriel can’t hear what he’s saying, he lifts a hand to your face gently swiping at your cheek. He removes his hand, pulling you gently into a tight embrace. Azriel could see the way you held onto him tightly, as if you dared to let go. The two of you stayed in that position for a few moments until you both eventually pulled away. Why were you crying? Were you hurting? Were they happy tears? Did he say something to you? What was it? There were too many emotions to pinpoint, Azriel’s chest continued to tighten at the emotions he felt. You left Thesans' side offering him one last smile, but that smile fades, when you approach them.

“It’s time, are you ready?” You ask softly, your demeanor changed, a bit relaxed but a heavy weight stays on your shoulders. You roll them back, adjusting yourself. Azriel watches you with such careful eyes, you paid no mind, your thoughts elsewhere.

“ Yes-“ Elain starts but her gaze flickers back and forth between you both. For Elain it was rather odd to see the two of you interact, when she had met you, your relationship with Azriel was already thin, you were distant with him compared to everyone else. Elain assumed that your relationship had always been like that, but now she wasn’t so sure..

“ Are you alright?” Azriel asks you, his hand twitches slightly, part of him restrains himself, the other yearned to reach out for you. But you were quick to recover, offering him a reassuring smile.

“ Yeah I’m fine, let’s go.” You placed your hands on both of them, winnowing them back to the town house. There Nuala and Cerridwen greeted the three of you. Nuala took the pots out of Elains hands, Cerridwen took the flowers and placed them in another vase. Elain begins gushing about the journey to Dawn, how gorgeous it was..You sighed exhausted leaving the space quietly to head to your own room. Azriel was about to follow you when Elain called for his help in the kitchen. Azriel hesitated staring up at the staircase. Why couldn’t he just talk to you? He’s a Shadowsinger, a spymaster, and he can pry details out of anyone but you. All he can feel is your emotions-your emotions... Elain had pulled Azriel from his thoughts as she hugged a pot to herself.

“Az? Are you coming?” She says as she waits for him to follow her to the garden. Again he hesitates but he feels a stirring in his chest. Azriel lifts up a hand instinctively touching it, a sharp sensation could be felt beneath his chest. It couldn’t be? Could it? Azriel’s eyes widen, Elain takes a breath “ I’ll be outside Az when you’re ready-“ Azriel moves his feet faster than his mind could process, he was out of the town house door, his wings pushing him off the ground shooting him into the sky, he needing some time to think..

___

The moons at its highest peak, your curtains flowing with gentle breeze that filtered through your bedroom. The candles and lights burnt out signaling that you were asleep, that was until you heard a creak in the floorboard, and the atmosphere changed, a darker presence filled the space. You were lying on your stomach, your hands slipping beneath the pillow as you grip the handle of the blade you’ve hidden beneath it. You felt the figure stop just before your bed frame, you could hear them bend down towards your face. As they reached for you, you swiftly reached out a free hand grabbing them, you flipped them onto the bed, rolling over pinning them down with your blade tucked against their neck in the most vulnerable area.

“ It’s only me” He whispers, the lights in the room reaching a dim hue, illuminating the area.

“ Jeez Az, I could’ve killed you” You replied tiredly, you pulled back the blade placing it on the end table. Azriel’s eyes followed your movement above him, your hips and legs straddling him, your hair in an unruly nature, from slumber. The candles hue amidst the room, caresses your face, your bare legs, your skin making it appear warm to the touch. You had worn a tunic that wasn’t yours, it hugged loosely around your body frame. The tunic looked oddly familiar to Azriel but then again he wasn’t so sure. All he wanted to do was rip whoevers tunic that belonged to, off of your body and replace it with his.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you-” He apologizes,”-I have one question I’d like to ask you” Azriel whispers, as he watches your facial expression twitch into a sleepy confusion.

“This couldn’t wait till morning?” You sighed as your hand moved to rub the sleep from your face. You remove yourself from him, you slip off the bed but not before Azriel caught your wrist. He shifts himself so that he sits up lifting himself off the bed. He towers over you, the candle's glowing light touches his features in a way that it could come off intimidating, but there was a more intimate, soft, texture that made him appear more angelic.

“ No I’m afraid not.” He admits.

You nod your head” What’s your question?”

“ How long have you known about the bond?”Azriel’s voice low, as if to test the waters but enough to plunge himself. He needed answers and after speaking with Rhys, it was his right.

“ What?” Your face dropped, your skin becoming clammy as nervousness passes through you, sleepiness evades you.

“ You heard me, answer the question” his eyes switch between both of yours, searching and evaluating. He tried to pinpoint every emotion you felt, he tried to feel you through, the only thing stopping him was- you.

“ It's not that simple-” You shook your head, pulling your wrist out of his hold. You weren’t prepared for this, you weren’t ready to unravel all that you worked so hard to ignore.

“ It is that simple” Azriel continued to pry, he didn’t need the bond to notice how uncomfortable and painful this topic was for you-it was news to him, he wanted the truth..no lies no games only the truth

“ No, it’s not. It’s complicated-“ You looked away from him moving to the other side of the room. You couldn't find the words to explain this situation, your reasoning. What if what you told him set him off? What if this ruins everything between your friendships? The alliance that has been created? So many thoughts and questions, never enough answers…but for Azriel you did have an answer to his question..

“ Complicated enough for you to leave.” It was then that feeling in your chest, it builds a thick pressure. A heavyweight on your shoulders, the air almost sucked out your lungs. “ Is that what you told Rhys when you were packing your bags?” You couldn’t breathe, Azriel’s footsteps followed you till he was right behind you. You faintly feel the pulse of his surprise and his anger, as if it was your own, but it had been so long since you’d tapped into the bond. You had spent a century ignoring it, shielding it, and now, it was muscle memory..

“ Don’t make me do this..” You whispered out, a silent plea to move on, to let this go.

“ You knew, and yet you decided not to tell me” His voice held a deep frustration, a deep want and need. He wasn’t going to give up, he had a way with finding out the truth..

“ That’s-not what happened..” You were again stumped with words, torn between giving in or lying, torn between running away or staying..

“ No? Then what happened?” He continues to look down at you, you refuse to meet his gaze. Azriel doesn’t take no for an answer moving towards the front. He stands in front of you. His smell, his faint emotions from the bond slowly consuming you. It surrounds you, his shadows dance along the edges of the room, waiting, watching, whispering.

“ Az-” You warned him, it was another weak attempt to fight him off. But he continued to poke, to pull, to pry, to grasp at anything you’d give him. You were tired, exhausted, hiding your emotions, your thoughts, your protected heart and mind bound to collapse, all secrets were meant to escape..

“ I want the truth, Y/N-”. You took a deep breath, your nerves running a mile a minute. His own anxiousness was replaced with a demanding thirst for the truth. A truth that belonged to him too. You’ve kept this wonderful secret to yourself, he watched as his own family found mates that paired well with them. Watching as their life finds the pieces to the puzzle it was missing. Deep down he wanted that very same thing. He felt as though he may not deserve it but he craved it, to be loved unconditionally… “-You owe me that much”

You sighed, your heart shattering, you gave in, you really hadn’t planned too but the look in his eyes-, “..Before Amarantha began her reign, Rhys made an offer to Thesan to let me stay in Velaris, as an emissary between the courts. It was then that I found out that we were mates… It was then that the deal was made.“

“All these years and you kept this to yourself, why?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“ Because I knew you were in love with Mor. I wasn’t going to take that from you. But I did wait for you, I waited a long time. But when it became an achingly slow desperation, I gave up. I practiced silencing the bond, so I couldn’t feel the emotions you felt when you were around other-women..romantically and lustily I mean. Then Elain came around and it was the same process. I’m exhausted, Azriel. I can’t keep doing this”

“ You didn’t bother to try! You’re running back home because you never thought to ask how I might’ve felt!” His jaw tenses, his head slightly tilted to the side, his frustration grows, at this notion of forcing the information out of you, when you should’ve let it happen, when you should’ve told him..

“ I didn’t because I wanted you to come to your own conclusion. I wanted it to be as natural as possible but you were so invested in Mor and Elain and I’m not one to take you away from that. But I also miss the people I care about, I miss my old home-It’s time for me to go-” You protested.

“ What does Rhys think of this?” Azriel jaw twitches.

“ He was the one who encouraged me to speak with Thesan-“

“ Is that what the discussion was between the two of you?” He presses.

“ Yes but-“ You attempt to defend yourself.

“ Y/N, what exactly did you say to him?” Azriel wanted every detail, every version of this story, of his story, of his mates-his mate.

“ I didn’t- I didn’t say anything. I asked if I could return home, and he told me that I should stay here, that if I truly wanted to come home then he’d considered it.” Your heart leaps into your throat, you swallow it back, the feeling collecting.

“ His answer wasn’t even a Yes” Azriel’s scoffs shaking his head, his hands on his hips as he looks at the floor and then away at the window.

“ Yes- but it’s my decision-“ You looked up at him, watching his movements carefully.

“ No it’s not, you’re not going back there.” He challenged, his eyes find their way back to yours.

“ You can’t decide that.” You tell him, the two of you hurting by the weight of your decision. Azriel’s own heart squeezes painfully, at how easy it was for you to say those words to him. You were his, he wasn’t going to let you just walk away, not without fighting for you.

“ Why not? You’d already decided to keep this to yourself regardless of how I felt” He takes a step forward his arms falling back down to his side.

“ Azriel please listen to me-“ You tried to reason, you tried to find a way to break through, he wasn’t thinking straight, you weren’t thinking straight, neither one of you.

“ No you listen, all those years, all those centuries, you were my friend, and you were someone who loved me. Loved me enough to sacrifice what you felt so I could find happiness. In the depths of my mind I have fought and searched for you without realizing that you were here in front of me..I was too blind to see it. ” His hands flew to your face, your jaw, cupping it, his thumbs grazing your cheekbones. Your hands follow suit as your fingers grip his wrists. His shadows remove themselves from the dark corners of your room, shooting out to tangle around your wrists, not to pull your hands away but to hold you there in place. “ Please don’t run from me” He whispers, his forehead dipping down to rest on yours. His hands slide from your cheeks to the sides of your neck.

“ Az-I can’t stay” You replied quietly, your hands pulling at his wrists weakly at his. You both knew that you could take him down easily, but at this moment in time the two of you were struggling. The tension grew thick in the air. A sort of sharp feeling intensifies, the faded familiarity that was the bond, solidifies. You thought that you had successfully mastered the art of blocking the bond but no. Azriel must’ve truly accepted it, a different feeling takes over, Azriel hums at the feeling. You sucked in a breath.

“ You can’t leave without knowing I’ve accepted the bond” His nose brushes against yours. You shook your head once more, completely pushed Azriel away. Your hands fly to your head, your fingers tangling in your hairs. You wanted nothing more than to curl into yourself, this was too surreal, too overwhelming. You’d spent so long, alone, and working, on occasions waiting. Now you were uncertain, even more than you had been hours ago. Azriel could feel your indecisiveness, he just needed to bring you back to him.

Azriel followed you, he pulled your hands from your hair, one of them he placed on his chest, his heart beating beneath it, you couldn’t look at him. But you could feel the gentleness, the love that flowed through him into you. “ My heart, my soul belongs to you” he tries again. You could feel your body sag at the feeling of comfort. It was so intense and welcoming. You wanted to wrap yourself in it-but you fought it, you were so used to the fighting, the restraint, the self control. “Let go” His voice reaches into the depths of your mind, into your soul, calling out to you.

You placed your forehead on his chest, your hand leaving the area above his heart. Azriel’s wings moved to surround you, his shadows moved to get to you, tangling themselves in your hair, caressing your face and hands. They speak to you wishing you nothing but love and happiness. They bring you comfort, your eyes fluttering shut.

“ Y/N” Azriel calls out. You could feel his hands cupping your face once more tilting it upwards, his breath light. You could feel how close he was, Azriel was right there, all he needed to do-Az’s lips crashed down onto yours, so soft, and yet his kiss held all his desperation, his passion. He couldn’t hold back, not with you, not when he loved you so. You weren’t surprised, in fact you hadn’t realized how much you yearned for his touch, his kiss. Azriel turns his head to the side deepening the kiss, a quiet moan slips out. By the cauldron Azriel loved to hear that sound, he wanted to hear it again, and again, and again. For as long as he lived and breathed.

You were putty in his hands, the feeling of his touch, his thoughts, his emotions was putting you in overdrive. Your mind couldn’t comprehend nor catch up to the pace in which things were happening. Azriel lets go of your lips for a brief moment, allowing you a chance to breathe, a whimper and the need for air also escapes your lips. Azriel had to fight the urge to keep himself from taking you right then and there. You had the urge to let him do it, you placed your hands on his chest pushing him back a step. You couldn’t think with him in your space, Azriel wasn’t going to budge, but with the way you were so caught up and caught off guard, he let you take a second.

“Okay-“ You breathed out. Azriel’s eyes light up, a smile threatens to break out. “ I-um-“ You cleared your throat,”Uh-I-I accept the bond..” you whispered the last part. Azriel’s heart gave a squeeze of joy, his chest filled with lightness, with happiness and relief. All he had ever hoped for had finally come to fruition. A twinkle of mischief sparks in his eyes, a smirk finds its way onto his beautiful features.

“ What was that?” He asks, yet you squint your eyes at him, you know he heard, he knows he heard you, but he wanted you to say it again. “-I didn’t quite hear you” You bit the inside of your cheek still squinting at him. You sighed, your body began to relax, your facial expressions changing to that of a sheepishness. You were struggling to admit it, Azriel waited for you patiently.

“ I-“

“ Yes?”

“ Az” You raised your eyebrows at him, as if to say I’m trying here.

“ I’m sorry, please go on.” He encourages you.

You sighed as you tried again this time “ I accept the bond-” You are much more confident and certain. “I’ve loved you since I’ve known you. You were right, my heart and soul belongs to you-“Azriel couldn’t contain himself much longer as took you into his arms and spun you around. A victorious grin graced both of your features, and for once the weight of the world didn’t feel so heavy in your chests. You gave a light hearted giggle, your heart swooning. Azriel places you back on the ground. You smiled brightly, the twinkle reaching your eyes. “This is happening?” You asked out loud, you searched for clarification.

“ Yeah it is” Azriel let go grabbing your hand pulling you towards the window. You tilted your head to the side, a sweet smile on your lips, a playful yet teasing expression stretches onto Azriel’s face. “Do you trust me?” his hand extends outward.

“ Yes.” You lift your hand to place it into his, this time a new height sense fills both your bodies. The touch feels like a loving hum on your skin. Your minds, your souls, finally resting after all the searching that it had done. You place your hand in his, he guides you out of the window onto the terrace of the town house. You followed him blindly, willingly. Azriel stood taller in the moonlight, and the stars above shining, his shadows nowhere to be found, it was just him. “ Az wait- Elain-“

“She knows, and I’m sure she will be upset with me, but she has Lucien..She doesn’t need me.” He nods. You watch him closely, as you slowly lift a hand to caress his cheek, the touch sweet and warming. Azriel instinctively leans into your touch, turning his head slightly to kiss the palm of your hand.

“ I’m sorry” You whispered, you realized that you may have ruined a friendship for him, a little bit more than a friendship..

“ No I’m sorry” he replies as he takes you back into his arms, the sounds of the city's music playing amongst the trees, the flowers, the plants, the night sky seeming more inviting, more alive. All Azriel knew was in this moment in time he finally understood the accept of the bond, the waiting, the calling, you had always been there waiting for him, you gave him time, space, anything he needed to figure himself out..All those times he spent with other women- then it dawned on him, had you done the same? You chuckled upon feeling that jealous emotion. “ Who’s tunic are you wearing?”

“ Az, it’s yours”

“ What-“ You peel yourself out of his arms.

“ This tunic you let me borrow on a mission we had, remember? Court of nightmares? I was stuck in a brothel, I ended up fighting my way out, my clothes were completely shredded?” You offered bits and pieces of the memory, Azriel’s takes a moment to recollect and it hits him.

“ Yes I remember, you ate a bowl of soup that night at one of the hostels. You hated it,” He chuckled as he remembered the disgusted look on your face. You laughed alongside him. You moved to head back towards your room but Azriel was quick to catch your hand.

”Where are you going?”

“Um-to make you something, we still have to seal the bond.”

“ Not here”

“ Then where?” Azriel grins as he throws one of your arms around his neck, one catches your back the other catches your knees.

“ Somewhere private, where I can have you all to myself, no distractions, just you and me” He whispers to you, his face dipping closer to yours, you sucked in a small breath, the blood beneath your skin singing, practically humming. His arms tightened their hold on you pressing you as flush to him as possible. Azriel looks away and upwards towards the night sky, his wings strong as they help push the two of you off the ground. Excitement filled the air, the night, seemed sweeter, less stuffy, inviting. You guessed that Thesan was right for making you stay here, to reconsider, you were thankful that he pointed you back in the direction of your mate. Azriel was happy that his brother fought for his love, fought for him to find happiness. It was more than just two courts keeping a civil peace, it was about two souls that needed to find each other, even if it takes a century.

[reilemon]

🍬Tight Spot🐈‍

♡︎ synopsis: Zayne puts you in a tight spot (broom closet).

♡︎ pairing: Zayne x fem!reader

⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒

♡︎ cw: established relationship, brat taming -ish, semi-public seggs, oral (m!receiving)

♡︎ word count: 1.1k

♡︎ a/n: the first story for kinktober 2024

♡︎ Thank you to my dearest friend and my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping.

♡︎ taglist: @stellablobboo @luna-usagi-chan @lunaryasha @momnomnom @howvoiceless @ladyparamount

divider by @cafekitsune

Your voice gets stuck in your throat when Zayne's large hands plant themselves on the wall behind you. You never expected him to pull you into a broom closet like that.

His eyes take in the stunned look on your face, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. "Isn't this what you wanted, some alone time with me?"

"Zayne, we're at a party, there’s people right outside!"

"Is that so?" You pick up the hint of red wine on his breath as he leans closer to your face. "I thought it didn't matter to you."

You swallow thickly.

It wasn't unusual for you to get a little handsy with Zayne when you were in public, especially at parties, where the crowd allowed you to be sneakier. Tonight was the same. The two of you attended Dr Greyson's birthday party at his new home. Zayne looked so handsome and his cologne was intoxicating, so of course you'd graze your butt "accidentally" against the front of his pants, your hands would sneak too far up his thigh... just innocent playing to get him riled up. Then later, at home, he'd teach you a lesson.

You bat your eyelashes at him, your hands resting on his neck, "Do you wanna go back to my place?"

Zayne chuckles. Your eyes widen when he grabs you by the wrists and holds them with one hand above your head. "It's too early for us to leave the party."

His lips lock with yours into a searing kiss while his free hand slips under your skirt and pulls your underwear aside. He swallows your yelp as he slides his finger slides over your slit.

He smirks against your lips "Going around and talking to my colleagues when your pussy is so wet?" His words make you flush, but more slick comes out. "Such a dirty girl." He whispers before taking your lips again.

You moan into the kiss as his middle and ring finger glide between you wet folds, getting coated in your juices. One finger slides inside with ease, soon followed by the second. Zayne's long, skilled fingers start moving and curling, grazing that sweet spot inside of you, making your eyes roll back. It’s getting impossible to hold back your moans, even with Zayne's lips on yours.

A whimper escapes your lips when his thumb starts grazing your clit.

His movements halt "You need to be quiet, angel. Can you do that for me?" You can only nod in response. He finally releases your hands to grab you by the back of your neck, "Good girl." Instead of helping you keep quiet with kissing you, he finds pleasure, and a little amusement, in watching your pretty face contort in pleasure and struggle to contain your sweet voice.

Your release quickly builds in your core as his fingers start moving again, now quicker, with his thumb pressing and rubbing your needy clit. There's no way you can keep quiet in this broom closet. Most of the people are mingling in the kitchen or the living room and the music is loud, but you know if anyone was nearby, they would hear the moans you're failing to stifle.

He can feel your walls starting to clamp around his fingers, but he stops his movements again, earning a frustrated whine from you.

You glare at him, about to protest for teasing you so much, but he tuts and grabs your chin with his thumb and index finger "Behave."

Zayne grins when he feels your pussy flutter at the word. He takes in the sight of your beautiful eyes, before spinning you around, your chest now pressed against the wall. In swift and smooth motions, he releases his thick cock, the tip is angry red, leaking precum. He needed to bury it inside you before he even dragged you into this closet. He didn't plan on this - fucking you inside of his colleague's broom closet - but your wet pussy and intoxicating moans made all the blood in his body rush to his dick. He needs you now.

He rests his hand over your lips and you grab onto it as you feel his tip enter you. His thick cock stretches you, making your leg muscles tremble.

Zayne leans forward as he bottoms out, his breath tickling your ear "That's right, just stay quiet." He rasps, gritting his teeth as he starts moving his hips. Your teasing had him pent up the whole evening, and thanks to the one glass of wine, he feels like he won't last long.

Zayne's cock sliding in and out of your dripping pussy, his balls slapping your swollen clit - you're on the brink as well. You lock your gaze with his, your teary doe eyes are enough for him to know you're close.

"Are you going to behave for the rest of the night?"

You nod frantically, desperate for your release. You let out a small squeal against his hand when he finally touches your clit - his ragged breathing and erratic thrusting sending you over the edge. The waves of pleasure hit you hard, causing your body to glisten with sweat, your legs trembling with the effort to stand. Zayne fucks you through your high, and you can feel his length throb inside you.

You barely hear him say something along the lines 'make a mess' before he pulls out, spins you around and gently pushes you down. On your knees, you know exactly what he meant, eagerly opening your mouth and taking in his cock. You taste your essence mixed with his precum on his thick cock, your tongue grazing over bulging veins. Zayne rests his hand on your head as he starts moving his hips, brows knitted and jaw slack as you relax your throat letting him use your mouth, eyes fixed on him. He pants 'good girl' and 'so good for me' in a daze before his hips jerk, cock pulsing as his release slides down your throat.

After taking every last drop, he pulls out of your mouth and you can breathe again. Zayne pulls you up, helping you stand on your feet.

With a soft smile, he wipes away runaway tears off the corners of your eyes and presses a kiss to your forehead "Are you okay?"

You smile back and snuggle your cheek against his warm palm "I am."

You help each other look presentable again, or rather as presentable as possible, before exiting. Zayne goes out first and you follow a few steps behind. You said you're going to behave for the rest of the night, but Zayne needed to extend his lesson on what happens to girls who misbehave. The two of you left the party within fifteen minutes.

[cloudwisp]

𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 · 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬

contents: fluff. established relationship. mildly suggestive. wriothesley finds your lips irresistible in the color red. 1.1k wc.

“You look absolutely stunning, sweetheart.”

The soft curve of your lips spreads into a smile at the sound of Wriothesley’s voice followed by your gaze flickering to his pensive appearance from the reflection in the looking glass. There he casually leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest with a fond smile of his own settled over his face. He’s perfectly dressed in a dark-tone tailored suit and his usual loose tie around his neck, and with the way he’s posing it makes you think he wants to draw your attention to the outline of his muscular biceps under all those layers.

“You look quite handsome yourself. I’m almost ready, just need the last final touch…” You drawl, as you continue where you left off to smear the pigment of the bold lipstick over your bottom lip and you don’t notice the way the innocent act itself seems to have enamored him. Your ring finger then lightly taps the plush of your lips to blend the color seamlessly until you hum in approval with a nod of your head after doing a once over of yourself. Your legs swing over the side of the chair to bring yourself upright and after smoothing the wrinkles of your dress you chime, “All ready now!”

“New dress? Looks lovely on you, darling.” You could feel the heat of Wriothesley’s gaze roam over your body, taking in your features and the exquisite outfit that you spent hours getting ready for the gala tonight. He pushes himself from the threshold and with a few short strides, he gently grabs your waist reeling you into him while his other hand brushes against the expensive fabric that he spent good money on before resting on your hip.

“And you’re just a vision in red right now.” There’s a hint of primal desire behind his eyes as he glances down to your beautifully painted lips. He feels himself inching closer and closer to revel in its softness when suddenly he finds your index finger pressed to his lips instead.

“Sorry Wrio, I don’t want to ruin my lipstick.”

He blinks once and twice, and a chuckle escapes him when he registers that you denied his advances to save yourself from a little lipstick smear. That’s fine by him, so he just needs to work a bit harder for your sweet loving affections. He takes your hand that’s between you both in his much larger one and peppers several quick kisses over your knuckles, his thumb brushing over your skin as he moves to hold your hand simply down by your side. “Not even going to give me a taste? Just one wouldn’t hurt. Enough to tide me over for the night.”

“We played that song before, and we were almost an hour late the last time.” Your hands reach up to adjust his tie and he gives a low groan when you tighten it to properly fit around his neck. He knows that you’re right with the way his smirk broadens at you. A sweet taste from you is only going to make him want more of you, and now he’s thinking about how much he wants to ruin that lipstick just to see your messy lips. He’d even let you leave lipstick stains in the shape of your gorgeous lips all over him if that’s what you wanted. And that stunning dress he can’t wait to take off later…

“Ah. You’re killing me here, sweetheart.” His eyes wander down to your lips for a moment once again before slowly drifting back up to meet your gaze. He presses himself against you and you can feel his warm breath against your lips, “Fine, fine. But I could use a little color on me. I’m so monochrome. How about right here?” He taps his cheek, looking at you with mock innocence.

You feel like you could see right through him, but you don’t want to be a complete spoilsport and ruin all the fun so after much contemplation you finally relent because a fleeting kiss on the cheek should be harmless. And it wouldn’t be too much trouble getting him all cleaned up and appearing presentable again with the few minutes that you both have to spare before it’s time to make your departure.

“Okay, I suppose that’s fine. Just a kiss on the cheek.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” A cheeky grin tugs at the corners of his mouth and he doesn’t hide his eagerness to turn his cheek toward you to receive your love. You laugh quietly to yourself with a small shake of your head in amusement as you gently take his face in both your hands, one resting on his cheek and the other on the nape of his neck. On your tippy toes, you crane your neck to plant a soft peck on him but much to your surprise you kiss him fully on the lips when he does a quick movement at the very last second. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No. no, it wasn’t.” You’re nothing but soft giggles and adoring smiles despite being outsmarted by your boyfriend, and you feel him slip his arms loosely around your waist locking his fingers together at your lower back. Your thumb goes to wipe away the transferred smudge from his lips, and you always feel so seen when he looks at you with such tenderness behind his eyes after he was much too pleased with himself for stealing a brief kiss from you. “Was that everything you hoped for?”

“For now? Yes. But I won’t be able to stop thinking about your lips, or wanting to pull you off into some secluded room during tonight’s event.” He says almost teasingly, but it sounds more like a tempting offer if you somehow decide the festivities aren’t meeting your expectations or you need a moment away for some quiet time with him. And you suppose, the same thoughts have surfaced in your mind when you first saw his delectable get-up in the mirror but you couldn’t bear the embarrassment of explaining your late arrival to Monsieur Neuvillette with frenzied excuses again.

“That’s quite the imagination you have there.” Wriothesley notices that you’re not outright denying him of such tasteful fantasies, and he knows that it’s only a matter of time before you eventually cave into his enticing seduction. “We should head out now if we want to make it there on time.”

[peppermintquartz]

Praiseworthy

--

"Tell me about how it's been for you these past couple days."

With a soft moan, Buck releases Tommy's neck from his mouth's exploration and peers at him, confused. "I already did."

Tommy weaves his fingers into Buck's curls and scratches lightly on his scalp. Buck's eyes flutter shut at how good that feels.

"Tell me how you saved the days," Tommy amends. "Without mentioning that old git. Tell me. Start with how you saved the little girl and her mom from the bee-covered car."

Buck is trying to remember how to form words, his skin tingling from Tommy's gentle caress of his scalp and the not-so-gentle petting of his belly. That same hand is drifting down to his hip.

"Um. We were using CO2, didn't work," Buck murmurs. Losing himself to Tommy's touches, Buck lets the words unfurl freely, his legs tangling with Tommy's. "And the intake was jammed. Couldn't - ah! - couldn't hose the bees away."

Tommy hums, his left hand rubbing soothing circles into Buck's hip, while his right is still giving Buck the best scalp massage in a long while. "So what did you do?"

"Something had caught fire, and. And I remembered that. Smoke. Beekeepers use smoke to dampen bees' senses, make them - ohh, please, Tommy, that feels - make them docile." Buck feels a little lightheaded. That is a common symptom of making out with Tommy, but today every move Tommy makes seems purposeful. Buck moans softly when Tommy's fingers dip under his waistband, even as Tommy encourages him to keep talking. He swallows, licks his lips. "Told Eddie. Told Eddie to direct the smoke. At the car. I, uh, ahhh. Tommy. Tommy."

Tommy's hand is inside Buck's shorts. "Yeah? Come on, keep talking," he says innocently, as if his index finger hasn't just been nudging at Buck's hole moments ago.

Gulping in another breath, Buck continues. "The smoke worked. The bees... calmed down. Got them off one side of the car, got the mom and girl out." He gasps when his boyfriend slides his big hand from its place on Buck's ass to the front to gently grasp his hard, leaking cock.

"You're so well-read," Tommy murmurs approvingly. "Keeping all that knowledge in your gorgeous and adorable head. I love how much you know about the world."

"Yeah? Really?" Buck feels like he can melt into Tommy's voice.

"Mm hmm. Now tell me about the perfume launch."

Rolling his hips slowly as Tommy starts stroking him, Buck murmurs, "The perfume... Oh, oh, please Tommy, more, please?" When Tommy doesn't tighten his grip the way Buck wants him to, he whines, "Please, Daddy?"

Tommy huffs a laugh. He knows what Buck is trying to do, and two can play at that game. "Tell me what you did, baby boy, and Daddy will give you what you want," he says. Promises, with a wink.

Buck pouts, but the effect is lost when Tommy twists his wrist a specific way, which instead makes Buck shudder.

"Perfume launch lady. Um. Told us that, that her assistant is stuck under water, breathing through a hose." The words tumble out. Buck hisses in a sharp breath when Tommy runs the pad of his thumb over his slit, and whimpers again when Tommy does it a second time.

"And what did you do to get her out of it?"

"I overheard. Someone, um, someone. Talking about. Perfume, and-and asked to, to see it." Buck closes his eyes, floats in the sensations of Tommy's voice rumbling in his chest and his warm grip of Buck's erection and strong fingers still massaging his scalp. "The scent was floral... But it had, um. Banana."

"And what was so special about banana, sweet boy? Can you tell Daddy more, please?"

Buck whines high in his throat. "Floral scents attract pollinators like bees," he manages, "and banana riles them up, makes them - mmm - defensive."

"You're so brilliant," Tommy praises. "I didn't know that. I'm so lucky to have a clever and beautiful boy." He pauses his ministrations to kiss Buck deeply, drinking in a faint whine. Then his hand resumes moving. "But it doesn't answer my question, darling. How did you get the bees away from that poor assistant?"

Now Buck has to giggle. "Made Eddie bait." He nuzzles Tommy and says, "He was already suited up, and, mmm, he looked so cute with that dumb moustache. Chimney and I doused him with the perfume. Made him run really fast. Mmmm. Daddy, don't stop."

Tommy is laughing, his whole frame shaking, and his hands are on Buck's hip and shoulder now. "You made Eddie killer bee bait?"

"Yep." Buck preens and nudges Tommy's cheek with his nose. "It worked very well too. We got the woman out. Any longer and she'd have died."

"You're really amazing," Tommy says, turning his face into Buck's arched neck, kissing tiny nipping kisses all along that exposed column. Nothing that will leave marks. "You're really something else, sweet boy, you make me so proud of you every time you show just how capable and resourceful you are. I wanna show you off to the world so so much."

"Really?" Buck asks breathlessly, his chest tight from emotion. Before this moment, he didn't think he needed to hear all that validation, but the praise flowing so freely and sincerely from Tommy is making his skin tingle and his heart pound, even more than the purposeful petting and groping. His throat feels like it's closing with tears, and he buries his face in the closest part of Tommy - his big, strong shoulder - and his eyes are stinging.

With another gulp of air, he gives himself over to pure sensation, letting Tommy's words wash over him and fill him up, letting Tommy's hands draw pleasure from his core out into the open air, letting Tommy's love soothe the thousand little hurts he's been enduring at work. It's not that long before his teeth are pressed to Tommy's shoulder, tongue flat against his skin, as his hips jerk helplessly against his lover and he comes and comes, wrapped in a hazy cocoon of praise and adoration woven from Tommy's voice and sure handling.

Afterwards, when his mind is more his own, he murmurs, "You must think I'm so needy. It must be exhausting to deal with me. With my... I don't know, my neuroses."

"Where did you get that idea from?" Tommy asks, draped partly over the younger man, nose pressed to Buck's soft cheek.

"I don't know why I can't just do my job and not, you know, want an Attaboy now and again. Like, Chimney and Eddie just get on with it. Hen doesn't even seem to be mentally present some days, and she is still incredible at her job." Buck sighs. "Sometimes I feel like I never did leave behind Buck 1.0."

"You're you, whatever version you think you are," Tommy replies. "And the Evan Buckley I know is a quick-thinking, spontaneous, resourceful, and kind man. You're not needy for wanting validation, especially since you have put in work to know that much. It's nice to be seen." With a grunt, Tommy leans over Buck and peers down into the younger man's eyes. "And you're not exhausting to love, Evan. You're so easy to love. So deserving of it. I'll praise you every damn day until you see that for yourself."

[cyberpunkhwx]

please make a san version of the Average Stamina? Pretty please but a little longer and After her first squirt San makes her squirt over and over?

Fuck you empty

Pairing: bf!San x fem!reader

Word count: 1k

Warnings: pure smut, mdni, dom!San, sub!reader, fingering, oral(fem recieves), praises‌, pet names(love, babe, baby, darling), multiple cumming, multiple squirting, overstimulation, pretty quick ending and after care |let me know if i forgot anything|

Average stamina

A/n: atinys are hella kinky tbh. lowkey proofreaded~ pls ignore all the typos etc and let yourself enjoy the filth

You could say you knew your boyfriend of three years almost better than anyone else. From all he was passionate about, to dancing, singing his heart out and to being the best boyfriend the world has ever seen.

But some stuff takes three years to learn about

......

"Cmon baby give me one more, I know you can do it" He exhaled the words, barely audible. Only aving you coming down from your high wasn't enough for him, like he could even have enough of your pretty little flushed orgasm face.

"Sannie- please! Ahhm" you struggle again his bruising grip holding onto your waist, pinning tou on the mattress of your shared bed. Your hands move down to his bigger ones, not sure if you were holding into him for support or trying to escape the unwanted pleasure he was giving you regardless.

He rubbed his thumb across your soft tummy to comfort, while his other arms was busy mercilessly thrusting three fingers in your already soaking hole.

"Oh? Yes my baby, you can give me more, I know you do. Cmon, make your Sannie proud" He loosened the grip on your waist to let you hold his hand, before holding it tightly again. Not trusting your hips to stay put on its own.

Instead he moved his hand toward your lower belly, low enough for his thumb to now be resting on your puffy clit, rubbing circles on it to help you get closer, as if you werent already bursting wirh the pleasure.

"Feels good nah darling? You feel it too? The burning feeling right here in your little belly?" He pressed the same thumb onto your lower belly making you scream in pain, lifting your legs up uncontrollably, arching your back as far as you could.

Fuck his and his stupid thumb.

That's what you thought. But not exactly what you whimpered.

"Sannie- so close please- more-ah"

"Oh? Thought you wanted me to stop? Make your mind love" he said not hiding the smirk in his voice as moved his hands even faster if it even was possible. You could feel your legs shaking around his body as you kept on arching your back toward him, you body moving itself towards him, as if it knows your desires better.

"Sannie- cumming cumming, it's-cumming-" He moved his hands to a new angle, hitting were you thought he should've have, because the moment he did, you felt the wave of euphoria wash over your soul as if you could feel anything no more. As if your body went numb, you let go of everything except for your lifely grip of his hand.

"God damn my baby, you made a mess" you said taking his fingers out of your now freaking dripoing cunt. After not hearing any answers, he pulled his hand holding you, towards him, making your head face him, looking at his now wet lower body, mixed with his own pre cum, on his now angey red cock.

"You see this love? You did this, all this with thay pretty cunt of yours" he let go of your head, letting you crawl in a corner.

"We are you going babe? Are you gonna be so cruel to this pretty pussy? Look at it, it's yearning for more" He let his index and middle finger wrap themselves around sensetive clit, squizing it the slightest just to get your attention back to him.

"Hmm love? I can feel like beating for more, it starts to drip again, is it because of my words? Or because of my fingers working on you?" He kept his movement, frustratingly slowly.

"Sannie- can't do more-tired" you muttered, hips already shaking at his movement, trying to fine a way to escape.

"Oh baby, that's why I take charge here, yo can't make the right decisions after a few orgasm, tsk" He chuckled before continuing-

"You still have alot to give me my darling, I'm just trying to help you" He re-angled his hands, now having all fingers on your bare pussy, moving harshly to the sides, caging you legs with his much stronger ones.

You cried out his name multiple times before feeling the liquid dripping harshly out of your hole.

"Hmm, not quite there now are we love?" It was a theoretical question. No answer needed. He gave your over sensetive clit and few more rubs, as if he was enjoying this more than he's supposed to be. Maybe he does.

He moved his fingers, lower towards you hole, pushing in two fingers scissors you open, only for more than your cum to drip out.

"oh baby, your body if calling for me, gonna fuck you empty" he muttered to himself. He lifted your hips higher, placing it on a pillow nearby. Having fully acces to your little cunt. He moved his mouth to your clit, sucking in it with his whole mouth, while his fingers begun to play with your walls.

"Cmon baby, squirt it all on my face, let ir go and you'll feel better. I know best" He voice was muffled and so were your ears with the sound of your heart beating louder than ever. Everything felt so great and painful at the same time. You wanted it to stop and never end. Your brain told you that you couldn't take more while your body went limb in san's hold, trusting with your whole being.

"sannie, cumming" that was all you could say before abutting your mouth again, rubbing your cunt towards his handsome face.

"Cum baby, be a good girl" you let you eye lids close as you felt ridiculously empty, as if you were even lighter.

Suddenly you whined in pain as you saw your boyfriend slowly and so gently letting your sore legs now on the soft bit drenched mattress.

"Now that felt better, didn't it? He said winking right after. Running a hand on your body, giving a fast massage before he grabbing his t-shirt from the ground to clean both you and him.

" I think we'll need abit more wash clothes than this one" He joked, still having enough energy to move around with his naked butt.

"But no worries, I got us both"! He said showing you his dimples as if he didn't take the soul out of you.

Ateez masterlist

[lazybutsmexy]

Tea

Simón "Ghost" Riley X GN!reader

Warnings: ANGST, hurt no comfort, mayor character death(s).

A/N: is... is this what I chose as my comeback? I'm sorry, I hope to be able to write something fluffy soon.

Read on AO3

"...Ghost?"

"...Yeah?"

Your eyes are locked to the sky. The hues of gray that prelude an autumn shower used to comfort you. Strangely enough, what's most comforting to you at this moment is hearing your Lieutenant's voice answer you back, from somewhere to your left.

"...I have a confession to make."

"...Go on."

You inch your head sideways, trying to peek a glance at his face, but the stiffness of your neck prevent you from doing so. Maybe it's for the best. From the corner of your eye you can see part of his hip and his right leg, over a carpet of dark red that you don't need a creative imagination to think about its nature, or its origin.

You saw him get shot.

"I'm the one that took your last tea bag," you offer, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd get so grumpy about it."

A low sigh reaches your ears, and you can catch the hint of an almost imperceptible stutter in his breathing.

"...Never suspected you," he hums, every word calculated as if it could be his last -it may as well be, "you don't drink tea."

"No, I don't," you agree, "but you do." Your lower lip gets caught in between your teeth once again, as it has happened for the last few- minutes? Hours? Who knows anymore? "I wanted to surprise you with-... with a cuppa when we got to t-the safehouse..."

You clearly should've followed his example and kept your sentences short, you think as your diaphragm painfully struggles to keep your lungs filled with oxygen.

"...You make shit tea though," he grumbled - now you can clearly hear the wheeze hidden in his breathing.

"... would've made it wi' luv," your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, and you try not to think of the amount of time you've gradually lost sensation in your body. Instead, you try to peek at him again as you hear a slow ruffle of movement, and this time an ungloved hand comes to your field of vision.

Open face up. Inviting.

You don't think twice and muster whatever little strength you have in your body to move your left hand closer to his.

If the struggle makes you tear up, you don't care. If your pained whimpers break his heart, he doesn't comment on it.

He just grasps your hand as soon as there's skin-on-skin contact, thankful that there's still warmth on your fingers.

Fading, but still there.

"...Didn't say... I wouldn't drink it."

"...Yer' too kind, sir..." Your ears feel like padded in cotton, but you can still hear yourself. If you had any energy - or air in your lungs - you would laughed at how much you started sounding like Soap. "...'s an hon'r to be wi' you, Lt..."

Several seconds passed in silence, and you think you won't get any more answers, and mentally prepare yourself to close your eyes one last time.

But there's something happening with your hand in his.

One squeeze.

Pause.

Another squeeze.

And a last one.

"... waited too long to tell you," his voice reaches you again, watery and choked up, " hope tis' works..."

Go figure, you still had tears to shed. Or is it the rain droplets finally landing on your skin? You don't know. You don't care.

You try to reciprocate, but can only apply three soft squeezes with the pads of your thumb on the soft muscle between his thumb and index fingers.

The choked up sob you hear is a good guess that he received your reply.

"...'m sleepy," your whisper reaches him, and he mourns the lost time.

He's never void of regrets, isn't he?

"...g'night, luv," he tries to sound warm to you, always.

"...g'night, Simon..."

Oh, how sweet his name sounds, coming from your lips in a whisper.

Taglist: @warenai @queen-of-hearts-lemon-tarts @embers-of-alluring

Join the taglist here

Masterlist

[quimichi]

Calling Monstadt girls your girls ~

↳˳;; ❝ CALLING THE MONDSTADT GIRLS YOUR GOOD GIRLS ᵕ̈೫˚∗

Mondstadt girls x Creator!Reader

Eula, Rosaria, Jean, Lisa, Amber, Mona & Sucrose

Eula - May the gentle breeze softly send thee into a sweet sleep.

"Come closer, sit in my lap Eula..." she hesitates, unsure if she heard you right. Unsure if she is even allowed to get any closer to you. But nonetheless, her body moves on its own. "As you wish, my grace"

There is no hesitation anymore as Eula makes her way to you and finally settles in your lap, not uttering a word. She merely stares up/down at your face, not daring to look away or even blink. For her, this is the best place she can be. "Good girl, you listen so well"

A whine rumbles from deep within her chest. She is breathless under your touch. It takes every ounce of restraint she has to remain in place instead of leaning back into your hands. She shifts in your lap, only wanting to be a little closer. The hands you had placed onto her soft thighs aren't any help either. It only heats her up even more. Eula has forgotten how to speak. She seems utterly mesmerized by your touch, unable to do anything but whimper, moan, and purr. She is utterly submissive to you. Her eyes glaze over in sheer desire to be in your presence.

She doesn't question anything. She simply enjoys this moment. "Say Eula, are you my good girl?"

"Y-Yes, Your Grace. Yes!" Her voice is hoarse. Her breathing is strained. Her entire body trembles from the sheer thrill of being held by you. She leans back, finally giving in to her own wants and leans into your touch. "I didn't hear you, please, say it again, for me, hm?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm your good girl!" Eula seems positively delirious. She barely seems to be able to speak in the way that anyone else would deem 'proper.' She leans back, resting with her head in the crook of your neck.

"Good... girl...," she mumbles, seemingly unable to think of how to form words that might please you most. Her eyes glaze over. All this worship has put her in a trance.

"Your good girl...yours"

Rosaria - Do not fear your past, and do not be scared to come to grips with it

While Rosaria is a woman of pride who often insists on taking her own path, when she comes within a hundred miles of you, this attitude evaporates like morning mist upon contact with the sun. She could not care less for her own ideas when she is under your light, and she will follow you wherever you lead. And for a moment, she will seem content with you as her purpose.

"Sit in my lap" If you order her to, then she has no choice but to sit in your lap. She will wrap an arm around your waist, the other running the fingers of her index finger and thumb along the line of your neck.

As she presses her body against yours, she is aware of every sensation. Her heart beats quick, her breath quickens, and her entire body glows with heat. It is as if she is experiencing being truly alive for the first time.

"Good girl, hm?" "Yes, i am," she promises, her eyes drifting shut. She is completely at ease, no longer wracked with pain or weighed down by memories of what has passed. There is only you, and the fact that she feels at home whenever she sits in your lap. Rosarias arm tightens against you as she looks up at you, eyes full of worship.

"I'm your good girl." Her lips brush over the nape of your neck, her breath making your very skin tingle with pleasure. Her soft fingers trail across your skin, her hand drifting over your collar.

"You're mine," she whispers seductively. "I'm yours." It's as if all the restraint she ever held within melts away with each word she whispers to you.

"Only mine, only yours"

Jean - Dandelion, Dandelion, ride the wind to a faraway land.

Jean raises her head at your command, and moves to be closer to you. There's absolutely no hesitation on her actions, but her heart is hammering in her chest, the thuds of her pulse loud in her ears.

Her gaze is locked on yours, the emotions rising up inside, a maelstrom of heat and longing.

"Jean, my dear, please take a seat" She does as you ask, climbing onto your lap as you instruct. Her face flushes a deeper shade of red, but she says nothing. Her gaze is on your hands as you stroke her hair with care.Her breathing is ragged, the air in her lungs going stale from how tight she is gripping herself.

"I know you are stressing yourself with work again, so I want my good boy to relax a little"

"Yes," she whispers, but her heartbeat quickens even more at your touch. Jean doesn't feel like she can relax. She cannot fathom anything being enough for a moment like this. Her head leans forward against your body, and her eyes close as your fingers comb through her honey-blonde hair. "My good girl, always so hardworking..."

She shivers at your touch, leaning back further still. The emotions in her are like a wild storm of her powers, but she dares not move for fear of losing the comfort of your hands. "Yes," she says once more. Her eyes are closed, her heart hammering in her chest as you call her "good girl"

Her face is flushed a deep red by the sheer realization, good girl

Lisa - Such a calming breeze... Perfect for taking a nap, don't you think?

"Please, take a seat" Lisa looks startled for a moment, but her expression quickly warms up. "Of course. Your wish is my sole command." There is truth in that statement, even if it's a tad exaggerated. The woman can be a bit of a drama queen at times. When she makes eye contact with you, there is a spark. She moves over to you without hesitation, her hair blowing slightly in the draft.

This is certainly a... unique position to be in. You can feel the warmth exuding from her soft body. Shes got a strong presence, and it's hard not to be affected by the energy radiating from her. Lisa is practically purring in your lap, the tips of her hair tickling against your neck. Her hand brushes against your waist, almost instinctively.

"Tell me Lisa, are you my good girl?" "I am, Your Grace~" she replies instantly, and her tone is as sincere as it is eager. She is in your lap, after all. She can't help but be her most devoted for you. "I will always be your good girl, until the end." Her voice is hoarse, and she shifts her body slightly to be closer to yours. Her eyes are bright.

"Good...you better be" you chuckle at this, it was meant as a little joke. Lisa smiles at you, like a contented puppy. "Anything for you, my dear." She leans forward just enough to touch her lips against your cheek. Her body feels so warm and she smells so familiar.

"Your good girl would never deny you"

Amber - Outrider Amber reporting for duty! Just say the word if you ever need my help!

"Amber, I'm glad you're back. Please, come here" "Y-Yes, my grace" Amber replies in a voice no louder than a whisper. Completely the opposite of her usual tone. Her brown hair bounces as she moves, but she remains focused on you; moving slowly as to not surprise you with her haste. Each step is calculated, made with caution.

She waits to be within your vicinity, and then to your command. "Now that you're here, take a seat" you say while tapping your hands gently on your thighs, a sign for her to have it as her seat. Amber does not hesitate in her movement as your command is given. Her body is moving before the thought has even settled in her mind, as her body knows exactly what you want from her.

She lowers herself onto your lap, and she rests her weight against you. Her body is light, but it is only because her muscles have already gone slack under the weight of your gaze. (I mean excuse me but this girl seriously has to have some muscles with her abilities---)

"That's my good girl" In response, Amber's lips curve into a faint smile. Though she knows her position is humble, she is satisfied by it. Your praise only further fills her with a sense of contentedness, and she leans her weight against your chest, enjoying being close to you once more.

"Hmmm, such a good girl" Amber closes her eyes with a soft whine of relief. When you play with her hair, it has more of an effect on her than she wishes to admit. Her body leans into your touch.

"Yes, such a good girl..." she's in trace.

Mona - Fate is called as such, for it cannot be changed, nor can it be reversed. It can only but be accepted.

Your gaze is intimidating. It burns into her very soul, and she cannot shake the sense of dread she feels. But instead of faltering, she presses down all emotion.

Mona will be exactly who you want her to be.She looks away, bowing her head and looking to the ground. Her cheeks are warm. Her ears are burning. She is so terribly close to you. And soon she will even be closer...

"Sit in my lap"

She does so without hesitation. She doesn't know why, but she does. Its like every embarrassment she felt was gone with the words you said. Every ounce of her feels like it's on fire. The heat radiating from your body is overwhelming. But she does not flinch away. She does not squirm at your touch. She is entirely still as she sits in your lap.

She does not look at you. If she did, she would faint.

"Good girl, listening so well"

"Yes," she says, her voice quivering slightly. Her eyes are locked onto her hands "I-" she swallows audibly, "I'm your good girl"

She is shaking, though she still does not move. Mona remains completely still. She will not cause you discomfort. Your comfort comes before her own. Although you would never agree by this.

"Yours" she says again.

Sucrose - My Vision is my most important research tool.

"Come here, sit beside me" Sucrose does not move. "Wh-what do you want from me?" She asks, her words edged with nervousness. There is a part of her that desperately wants to rush over to you as any good little servant would. But something seems to hold her back, as though a leash were around her neck.

Her eyes dart back and forth quickly. She is clearly trying to think of an excuse to not cross the room.

"It's for research" you try to lurr her in, and it seems to work. Slowly, ever so slowly, Sucrose stands up. And then, like a puppet on strings, she starts to walk towards you. Her stride is purposeful, and his gaze is fixed ahead. Despite her face— unsure but determined — you can see her fingers trembling ever-so-slightly.

The closer she gets to you, the more she appears to be losing self-control over herself.

"Such a good girl you are" she's never been called a 'good girl' before. Yes, Albedo did praise her for her researches, but never once did his praise put her into a state of dizziness as yours. But you can tell that being praised this way has left her feeling elated and surprised.

"H-huh?" She turns her head to look up at you, and as soon as she looks into your eyes, she's frozen. In a moment, all of her previous questions are gone. The only thing she knows now is how to look up at you and be loyal to you. She waits patiently for your next command, her body tense yet eager to please.

Sucroses mouth goes agape and her body trembles, as though she's overwhelmed with every word you speak. Being called "your good girl" and being praised in this way, it's almost too much for her to comprehend. Her breath catches in her throat and she looks away, seemingly embarrassed.

"I-i hope my reaction was pleasing for your...research..."

[sinsolstice]

★ 彡 SEVEN DAYS A WEEK. ✧ MIGUEL O'HARA [ 2 ]

series ✮ the second day of the week always seem to put you in a bad mood. but miguel has a way to make you forget about your day.

tags ✮  modern + roommates au. situationship with miguel and unspoken mutual pining. divider creds: cafekitsune.

content warning ✮ explicit content, sexual intercourse, dom/sub, handjobs, thigh riding, cowgirl, unprotected sex. 18+.

wc ✮ 2,756

Tuesday has never been your favourite day.

When you return home, you feel your body ache and a glooming weight hovering above your head. Something just irks you today and all you want to do is retreat to your room until the whole day is over. At least, there are only a few hours left until Tuesday ends. Another seven hours left, to be precise. Even the thought of it still dampens your mood and you wish that time would speed up so you can get over the Tuesday blues.

The moment you arrive home, you’re greeted with brief quietness, before hearing someone going through the cupboards in the kitchen. Although you acknowledge Miguel's home first, you don’t walk past to greet him. Instead, you go straight to the second floor and into your room. Shutting the door behind you, you strip off your work clothes and hop into the shower. The warm water calms your skin and loosens your muscles. Yet, you feel dissatisfied even when you come out clean, smelling fresh and changed into comfortable baggy loungewear.

You dive into the comfort of your bed, tangling yourself under the duvet that makes your muscles curl comfortably. Something vibrates under your pillow and when your hand moves under to reach for your phone — pulling it out to your sight — it lights up a received message from Miguel. He tells you that he’s planning to run some errands and asks if you would like anything. 

Your reply is polite but a little unenthusiastic. It wasn’t long after texting Miguel back that you heard a knock on your door. The barrier opens and your roommate peaks his head in by the doorway. Your eyes immediately meet Miguel’s crimson eyes. “Long day?” He asks.

You sigh and nod, pressing your lips together. “Extremely. Today is just… I don’t know, not my day.”

“Lo siento, bonita (I’m sorry, beautiful),” Miguel says. He steps into the room and closes the door behind him. “I had a feeling you weren’t yourself when you got back.”

“S’okay.” You shrug. “Just a few more hours until Tuesday is over.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence between the two of you. You twiddle your thumbs, unsure of what to do when you feel the bed shifted under its weight when Miguel takes it forward to sit on the bed in front of you. His thumb and index fingers reach out for your chin and gently angle your face up to meet his gaze. “Is there anything I could do to help?”

“I’ll be okay,” you shoot him a soft smile. “Maybe I’ll sleep early tonight to let the time pass.”

Miguel goes quiet when you say this. He gazes away to his right — seemingly in thought – before his eyes meet yours again. “There could be something we can do to pass the time. But only if you want to.” 

This has caught your attention. “What are you thinking of?” 

“Today may have not been a nice day for you, but we could change that.” Miguel begins. “The continuation of our challenge from yesterday.” 

Your chest tightens a little as you hitch a breath, recalling the deal made and yesterday’s events. It heats your cheeks and goosebumps run down your back when your mind replays the way your body aches in pleasure when he thrusts deep into you. A sudden jolt of pulse travels down to your cunt as you think about the way he rubbed your clit yesterday with fervent abandon from the challenge. 

You’re now reminded that today is the second day of the week’s challenge. 

“It might help you forget about what’s upsetting you today.” Miguel continues, his tone lowers and sounds a little husky. He pauses for a moment as he gently circles on your inner wrist in a mindless pattern. “I want you to take the reins this time to make you feel empowered. Have you done whatever you want to me.” 

In that moment, your chest tightens even more with the way your heart races. This is the first time you’ve been offered something like this, and throughout your situationship with him, Miguel has always been the one to lead in the sexual activities. So his proposal has taken you by surprise and yet you couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement at the new prospect specially made for you.  

“Really?” Your voice holds an innocence to it. “You’ll let me do whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want, nena,” Miguel smirks. “I’m yours to use as your playground.” 

You gaze away as you think, still feeling the rush of excitement and arousal. “There’s always something that I’ve been wanting to try.” You begin, pause for a dramatic effect, and then look at him with feign innocence and curiosity. “Thigh fucking?” 

Miguel raises a brow at you and a wide grin appears on his face. “You plan on torturing me with those sweet, soft thighs of yours, bonita?” 

You giggle softly, “Not torture you, per se. More like… want to know what it feels like.” 

“Mm,” Miguel hums. His hand reaches out to brush away some unkempt strands of hair out of your view. “If that’s what you want to do, then let’s do it.” 

Nodding, the two of you began to undress each other’s pants, the clothes all tossed aside in the corner of your bedroom. You quickly settled on the and laid your back on the headboard, with Miguel joining to be in front of you. He kneels on the bed and spreads your legs open, moving closer between them. He takes hold of his large cock in his hand and places his throbbing member on your bikini area, giving it playful taps that have you squirming a little and giggling. 

You slowly bring your legs together, the inner of your thighs brushing against his member softly between the thigh gaps. Then with your legs clasped together, you raise your legs and then down slowly. Soon, the motion repeats as your inner thighs drag his cock up and down in strokes. You swear you could feel his member throb between your muscles. 

“Oh, mierda, that’s it,” Miguel murmurs with his eyes closed. “Your thighs are so soft and warm.” 

“You think so?” You ask as you proceed to move your thighs up and down, looking at him under his gaze innocently. 

Miguel smirks and lets out a breathy chortle once you’re confident stroking him with your thighs. Bring your upper legs up and down like you’re doing a seated knee crunch exercise on his cock with your upper leg muscles. With every stroke, Miguel’s member quivers and he groans. His chest is rising up and down slowly, eyes closed as his lips parted slightly whenever he breathes heavily. 

“Fuck, your thighs.” A low growl emits out of Miguel. His brows creased as he pants. “So soft and beautiful and mierda (fuck)—” He let out a breathy, almost strangled gasp as his eyes gazed down at his cock and your thighs stroked him. “Tan perfecta, hermosa.” 

The praises coming out of his mouth feeds your confidence and it certainly shows it on the smile of your face. You continue to tease him and perhaps like Miguel said earlier — torture him a little. Seeing the way the foreskin of his cock would roll up and down to the movements of your thighs in between them — hiding between the muscles and revealing itself like it was a peek-a-boo game. The head of his cock is already glistened with precum. “Something else.” He rasps. “Please.” 

“Oh? You’re telling me what to do, now?” You ask with a raised brow, your tone teasing. “Though you told me that you’re my playground to use.” 

“You’re right,” Miguel rasps with a sheepish smirk. Still using his thighs to stroke his cock, you can see the way his brows furrowed together as Miguel breathes rhythmically in an attempt for some sort of control and restraint. “Are you going to keep playing with me like this?” 

You glance up at him. The movement of your thighs going up and down slows down until it comes to a stop. His cock throbs, being buried in between the soft muscles of your upper legs. “You’re right, I should do something about it.” You declare. 

Carefully, you open up your legs, seeing the way it glistened with arousal ─ a mixture of his and yours painting your skin. You already miss the way his member feels between your thighs but you have a different idea. Leaning yourself forward close to Miguel, your right hand reaches for his cock and soon, your hand replaces your thighs to stroke him. A gentle grip on his dick as you move up and down on him. 

You hear Miguel groaning your name, sounding even more hoarse than before. “You know that’s not what I meant.” He says brusquely, though it sounds gentle. “Tú, pequeña zorra (you little vixen).” 

“Whatever do you mean?” You giggle softly. 

“Want to have your pussy around my cock.” Miguel murmurs. His head is tilted back with eyes closed, deeply groaning and his dick pulsates even more in your hand. 

The growing smile on your face doesn’t falter as you take full control of Miguel’s pleasure, watching the way he’s beginning to lose composure. You feel more confident and empowered in this situation because you’ve always been a bit of a pillow princess and letting Miguel have his way with you. But this time, the role is reversed. 

“How do you want to have my pussy?” You ask, still stroking his cock with your hand. “Should I ride you?”

“Yes, yes por favour (please),” Miguel says, his voice sounding breathy. He groans again and the muscles of his biceps tighten as his body shudders in pleasure. His member twitches in your palm. “Hermosa, nena, por favor (beautiful, baby, please).” 

You chuckle softly, seeing how Miguel has succumbed to a whimpering mess. A different sight but a beautiful one. You’ve always known Miguel to be confident, intimidating, and somewhat snarky. But in the moment and right in front of you, he is neither of those. He is yours to toy with and as he said before—he’s your playground to be used for the night. 

“What did I tell you about telling me what to do?” You lightly scold Miguel. And yet, your hand slowly comes to a stop and lets him go. Getting up onto your knees, you gently nudge Miguel to lean back a little. When he does so, you carefully crawl onto him, settling yourself on his lap. His hands instantly go to hold onto your waist. The two of you stare at each other, eyes gazing over each other’s expressions and facial features. 

“You ready?” Your voice is soft when you ask, hand reaching down to hold his cock and aligning it upwards between your legs. 

“Yes,” Miguel whispers. His eyes darken in lust, and the grip on your hips is strong as if he’s trying to imprint his fingers into your skin. Almost holding back your breath, you mentally prepare to embrace yourself, remembering to take it nice and slow. 

Steady, you lower yourself down onto Miguel, the head of his cock breaches in slowly until the two of you are groaning and moaning. Your walls warmly welcome the intrusion, wrapping around his cock in a vice grip till you could feel the tip of its head brushing inside your womb. “Fuck, fuck. You’re so tight.” 

You rest your forehead on Miguel’s when the shudder of pleasure overwhelms you. Breathing softly as you hold onto him, mind clouded in lust and sheepishness. When a thought inadvertently enters your mind, the notion is forgotten when you feel his hands guiding you close to him by the waist. 

“You’re doing so well,” Miguel says softly, his lips almost brushing yours. 

His words made your heart leap and you exhaled a soft sigh that you didn't realise was holding back. “I want you to get comfortable.” 

“I already am.” The corner of Miguel’s mouth curves up in a grin. His hands cup your rear cheeks and he lifts you easily off the bed to switch positions. Miguel sits at the edge of the bed and his gaze focuses on you, his hands going onto your hips as you proudly sit on his lap. 

You begin to roll your hips as you sit on his lap, with his cock settled buried inside you; its girth hits your vaginal walls, his pelvis rubbing your clit and you swear you could feel his cockhead hitting your cervix. The muscles of Miguel’s thighs flex a little underneath your weight and he heaves heavily when your cunt grips onto his dick whenever you roll yourself onto him. “That’s it,” he groans. “Grinding on my cock so well.” 

With your hands placed behind his muscular thighs as you steady yourself in this whole new position, you angle your hips and begin to bounce on him. It starts gently at first for you to adjust to the feeling and idea of taking charge. But then, the pace picks up moments later as you begin to feel comfortable. The wanton swiftness of Miguel’s cock hitting your G-spot relentlessly. You’re unsure who’s controlling the movements — whether it's your rhythm or his hand on your hips guiding you to lift up and then down onto his length. But it doesn’t matter who did what because being on top of Miguel O’Hara feels like the sweetest and most well-deserved victory for yourself. 

The bedroom is filled with the sounds of wet skin slapping with mixed arousal, your breathy gasp and his throaty groans. It doesn’t take long until you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, making you drive your hips up and down on Miguel faster. You hear him shudder a breath, his hands grab your buttcheeks. “Oh fuck, hermosa—” 

A throaty groan from Miguel and a strangled cry from you fill in the bedroom. Your cunt tightens around his cock and it throbs just in time for Miguel to spill his cum inside of you. Your clit pulsates from the pleasure, the two of you gasping and groaning from the euphoric sensation of cumming at the same time. 

“Díos,” Miguel murmurs breathlessly. His lips brush on the valley of your chest as he catches his breath. Your eyes are closed, regaining your breath as well. “That was… wow,” Miguel adds. He chuckles softly. “Didn’t know you have a wild side of you.” 

“I…” Your voice trails. A sheepish smile curves up the corners of your lips. “Was that too much?” 

Miguel laughs and then shakes his hand. His hands squeeze your hips. “If anything, it was the best.” 

Your arms circle his neck as you press yourself chest to chest on him. The climax settles down, leaving the room quiet. Neither of you pull away despite how overly warm and a little sweaty the two of you are, and you prefer the way you’re both not separating from each other yet. 

"Hey," Miguel's soft tone catches your attention. "I have been meaning to ask. Why is Tuesday your least favourite day? Is it a personal thing?"

His question surprises you because you didn’t think he or anyone in your life would notice that the second day of the week is your least favourite day. You stay silent, figuring out how to put your explanation in words. “In all my life, Tuesday seems to be the day where I’m out of luck and rough days seem to happen that would hinder my mood. A bad grade at school when I was younger. Or I found out that one of the co-workers I hate at work made a complaint about me for something insignificant. Even when… my mum passed away a few years ago, it was on a Tuesday too.”

Things fall peacefully quiet in your bedroom as the two of you sit together on the sheets. “I’m sorry to hear that,” Miguel says apologetically. The pad of his thumb brushes on your inner wrist and you don't pull your hand away. Instead, let his warmth comfort you. 

“Well, I hope that I’ve made your Tuesday a little better for you,” Miguel adds softly. He still caresses where your pulse and arteries are pumping under your skin.

Your eyes gaze at him and a smile appears on your face. You couldn’t help but agree because he did make your day a little brighter than the other Tuesdays you experienced in the past.

keep track of more updates with #𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 (miguel o'hara).

all of my links.

[she-whatshername]

*Busts down door gasping for air - Who said Tyrrish Men headcanons you didn't ask for?!

I need to go back to work lol...I didn't proofread this

at. all.

Smoochies Pt 2: Featuring Liam and more Marked Ones

Liam:

Pour one out for this GEM of a human

His sixth sense is you. You're cold, instant jacket on your shoulders. You sneeze once? He's at your side with a cuppa. If you fall, he will catch you, or destroy whatever you tripped on.

I also imagine he's really good at sensing your emotions. Probably knows when you're sad, angry, mad and reacts accordingly

Ultimate Move: Holding your chin with his thumb and index finger while he kisses you. Sometimes his finger brushes over your lips and its with purpose because if its a long time before he sees you again he'll often rest his face in his palms when he's in class or with the other marked ones so he can take in your scent once more.

SECOND ULTIMATE MOVE (because he deserves two TBH): Kisses your cheeks. Sometimes its with intention like when he says hello or goodbye. Other times you're just standing there and he just does it. Sometimes he'll walk behind you while you're sitting and just lean over and kiss your cheek because he can.

And a few additions to the other ones:

Xaden:

This man is drama, your honor

Like, if he saw Liam pull an ultimate move with his partner and saw them blush, Xaden would look at you and internally panic like, "Fuck, should I be doing that to you? I want to make you blush like that."

Also if you're late to any of your meet ups he's instantly stressing and thinks he did something wrong and will go off to find you

He gives me very 'keep you at a distance/aloof' vibes on the outside, but once you're his he's like 'i am but a planet revolving around you, my sun' lol

His sass is top tier. Best quips and one liners. You could just listen to this man give verbal beatdowns to people all day

A smoochie headcanon: forehead kisses, every night before falling asleep. Even if you're both exhausted it will still happen. He's even fallen asleep kissing your forehead.

ALSO...ain't no way this man is straight. He 1000% gives Loki's 'A bit of both, I suspect the same of you.' vibes.

...This theory is also explored in Drifted...which I absolutely need to get back to instead of these, haha

Bodhi:

Really good at writing love letters, and letters to his S/O in general.

In fact, Bodhi gave Xaden the idea to write violet that letter. I imagine he's chastising him like "Look...If you cant communicate with your mouths without an argument, maybe write it down...and pull yourself together we're at war Xaden..." #brotherlylove

When he holds hands he will use his thumb to massage your palm. Same with a hand on your knee, he'll just rub small circles on your skin

You will never wake up to a empty nightstand. Always a glass of water/tea waiting for you

A smoochie headcanon: He and the other marked ones left to patrol with their dragons while you and the others wait at Riorson house. Not even a minute later he's back in the dining hall like "I'm sorry I just need to kiss you one more time." Xaden a Garrick are dragging him away five minutes later.

Garrick:

A smoochie headcanon: Coming back to Riorson house from a long mission he would scoop you up into his arms, kiss you, throw you over his shoulder and walk up the stairs while shouting that 'unless there's a hoard of venin outside, do not bother him for the next 4 hours'. And you're on the back of his shoulder dying from embarrassment as you're being hauled up the stairs

[mindofharry]

Not a lot, just forever | Psycho!Harry part 2

Mine.

That was the only word Y/N thought of when she woke up from her daze. Her head felt heavy and her arms burned from the rope wrapped tightly around her wrists. She winced as she opened her eyes squinting immediately at the tiny bit of sun streaming through the window. Y/N couldn’t feel her legs, all she felt was a throbbing pain in her temples and an awful taste in her mouth. She looked around again, her eyes dancing around the small room she was placed in. She knew she was lying in a bed, a double bed with a comforter underneath her. There was a window on the wall in front of her, the curtains only light so the sun could shine through. It was a normal bedroom. With a chest of drawers, a vanity with makeup and creams, book shelves and pictures surrounding the walls.

But this wasn’t Y/N’s room. This wasn’t her bed. Where was she? Why was she here?

Sweat dripped down in her forehead as she began to groan and gnaw at the ropes with her teeth, weirdly enough she wasn’t gagged and her dentist always said she had sharp molars. After a few minutes of trying to bite through the ropes, she stopped dropping her arms in defeat. She let out an inhumane scream and squirmed around on the bed pushing the pillows onto the floor.

“Are you finished?”

Y/N screamed loudly at the voice.

It was him. The guy from the diner.

“Was trying to be nice by not gagging you, but I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way,” He mused. He had a slight accent which in any other scenario, Y/N would’ve found sexy. She always had a thing for British boys.

She shook her head violently, pieces of hair falling from her already messy pony tail. She had to get herself out of this, she just had to.

He raised an eyebrow and smirked slightly sitting on the edge of the bed, Y/N shook with fear, but his grin only widened at her terrified figure. Its almost like he took pleasure in the fact that this girl, this woman, is the most afraid she’s ever been in her entire life.

“You don’t want me to gag you?” He asked pausing slightly taking in her figure, he bit his lip to compose himself.

“Maybe I’ll have you gag on my cock instead,” He hummed, enjoying the tear running down his loves face. He moved closer to her, using the tip of his thumb to wipe the lone tear streaming down her pale face.

“Don’t be scared. I’m here to look after you. I’ll never hurt you, ever,” He promised and for some reason Y/N believed him.

“I’m Harry. And I’m going to loved you so hard, baby,” Harry said planting his lips on hers. Y/N scrunched her face up but this man did not let up, grabbing her cheeks and diving his tongue into her mouth. She couldn’t help but moan at the contact, liking the feeling of being under his submission.

Harry smirked again and leaned back his green eyes looking over her face, analysing every detail.

“Don’t even need to train you, already such a good girl for me. Bet you’re soaked, from being all tied up, no one to help you, no one to hear you scream for mercy,” Harry taunted his index finger trailing down the middle of hr body. Y/N’s breath hitched and she wasn’t quite sure if she was sobbing for less or for more.

“You love this. I knew you would,” Harry nodded, excitedly.

“God, the things I am going to do to you,”

[askinkiskarma]

my andra baby 💕 a thought just crossed my mind, and if there's anyone who can write it, it's you. imagine neteyam and you using the throat microphone device one night, getting all needy and talking dirty, thinking no one else can hear you when suddenly, you’re interrupted by lo'ak, who accidentally fell asleep with the device on and is regretting all his life decisions upon hearing you two. just imagine 🥴

my lana the fact you came to me??? :((( i will cry real tears, i hope you enjoy my love x

also wow, that did things to me right before bed, my GAWD

wc: 950 words

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, aged-up!neteyam x reader, smut, strong language, phone sex, the tragic realisation that someone heard your phone sex, that's about it.

Na’vi compendium: tìyawn - love, tìlor - beauty

Being in a secret situationship with a Na’vi, the Na’vi, your beautiful, strong, tall, blue, mouthwatering Neteyam… it had its moments. So many moments, so many good, good moments that made your eyes roll in the back of your head at the mere memories of them and your back arch in futile anticipation and ruin yet another pair of lace panties at the image of his body hovering over yours, his length slipping past your dripping folds, filling you up until you were so full you finally felt whole.

Being with Neteyam also had its challenges and conundrums, and the one that bothered you the most in the moment is your desperate ache for relief that only he could give, that he demanded only he provide for you. Neteyam was an overachiever, and he always aimed to please, and please you he did with every opportunity that presented itself, with every opportunity he made for himself. Neteyam heard a quote from Norm once that went something like “I am a man of fortune, and I must seek my fortune.” Neteyam always took that to heart, ever since he was a child, and he never took it more seriously than when he talked about the fortune of being in between your legs.

Alas, he wasn’t here, much like he couldn’t be most days, your biological differences enough to keep you from each other in two places that felt like worlds apart, especially tonight. But, with a smirk, you picked up the little radio choker and receivers quietly resting on your nightstand, that were intended and created for entirely different purposes, but which came in handy in… sticky situations like this one.

Sprawled on your mattress, a hand softly reached for one of your breasts, caressing it softly, catching one bud in between your thumb and index fingers and pinching, imagining it was his touch instead, the one you craved like air. The other hand went to the button resting on the choker, and with a slight pressure, you pushed it, whispering into it.

“Neteyam… are you still awake?”

You knew everyone would be asleep so far into the night, and none of them wore their radios to bed, except for one person, the one person whose tent you’d much rather be in right now, whose voice would have to suffice in this moment that seemed to drag on forever.

“What are you doing up so late, tìyawn?” Neteyam knew very well the answer to his own question, his voice almost a purr as his imagination of your state, the vision of your naked body all on display on your bed rushed the blood to his now rock hard cock, that was begging for a hand around it, for any release, as it was tugging at his loincloth uncomfortably.

“I need you, Teyam.”

“What do you need from me, baby?”

“Y-you… your touch, your voice. Please.”

“Does my pretty girl need me to make her cum? Do you need me to tell you all the ways I’d fuck you until your body trembled and writhed under me?

Your loud, inhibited moans egged him on, and with a soft, languid bob of his fisted fingers on his length, he continued.

“How I’d start off slowly, kissing your irresistible lips and your neck, down your collarbones and chest, how I’d suck on those amazing tits until they bruised, until I marked you, how i’d move slowly south, down your navel and your hips until I’d settle in between your thighs. Fuck, those thighs, and that pussy, they could drive a man to his knees, my love. If I ever for a second doubted Eywa, all that doubt would vanish looking at you, at your body, and the way it reacts to me, because no chance of the universe could have created something as perfect as you by accident.”

His words made you mewl into the mic, as your fingers found your folds, that were dripping in your slick as pressure build in your core, and while your touch wasn’t his, not as skilled nor as yearned for, it helped you build upon the imagery he created to reach the peak that would drive you to indescribably pleasures, that you would still share with him, despite the distance.

“Do you want me to tell you what a good girl you are as you’re taking my cock, in that pretty pussy, in your perfect mouth? What do you need, tìlor? To hear my groan as you squirt all over me, as you coat my tongue in your sweet juices? Is this what you need, pretty girl?”

Neteyam was pumping his cock harder and faster with each second he was picturing you in these scenarios that you’ve been in a thousand times before, in all the positions he would make you cum in, with each second he heard the whines and moans escaping your lips, and all the enticing noises as you were fingering yourself dumb, imagining it was him doing it instead.

“Neteyam, I’m - fuck! So c-close!”

“Me too, baby girl. You want to let go for me? Be a good girl and co-“

“COME THE FUCK ON!!! YOU DO REALISE THIS IS A FREQUENCY THAT THE WHOLE FAMILY HAS ACCESS TO, YOU PERVERTS?! I WAS HAVING A BEAUTIFUL DREAM ABOUT RIDING AN IKRAN AND IT TURNED INTO A TERRIFYING NIGHTMARE ABOUT YOU TWO RIDIN-“

You turned off the radio before Lo’ak could finish a sentence that you were sure was going to be the driving nail in your coffin of embarrassment, that might as well have been made out of lead, because you didn’t think you were ever coming out.

taglist: @fanboyluvr @theycallmesia @yagirlheree

[rindough]

that first anon again: oh my god losing my religion by r.e.m. for boothill. this man is SO full of teenage angst, sitting in the corner of one of those old timey country bars all veiled in shadow looking at the person he has feelings for laughing and dancing in the crowd, completely mesmerised as he rests his chin on a hand with a focused expression, mouth slightly open, and absent-mindedly traces the rim of his glass with a finger from the other, almost without realising. You ain't slick, dude. Go talk to them.

God, I am so fucking normal about him.

OH YA i forgot to reply to a question from ur prev ask, sure! u can give me indie songs as well heheeee, and ngl i wasnt expecting this song but its one of my fav songs to vibe to!!!!

OKOK I GOT THE IDEA AND I FIND IT CUTE buttt i kinda put a twist to it if thats okay!

--;

so lets say you're a regular at this diner in town, you had your fair amount of visits here with your friends, your family, even alone. boothill has seen it all, but god at each time he tries to strike up a conversation with you, it either comes off awkward or him just flying off his seat from trying to 'smoothly' whoosh onto the stool.

he doesn't know what made him this... intrigued by your presence, why is it that everytime the door bell chimes, he glances by the door to see if it was you, the way your voice echo in the quiet diner, the way you spun around after you got your order and straight out the door you walked. he wants to know why and how has he suddenly had the balls to walk up to you, and just start some small talk.

unfortunately on his side, it got to the point where it only ends in 'hi's or 'i see's. he thought he could do it, he thought he could whoosh his way in n perhaps whoosh his way out out this diner with u tagging along. but look at where he is now, it's not that you don't get along, but with the way he looks into your eyes and stutter whatever he wants to say, fumbling over words and fall into silence while you wait, while you search his eyes, his body languages. Waiting for something more, as the man himself got you to become a nervous mess too.

but overtime, he gradually became standoffish, he no longer sits beside you at most of your visits, he doesn't look high up above the diner booth to check if its you (he observes from the window instead 🙄), he just waves, he just stands up to go at your presence, he just-

he no longer visits the diner.

in fear and perhaps shame, he and his cyborg body, you would prefer someone much more... human, right? what does it take for a cyborg like him to woo someone he fancies?

it's impossible, he thought. at this point, he'll just give up and not think about the thing people call, the thing he once dreamt of having, love. he'll just give up the act and focus on some... commission he has or whatever...

but does he really though?

"dude, since day 1, are you still gonna mess this right up?"

the voice behind him pulls him out of his trance, the spunk haired man stays put in his seat, the fold of his index rubbing his bottom lips while a thumb rests on his his sharp jawline. choosing to ignore the blond waiter by his side. the waiter throws his tablecloth aside.

"hello?" he snaps his fingers at him, earning a 'tsk' from the man.

"whaddaya want? can't ya see i'm busy?"

"busy doing what? staring at them from this corner of the bar? i know that look of yours, i saw what happened last time-"

"and what? what makes you think i stand a chance with them, best believe 'm gonna look after them from far away. they don't needa see me here, they don't gotta see me at all."

the waiter groans, as if the man in front of him is being blind or feigning ignorance to escape falling in love, to just... dwell in his insecurities. "bro, look at the way they look at you!"

boothill stays put, eyes blinking at your swaying form, your head shaking side to side at the music. the way you jump, throw your hands up, his mouth falls slightly ajar at the way you move. his throat runs a little dry at the way beauty could exist in many forms and at anytime, and this was one of the many times he had found beauty in you. he had found himself longing for you.

it's agonizing honestly.

both on your end and on his.

you're here swaying to the music from the speakers, mingling with other youngsters in your town, hoping that when you turn around to start talking, it'd be the one you've been looking for this whole time, the one whose clumsy way of flirting leaves you wanting more and more. the night was young and there's ample time for him to visit the diner, but... would he?

for him, he wishes he was the only one under your spotlight, the one making you laugh, oh how he loves the way your lips curl into a smile, the way your eyes twinkle.

if he was out there in the crowd with you, best believe he'll twirl and dip you down on the dancefloor and make you have the best night and dance of your whole life.

he turns his head sideways, looking at the blond. "what's with the way they look at me?"

then he turns back to observe you. maybe, just maybe, you would turn around at a certain degree and meet his yearning gaze. wondering if he can make you feel his presences by drilling holes into your skull.

"..." at this point he's defeated, he can't be bothered to explain all these lovey-dovey pre-dating crush nonsense to this sulking cowboy.

"y'kno mister, they've been looking for you every time when you're not around the diner. do i gotta explain more? do i gotta explain the 'where's boothill? have you seen him? has he visited today?'" he mocks, "ya wanna know what happened when i told them no every single time? they just left the diner- not ordering anything!"

the spunk haired man hums, now no longer focused on you, but instead, his back facing the crowd as he stares into the prepared drink before him, finger circling the rim of the glass as the complaints of the waiter goes unheard.

if what the man was saying is true, then... but... why? what made him special enough for you to promptly ask for him at every visit. and he bet it was every visit, since he's not even in the diner every day for months. so, why did he have to leave?

was it the fear of judgement?

was it fear of rejection?

or was it the fear of losing you?

so-

"so?" the waiter quirks an eyebrow, "what do you plan to do with that information-"

he can't back down now, the aftertaste of soulglad lingers the back of his mouth, he's walking, walking towards the crowd, thank god your back was facing him... otherwise he wouldn't be doing what he was doing now, otherwise he'd instantly run away again. and he does not plan to let you search for him again.

"hey." he whispers, smiling gently at the way you suck in your breath at the sight of him.

he never thought he'd feel his heart melt much more than before the moment your soft lips mellow into a smile, the twinkle of your eyes refreshing his past, yet brief memories with you.

"hi."

--;

©  2024 rindough, do not repost or plagiarize.

[the-fluff-piece]

Hello! For your event, I would like to request, please! Its a mix of the rules I guess? I got inspired by the prompts, hope that's ok!

Gifting Law a coin he did not have - sweet fluff.

Thank you!

Hello Anon,

It's always ok to get inspired by the prompts, that is a great request, I had a lot of fun with it ❤

This is part of the follower milestone event

If you like this story check out my masterlist

Here's

A coin for your thoughts

You use your alone time with Law to give him your newest find: a very rare coin with a rich history. His infodump can only be stopped with lots of kisses!

Sweet, fluffy, comforting

You found it in an antique shop - a rusty, small coin with peculiar pictures on it. One side showed a single lighthouse and a banner reading "mist island", the other showed various scientific tools engulfed by swirling tendrils of smoke - or mist?

As you looked at it the clerk gave you short information about the heritage of the coin, confirming your suspicion: the island, said to be situated in the new world, is shrouded in a mysterious mist that never lifts. Scientists from the world government tried to research it, a city was built, people moved there.

But after about 10 years, everyone on the island vanished without a trace. This coin was really, really rare. You employed all your skills to check for its authenticity, and went to great lengths to get it at a good price - eventually settling for a trade where you gave up a souvenir from your journeys in exchange.

With a big smile, you returned to the Polar Tang - what would Law say to it? Will he like it? Will he recognise it? His knowledge of the coins and their stories was vast, surely he knew more about it than the clerk.

You waited all day until it was time to retire to your shared room. Law sat down on his desk to "just read a little bit more" as he promised, but he wouldn't get the chance. You had cleaned and polished the coin until it looked brand new and the copper and silver alloy showed its beautiful colours.

Standing behind him, you looked over his shoulder - anatomy. He read the same books again and again and never got sick of them. You watched him trace the line of a muscle on the page with his finger, letting him finish following the inked picture to its end. When he was done, he looked behind and smiled at you, just breathing your name as he always did to tell you he was now there for you.

Without a word, you slipped the small trinket onto the page and prepared for his reaction. His blue eyes widened and his whole face changed to that of a little boy who just got the present of his life. He created a small frame with his thumb and index finger to hold the small coin to the light of his desk lamp.

"Mist island!" His voice was not the deep and sensual velvet you were used to. Instead, he sounded more boyish, his voice a higher pitch and with a vivid inflection of happiness.

Turning around the silvery object in his long, nimble fingers, he watched the light play around the edged lines, his thumb regularly brushing over the surface to feel the smoothness of the coin and follow the small pictures on it. He spent a long time studying the swirling mist, doubtlessly feeling every detail with his sensitive finger tips.

His mouth stood open in a silent smile as you watched him lovingly, seeing how much joy your gift brought him.

"Ah!" A short noise escaped him. "An impurity!" He pointed to the smallest imperfection in the material.

"You know this happens when the temperature changes to fast in production" he explained to you for what must the millionth time. But you didn't mind, he just loved talking about alloys and metal production. It was heralding the spill of information that was to follow.

Law pushed the chair back from the desk and collected you onto his lap, putting his arms around you so that you two were looking at the coin together. He rested his chin on your shoulder and pressed his cheek to your face. His beard tickled you as he spoke:

"The island was a scientific research centre to lift the mystery of the mist!" He explained close to your ear in his best nerd-voice, leaving a second to chuckle at his expert joke. He held up the side of the coin with the curling mist.

"Because the mist never lifted, it never even got thinner, the island was shrouded in darkness all day, all year. It was unusually thick. The lighthouse" - he turned the coin around - "was the strongest the marine ever built, but it could hardly penetrate the thick soup. Many ships broke on the perilous coast. The great marine scientist Prof Voltan tried to get to the bottom of it all and he vanished alongside his crew of scientists and all the inhabitants of the island in one night. The speculations are outlandish!" He laughed.

"There were even rumours about pre-existing structures on the island, full of unknown symbols and pictures..." his voice trailed off.

"But that's all nonsense!" He concluded, although he couldn't hide a bit of excitement in his voice. He was so adorable when he nerded about his interests. You couldn't help but to kiss his cheek and he smiled, but he didn't stop talking.

"You know they used a special tool to catch and analyse the mist" he explained, not letting your kisses down his jaw distract him. You turned around on his lap to straddle him and reach his kissable areas more easily.

He continued his lesson: "they called it the nebuloscope! It sucked in the mist" your mouth made a sucking sound as you worked on the soft skin of his neck " and the great problem was to build a container from where it couldn't..." he couldn't end the sentence, since you nibbled at the soft patch of skin on his neck that made him loose his mind without fail.

"It couldn't...i mean the couldn't...it wasnt...", he tried to continue a few more times but failed, his speech slurred into a pant.

"Babe stop that..." he panted as you mercilessly held his skin between your lips. However, you were in a good mood and stopped, for him.

He exhaled and shifted beneath you, as his little nerd brain whipped him to tell you even more of the island mystery: "the coin itself is made from ore found on the island, it's not exactly common silver and copper." You let him explain for a short while before kissing trails down his chest as you unbuttoned his shirt.

He leaned back with his brows creased and a whimper, and continued to dump all the info in his head onto you.

"The ore...had strange properties...marine...tried to harvest it...but..." the small movements you made with your hips seemed to steal the blood from his head and you opened his shirt to marvel at your boyfriend's chest. His eyes were pressed close as he struggled for control. He knew he would eventually lose but he held on bravely. He was just trying to get into iron smelting as you pressed soft kisses to his mouth, stopping the flow of words gently.

He put the coin on his desk and wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to carry you to the bed. As he laid you down and came to rest next to you, he began to repay the favour, nibbling on you ear.

"Thank you babe, I love you" he whispered into your ear and stopped talking for the night as he cuddled you happily. The rest of his speech would come tomorrow at breakfast .

__________

This one was really fun and inspiring to me. Maybe Law and y/n will find a misty island one day and have a spooky mystery adventure?

[kingofech0park]

rabendā

iwaoi (wc: 2,772)

It’s only been a week since Iwaizumi first started thinking of the color purple. And also, he’s fallen in love.

Or, alternatively: Oikawa confesses. Iwaizumi tries to forget.

-・・・・*‧͙❀‧͙*・・・・-

“I really wanna kiss you.” He whispers. His eyes are huge and brown in the dark and there are glow stars on his ceiling that he can touch, flat-palmed, flat-footed ever since he grew so tall. His cheeks are flushed dark in the night and the blush creeps into his ears, hair messy and brown like raw umber. His lips look so, so soft. His eyelashes are long and the corner of his mouth twitches shyly, a nervous tic.

It’s only been a week since Iwaizumi first started thinking of the color purple. And also, he’s fallen in love.

-・・・・*‧͙❀‧͙*・・・・-

It starts out with a soft shade of lavender. More specifically, a field of gently waving lavender in which his best friend stands, a memory grainy around the edges and soft to the touch like well-worn paper. The swaying seaside breeze threads its fingers through Oikawa’s hair, chocolate-brown and so soft. The salt-scented wind, zephyrous and delicate, should irritate him; he should turn with his face all twisted up and say, Iwa-chan, the wind is ruining my hair. He should try in vain to hold those carefully articulated strands in place, a futile attempt at holding perfection in a world that is too far out of his control just like always, but he doesn’t. Instead, Oikawa Tooru, his best friend since they still cried over missing toy trucks, turns with his smile bittersweet and wistful and aching and says like an untouchable truth: “I’m in love with you, Hajime.”

He moves entirely too slow to let fingers brush against his friend in the lavender field, his friend who has turned around to face the sky and scene and anything but Iwaizumi, who all of a sudden doesn’t remember how to hold him in this meadow. Maybe there is a rough-hewn stone all lodged up in his throat, a chrysalis jamming his windpipe and swelling to fill all the space he so desperately needs. But he does not say I love you and Tooru wanders a little farther into the sea of periwinkle.

-・・・・*‧͙❀‧͙*・・・・-

It continues with a violet that is not quite crushed between rough tan fingers and pale, slender ones so carefully trained for setting. Oikawa picks it oh-so-carefully between pinched index and thumb, and offers it up to Iwaizumi’s grunted approval with an overbright smile. 

“Do you know about Hanakotoba, Iwa-chan?” He asks. Big brown eyes shine a little brighter.

“Not a whole lot.” Hajime admits. 

“The secret language of flowers,” Tooru says wistfully. “Each blossom has a different meaning.” He tucks it behind one ear carefully, so as not to disrupt the careful curation of his hair, of his everything. Oikawa is like that. He presents himself with meticulous attention to detail, to the length of his lashes, to every centimeter of his skin. It makes him self-critical. Nothing is good enough for him. Iwaizumi always tries to soothe the hurt anyway.

“What’s this one mean?”

“The violet?” His best friend flashes the same smile that is becoming uncanny in its frequency. It’s not quite right. It’s not quite real. Iwaizumi knows these things. “It represents honesty.”

“Honesty.” Hajime echoes. 

“Yeah. Let’s go get something to eat.” Oikawa says, turning. He walks too fast, legs too stiff, gait too uncomfortable, like a confession gone unanswered.

The violet falls gently to the stones of the road, and Iwaizumi carries it tight in his fist like a promise, or maybe a secret.

-・・・・*‧͙❀‧͙*・・・・-

The next shade is a deep plum. More specifically, a fresh dark plum, round and sweet and left uneaten, sliced with the red interior all dripping in Oikawa’s unopened bento on Tuesday. His furoshiki is tied tight and patterned with little translucent purple flowers. Autumn crocuses. Delicate things.

He’s practicing another jump serve and it’s the flowers on his lunch, still untouched at 6pm, the Iwaizumi stares at uncomfortably while the setter spikes and sweats and strives for just a little more. He always knows what to do, so why do the words so suddenly vanish from his tongue where they usually sit? How can he get his best friend down from the mountain he always climbs so unreasonably? Oikawa works himself to death just like always, and Iwaizumi doesn’t remember how to stop him. So he just stares at the autumn crocuses on that unopened furoshiki until the setter tires himself out.

His form is beautiful. It decays as he wears himself thinner and thinner, sweat dripping and shining all over his skin. Muscles ripple under smooth flushed skin. But Iwaizumi knows him, knows he’s killing himself this way. There’s nothing to say. He grabs onto his arm.

“Ready to go?” Hajime asks.

His best friend is frozen in time as he stares, eyes wide and unblinking, dripping and sticky, stuck. And finally, after a moment:

“Okay.”

They walk home. Oikawa doesn’t eat, the crocus-cloth stays tied, and there’s nothing to say, not really.

-・・・・*‧͙❀‧͙*・・・・-

After this comes a brighter shade. A pink-tinged lilac like a prettier sunrise is the color of the envelope, clean-creased and bestickered with a little red heart. Ink neatly writes across the top, so different from Iwaizumi’s blocky scrawl, the name of the girl who carefully pressed the lilac thing into Oikawa’s palms during lunch on a Friday: Yamasaki Chiyo.

It’s one of many confessional letters given to his best friend, but this one feels different. Tooru doesn’t thank her like he usually does for these, with a gentle arīgato that gives away no clear rejection but rings apologetic in every syllable. This time, he takes it with a much sharper smile that cracks across his face, the kind of smile Iwaizumi isn’t used to seeing him give girls, and he brushes aside a piece of his hair just for it to fall back in his brown eyes the same way it always does.

“Oikawa-san.” She says. Yamasaki Chiyo is pretty. Too pretty. It’s uncomfortable. Her hair is short and dark and looks so shiny, so smooth as it floats around her chin. It reminds Hajime immediately of Tooru’s hair, soft in his hands as he runs fingers through it, messing it up, and all of a sudden he remembers lavender fields and light breeze running through that same silken brown and feels a little sick. She takes a shaky breath. “Oikawa-san, I was wondering if you’d like to see a movie with me on Saturday.”

His best friend’s face is unreadable. And then: “Yamasaki Chiyo-chan, wasn’t it?” He flashes a white-toothed grin. “I’d love to.” Why is it that this feels so uncomfortable, so wrong? What about this confession makes Iwaizumi want to reach out and shake Yamasaki’s pretty shoulders until she never wants to approach either of them again, when the myriad of love letters have never bothered him before? It itches, painful, discomfort– and he can’t quite place it.

There’s another confession, one left unanswered, that hangs in the air heavy between them. It has sat there, thick and wild and terrifying, for quite some time. But all of a sudden, Hajime is unsure if it remains. All at once, the empty space of that once-weighty presence is the worst thing in the world.

-・・・・*‧͙❀‧͙*・・・・-

Oikawa is calling her Yami-chan by Tuesday, and she’s accompanied by the purple of a morning glory.

It’s tucked behind her ear and stands out indigo against the glossy black of her hair. Oikawa puts it there, fingers brushing against her cheek. She flushes beneath his touch. Hajime remembers the last time a purple flower was tucked behind someone’s ear, but it was Tooru’s ear, a soft purple violet that wouldn’t stay.

Do you know about Hanakotoba? The secret language of flowers. Each blossom has a different meaning.

What’s this one mean?

His mind needles at it all day. He doesn’t look it up. He doesn’t want to know.

-・・・・*‧͙❀‧͙*・・・・-

Hajime is six, and Tooru is still five. But the world is painted in lilac, and the purple blossoms grow all huge in the Oikawa family’s front porch plant pots.

Volleyball is still just a game and their biggest problems are still what flavor cake Oikawa wants for his birthday or whether they’ll make friends in first grade. Hajime is six, and Tooru is still five. July is so sticky and the 20th approaches so soon. They’re growing up, hand in hand.

It’s four days before his sixth birthday that they end up at a flower garden. The two boys are holding hands, too young to know it could be bad, too old to know it means nothing at all. Tooru’s hand feels so hot in Hajime’s— he’s so aware of it. Maybe it comes with being six years old. Maybe it comes with your hand being a little bigger and a little sweaty, tan against Oikawa’s pretty pale fingers. Whatever it is, he’s the only one who seems to notice. It’s four days before his sixth birthday at the flower garden when Oikawa finds out about Hanakotoba. They wander through as the patient lady explains to their respective mothers— and the two boys by proxy— the secret language of flowers. The symbolic meanings they have, the whispered truths they ache to communicate. The delicate pink sakura represents innocence and purity. The aster symbolizes change and sympathy. And the lilac is for a first love.

It’ll disappear into a faded memory, papery edges soft and near-forgotten for Hajime. And it’ll come back almost twelve years later. But Oikawa adores it. He points out flowers along the way home and yells out their Hanakotoba the same way that Hajime recognizes beetles. Honeysuckles are for misunderstandings and hatred; Iwaizumi just thinks they’re sweet on the tongue. Clovers are for good luck and promises; Iwaizumi just thinks they’re soft beneath feet running bare. Oikawa keeps rambling on about it. And even though it irritates him a little, and even though Hajime chalks it up to a silly superstition, he listens. Every time.

Tooru plucks a delicate lilac blossom between his index and his thumb and tucks it behind his best friend’s ear. It’s too delicate, too soft behind the messy spikes of Hajime’s coarse dark hair, the soft purple flower contrasting.

“What’s this for?” He asks.

“It’s a lilac flower!” Tooru replies. He’s bouncing up and down on his scuffed red sneakers. His eyes are like milk chocolate and sparkling and eager. His little hands clench into fists. Iwaizumi relents.

“What’s the Hanakotoba?”

“LOVE!” Tooru declares. “First love! Because you’re my first and bestest friend!”

“First love?” Hajime echoes.

“Yep.” Everything about that boy is sparkling. His eyes. His smile. He shines like every star in the sky.

“We’re gonna be best friends together forever, Iwa-chan!”

“Forever.” Hajime affirms.

And like all flowers eventually do, the lilac withers and dies.

-・・・・*‧͙❀‧͙*・・・・-

Yami-chan is, for a time, the bringer of those bright Oikawa smiles that Iwaizumi used to be the sole recipient of. Yami-chan is also gone thirteen days later.

What happened? Iwaizumi asks.

It doesn’t matter, Oikawa replies. Same thing that always does.

What happened? He repeats.

His best friend does not respond. Balloon flowers bloom in the front yard.

-・・・・*‧͙❀‧͙*・・・・-

It’s been two weeks since a confession was shared and left unanswered in lavender fields, and Hajime finds his purple again in a little street corner with hyacinths planted neatly in rows. Someone’s secret garden.

I’m in love with you, Hajime. And then silence. The words hang between them like a guillotine that has yet to make the final cut. The most selfish part of Iwaizumi wants to take the memory and crumple it. Forget it happened. And more importantly, forget that moment where he didn’t say, I love you, too.

The hyacinths glow purple and too bright, distractingly so. His head hurts. The color purple has been everywhere since that day. Maybe he’s scared of it. Every time he sees it, the memory flashes across his mind; lavender fields. Maybe he’s scared of it. There’s an urge to forget that aching hungry space. Yank out those pretty purple flowers from the root and tear them into pieces, shredded petals indicative of an indigo shade well forgotten, long leaves all crushed on the ground. A distinct little part of his brain wonders what the Hanakotoba is. The thought tastes bitter, and he rolls it around on his tongue.

He’s still staring at those hyacinths, neat little rows of purple blossoms, when the drizzle begins. It soaks through his white button-down and drenches his hair. Nobody is watching. Nobody is here. He reaches out and rips through the plants, a bouquet in the making as the sweet green stems snap and split under his hungry hands, ruined petals falling loose and soft to the ground.

He clenches the flowers in a fistful as he walks, first slow and then fast and then a sprint, a thousand purple stars bowing under the increasingly heavy rain. Is there still time? To fix things that are so, so wrong? To fix a moment, left behind two weeks ago in a field full of lavender, with a different purple bouquet? With a fistful of a darker, fuller shade. With anything. With something. With an I love you that’s been burning on his tongue. That he finally knows how to say.

Google Search 9:29pm - hanakotoba hyacinth meaning

Hanakotoba is the Japanese form of the secret language of flowers. Each flower has a different meaning. The hyacinth flower (purple) most commonly means: I am sorry, sorrow; please forgive me

-・・・・*‧͙❀‧͙*・・・・-

Oikawa opens the door in the pouring rain and his eyes are wide. Hajime stands in the storm. The purple hyacinths are bending under the weight of the water. He wants to say everything. He doesn’t have to. Tooru already knows.

-・・・・*‧͙❀‧͙*・・・・-

“I really wanna kiss you.” He whispers. 

The purple blossoms sit forgotten and sopping wet on Oikawa’s desk. The walk to his room has been wordless and the I love you in Iwaizumi’s throat burns so hot and hard and horrible. The room is dark. The rain is loud. Everything is right and wrong and too much and not enough, and Hajime’s best friend’s eyes are pleading, resigned, big and brown and empty and full and everything. There are glow stars on the ceiling. Tooru is beautiful. The corner of his mouth twitches shyly, a nervous tic. He’s about to say sorry. He’s about to take it back. His lips are pink and look so soft and he’s about to say just forget I said that. The leftover bits of rain run down to meet Iwaizumi’s jaw. His neck. His chest. His heart.

Tooru is beautiful. Hajime takes his best friend’s face, cupped carefully between two rough hands, and kisses him.

“I love you.” He says, and this time he is sure.

-・・・・*‧͙❀‧͙*・・・・-

It ends with a soft shade of lavender. More specifically, a field of gently waving lavender in which his boyfriend stands, a moment fresh and crisp around the edges; clean and true. The swaying seaside breeze threads its fingers through Oikawa’s hair, chocolate-brown and so soft. The salt-scented wind, zephyrous and delicate, irritates him; he turns with his face all twisted up and says, “Iwa-chan. The wind is ruining my hair.” He tries in vain to hold those carefully articulated strands in place, a futile attempt at holding perfection in a world that is too far out of his control just like always. 

“I know.” Hajime says. “I’m in love with you, you know.”

“Are you?” Tooru says. Teasing. “And here we are in a lavender field.” He waits a second. A few beats pass. Hajime relents with a groan.

“What’s the Hanakotoba?”

“I am SO glad you asked, Iwa-chan.” His boy is sparkling. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t believe in this secret language of flowers shit. His beautiful star is shining. “Lavender tends to mean faithfulness. And everlasting devotion.” Brown hair whips in the wind. Tooru winks.

“Everlasting devotion, huh.” Iwaizumi muses. Picks a blossom and tucks it behind his lovers’ ear.

“Yeah. Eternity, even. Forever.” His boyfriend smirks.

“Forever.” Hajime affirms.

They walk out of the lavender fields slowly. The sky is big and blue and huge and the breeze carries their laughter. Tan fingers wrap around pale ones, so slim and cool. Hands tangled. Hearts tangled. The blossom falls from behind his ear and onto the ground, and there are seeds in it; seeds that will grow into new flowers by spring.

It’s been awhile since Iwaizumi first started thinking of the color purple. And, he’s in love.

-・・・・*‧͙❀‧͙*・・・・-

I hope you enjoyed this fic! I wrote it rapid-fire in the span of like 4 hrs so I hope it flows okay and does the story I was hoping to tell some justice. This one was totally self indulgent so its def not my best work but I had fun writing it :)

Some relevant Hanakotoba meanings: ❀ Lavender: Devotion and faithfulness, but can also mean silence and distrust ❀ Violet: Honesty, Sincerity ❀ Autumn Crocus: Beware of excess, do not abuse ❀ Morning Glory: Temporary love ❀ Lilac: first love ❀ Balloon Flower: Endless love, honesty; the return of a friend is desired ❀ Hyacinth: I’m sorry, please forgive me

Rabendā (ラベンダー) is the Japanese word for "lavender" :)

[konigbabe]

PAYMENT

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader Word count: 1.1k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; p-in-v sex; unprotected sex; female gendered anatomy; light sadism, rough(ish) sex; implied cunnilingus Summary: You wanted Toji Fushiguro to tattoo you. Now's the time to pay for his services. Part of my JJKS2 writing week.

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All you originally wanted was just the tattoo. Something simple, easily hideable. Toji made it clear he wasn’t an exceptional artist–

("You have a tattoo gun?"

Intrigued by the sight of the compact, gleaming device in your hand, a mix of curiosity and surprise, you held it up to Toji’s apathetic face. His eyes met yours as he let out a nonchalant hum in response, "tried to make some quick cash."

"So you got a medical license," amused, you chuckled, "seems like a lot of work for someone like you."

He only shrugged, lounging on the couch with a careless demeanor, "Not exactly."

Now that made more sense.

"Ah, I see. You were an illegal tattoo artist, huh," you deduced, taking a step closer to him and placing the gun on the crackled, stained coffee table between you two, "can you tattoo me?"

The request lingered in the air as you stayed bent over the low table, both hands firmly on its surface; eyes staring right into the leaden depths of his own.)

–now; your skin’s burning. The wound on your hip bone stings; still fresh, open. Ink the shade of the night sky, lines swirling around the skin in an alluring pattern, painting a vivid image. The plastic wrap barely clings to your sweating flesh.

You can’t complain though. Not with the way Toji’s hips snap against yours; when he’s rutting into you with a fervor that hasn’t been in him since the day he’d first met you. Not with the way he holds you, his arms caging your aching, squirming body on the table. A hand grasping the soft side of yours, dangerously close to the new tattoo.

Thighs flexing, shifting; you feel the sticky mess of your juices coat his cock. Heels digging into the apex of his ass, the muscles constricting underneath your own. Taut. Years of hard work shaping his body to unholy perfection.

With each thrust, it feels as if the tip of his cock breaches the opening of your womb.

Painful. Sometimes, even.

But that doesn’t stop you; you welcome it.

"Ah–Toji–f–fuck…"

It earns you a grunt. Sound so guttural, emerging from the depths of his chest. His fingers burn as his thumb digs into the foil, unwittingly digging into the covered cut.

"It hurts," you whine when his nails poke at the onyx lines, "Toji–oh-don–don’t stop–"

And he doesn’t. He can’t stop, not with the sounds that are coming out of your mouth. The squeaks, moans and the loud keens. They’re all like petals dropping from a flower. And he’s just there, in the middle, watching them all fall.

Body writhing, spasming underneath his calloused hands; with his cock ferociously pounding into you, shamelessly chasing his own high…it amuses him. You amuse him.

"Huh–"

It’s almost maniacal; the way he feels entertained, enthralled by your body’s response to such simple human desire. Savoring the eagerness and zeal with which your body responds o him.

The hand that’s been grinding against the sore area of your hip bone moves. Toji putting pressure against the natural curve of your clavicle and pushing. The back of your head meets the hard surface of the kitchen island as his face hovers over yours. Your eyes fixate on the tip of his tongue, poking from his lips, still glistening with your juices from moments ago–it takes your attention from his other hand.

Which, in the meantime, moves from the table to your aching nub but instead of putting pressure, toying with it, Toji pinches it before rolling the bud between his thumb and index finger, eliciting a surprised, yet pleasured gasp from your lips.

"You a sadistic one, ain’t ya?"

He grins, dark eyes shining with mischief and desire. Breath hot against your ear, he whispers, voice like smoldering embers beneath a velvet cloak, "you like that? The pain. Want more?"

You can’t answer; mind a complete standstill. Every thought, every word he says seems to slip through the cracks and vanish into the darkness. But Toji wants an answer, and he isn’t one to take silence for it. With a quick tilt of his hips, he takes you up higher, makes you feel every movement, every ridge of his body against yours.

Tongue darting out, lips latched onto the side of your neck, his teeth sink into the heated flesh. Not enough to draw blood but still enough to leave his mark.

"Yes, more–ple–please."

Your hand grasps his hair. Feeling the silken strands flow between your fingers; you tug.

He growls against your skin, the vibrations setting your body on fire. Fingernails digging into the delicate skin of your body, hands kneading the flesh as his lips trail up to your ear, breath tickling your neck.

"Say it again," he whispers, voice low and gravelly.

"More, please."

He doesn’t stop; not until every breath you take sounds like a moan. Until you have no coherent words left in you.

Until you’re nothing but a trembling mess in his arms.

Your body arcs, fingertips reaching out; seeking each contour of his tight abdomen. That’s all the warning he gets.

Like a flood. You feel it wash over you; the heat coiling and burning. The moment stretches on like an elastic band–

Intensity guilds. Sticky warmth fills you. Toji’s relentless thrusting only grows in speed, hands gripping underneath your knees, opening your legs more. His pelvis meets yours; his thrusts limit you to sharp, noisy exhalations.

–until it snaps.

Like the petals had fallen, you fall. Limbs weak, you feel yourself go limp.

Fucked dumb.

But Toji isn’t done with you yet. You’re the one who started it, you don’t get to tap out so quickly, so easily.

"I ain’t through with ya, pup."

(Laying back on the cool surface of the kitchen island, body supported by your elbows, you looked down. Toji pulled back, petting the sore tattooed spot now wrapped in plastic.

You actually liked his work.

"So," you speak up, drawing his gaze at you with apathetic eyes, "what’s the payment?")

His hands sneak around your body – one lying flat against your nape, bringing your head up towards his flushed yet grinning face, body following suit as he makes you sit back up. His lips curl into a smirk, "get ready, next round’s gonna be rough."

And it is. The next few rounds, actually.

It’s brutal. Raw. Toji holds you down, his body over yours. You can feel him, grinding into you; his cock, pulsing with desire. A need to claim you. A need to feel you beneath him, to taste your sweat, your cries.