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flickering-chandelier · 5 months

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You Drew Stars Around My Scars

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel and Reader meet one day and the connection is instantaneous. Azriel becomes worried though, when Reader starts showing up late to their dates more consistently. When the truth comes out, they need to figure out how to keep moving forward.

Based on this request! Thank you for sending it in, I hope you like it! 🩷

Word Count: 3.8k

The market was bustling today and Azriel cringed slightly, pulling his wings in even tighter behind him. He had no idea why Amren had insisted that he be the one to pick up the items she needed for her new project. Perhaps because she knew that he would be the least likely to complain.

He was approaching the stall that carried what Amren needed when his gaze snagged on someone at a neighboring one and he stopped dead in his tracks, causing the people around him to curse and move around him, irritated.

Azriel barely heard it though, his attention fully on you. You had a simple dress on, but it accentuated your curves beautifully, your hair was loose, falling down your back in ringlets. The way you moved was graceful as you picked up an item to inspect.

But your smile as you talked to the owner of the stall, the way it lit up your face with such kindness… that is what made Azriel’s knees feel like they were about to give out.

He longed to approach you, but by the time that he had come to his senses enough to start moving, you too had moved, working your way through the market. It was so crowded that he lost track of you.

Crestfallen, he went back to the stall and got the supplies for Amren.

---

Days later, Azriel still could not get you out of his mind. That damn smile haunted his dreams and his every waking moment.

So much so, that at the earliest opportunity, he went back to the market, his eyes raking the crowd for any sign of you. He seriously contemplated flying up to a rooftop for a better angle, but that would probably be frowned upon.

He perused the market, feeling a bit foolish. The Night Court’s spymaster, reduced to wandering around the market on his day off like a lost puppy in hopes of finding a woman he didn’t even know.

His spirits lifted dramatically though, when he saw you. You were perusing a stall, inspecting a jar with a shiny liquid inside.

Azriel didn’t let himself hesitate this time, dodging people milling about as he strode for you. Eventually, he appeared at your side, and you looked up at him, so surprised to suddenly see a large, looming male next to you, that you dropped the jar that you were holding.

Smoothly, he caught it before it hit the ground and offered it to you. Your eyes sparked with recognition as you studied him: the wings, the Illyrian clothing, the shadows twirling around his biceps.

Your fingers brushed his as you took the jar back from him and you murmured, “Thank you.”

He nodded, offering you a faint smile, not sure what to say. He hadn’t thought this far ahead.

“You’re the High Lord’s shadowsinger,” you said, looking up at him, sounding a little breathless.

“I am. But most people just call me Azriel,” he said, a note of humor edging his voice.

That smile you had offered the others before was now turned on him, and he felt as if the ground was swaying underneath him. You offered him your name, before saying, “I feel a bit like I’m meeting a celebrity.”

Azriel could feel slight heat in his cheeks, and tried to maintain the neutral expression he nearly always wore. He waved his hand dismissively, “Trust me, I’m not. Cassian is more of the celebrity. I mostly blend into the shadows.”

You tilted your head, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, studying the hard line of his jaw, his hazel eyes, the curve of his mouth. “That’s a shame,” you said, a little wistfully.

Azriel’s heart was thundering now. “Do you want to get dinner?”

Your smile widened. “I think I can make that happen. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he agreed.

You picked the restaurant and the time, and just like that, Azriel had a date.

---

The date was, in his opinion, nothing short of amazing.

He had arrived a bit early to dinner, and you waltzed up to the restaurant exactly on time, looking like a vision. Part of your hair was braided around your head like a crown, but part was still flowing down over your shoulders, curled. Your dress hugged the curve of your waist, the hem landing midway down your shin, perfect for the summer.

You beamed as you approached him, and Azriel had to concentrate to keep his breathing steady. The two of you were seated outside, watching the sun set over the river.

The conversation was easy. You kept it light and playful, grazing your hand against his bicep every once in a while when you laughed, the sound bright and beautiful.

Flirting, he realized. You were flirting with him. Laughing with him. Making him laugh.

Mother, when was the last time he had felt like this?

Had he ever felt like this?

After dinner ended, you stood up and gently took his hand in yours, tugging lightly so he stood up too, towering over you. “Do you want to take a walk?” you asked, your eyes sparkling under the stars that were out by then.

“Lead the way,” he said, one side of his mouth turning up into a smile.

You led him to the artists’ quarter, the lights vibrant against the night. He watched as your eyes lit up at the site, marveling at all the artwork, the people milling about.

“Oh, look!” you exclaimed, excitedly pulling him to a painting of the mountains surrounding Velaris. “It’s beautiful,” you told the painter, who nodded in thanks, smiling.

Azriel couldn’t help but stare as you took in the painting, your eyes alight.

“Are you a painter?” he asked.

“I try to be,” you grinned at him. “I’m not very good.”

Before he could respond, another painting caught your eye and you gasped, tugging on his hand, leading him through the crowd. Azriel laughed, and you turned back to smile at him, your whole face lighting up. His heart swelled.

On and on you went, his lifeboat pulling him through the sea of artists. He could have gone on like that forever, he thought.

You were about to pull him to another painting when you suddenly turned to him, flushed. “I’m sorry,” you said. “I’ve gotten carried away, haven’t I?”

Azriel shook his head, smiling. “Not at all.”

You smiled, seeming shy all of a sudden. “It’s late,” you said. “I should probably head back.”

“Can I walk you home?”

Your smile grew and you nodded your head for him to follow. Your arms brushed as you walked, taking in the night air.

It was a short walk to your house, and you stopped before the door and smiled up at him. “Thank you, Azriel. Tonight was… amazing.”

Azriel couldn’t help but smile back at you. “It was.”

You stood on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek lightly before turning to the door, and Azriel said your name, stopping you before you could open it. “Can I see you again?”

You beamed. “Meet me by the Rainbow in two days?”

Smirking, Azriel said, “Absolutely.”

---

Azriel could hardly focus on anything else while he waited to see you again. His friends absolutely knew something was up with him, but did not pester him about it. Yet.

Two days after the initial date, Azriel was waiting in the Rainbow, where you had told him you wanted to meet.

He waited. And waited.

Trying to stomp down his growing anxiety that you wouldn’t show, he gazed at the art around him. You had been right on time to your first date. Had you changed your mind about him?

He was about to walk through the artists’ quarter, wondering if he had not remembered correctly where you wanted to meet, when you finally arrived, your cheeks flushed, but you looked beautiful as ever.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, a little breathless. “Something came up -- it’s hard to explain. I swear I tried to be on time.”

Azriel was just glad that you had come. “It’s alright,” he smiled reassuringly.

Your eyes twinkled under the stars, relieved. “Thank you.”

His smile widened and he lightly squeezed your upper arm, trying to soothe you.

You smiled slowly and arched an eyebrow, mischief written all over your face. “So, I had an idea.”

“I’d love to hear it.”

Laughing, you said, “Let’s go dancing.”

Azriel’s smile dropped. You laughed even more. “Dancing,” he repeated.

“Dancing,” you grinned.

“I can’t dance.”

“Oh, please. Everyone can dance.”

“Not me,” Azriel said, smiling despite himself.

“Please,” she murmured, taking a step closer to him and looking up at him from under her lashes. “For me?”

Azriel sighed, raking a hand through his hair. You knew you already had him wrapped around his little finger. “Fine.”

You squealed with delight, taking his hand in yours and walking in the direction of the Velaris night clubs. Azriel tried to focus on the positives: your soft hand in his, how happy you were, how your hair bounced as you walked.

By the time you got to the nightclub, Azriel’s felt like his heart was in his throat. He really did not dance.

But you strode right in, glancing back at him with the biggest smile on your face. You led him right into the middle of the crowd of people pulsing with the music.

He stood still and watched as you moved your hips, your arms up above your head, twirling around like you didn’t have a care in the world. I could easily fall in love with this woman, he thought. Easily.

You turned back to him and laughed brightly, placing your hands on his hips, trying to make them move. He didn’t budge, which made you laugh even more. “Come on, shadowsinger. Live a little!”

He wanted to, if only to make you happy, but he couldn’t focus on anything but your hands on him and that smile that knocked the breath out of his lungs.

Studying him for a moment, you said over the music, “Okay, I see we need to try a different tactic,” you said, taking his hand in yours and leading him to the edge of the dance floor, where it was less crowded.

You stepped right up to him then, so your bodies were barely an inch away. You took both of his hands and settled them on your hips, then placed your hands on his shoulders.

“Don’t think so much, just move,” you said, your voice light and teasing.

He towered over you, watching as you moved your hips, lightly pushing and pulling on his shoulders so he would move with you. It took nearly a full song, but eventually his body relaxed, letting himself be guided by you.

“There you go,” you grinned.

Suddenly, the song slowed significantly, and you looked up at him, becoming slightly shy again.

He gazed down at you, smiling faintly as he pulled you in closer to him, keeping one hand at your waist and taking one of your hands in his.

Azriel swore he saw your breath catch as you studied his face, eyes slightly wide. Azriel tightened his grip on you slightly when your eyes dipped to his mouth and lingered there.

Holding his breath, he leaned in slowly, stopping a breath away from your lips, giving you a moment to back up if you wanted to. But, you surged forward, connecting your mouth with his.

He smiled into the kiss, bringing a scarred hand up to gently cup your cheek.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss, and as the music swelled to a crescendo, he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, lifting you off the ground. You gasped into his mouth, bending your knees as he held you in the air.

Gently, he set you down a few moments later, and when he pulled back, you were smiling, your cheeks dusted red.

“That might have been the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me,” you said, your tone teasing, but your eyes alight.

“Me too,” Azriel murmured, unable to tear his gaze away from your beautiful face.

The two of you spent hours together, and Azriel found himself unable to keep his hands off you. You seemed the same way, always placing a hand on his arm, on his shoulder, while he rested his hand on your hips, the small of your back, or held your hand in his.

For hours, he watched you dance, and willed his body to move with you, only because your eyes shined, your smile bright, when he did so.

At the end of the night, he walked you home once again, this time pulling you in by the waist and kissing you until you were breathless, twining his hand into your soft hair, your hands on his face.

---

Weeks passed, and the two of you kept meeting as often as your schedules would allow.

Azriel would have been on cloud nine… except that he was starting to have his doubts. When the two of you were together, it was amazing, a connection and energy that he had never felt with anybody before. In the privacy of his own mind, he was even willing to concede that he had absolutely fallen for you.

But he couldn’t pretend that everything was perfect. You had been late to nearly every date. He would always be unnerved waiting for you, thinking that this would be the time that you would leave him hanging, never to be heard from again. But then, you would come, always breathless, like you had rushed to get there, and would apologize profusely, but never giving an explanation. Azriel couldn’t help but wonder if you were not as interested in him as he was in you.

He considered talking to Cassian or Rhys about it, but had a suspicion that they would not be very helpful.

So eventually, he decided just to talk to you about it. He didn’t want you to feel like you had to keep seeing him if you didn’t want to.

There was clearly movement in your house as he approached. He took a deep breath before knocking.

Your eyes were wide in surprise, but not unhappy, when you opened the door. “Azriel,” you smiled. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said, quietly.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before anything could come out, a little boy, a toddler came running to the door, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw Azriel hulking in the doorway.

The boy gaped at Azriel, his mouth hanging open in shock, before turning to you, “Mom! That’s the shadowsinger!” he squealed, running up to said shadowsinger and wrapping his tiny arms around Azriel’s legs, his head not even meeting Azriel’s knees. The boy looked up at Azriel in awe, “you are so cool.”

Azriel’s head spun, trying to process the information in front of him, but he couldn’t focus over the feeling of his heart absolutely melting as he gazed at this boy, full of such joy. He patted the boy’s back, smiling. “You think so?”

He nodded vigorously, his curly hair that matched his mother’s flicking over his eyes. “I wish I could be a spy.”

Azriel grinned. “I can teach you, if your mom says it’s okay.”

The boy gasped, and Azriel looked at you for the first time since your son had made himself known. You looked like you were about to cry, your hands clasped in front of you. He couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not.

“Honey, why don’t you go play for a little bit?” you said, your voice slightly shaky, steering your son into the other room. “Mom has to talk to Mr. Shadowsinger about grownup stuff for a little bit.”

He pouted a bit, but did as he was told, reluctantly untangling himself from Azriel and toddling into the next room.

You sighed when you were alone with Azriel, searching his face.

“This is why you’ve been late,” Azriel said, his voice thick with emotion.

You nodded. “I’m sorry.”

Azriel took your hand in his, trying to ground himself. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Your eyes filled with tears, and Azriel’s heart cracked. “Most males aren’t interested in raising someone else’s kid. And I liked you… I was too scared to lose you.”

There was no breath in Azriel’s lungs. He ached for you, for what you had no doubt been through with other males who you tried to date. He wanted to rip them to shreds. Slowly, he leaned down, gently kissing each tear away.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly, leaning his forehead against yours. “Not unless you want me to.”

You sniffed, looking up at him through damp lashes. “I don’t want you to.”

Azriel smiled softly. “Good,” he murmured, pulling you into his chest, resting his chin on the top of your head.

You stayed like that for a while, holding each other, before he asked, “What’s his name?”

“Jax.”

“Do you think Jax has it in him to be a spymaster?”

You laughed against his chest, and Azriel smiled into your hair. “I think he can be whatever he wants to be.”

He pulled back to look at you, tilting his face down to meet your eye. “Do you want me in his life? If it’s too soon, that’s okay. But I would love to get to know him, eventually.”

That beautiful smile shone on your face as you said, “I would love that.”

For the rest of the afternoon, Azriel taught Jax how to be a spy. They ran around the house, ducking behind furniture, following invisible enemies.

Azriel glanced at you periodically, reveling in the bright smile on your face, your eyes shining.

---

Jax became an important fixture in Azriel’s life, often accompanying your dates around Velaris. One day, Azriel had recruited Feyre to help get you all into a painting class for all ages.

You grinned as Azriel led you and Jax into the studio set up with paints and easels. There were a few other families there, setting up their work stations.

“Azriel, will you make a painting with me?” Jax asked, his green eyes wide as he looked up at Az.

“Are you sure you don’t want to make your own?” Azriel asked.

Jax nodded. “I’m sure,” he said, taking Azriel’s hand and leading him to the paint station to pick out colors. Jax chose color after color, handing them all to Azriel, who was grinning, trying to keep hold of all the paints.

You beamed, your heart full as you watched your son and Azriel together, laughing as they painted together. The easel was set up for Jax to reach it, so Az was sitting on the floor in order to reach it whenever Jax demanded that he contribute to their painting.

Azriel was smiling and laughing with the boy, adding in elementary looking trees and bushes wherever Jax instructed him.

By the end, they had a painting that looked very much like a toddler made it. It was nearly impossible to tell who had painted what: Jax or Azriel.

You laughed as Azriel showed it off to you with a flourish, Jax excitedly bouncing on his toes. “Mom, can we hang this up at home?”

“Of course we can,” you grinned, your heart swelling at Azriel’s soft, loving smile.

Azriel came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder to look at your painting while Jax was busy admiring his own painting.

“I thought you said you weren’t very good,” Azriel murmured, his heart swelling as he took in the painting that you had created.

It was of that day, of Azriel and Jax painting together. Jax happily paints while Azriel sits on the floor, grinning at him, holding the palette of paint up for Jax to use.

“Do you like it?” you said quietly.

“I love it,” he said, nuzzling your neck. “I love you.”

He felt you stiffen beneath his fingers and froze. He had just realized that was the first time he had told you.

You twisted in his arms, turning to face him, your eyes shining. “I love you too, Az.”

Azriel’s knees nearly buckled with relief. He gave you a quick, sweet kiss, wishing he wasn’t in public.

---

By Starfall, the three of you were really starting to feel like a family, and Azriel had never been happier. Cassian and Rhys teased him about it relentlessly, but he knew it was because they were happy for their brother who had finally found happiness like they had.

Azriel kept by your side, his hand on the small of your back as you navigated the crowded balcony on the House of Wind, Jax holding onto your hand.

The three of you had spent the beginning of the celebration with the rest of Azriel’s family, and even though they had met before, Jax remained completely enamored with Feyre, Rhysand and Cassian, asking them a million questions about being the High Lady, High Lord, and the commander of armies, respectfully. The three just laughed, going along with it until Azriel deemed it was time to give his brothers and his High Lady a break.

The three of you stood together, holding hands, looking to the sky as the music started and the spirits started to move across the sky, slowly at first, and then thousands of them, shooting across the world like shooting stars.

Jax watched awestruck for a few minutes before he noticed that there were children playing a game on the far side of the balcony, and he looked to you excitedly, running over to them after you had nodded.

“Stay where we can see you!” Azriel called after him.

You turned to Azriel, hugging his waist, gazing up into his eyes lovingly.

“What?” Azriel smiled, sliding his hand down your back, making you shiver.

“I’ve just never been this happy,” you murmured.

“I haven’t either,” Azriel said softly, leaning down to kiss you.

Azriel pulled your body into his then, leading you into a slow, romantic dance underneath the falling stars.

“Happy Starfall,” he said, gazing down at you with all the love in the world.

“Happy Starfall, Az,” you said.

#acotar one shot #acotar fic #acotar x reader #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel fluff #azriel one shot #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #request

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lokisgoodgirl · 10 months

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My Girl [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: [Oneshot] Literally just smut. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Avenger!Loki. Language. (Slightly) Possessive Loki. Loki tying his hair up during sex. (w/c 1.8k)

Loki surfaces from between your legs, strands of loose hair grazing against the delicate skin.

Your eyes are sealed from pure pleasure, the feeling of his wet lips working up one trembling thigh making you mewl his name in broken breaths. Five? Seven? You’d lost count.

He chuckles quietly to himself.

His fingers dance down your hips where they were hooked beneath your legs, a final biting kiss signalling the understated finale of his favourite repertoire.

“How tempting it is," he rumbles softly, " to see if you can take one more."

You open your eyes, lessening the punishing grip on his forearm.

Loki’s hair is a mess, mussed and wild from your fingers tangling through its lengths. It surrounds his angular features with the lustre of a Raphaelite halo, blended back into the darkness.

The glow of fairy-lights draped around your bedposts illuminate the glint in his eyes. Dark shadows caress the carve of his cheekbones as he sits back on his haunches, stroking himself leisurely.

He’s always hard when he pleasures you. However long it lasts.

As tempting as it is to watch him work, you find yourself rising; leaning forwards to catch him in a hungry kiss. “I need you,” you pant into his open mouth, fingers finding their way to the fist snug around the base of his cock.

Loki pauses, smouldering down. Your legs are spread open, bent at the knee. He kneels between them, the muscled expanse of his torso rising like rock from the sea.

All you want is him. All of him, always.

“Need me?” he purrs, feigned incredulity followed by a slow tut. “I must do better if my girl is still not satisfied.”

You place a loving slap on his shoulder.

The god bites his lip, gaze dropping to your breasts while his palms slide up your waist. They cup your curves, thumbs toying with your nipples as he pushes you lightly back to the pillow.

“I need you inside me,” you specify with an air of playful sarcasm.

Loki’s dimples flash while your eyes drop to his manhood, thick and hard and ready to fuck you.

“See what you do to me?” he says with a squeeze of his hand around the tip of his cock.

A pearl of pre-cum sparkles. The guttural sound which rumbles in his throat makes you clench.

You can feel a fresh rivulet of desire descend between your folds. Slowly, you work back to his delicate smile, a ring of moisture still glistening around his mouth. It’s smeared up his cheeks. Long winds of hair cling to his jawline, sealed to your arousal on his skin. He peels one off with understated grace.

Loki rakes a hand through his hair; wild again. Waves fan out like onyx flame behind the chariot of his devastating features, each tendril like the stroke of a madman’s brush.

He releases his grip of himself, and with one purposeful pump of his powerful thighs a hand lands on the mattress by your shoulder. You raise a foot, helpless to resist a brush of it against the curve of his ass as he hovers above. The god’s other hand sinks into the bed on your left with a soft thump.

“You are perfect,” he murmurs, nose brushing down your forehead, your eye socket, before his lips fasten to your own.

You can feel the hard column of flesh between his legs press upwards against your slit. It pulses eagerly. He slides back and forth, sending sparks of pleasure zinging through your core. With every wax and wane of his all-consuming kiss, he gyrates. Ragged breaths heave in his chest with each clench of his muscular ass, the pull of his foreskin against your heat building a growl.

Delayed gratification is a drug for your god. And you, his girl, indulge him.

He breaks from your lips, a strand of saliva dangling as his forehead rests against yours.

The veil of his curls shields you in darkness, only the hot mist of his heavy pants filling the space between you. It’s all you can do not to reach down and guide his cock deep inside. Right now, it might be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. But you allow Loki the theatre of his seduction. Encourage, even.

He’s desperate for you. It shows.

And you love it.

Your fingertips comb past his temples, the flash of half-lidded eyes coming into view.

His eyebrows rise a fraction, a strangled yes from your lips all the encouragement he needs. With a shift of his hips, Loki’s eyes flutter closed as the crown of his cock squeezes inside your cunt.

A deep groan fills the air, his mouth hanging open.

A long curl drips over his parted lips, buffeting gently with every pant as your lover bottoms out.

He thrusts slowly as you buck your hips to meet him, rolling as one. Thick veins in his cock tug your delicate walls, flushed with the glorious weight of his need.

Your god’s hair swings around your face, dirty mutterings of devotion blasting the shell of your ear. That velvet voice absorbs into your soul like wine on tissue paper. Nothing feels as good as Loki’s cock. The way it massages the hidden depths of you, the pull of his pubic hair against your clit; the way that he can flick his hips that makes your eyes roll back.

The way he fills you so completely. He knows you; his girl.

Loki leans back on his knees, fingers wrapping around your hips and raising them. He slides in and out, enjoying every drag of your walls along his pulsing length. Those long digits knead down your thighs, spreading. Your chin is tilted to the ceiling, drowning in love-drunk chants of his name before Loki grunts.

His fluid thrusts slow.

You look up, frowning gently as he raises a hand to his side.

The god’s heavy smoulder hangs in the air like woodsmoke, chiselled torso towering over you; jet-black mane hanging sluttishly around the dagger of his jaw.

“Loki wha-” you slur, beginning to rise to your elbows. The will is knocked out of you with another of your lover’s glacial, mind-bending thrusts.

You fall back to the pillow with a gasp of his name.

“I simply wish to observe it, unobstructed,” he drawls stoically – only a tiny quiver in his voice betraying the heightened arousal searing through his veins. The warm glow of the fairy-lights is interrupted by a flash of green.

You squirm, clenching around Loki’s cock as a single circular hair-tie appears between the god’s thumb and forefinger.

“Observe what?” you manage to pant as you paw at his chest. Your pads catch in waves against the flex of his abdominals.

Loki casually sweeps his hair back from his shoulders.

Gripping with one hand, fingertips rake the tendrils cascading over his brow. He draws it back, winding the sex-dampened hair into a messy bun. You clench again.

The angles of his jaw slice into view, gatekeeper to the long thick of his neck. Veins strain beneath skin. The blood pumping within them pulses to the beat of his cock. He tilts his head.

“This,” he says darkly.

He slides his hands under your legs, hoisting them onto his shoulders. There’s a slurp as Loki’s tip pops from your entrance.

The sudden emptiness makes a gnawing hunger stir deep in your belly. The god’s cock presses gently against the squelch of your sex as he positions you with ease, fingertips sinking into the plump muscle of your calves.

Your eyes squeeze shut as Loki pushes inside you – so deep that you think you might break.

He pauses, and you can feel the primal weight of his stare roaming your face. You know that your skin is hot, that the backs of your thighs pressed against Loki’s chest slap with sweat and sex. You know that your face is contorted in pleasure, that he is fighting the urge to slam into his climax like the wild beast he is.

With difficulty, your eyelids open. Strands hang loose from his bun, flirting against his cheekbones; already falling free. Dark lashes fan against his cheek as he slides out your pussy with an obscene squelch. A deep frown appears on his forehead while he watches it disappear again, slowly.

So slowly.

“F-f-fuck-k,” he groans loudly.

A muscle in his jawline bobs as teeth clench, and you remind yourself with a prayer of thanks that Loki buried deep in your cunt is the most beautiful sight in the universe.

His fingers move from your calves to your wrists, drawing them above your head. Instinctually your digits curl around the cool metal bars of the bedstead. The god’s grip tightens, just for a moment.

“My girl,” he rumbles as he stares deep into your eyes. In this moment, more than any other, you are his.

Loki leans forward, his tongue demanding entrance and you melt into him. The weight of him bears down, squeezing air from your lungs as he fucks into you. Bucking your hips, Loki slips deeper. An untoned moan rips the air, his thrusts tripping as one of his hands palms your breasts.

You groan his name, sobbing the syllables as the fingers of his right hand curl tighter against your wrists.

More rogue strands of hair have fallen from his top-knot, sticking to his shoulders. One swings against his cheek, eyebrows peaked as climax threatens to overwhelm him.

“Do you w-want me to fill you, darling-” he grunts rhetorically, a whine snaking from his throat.

You yank your wrists from his grip, making Loki’s hand fly to the frame. It rattles the metal, the bed beginning to shake. “Fucking fill me, Loki” you cry so loudly the whole floor could hear. But you don’t care.

“Fill you with my...se- seed? My raw power, my n-norns, fuck-k-k,”

“-dripping out of me, down my thighs- Loki...please,”

Loki shudders, the ripples of his obliques between your legs making your vision blur.

You clench a final time around his cock, Loki’s head falling back. Dark tendrils fall with abandon from his topknot now, sticking against his brow. His whoreish slut-drunk form on full display as he releases a thundering rip of your name.

Hot cum throbs in a gush against your walls, the judder of your lover’s hips delivering a final wave of pleasure to your deepest centre.

Your calves tighten around his shoulders as Loki falls forward. His face buries in the curve of your neck, gyrating slowly as you milk him to completion.

Cum wells around your entrance, the filthy slurp complimenting the wet lap of Loki’s kiss. He purrs against your mouth as climax ebbs, lower your legs gently by his sides.

“My girl,” he hums quietly, before placing a kiss on your collarbone you already know will bruise.

“My girl.”

(thanks @glitchquake for reminding me Loki with a bun was hot AF❤️

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@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @buttercupcookies-blog @goddessofwonderland

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki x female reader #loki x reader smut #lokismut #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki x yn #loki laufeyson smut #loki odinson #loki imagine #loki fanfic #loki oneshot

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hermitbug · 2 years

Photo

painting experiment with this vaguely fantasy jrpg dragon boy

#hermit draws #original art #verdict: it's jank #i really gotta find better brush settings #this one took way too many brushstrokes to blend anything and the texture on it disappears the longer the stroke #why is drawing so hard #i just wanna vibe with fun colors #is it sad that i feel like the pants are the best-painted part of this

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mischievousmoony · 3 months

Text

𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛

⟢ rockstar!sirius black x reader ⟢ you do your boyfriends makeup before he goes on stage ⊹ 1.2k ⟢ warnings/tags: just fluff ⟢ note: inspired by luke hemmings (my beloved) because i think sometimes his wife does his makeup!

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Keep your head still,” you mutter, lifting the brush from your boyfriend’s eyelid momentarily as to not mess up your work.

Sirius’ head had dipped down again, his attention being drawn elsewhere. His hands squeeze at your waist, “I can’t help it. You look ravishing tonight, darling.”

You hook your pointer finger under his chin and bring his unabashed eyes back to yours, shaking your head disapprovingly as you do, which only makes him look even more brazen.

“Close your eyes,” you command softly as your hand slides up his face, your thumb finding its way to his cheekbone to brush off some powdery fallout.

Sirius hums in protest. “You said I didn’t have to right now.”

“Now I’m saying you do,” your voice is teasing, yet he finds it melodic.

Sirius playfully huffs but lets his eyes flutter closed, reasoning with himself that while he may not be able to see you, he can relish in your touch. The hands on your waist travel to the small of your back to ease you closer until you stand between his legs, which he presses into your sides once he has you where he wants you.

You graciously let your boyfriend move you as he pleases while you coat your eyeshadow brush in a murky blue pigment. You give it a tap on the edge of the palette to shake off any excess before returning the bristles to his eyelid. You’re going for a smokey blue look tonight, incorporating Sirius' staple component: glitter, of course.

Your pinky grazes his neck as you move to tilt his head, giving you better access to the left side of his face. You feel a content rumble from his throat below the tip of your finger.

Sirius’ large hands slowly drag up and down your back until they diverge, one going up to rest between your shoulder blades and the other stooping lower until he can grab at the back of your thigh.

You ignore the way it has your stomach in knots. Sirius is trying to distract you with the way his hand curls around your leg, his fingertips brushing gently against your inner thigh. But he's due to be on stage any minute now, so you need to finish his eyeshadow swiftly and send him on his way.

The shiver down your spine is goes ignored as you place the eyeshadow brush on the table. Your hands find either side of his jaw as you tilt his head side to side, making sure you're happy with your blending of the shades of blue.

"Done?" Sirius asks, eye still closed.

"Almost."

You find a clean, new brush— the one you like for packing on pigment— and dip it into a shimmery, blue glitter. You begin to pack it onto his lids. If you had been doing your own makeup, you would normally hold a tissue or piece of card stock under your eye to catch any specks of glitter that rained down on your cheeks. Sirius, however, likes the way the excess glitter looks, sometimes even opting to smudge extra below his eyes, dragging it nearly halfway down his cheeks.

Once finished with the glitter, you do the same as before, turning his head in your hands to inspect your work.

"Done now?" Sirius is getting fidgety. He can usually sit pretty for you, captivated by your beauty, he says. But since he had to be cheeky and force you to command that his eyes be closed, he's getting a little antsy.

"Patience," you mean to scold him, but you can never waver your tone from amusement with him.

Originally, this is the finished product that you planned. But upon seeing it, you think he needs a pop of brightness. Choosing a more precise packing brush for the job, you add a white shimmer to his inner corners.

As you pull the brush away from his face, you're instantly happy with your decision.

"Okay, open," you say warmly.

Sirius is more than happy to oblige. You're inspecting the shadow in your usual way and Sirius drinks you in. Your teeth drag over your bottom lip, and he can barely help himself from capturing it in between his own pearly whites.

Your gaze is scrutinizing, and Sirius can tell that you're not all the way happy with the look.

"What is it?" Sirius asks. Expecting something to be off, his hand travels from between your shoulder blades to the nape of your neck, playing with your hairs there the way you like in an effort to bring you comfort.

"No, it's rather lovely. It's just—" your eyes dart down to his lips and it takes a lot of restraint to not interrupt you by smashing his own against them— "I know you usually only do your eyes, but this look would be stunning with some glossy lips."

"Yeah?" Sirius is the one eyeing your lips now, "Like what you have on now?"

You're wearing a pinky, translucent gloss with flecks of glitter in it. For Sirius, you were thinking any old clear gloss would do, but the more glitter the better.

You tilt your head side to side, weighing the options.

"That could work, let me grab it out of my—"

Any restraint Sirius once had snaps, and your words are lost on your tongue when he pulls you in by your neck, capturing your lips in a fervid kiss.

You're not even caught off guard, used to being interrupted by Sirius' lips.

"You can't expect to run that pretty mouth of yours for long before I can't resist a taste," he always says.

His one hand remains on the back of your thigh, his fingertips digging into your pillow soft skin when your lips part for him, allowing his tongue entrance. He can taste the vodka cran you've been sipping, prompting a guttural sound from his throat that vibrates against your lips.

When he pulls away from you, he captures your bottom lip between his teeth like he'd been longing to, dragging them over the plump flesh slowly until your lip freely bounces back into place.

"How's that look?" Sirius asks, his voice huskier than usual.

Your eyes flick down to his lips, slightly swollen and coated in a sheen of your shiny pink gloss.

"You're a dream, baby," you say breathlessly, running a thumb around his plush lips to capture the excess gloss, "Wanna see?"

You don't wait for his answer before you're snatching up a hand mirror, ready to show off tonight's eye look.

"Stunning as always," Sirius murmurs, admiring your handiwork with quiet approval. When you weren't around, his makeup consisted of a smudge of glitter to his lids with the pad of his finger. Though, despite your willingness to teach, he'd never risk sharpening his skills, worried there would be less moments like these in the future if he did.

"That's just my canvas," you muse, smoothing your thumb against his jawline.

There's a knock on the door, jolting you out of your moment of admiration. A muffled voice calls, "You're on in five, Sirius!"

Sirius doesn't seem phased, a smirk dancing on his lips as he pushes your body close again, "I guess we have a few more minutes on our hands."

By the time has to rush to stage, you've had to hastily apply a new coat of gloss on both him and yourself, the original layer having been thoroughly kissed away.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

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lordprettyflackotara · 3 months

Text

chapter eight || hitchhiker || the proxies

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: humiliation like big time please read with discretion, degrading, rough sex, breeding kink, choking, face fucking

Masky knew time was running out.

In his hand sat a scrub brush, his fingers gripping the wood so tightly his knuckles were turning white. He knew they were running out of time. The Operator wanted you. He could see it now. He had been a blind fool to not realize it sooner. Your paranoia. Masky felt like a fool to ever even think that them being around you wouldn't cause this. He gritted his teeth as he scrubbed at your kitchen floor. They needed to do what they did best: disappear.

Toby was keeping The Operator busy, Hoodie occupied with finding Nova. They had agreed to let her live for your sake, so you would have someone while they were gone. Leaving meant one thing for certain: absolutely no traces were to be left behind that they were over there. No fingerprints, items, hairs, or any sign. Masky knew this is what they had to do. It was for your own good. They couldn't let The Operator have you. You didn't deserve this life of imprisonment. It was then your apartment door slammed open, your small figure shaking with rage. Masky's eyes widened, his expression hidden under his mask. You slammed the door behind you, reaching around to your back waistband.

You weren't proud of your decision to steal from Nova. She was your best friend. But as you clutched the metal piece in your hands, you had never felt more alive. You held out the stolen gun, aiming it at Masky's crouched figure.

"Who are you?" You asked coldly. You had never felt more explosive with emotions, your heart racing. "My name is Masky. I am a mere alter created by the Tim you know and love," Masky said flatly. You narrowed your eyes, your eyebrows furrowing. "Explain yourself," You ordered. Masky raised his hands, slowly rising to his feet. He noted you wearing his jacket even as you pointed a gun at him. "There's too much to explain, what you need to know-" Masky began, your audible scoff cutting him off. Your face was twisted in anger and betrayal, your hands beginning to visibly shake. "I don't give a shit what you think I need to know. Tell me everything. From the beginning. Leave out any details and i-i'll shoot!" You exclaimed.

Masky straightened his shoulders, eyeing you through his mask. "When you met us we had just gotten done with murdering Detective Williams, or whatever his name is. They all blend in together after a while. May I sit? We're going to be here for a while," Masky asked. He gestured to your coffee table. You frowned, cocking your gun towards the table. Masky recognized it to be a python. The same one Nova had threatened to kill Toby with. "I can listen to the story without your mockery. Detective Winston had a family. He had a community that looked up to him," You spat, venom lacing your words. Masky dug in his jean pocket, yanking out a box of cigarettes.

"They always do. He made himself a target by investigating the proxy symbol. I know Nova has showed it to you," Masky said. He was merely guessing, but your face twisting in surprise confirmed his suspicion. "The proxy symbol has been around for centuries. It was created by my maker, The Operator. An unstoppable supernatural entity that diminishes the sanity of his victims. The ones he wants to make proxies at least," Masky explained. He took out a cigarette, not bothering to offer you one. You looked like you could use one though. Your shaking was very noticeable. "When he plants the proxy symbol at a location. He has a specific target in mind. Once the target breaks down to his liking, he'll turn them into what we are. Enslaved proxies mindlessly forced to do his bidding," Masky told you. Masky knew it was highly unprobeable you'd actually pull the trigger.

But to make you feel better he took his lighter out of his pocket slowly. "However, in the modern day world, getting a proxy is a bit more tricky. Back when Hoodie and I-" He started, noticing you looking lost. He flicked the lighter, igniting the end of his stick. "Hoodie is Brian's alter. We were created due to Tim and Brian's mental corruption and faltering. We can swallow what The Operator wants. They can't," Masky clarified. He inhaled his cigarette, any protest of him smoking inside being kept to yourself. "Back to what I was saying. Back then, maybe seven years ago, people just used missing posters and if you weren't found in 48 hours, you were presumed dead. Nowadays there's cameras and more compassion," Masky rambled. He exhaled his cigarette through his mouth, a difference between him and Tim.

"Killing cops and detectives isn't our bread and butter you know. We used to just clean up corpses or crime scenes. But that symbol reaching a wider audience is lethal to life as you know it. Nova really fucked up, plastering that shit on television," Masky said in an annoyed tone. Your eyes were beginning to water, your energy spent on fighting back the tears that threatened to poor. "Why?" You asked. Masky raised his hand, as if having a gun at him was unfazing. "I'm getting there princess," Masky replied. He inhaled more of his cigarette, before quickly exhaling. The buzz gave him a decent amount of relief from stress. "When The Operator plants a symbol somewhere, he has a singular target in mind. If it gets exposed to too many people, they could suffer from his wrath too. You'd be surprised how many people are one day away from snapping. He targets the mentally weak, like Tim and Brian. The weak with deep down issues that he could exercise to his advantage," Masky said dryly.

"Don't say that!" You hissed. Masky gave you an odd look, one concealed by his mask. "Why? Because you made out with Brian? Because you shared a cigarette with Tim?" He questioned. Your tears were flooding your waterline now, blinks away from free falling. "Well listen up princess. They're the reason you're fucked," Masky barked. The tears became too much, two droplets sliding down your cheeks. "The Operator has now shown interest in you. And it's their fault. It's also mine, for not putting a bullet through your skull when I had the chance," He said coldly. Your hands were shaking, your finger trembling against the trigger. You had never shot a gun in your life. You feared if you removed your finger he would stop talking. But you also feared if you kept it there you may accidentally pull the trigger.

"And Toby?" You asked.

Masky picked up his head, "What about him?"

"How does he play into all of this? You haven't mentioned him once," You explained. Masky took another sharp inhale, the tobacco smoke circling around his lungs. "The kid was practically adopted by The Operator when he burned down his house. Tourette's, schizophrenia, and the inability to feel pain. The Operator’s perfect adopted child. Not including his homicidal tendencies," Masky told you. Your eyes widened, your heart beginning to throb painfully. "Homicidal tendencies?" You whispered. It suddenly occurred to you. Nova had been right all along. Masky pistol whipped you. He was responsible for the bullet wounds. "He cuts up the bodies?" You said, phrasing your words as more of a question. Masky nodded affirmatively. "Like no one you've seen before," He confirmed. You felt your stomach churn, nausea ensuing quickly. They were murderers, all of them.

You blinked slowly, soaking all of it in. You glanced over at your kitchen, noting a duffel bag on your counter and Masky's abandoned scrub brush on the floor. "Why were you cleaning my apartment?" You asked. Masky ran his fingers through his choppy hair. "To leave no traces of us. This is what we do. We get the job done, then we disappear," He said, the words spilling out like he didn't want to say them. You froze, his words soaking in. They were leaving? After everything that had happened? "And the duffel bag?" You questioned. Masky slowly rose from the coffee table, taking one last puff of his cigarette before tossing it into the sink.

He grabbed it, yanking open the zipper and tossing it upside down. Out spilled handfuls of hundred dollar bills. You had never seen so much hard cold cash before, your heart plummeting at the sight. “What is this supposed to be?” You gasped. Masky tossed the duffel bag aside. “A peace offering. We’re hoping you can forgive us. That’s around fifty thousand dollars. That’ll pay off your debts. Take the money and Nova and get the fuck out of town,” Masky advised. You temporarily put down the gun, feeling defeat.

“Thats what you think I want? To forget the three of you? Why did you do this to me? Use me to get to Nova? You-” You babbled, pausing when you realized you weren’t talking to Tim. You swallowed, choking on your own words. “Was it a game? To all of you? To Brian? Hood- Hoodie? Toby? Tim? You?” You questioned. Masky lifted his mask, tossing it aside. “Listen to me very carefully princess. Hoodie and I may have started off that way but you have no idea how much you’ve grown on us. How much we care about you. I mean, for fucks sake we just gave you fifty grand,” Masky said. You stomped over to him, grabbing a handful of the cash and throwing it at his chest.

“You think I give a shit about any of that? I let the three of you, five of you, what the fuck ever, into my goddamn life and not only, do you lie to me about who you are. You murder people due to a demon that you attached to me and now you’re just going to up and leave? Thats your resolution?” You exclaimed. Masky went to take a step towards you, your arm raising the gun out of instinct. “Dont fucking touch me or I swear to God i’ll shoot,” You threatened. The swelling in your chest was immense, pressure assaulting your chest.

For the first time in Masky’s existence, he felt something unfamiliar. He watched as you struggled to stay upright, your chest rising and lowering at a dramatic rate. “I don’t understand, why are you upset? This is the best course of action,” Masky said bluntly. You wiped away a few tears, your lip quivering uncontrollable. “Because I fucking care about you! About all of you!” You bellowed. Masky froze, watching your hand shake as you gripped the gun. He realized what he was feeling, his mouth running dry.

Remorse. He felt remorse.

In a swift motion Masky charged at you, one hand gripped around the python, the other backing you into the front door. His large fingers gripped around the gun, angrily tossing it to the side. “First things first princess, you ever aim a gun at me again i’m going to shoot you with it. Secondly, the next time you aim a gun at someone, maybe take the gun off of safety first,” He growled. You shook under his touch as he towered over you. “And thirdly, I care about you too,” Masky confessed softly. You stared up at him, the face of the man who you had shared a cigarette with and bought you cupcakes on a late night whim. Unsurely he brought his hand to your face.

He cupped your cheek, wiping away the remaining tears that stained your soft skin. You searched his eyes unsurely. “There isn’t shit we can do now about how we got here. But I want the best for you,” Masky told you. You put your hand on top of his, closing your eyes. “You all cant leave me. You- you can’t,” You whimpered. Masky’s gaze softened, watching tears flow freely. His thumbs couldn’t wipe them away fast enough. “You’re all I have,” You uttered. It occurred to Masky then, the situation you were truly in.

You had Nova, sure. But how long was it before she wanted a family of her own? Maybe she would keep you around, sure. But you worked a dead end job, one that clearly was not paying the bills. Your dreams were far and out of reach. You had no contact with anyone else besides them. How could he do it? How could Masky leave you here all by yourself? He always thought of himself to be stronger than this. To be stronger than Tim. He was created to be a ruthless obedient murder machine. Yet as you sobbed into his hand, he realized he may be more than that. He couldn’t allow The Operator to have you. He knew that for certain. But all he could do for now, was have you to himself.

He guided your head, using his hand to guide your chin to look at him. You swallowed, your eyes glassy as Masky pressed his lips to yours. His lips were rough, your arms wrapping themselves around his neck without a second thought. He pushed you flat against the door, his large hands roaming down your body. Briefly he bent down, reaching under your thighs. “Jump,” He grumbled against your lips. You did as commanded, the brunette lifting you like you weighed nothing at all.

Your legs wrapped around Masky’s waist out of instinct, his bulge rubbing against your clothed core. He began to slowly grind against you, the two of you groaning in each other’s mouths. Your hands found his hair, gently tugging at the roots as you meshed your lips against his. He swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, causing you to whine as you granted him access. Involuntarily you pulled him closer and closer, wanting Masky as close to you as humanly possible. “I have to warn you princess, I don’t play nice,” Masky huffed, pulling away from your lips. His cock was throbbing his jeans, each subtle movement of his hips resulting in a whine escaping your throat.

“I don’t want nice. I want you,” You whispered. Your doe eyes met his, your words only making him more flustered. “I’m not like Toby, I could seriously hurt you,” Masky repeated. You bit the inside of your cheek, your gaze flickering to his lips. “So hurt me then,” You agreed. Masky’s eyebrows raised, a devious smirk crossing his lips. “You sure you can handle it pretty girl?” He questioned. He brought his hand to your throat, squeezing the sides. You groaned as he restricted your airway, your hips rolling against his. “Holy fuck, you really are a slut,” Masky grumbled. He licked his lips, setting you down on the floor.

His hands fiddled with your sweatpants, shoving them and your panties down to the floor in a careless motion. You expected him to lead you to the couch or to drop to his knees. To do anything but what he did next. In a swift motion he picked you up by your thighs, nuzzling his face in between your thighs. Fear washed over you as he held you mid air, your back hitting the wall. You were almost touching the ceiling, your mouth running dry. “M-Masky i’m not sure-” You started to protest, Masky’s curious eyes gazing up at you. He held you as if you weighed nothing, his mouth dangerously close to your cunt.

“Something wrong princess? I thought you said you could handle it,” Masky chuckled. He straightened out his back, unfazed by holding you standing up.He had looped your legs over his shoulders, hit breath fanning over your folds. "It's just a b-bit high up here," You stuttered. Masky leaned forward, licking an agonizingly slow stripe up your folds. "I got you princess, now relax and fall apart for me," Masky purred. He brought his mouth to your clit, groaning into your folds as he devoured your pussy. Your core was aching, praying for more. His tongue wasn't enough, each flick making your body shudder. You began to relax, raking your hands through his hair as he lapped at your cunt.

Unlike Toby he was far more rough and assertive, his tongue teasing your entrance before continuing to lap any juices you produced. His grip on you was tight, your head tilting back against the wall as he held you in place. You felt the rope inside of you tighten. "Fuck Masky right fucking there! So close," You slurred. Masky took one last long lap of your cunt, before bringing you back to the floor. The tension inside of you dissolved. "W-what was that? I was so close!" You hissed. Masky grabbed a handful of your hair, dragging you over to the couch. He threw you over the arm of the couch, your ass high in the air. A sharp slap was delivered to your skin, a chill running down your spine.

"You'll take what I give you. Such a whiny little thing," Masky purred. He rubbed the skin he had slapped, admiring your flesh turning a deep red. The pain he delivered was gratifying, your core throbbing with a different desire. An ache you had never craved before. You turned around, throwing yourself to the ground. "What do we have here? A cock hungry whore?" Masky mused. You yanked at his belt, before undoing his jeans. Masky couldn't deny you, his desire for you too much to ignore any longer. You brought his cock into your mouth without a second thought, your doe eyes staring up at him. You hollowed out your cheeks, taking his cock down to the base.

"Do- Do you want me to face fuck you?" Masky asked unsurely. You nodded as best as you could with his length down your throat, the sight setting Masky's body on fire. He grabbed your hand, putting it in a neat ponytail. "Your wish is my command princess. Why don't you touch that pretty cunt of yours?" He suggested. You slithered one of your hands down to your cunt, rubbing circles around your clit as Masky moved his hips. His cock hit the back of your throat slowly, his eyes gleaming with pride as you took him in stride. You whined around his cock as your core ignited with a familiar flame. The vibrations made Masky moan your name, his grip on your hair now tightening.

"How did I ever think of leaving? Fuck!" Masky moaned. His hips began to move faster, his cock abusing your throat as it pleased. You gagged around his thick shaft, saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth. Humiliatingly it dripped down your chin, a small puddle of it forming on the floor. You circled your clit faster, gagging on Masky as he shoved himself down your throat. "Such a good slut for me. So fucking good. Fucking hell," Masky grunted. Tears flooded your waterline again, this time the sight satisfying to the brunette standing above you. He enjoyed seeing you so hungry for his cock. So desperate to get off that you'd let him throat fuck you as you played with yourself.

You could feel yourself getting close again, this time your eyes pleading as they looked at Masky. "Can I cum?" You asked, your words muffled by his shaft. Masky pulled himself out of your throat, a thick string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. "Look at you. Asking me to cum like a good girl," Masky praised. You continued to circle your clit, the brunette crouching down to your level. He grabbed your chin roughly, planting a sloppy kiss to your lips. "That's too fucking bad that you need to cum already. You're only allowed to cum on my cock," Masky spat. He grabbed a handful of your hair, pushing you towards the floor. You held your ass high in the air, whimpering as you forced yourself to disconnect your fingers from your clit.

Masky made his way behind you, pressing down on your back for a better arch. "You need to cum on a real mans dick princess. Lucky for you i'm here," Masy huffed. He slapped his tip on your drenched folds, the slightest sensation making you squirm. He pushed himself inside of you, both of you groaning in unison. "You're so lucky i'm here. If Tim was doing this he'd hold your hand. But that's not what you want. Is it?" He asked mockingly. He grabbed your wrist, pinning them behind your back as he bottomed out inside of you. "You want to be degraded and be a whore, don't you?" Masky tsked. You squeezed his shaft, then attempting to wiggle your helps so the brunette would move. "I'm not a whore!" You protested weakly. Masky grinned devilishly, pushing your head to the ground.

Your face was an inch away from your previously fallen saliva, your eyes widening. "Lick it up or I won't fuck you," Masky threatened calmly. You hesitated, his hand roughly grabbing your hair, guiding you over to the pool of saliva. "I don't think I stuttered princess," He growled. Humiliated, you stuck out your tongue, deciding to lick the saliva off of the floor. "Only whores do this kind of shit to get fucked. Guess that makes you a whore," Masky chuckled darkly. He began to move his hips, moans escaping your lips as you licked the wood below you. "You're my whore though, don't you ever forget it," Masky rambled. He snapped his hips into yours, his cock abusing your g spot with ease.

Your body shook as Masky pounded into you, his fingers gripping your waist so hard your sinful noises were a mixture of pain and pleasure. You couldn’t control the sounds you made, Masky’s cock pounding into you mercilessly. You felt the cord inside of you tighten again, Masky’s thrust alone enough to send you over the edge. “My fucking whore. C’mere,” Masky snarled. He released your wrist, grabbing you by your hair and yanking you towards him. Your back hit his back as he thrust up into you, your thighs beginning to tremble. Roughly he brought his hand to your throat, squeezing it harshly.

“Go on. I know you’re dying to cum on my cock,” Masky grunted. His breath was hot against your ear, his grip on your neck only tightening. “Just know once you do i’m going to cum deep inside of you,” Masky informed you. You whimpered, your body being forced closer and closer to the edge. “Awe you like that idea, don’t you princess? I can feel you squeezing me. You like the idea of me breeding you,” Masky snickered. It was then your vision went white, your breath shallow as you came around his cock. Your walls milked Masky as you rode out your orgasm, the brunette behind you grunting as he came inside of you.

Dazed, you felt Masky’s hand slip away from your neck. Slowly he pulled out of you, his cum dripping down your thighs and traveling onto the floor. You slumped onto the floor, Masky’s strong hands preventing you from fully falling over. “Let’s get you tucked in princess,” Masky mumbled. You allowed your eyes to flutter close, entrusting the man with a mask with take care of your limp body.

“Hey Masky?”

“Yeah?”

“You guys are staying, right?”

Masky hesitated, clearing his throat before answering, “Yes we are.”

“Can I keep the fifty grand too?”

—> next chapter

398 notes · View notes

thegnomelord · 5 months

Note

if you write a thing about the creaming the zussy i will kiss ur boots

The boots better be shining when you're done.

How To Cure Zombies 101

CW:NSFW MDNI, crackfic obv PiV sex, TLOU Clicker trans Ghost, Top Male Reader, established relationship, happy ending, dub-con because Simon consented before he got bit but reader is apprehensive, zombie sex (does it count as necro?) how does this work? idk porn logic. Don't ask me how this happened, i hope this doesn't become what my blog becomes known for.

When the Cordyceps spread across the planet and turned millions of people into shambling mushroom infested undead, the world ended.

When Simon got bitten. . . your world ended.

You still remember it like it had been yesterday; He came back bloody, an empty look in his eyes as he showed you the bite on his arm. Your hands shook as he wrapped them around the grip of the gun and aimed it at his head. You both ended up on the floor with you crying into his chest, unable to pull the trigger.

You remember the resigned look in his eyes when he had agreed to let you do whatever you needed to him to cure him, but both of you knew there was no way, what made you immune to the fungus was as mysterious to the rest of the world as it was for you. His lips had been burning hot when he laid a soft kiss on your forehead, the last sense of warmth you've felt since the docs took him to where they kept the infected for study, your heart leaving with him.

And now?

Now the scientists that have been prodding you like a lab rat since Simon got bitten nearly a year ago say they have a way to bring his mind back, to get Simon back.

And the way to do it?

"So let me get this straight?" You begin, your voice tense, your body even tenser. "You want me to fuck the corpse of my lover? And that will cure him?"

That. You're not sure how the eggheads arrived to this conclusion, frankly all of their scientific jargons had flown over your head. All you understood was that the man you had fallen since the first time you met him could be brought back.

You sincerely hope you won't make some type of super fungus through this.

Words can't describe what you feel as you look at Simon's (is it even Simon?) bound body writhing on the gyno chair, naked and bare to you. You doubt you even know what you feel, hope and fear simultaneously curling in your stomach— You hadn't had the courage to look at him ever since the scientists took him away; The harsh laboratory lights make it easy to see the mycelium filling his veins beneath the ashy pale skin, mushroom caps growing beneath his pecs and across all other scars he has. Red and yellow mushrooms have eaten away his nose and spread out to follow the contours of his face, growing in a way that makes the mushroom caps blend together into a skull shape.

Your heart aches when you see his eyes haven't been eaten away yet, the once deep brown turned milky white and staring lifelessly past you, thrashing about in the bindings, rotten teeth gnawing on the ball gag in his mouth, small hisses and malformed muffled clicks echoing through the room.

You try to look down and you stop at his stomach, forcing yourself to breathe in and out slowly because your heart is beating so fast it feels like you'll have a panic attack. You have no idea if this will work and doing this to Simon only to find out it's as useless as all your previous attempts to cure him. . . you're sure it would break you. Closing your eyes and counting to ten you will yourself to focus, your eyes opening slowly and following the trail of little mushroom caps down to his groin.

It's not what you expected., but it's. . . a lot; Mushroom caps have replaced the lips of his cunt, similar to the hard growths on his head but these look thinner and longer, almost like flower petals framing his cunt, bright red at the corners and getting progressively lighter as it nears his hole. A sort of morbid curiosity compels you to reach out brushing your fingertips against the caps. They're surprisingly softer than you had expected, smooth and slick with some kind of slime. You can't help but notice how a longer stalked mushroom grows from what had been his clit.

You jerk your hand back when a second brush of your fingers makes his body to jerk back and attempt to fight against the restraints, more angry clicks vibrating his throat.

But you also notice a kind of… sweet scent in the air and it's coming from him. Cautiously you brush against the caps again, slowly dipping your fingers under to touch the gills underneath. You keep your hand where it is when he thrashes again, but you're certain that smell is stronger now, and you catch the glimpse of clear viscous slick slowly leak from his hole.

Carefully you push a finger into his hole in an attempt to stretch him out. Logically you know that he probably doesn't feel it, but it feels wrong to just stick your cock in him; He's cold. You know he's dead but you had held out some hope that he would be warmer, that there would be some signs of life despite how stupid that sounds.

He's dry right now, but more of that clear fluid seeps around your fingers and lubes the way as you experimentally push your finger all the way up to the last knuckle, and you felt his muscles flutter around you, clenching down as if trying to draw you in deeper. His head continued to thrash around, no change in the feral behavior, but you still try to be gentle, pushing one then two fingers in and slowly scissoring him open.

You pull your fingers out when his hole has relaxed enough to let you easily slide your fingers in and out, and he's produced enough slick to completely drench your hand. You try to look at him as you press your cock against his fluttering hole, but the sight of his milky eyes almost makes you soft on the spot so you screw your eyes closed and slowly slide in.

Despite how cold and wet his cunt is, you haven't felt anyone's touch, even your own, since he got infected, and a part of you feels disgusted at how a bit of pleasure traces up your spine. He continues to hiss and click as you bottom out, his hips bucking wildly you have to press them down. You set a slower pace than you're used to, keeping your thrusts even and consistent, afraid to tear anything but your fear is seemingly misplaced. He's so much wetter than he'd ever get before he got infected, slick wetly squelching as you bottom out over and over again, clicks and snarls accompanying every move you make.

You're ashamed to say you don't last long. Fuck, is he tight you've been ignoring your body for so long that when you accidentally brush against the stalk growing from his clit and his cunt suddenly tightens up like a vice you cum on the spot, your hips doing little minute twitches as you empty so much of your cum in his cunt that your balls hurt. You pull out just as slowly, both of your mixed fluids leaking out and almost getting caught by the soft mushrooms framing his hole.

You muster up the courage to look him in the eyes, and your heart breaks when his lifeless eyes blindly stare back at you.

You feel like a fool when the first time doesn't work, he's still just a body pupated by a fungus. And you feel like an even bigger fool when you agree to do this a second time.

But the third time. . .

You don't know if it's just wishful thinking but he seems more. . . alert. His head always follows you when you approach him but now his milky eyes almost seem to be looking at your face instead of staring straight through you. He's strangely still on the chair, teeth gnawing on the ball gag but he doesn't try to get out of the restraints.

He doesn't screech when you gently caress the soft outer mushroom caps framing his cunt, instead his chest vibrates with more deep clicks. Nor does he start to wildly writhe on the chair when you slowly sink a finger into his cunt, finding it's already wet with slick. If anything he almost seems to chase(more like stumble) after the sensation, his hips doing small little movements to push your finger deeper into him.

Emboldened by childish hope you do something you hadn't before and reach with your other hand to slowly trace the long stalk of the clitshroom (not a term you coined), before rubbing the base of the cap like you would your own cock.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the gentle pressure of your fingers makes him buck into your hands and let out an ear-piercing screech that the gag has trouble muffling. You pull your hands away and that worsens the problem, the shrieking turning into literal chest rumbling snarls as Simon starts to struggle against the bindings.

Panic rushing down your system you put your hands were they were, gently stroking the 2 inch long mushroom growing from his clit. His hips buck up to chase after your hand, the snarls reverting back into shrieks, but as you stroke him longer they gradually die down to low pitched clicks and whistles. You're stumped; the clicks sound a lot like a cat's puff, his hole fluttering and clenching around your fingers as you slowly push them inside.

He's warmer now, not quite how he was before, but not cold as a corpse either. You know that you've gone completely mad by the fact he starts to gyrate his hips— grinding down just as you get knuckles deep so your fingers can brush against the sensitive spots inside him — makes your mind think that it's a bit of your Simon coming back.

You shake your head and pull your hands away, taking hold of his trembling thighs. You're greeted with another deep snarl but he quiets down immediately when you start to slowly push into him. He feels even tighter now, and you watch how his head falls back on the headrest, a long series of low clicks and whistles squirming past the gag.

His hips move to meet your slow thrusts, tight warm walls squeezing down every time you attempt to pull out just like he used to do. And that thought has your body increasing the pace automatically, your balls slapping against his ass, every sharp thrust hitting something spongy inside him and drawing out a sharp click, the rough pace leaving you panting.

Mindlessly you look up, too caught up in the moment remembering how Simon loved eye contact to remember the situation you're in.

He's looking straight at you.

You halt mid thrust, the low hiss he lets out falling on deaf ears as you tilt your head to the side. You're not insane, his eyes follow you. They're still milky, but they don't look through you. He's looking at you.

Another rough clicking sound leaves him and he thrusts his hips down against yours with enough strength to bruise, almost impatient. Despite how stupid it is you reach out and quickly unbuckle the gag with trembling fingers. "Si?" You say, unable to hide the hope in your voice. "Are you there?" You lean over him, looking hopefully into his eyes. "Do you remember me?"

His jaw moves like he's munching on a survivor, but all that leaves his mouth are more clicks and rough grunts.

Fuck. You are a fool.

A sob tears through your chest before you can stop it, ducking your head down to lay it on his chest. You're unable to keep the fresh tears from falling on him, watering the damned mushrooms that had taken him from you. You can't stop the sobs from coming, your back bowed and shoulders shaking as you cry just as much as the day you first lost him.

His chest vibrates with another long series of clicks and whistles, just pouring salt on the gaping would in your chest.

Your name rights through the room.

It's scratchy, rough, almost incomprehensible to your ears, but it's your name.

You look up so quickly you almost snap his neck. "Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. "Are you in there?" You slowly reach out to hold his face, careful not to cut your hands on the sharp mushroom caps along his cheeks.

He looks at you back, jaw moving still, but he doesn't try to bite the flesh of your palms despite your hands being right there. "Ckckck-" He clicks, pupils going from pinpricks to blown out, "Ckckrkck- Mo- ckck-ve." He manages, a thrust of his hips accompanying the order.

Your heart leaps to your throat and you can do nothing but follow it, sliding one hand down to dig your nails into his thigh, looming over him as you pull out until only the head is inside and them slam into him that there's an audible clap of skin on skin as you bottom out. A half shriek half click half "Yes!" escapes him as he throws his head back, slack jawed.

A whole range of noises escapes him as you hammer into him with all you've got, one hand remaining always on his face. You can feel him getting hotter the longer you pound into him, body shaking as each thrust nails his sensitive spot. He gets progressively tighter and tighter as you fuck into him, and you let go of his thigh to carefully strike along the long shaft of the clitshroom.

He shrieks at the top of his lungs and his cunt clenches down on you like a vice, fluttering around you and gripping your cock like it doesn't want you to pull out. It pulls you into an orgasm,

"Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. He's too silent compared to how vocal he had been a few moments ago. "Are you in there?"

His head rolls a bit, peering at you through through his lashes, tongue moving heavily in his mouth and lips twitching up into a soft of barely-there grin. "Cckck- l- ckckc- love- ckrk-you -ckkckrkckck-"

Taglist: @dead-end-stuff

#gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #male reader #top male reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x male reader #the last of us cod au #the last of us #trans character #idk how this happened #Clicker Simon Ghost Riley

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lovelookspretty · 5 days

Text

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: ermm angst. and another ending that will make u guys mad at me IM SORRY

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authors note: SRY idk how to write dramatic scenes like that ☹️ im gonna be better prepared for the next part so u guys can communicate PROPERLY w drew n not in some STUPID restaurant. anyway if u wanna be part of the tag list, let me know in replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3

your fingers trace the outline of freckles on his arm as he talks about a memory from your past. the soft murmur of his voice blends with the steady rhythm of the waves outside, each sound wrapping around you like a lullaby. there’s no clear distinction between his words, just a gentle hum of familiarity and warmth, like he’s telling you something only the two of you could ever understand.

you can feel the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the slight shiver that follows each brush as if he’s waiting for you to react, to smile at whatever joke he’s just made.

and you do. you always do.

it feels easy, like breathing, like everything else fades away in this moment.

you’re both lying there, tangled up in each other, the world outside irrelevant. his voice is like the background music of a song you never want to end, and the smile in his tone is contagious, making your heart flutter in a way that feels like home.

and in this space, you’re in love. you’re safe. there’s no distance, no secrets, no hurt—just you and him, where time doesn’t seem to exist. it feels perfect, endless, like nothing could ever come between you.

his hand finds yours, and you smile—because here, in this place, nothing else matters but the two of you.

but that’s not your life.

the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers feels too real, too perfect—yet there’s a gnawing sensation in your chest, a quiet voice whispering that this can’t be right. you pause, staring into his eyes as they flicker with life, his laughter still echoing in your ears. and then, just like that, it hits you.

“this isn’t real . . .” you murmur, the words slipping from your lips like a confession, soft and sad.

the moment shatters, and you wake up with a start, eyes blinking into the early morning light. for a second, your heart races, still tethered to that dream. but as you take in the quiet room around you, reality sinks in like a heavy weight.

drew lies next to you, sound asleep. his breathing is slow, peaceful, completely unaware of the storm brewing in your chest. his face looks calm, almost serene, and for a moment, you can’t tear your eyes away. you wish things could be this easy—simple, like they were in the dream.

if only he knew what you know.

after making that sundae with leila last night—past midnight, no less—you thought you’d be able to shake off everything that happened, but it just made you feel worse. the messages you saw on drew’s phone replayed in your mind, over and over, refusing to let you find any peace.

now it’s morning, and as you drag yourself out of bed, you already feel exhausted. your eyes are gritty, head foggy, and the sun through the windows of the house feel too bright, too warm—too much. you rub your eyes as you shuffle down the stairs, hearing the chatter of everyone gathered in the kitchen for breakfast.

everyone’s already there, looking refreshed. gia’s laughter rings out from the kitchen, and you catch leila’s voice, animated as always, chatting with theo. they’re all gathered around the kitchen island, passing plates of food around—scrambled eggs, toast, fruit. the smell of coffee hits you, and you could almost cry from how much you need it.

leila notices you first. “good morning, sleepyhead!” she greets with a wide grin. “we were wondering when you were gonna wake up. there’s plenty of food left—grab something!”

you give a tired half-smile, barely lifting your head as you mumble, “morning.” your voice sounds flat, even to yourself, and you trudge over to the counter, grabbing a cup of coffee first before anything else.

theo leans back in his chair, eyeing you. “late night?”

you nod, stifling a yawn as you pour your coffee. “something like that.”

leila doesn’t miss a beat, already steering the conversation to her plans. “so, now that we’re all here, i’ve got some exciting news,” she says, “theo booked us a reservation at this amazing restaurant in town tonight, the pearl. we’re talking grand—so dress up nice!” she claps her hands together, clearly excited about the idea.

the group is enthusiastic—gia’s already asking what she should wear, and roman’s grumbling about having to dress up, which earns him a jab from libby. you sip your coffee, trying to focus, but everything feels like it’s happening at a distance.

“y/n you okay with that? dinner?” leila asks, pulling you into the conversation.

you glance up at her, blinking through the haze. “yeah, sure,” you reply. “sounds fun.”

she narrows her eyes at you, noticing the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. “you sure? you seem a little out of it.”

you force another smile, trying to shake off the sluggish feeling. “just tired. i’ll be fine.”

gia chimes in from her seat, giggling as she steals a slice of toast. “maybe you just need more coffee.”

you nod, lifting your mug in agreement. “definitely.”

the conversation continues without you as everyone starts talking about what they’ll wear tonight, throwing out outfit ideas and making plans for the day. drew is sitting across the table, looking as refreshed as everyone else, laughing along with them. but you can’t bring yourself to look at him for long.

he catches your eye across the table. he looks at you with a soft, questioning expression, maybe sensing something’s off. you glance away before he can say anything, focusing on your coffee again, but you curse under your breath when out of the corner of your eye you can see him get up from his seat.

he slides into the chair next to you, a casual smile on his face. “started the trip off with a pool day, and now we’re heading to the pearl for dinner,” he says, glancing at the table where leila’s organized a small checklist on her notes app. “leila’s really in planning mode.”

you manage a half-hearted nod, feeling the fatigue settle deeper into your bones.

“hey,” he continues, his tone light, “you okay? you seem a little—”

you’re already over it. before he can finish, you drop your piece of toast back onto the plate, the sound cutting through the chatter around you. without another word, you push back your chair and get up, taking your coffee with you. the others’ voices fade behind you as you walk away, the tension in your chest tightening.

drew looks after you, brow furrowed, and glances at leila, who’s the only other person who even notices your behavior. confusion lines his features as he points to you while looking at her, like asking if she has any idea what’s up with you.

leila shakes her head in response, but glances up at you walking up the stairs in concern. drew seems unconvinced, but he nods, turning back to the table as you disappear upstairs. and you’re grateful for the distance, even if just for a moment.

Liked by theohain, oscareyre113, and others

y/n 🐚

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user1 divaa

user2 I MET U THE OTHER DAY YOU WERE SO NICE!!! 😭😭

↳ user3 YOU ARE SO LUCKY

user4 mother

gia.carinteri ure so cute

↳ y/n love u

leilajharmon angel baby

user5 Are you and Drew still together?

user6 y/n annual post i’m so grateful to be this early

user7 I miss Tempest :(

↳ user8 me too

user9 Why don’t you ever post Drew?

as you step into the pearl, the warm glow of the lights and the soft murmur of waves greet you. leila and theo lead the way, their laughter weaving through the air as they navigate the restaurant. you grip drew’s hand reluctantly as you follow the group.

the server guides you to a table outside, and your breath catches at the sight: the seaside view stretches out before you, waves crashing gently against the rocks. a delicate black metal arch hangs above the table, draped with twinkling lights that flicker like stars. a large, lush plant sways in the cool evening breeze, and you’re in awe.

you take your seat at the outer corner of the table, next to drew. the space feels too open, and you can feel his gaze on you as you fidget with your napkin, trying to ignore the way your stomach knots.

as the conversations flow around you, he leans in, propping his elbow on the table to speak to you privately. “what’s going on with you?” he asks, “and you can’t use the tired excuse anymore. you’ve had loads of coffee this morning.”

you glance at him, caught off guard by the directness of his question. but take a breath, searching for the right words. all you can manage is a small shrug. “i’m fine. seriously. don’t worry about it.”

you wish you could sound more convincing as the server approaches, placing a beautifully plated dish in front of you. relief washes over you; at least you can focus on the food for now.

theo suddenly clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “i just want to say how grateful i am that everyone is here to celebrate with us before i marry this beautiful woman,” he gestures to leila, who frowns as she presses a kiss to his cheek. as the table raises their glasses, you join in but feel somewhat disconnected, and shut out the rest of theo’s short speech until you’re able to eat.

as everyone digs in, gia reaches across the table, poking at her food. “y/n, do you want this?” she holds up a piece of grilled zucchini.

drew interjects before you can respond. “y/n doesn’t like zucchini,” he says casually as he cuts into his food, and you look at him with furrowed brows.

“oh, right.” gia laughs, realization hitting her. “i always mix you two up.” she turns to libby, who’s already reaching her plate across the table.

gia’s cheeks grow red as she giggles, and you continue to watch drew. your eyes meet briefly, but there’s an unspoken barrier between you, so you quickly look away, picking at your food instead.

eventually he even seems lost in thought, his gaze fixed on gia’s plate as he dazes out. roman, sitting across from you, catches on. he leans forward slightly, studying the table as if trying to read the tension, but you notice his motor.

“what are you doing?” you mouth to him.

roman raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. he glances at gia, then back at the rest of you, sensing the unspoken words hanging in the air. he knows something is up between you and drew but decides to keep quiet, because if no one else is saying anything about it, why should he?

and you understand exactly that. you roll your eyes before returning to your food.

“i could die for this garlic bread,” leila groans as she breaks a piece off and eats it. just from hearing it, theo reaches over to take a piece.

you hum as you reach your hand over, and drew grabs a piece for you when he realizes what you want. just as you sit back against your seat, a server from a nearby table accidentally brushes against you as they rushed by, a full glass of red wine slipping from their hand.

time seemed to slow as the glass tumbled, spilling its contents directly onto your lap. your mouth is gaped open and your eyes clamp shut as some of the wine bounces off and hits you directly in your face too.

the others gasp as they stare at you in horror.

“oh my g—” the server exhales, eyes wide with panic. “i am so sorry! i’m so, so sorry!”

you’re frozen for a moment, the cool liquid spreading across your dress, soaking through the fabric. you feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you, and there’s a rush of embarrassment washing over you.

“perfect,” you mutter under yourself as you try to maintain your composure. “just what i needed.”

the server continues to apologize profusely, almost stumbling over their words. “i’ll get you some napkins! please, let me help!”

“it’s fine,” you tell him, forcing a smile despite the discomfort. “just . . . give me a moment.”

as you stand up, the chair scrapes loudly against the ground, and you can feel the wine seeping down your torso. you quickly glance at drew, who looks alarmed, his fork mid-air.

“y/n,” gia calls to you, but you’re already moving toward the doors, desperate to find a restroom.

“just let her go,” roman says quietly, sensing the tension still simmering beneath the surface. gia is worried as she watches you disappear inside the building.

drew rises from his seat and tosses his napkin onto his seat, pulling his sleeves up before hurrying into the restaurant to find you. meanwhile the server is urgently trying to clean your seat but frowns at the stained floors.

just as you reach the restroom, he catches up, breathless and urgent. you feel like groaning when you feel like you just can’t catch a break. “y/n! hey, wait,” he calls out to you, sliding past a man who tries to return to his table. “sorry.”

you halt, irritation surging. “what? what, what? what do you want?” your voice is strong and sharp, turning around to face him.

he stops in front of you and winces at the stains on your clothes, and he glances up at the doors of the restrooms when he realizes you probably should clean it off your arms and chest at least.

“i know you’re upset, but—” he begins, concern lacing his words.

“upset? you think that’s all it is?” you snap back, meeting his gaze. you actually feel insane with every word you release. “you don’t understand what this feels like.”

he looks confused, searching your eyes for clarity. “what?”

taking a deep breath to calm yourself as best as you can, you continue, “do you have any idea how humiliating it is to notice everyone stop talking and feel their eyes on you? and the moment you do get up and walk past them, all you can hear are their murmurs and whispers about how— how embarrassing this all is? it’s suffocating!”

he opens his mouth to respond, but you press on, frustration spilling out. “and it’s not even just about tonight. it’s about how it feels to find out your own fake boyfriend is keeping secrets from you and has been this whole time.”

his expression freezes, shock washing over his face. “what? keeping what from you?”

you consider your choices for a second before stepping forward to reach into his back pocket, but there he reacts—as swift as ever. like he has something to hide. and he does.

he grabs a hold of his phone before you can and when you look up at him, you can feel the guilt in his eyes. but seeing that doesn’t hurt you as much as it does when you understand how fast he is to keep his phone away from you.

you take a step back and feel yourself falter. tears well in your eyes as you watch the way he grips his phone like suddenly it matters to him. it never has before. and you know why it does now.

“so you do know what i’m talking about,” your voice is quiet, a mix of betrayal in your tone that causes drew to reach out to you to say ‘wait’.

“when in the last year did you turn into a child?” you whisper to him, a faint scoff leaving your lips as you stand before him. you’re confronting him in a hallway of a restaurant for crying out loud.

“when you make a plan with your ex-girlfriend, you make sure there isn’t somebody already waiting for you back home. you don’t get close to me while we’re here and you don’t keep it from me the whole time . . . i mean, when were you going to tell me? or tell mila?”

he shakes his head slowly, “i’m getting close with you for the others, remember? that’s our plan.”

“then you shouldn’t hold me and hug me when it’s just us, drew.”

his heart drops at the sound of his name, the familiarity twisting into something more painful in this moment. “y/n—”

“no, don’t ‘y/n’ me,” you cut him off, your voice rising. “you can’t just play both sides. if you’re going to keep secrets from me, then don’t pretend like we’re something we’re not when the rules don’t apply. it’s clearly more than just showing out in front of leila and everyone when it’s just us.”

“but it’s not like that,” he insists, his eyes searching yours for understanding. “we’re trying to make this work for everyone else!”

“for everyone else? or for yourself?” you ask him. “because i swear to you, if i had known mila existed, never in this universe would i have ever agreed to the plan. because it hurts all three of us. do you understand?”

you wait for him to say something—anything, but you’re not surprised when he just stares at you with the same look in his eyes.

it’s too much. way too much. and you still have so many things to say.

are you betrayed that your ex-boyfriend has someone new? are you even able to be mad at that?

“was it worth it?” your voice cracks as you struggle to get the words out. “i keep asking myself, was it worth it to feel so alive, even if it led to this? or would it have been easier if this just never happened at all and we just told them instead of doing all of this for fucking nothing.”

as the last words escape your lips, you push the restroom door open, leaving drew in the hallway in silence.

girl .. ill make a better confrontation in the next part or something what the fuck. im compiling a whole list of his mistakes rn so i can actually be prepared for it too LMAO

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @icaqttt @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @cl4uus @ilyrafe @sunny1616 @pillowprincess4him @yootvi @matthewswifeeee @uwuemlwlrld @l4venderia @chenslucy

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risuola · 1 month

Text

ENTRY #16 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // In the midst of chaos, I will find you always.

contents: arranged marriage!au — wc. 840

series masterlist

It feels like everything happens in slow motion, the time existing within its own schemes and patterns and your heart struggles to follow the newly shaped reality as you watch with batted breath everything that's taking place around you. You're heaving, your back pressed against the stone wall in a desperate attempt to blend into it, to hide between the cold rocks and get out of here.

It's a chaos, you hear a variety of noises, the screams muffle into one prolonged melody of unknown and you try to calm down your racing heart and follow the notes of voices. You look behind the edge of the wall, assess the field, take in the damage. There are lots of defeated kids scattered around the green grass — your precious students laying there motionless and you wish to run to them, get them out of there but you know you can't. You'd endanger yourself and it's on your shoulders to win the battle.

You see a mop of pinkish hair, a blushy tone takes place in your peripheral and you turn towards him, motion for him to join your hideout, to come to safety but he's hasty. Yuji doesn't look around when he charges forward, sheepish smile stretching his mouth before it takes a shape of an 'o'. You want to scream when a deep shade of red seeps through his white t-shirt, splatters over his skin, stains his plump cheeks that you’re so used to pinch.

"Yuji!" You whisper-call him, still hopeful that maybe, just maybe he can make it to you, maybe it's not that bad, maybe it's not final. But it's too late and he smiles again as his body collapsed to the ground, red quickly dripping off of him and onto the green foliage.

"Everything's in your hands, sensei... You have to stop him–" he manages to breathe out, reaching a hand in your direction and you swallow. It's so much, it's too much. Everyone in your team seem to be down, your precious students, how could that even happen?

You wipe the bead of sweat from your temple and tighten the grip over your gun. You cannot hide forever, you have to face whatever is waiting for you around the corner even if that meant it'll be your end as well. You take a breath. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Let's go, you can do this.

You find him quickly, it's not hard when he's not hiding at all. He's threatening, a grin of feral delight stretched over his lips and you furrow your brows at the sheer sight of cockiness.

"Decided it's the end of hiding?" He taunts. "Look at all of them, defeated and on the ground. Seems like you're the last one, aren't you?"

"We left the best for last." You're calm, forcefully. It's the wisest to hide the truth.

"Oh, I don't doubt it. You surely are a dessert and I crave something sweet to cleanse my palate."

You tsk at the remark and the exchange of fire begins. You take every opportunity but it seems like he's invincible against all you have. Too quick in his movements, too precise in the way he's targeting you. You can barely escape, you feel like you're not gonna make it, but you have to try. You owe that to your team, to your students, to yourself. If you are gonna go down, it won’t be without a fight.

It takes all of you. You use your speed, your agility, your flexibility. Your shots are coming close, so close and yet too far. He’s just better, stronger. You can hear his laugh, it’s playful, arrogant. But you have him, he’s right there, in your target. You aim, your finger hovers above the trigger and then, you feel the stinging pain in your thigh. Your pointer shots the bullet and you watch it fly. Time slows down as you lose the ground below your feet; the weapon falls from your hand and you follow it closely. Your knees hit the ground first but your eyes are too fixed on him to react.

The bullet explodes right in front of him, it brushes his cheek, and he grins.

“Good job, wifey!” Satoru chirps, unbothered by the splotch of blue paint now decorating the side of his face. “I mean, you lost, but that last shot? You almost had me there,” he giggles, his towering form approaching right where you’re still kneeling. It makes you roll your eyes and let out a chuckle.

With a help of his hand, you get up to your feet. “Next time I’ll get you,” you tell him, convinced about your plan and he hums, wrapping an arm around your waist, leaning down for a quick kiss. “Alright guys, go get cleaned up,” you look around the training grounds where the kids slowly gather themselves from the grass. It sure does look colorful, after the very serious war of paintball where you along with all of the students went against your husband and failed.

taglist: @kinny-away @anan-baban @lotomber @netflix-imagines @kawliflo @nishloves @ghostfacefricker6969 @thejujvtsupost @yozora7154 @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @stuckinmoilalaland @ae-mius @ropickle @chokesonspit @lansy-4 @mo0sin @just-pure-trash @foliea @bakarinnie @big-booty-joe @fortunatelyfurrygiver @lolita-h @sweetpo1son @myahfig4 @zurakoofgintama

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into-the-grey · 10 days

Text

New Year, New Us

Best Friend!Noah Sebastian x F!Reader (18+)

Summary: You and Noah have been close forever, but who knew that new year's could make such a mess?

W.C: 6.6k

Taglist: @anything-more-than-human @blend-in-with-the-madness @rumoured-whispers @thisbicc

Warnings: Alcohol, drunk sex, p in v (unprotected, cause they're idiots), slight fingering (f!recieving), sadness, angst.

Masterlist

A couple more warnings under the cut for those who don't care about spoilers.

Spoiler Warnings: talk of abortion, talk of pregnancy, talk of pro-life v pro choice

ON WITH THE SHOW

The day had been dragging on, and the city was buzzing with excitement and preparations for the coming evening. New Year's Eve, time to wish the last year farewell and move into better days.

Or so you hoped.

The guys had decided to have a get-together. What was originally going to be a few friends and a few drinks had quickly turned into planning a party. You were a little nervous, but it wouldn't be the first time you'd gone to a party at their house.

Noah usually stuck by your side during these events, being a buffer between you and a stranger was easy enough for him. He knew you could get anxious, but he also knew you liked meeting people. It was complicated, but he understood.

'What's the dress code?' You asked him jokingly, your phone on speaker while you brushed your hair. You'd been on the phone with him for about an hour while he ran some last minute errands, picking up snacks and an extra case of white claws.

'I don't know if there is one, but considering the amount of girls Folio invited, probably clothing optional,' Noah snickered.

'Hey, maybe you'll get lucky with one of his spares,' you joked, spraying your hair with a heat protectant before picking up your straightener and adding some curls around your face.

'Maybe,' he said. You could hear his smile in his voice. 'I don't know, I was just gonna wear something casual.'

'What, sweats and an oversized t-shirt?' You asked, running your fingers through a curl to break it up into a soft wave. 'Come on, it's new years, have a little bit of fun with it.'

'And what? Wear my stage clothes? A glittery blazer?'

'Okay first of all, you know that blazer was amazing, and second, you have nice clothes. If I have to do a FaceTime fashion show with you later, I will.'

Noah laughed, knowing you weren't kidding. You would take any excuse to dress him up, and sometimes it was good, other times it lead to some weird outfits.

'I'll tell you what, I'll just match whatever you wear. So if you go over the top, I'll go over the top. Deal?'

'Ah yes, more fuel for the dating rumour fire,' you smirked. 'Fine, I'll send you a picture of what I end up picking.'

'I'm not committing to anything until you show up, Y/N. I know you'll find something insane and then change before you leave just so I'm overdressed.'

'I would never-!' You tried to scoff, but Noah cut you off quickly.

'November 2014, that party at Damon's house.'

'Oh shit, yeah I forgot about that,' you mused. 'You looked good in pink.'

'And you were in jeans and a T-shirt, you brat.' You could hear him trying not to laugh. It had become a cherished memory, despite the awkwardness at the time.

Noah's bright pink sweater had looked pretty good though, and you would stand by it.

The clicking sound of the handbrake being applied sounded through the phone, telling you that Noah was home.

'Alright, I'll be over in about an hour, okay?' You told him, shaking out another curl and watching your hair bounce in the mirror.

'Okay. I meant it, I'll match what you do, so don't fuck me over this time?'

'I won't, I promise. I'll figure something out so you might get a girl later,' you teased. You could picture him rolling his eyes as he said goodbye.

The phone beeped, disconnecting the call and resuming your Spotify playlist. While you finished your hair, you ran through some outfit ideas in your head. If you were going to try and get Noah to look good, you needed to wear something he couldn't argue with.

You had just the outfit in mind.

***

The sun had finally set, and it was time to go. You Ubered to Noah's house, since drinking was an inevitability. You had already planned to crash in Noah's room, like so many other nights.

As you entered the house, the boys were setting up, stashing drinks in coolers and searching for bowls to serve chips in.

'Hey Y/N!' Folio called, waving as you passed.

'Hey! Have you seen him?' You asked.

'Upstairs, he told us you're probably gonna make him wear something stupid so he's trying to hide all his worst clothes,' Folio cackled.

'That sneaky shit,' you laughed, heading up the stairs. 'He's not getting off that easy.'

You had thrown an oversized sweater on over your dress. It felt too early to be wearing something like that, and the sweater made you feel more comfortable until the festivities started.

Plus, Folio had wandering eyes, and you didn't need that just yet.

'Noah,' you called out, tapping on his bedroom door.

'Yeah?'

'Quit hiding your clothes, I have a mental inventory of your wardrobe, dipshit.'

The door swung open, and Noah scowled at you. You met his scowl, flipping him off before you both laughed. You trod into his room, seeing a pile of clothes crammed under his desk.

'Only you would have dedicated my entire closet to memory,' he said, sitting down on his bed.

'Because I think I bought eighty five percent of your clothes?' You shrugged, sitting on his desk chair and crossing your legs.

'So what's the vibe? A sweater and heels?' He asked, raising an eyebrow and looking you up and down.

'Oh no, this is just until the party. The sweater is staying in your room,' you smirked, looking from him and back to the pile of clothes. 'You tried to strip everything, didn't you?'

'Maybe...'

In the closet there were only a few tops left. Most of them were oversized tshirts or bad omens merch. But in the back you could see a few nicer shirts.

Noah watched as you stood, grabbing the black button down and tossing it at him.

'Where's your suit pants?' You asked, peering through the pile under his desk.

'Second drawer, in the back. The belt is with them.'

'Glad to see you've accepted your fate,' you told him with a laugh. Noah's lips curved into a small smile.

'With you? I know you'll keep your promise. No point fighting you.' He stood, turning away from you and taking his shirt off.

While you found his pants and belt, he buttoned up his shirt. Next you went rifling through the jewellery stand, selecting a couple of rings and his gold watch.

'I swear to god, Y/N, you're not seriously dressing me up like one of those Mafia guys in the books you read, are you?' Noah groaned, buckling his belt before turning to face you.

You picked up the chain he usually wore, debating if it was too much. Ultimately deciding against it, you put it down and closed the closet door.

'If I am, it's not intentional, but you look good,' you told him, handing him the rings and the watch.

He slipped the accessories on, looking at himself in the mirror on the closet door. You stood beside him, arms crossed and lips pursed. You hummed to yourself, trying to think what was missing.

'Lose a button,' you finally said.

'Seriously?' He laughed.

'If my tits are gonna be out, so are yours. Lose a button. And roll up your sleeves, Jesus, we're not in church anymore,' you giggled.

Noah's cheeks heated at the mention of your tits, but you didn't notice it. Now he was curious to see what you were hiding under the sweater.

As he followed your instructions, you realised that the house was starting to fill with noise. People were arriving, and someone had turned on the stereo.

'Shit, it's eight already?' Noah said, looking at the watch on his wrist.

'Yup. Ready to mingle?' You said, giggling. You tried to mask your nerves, but Noah knew you too well.

'If you want to stay up here we can, you know? Or I'll just stay with you the whole time?'

'I'll be okay,' you promised him. 'Get two drinks in me and I'll be a functional adult, no anxiety to be seen.'

He rolled his eyes at you, shaking his head slightly.

'Alright, you win, mingling it is.'

Before you could leave the room, Noah tutted at you.

'Forgetting something?' He asked.

You pursed your lips, quietly regretting your choices. Sure, your dress had convinced Noah to let you play barbie, and he looked hot, but now you had to bite the bullet and lose the sweater.

Sighing, you quickly lifted the sweater off, draping it on the back of his desk chair. Noah's eyes widened as he took in the dress... if it could be called a dress.

It was more like a second skin. It was unbelievably tight, hugging every curve. The neckline was more of a navel-line. The cleavage of the dress plunged down, showing off the space between your breasts and a little below them. The spaghetti straps weren't so much straps as superfine chains, and the hem of the dress hit the midpoint of your thigh, just cresting that part where it was dangerous to bend over.

A flush of warmth surged through Noah as he stared at you. Sure, you were best friends, but he wasn't blind.

'Holy shit, you weren't kidding about having your tits out. Where have you been hiding that?' He asked incredulously, crossing his arms over his chest.

'It was an impulse buy a few years ago. I've been waiting for an excuse to drag it out,' you shrugged, clearly feeling a little insecure.

'Y/N, I'm not leaving you alone tonight. The guys won't keep their hands to themselves if I do,' he laughed.

'Oh shit,' you giggled, knowing he was trying to boost your confidence. It was working.

'Maybe you should leave the sweater on, Folio's girls might get jealous...'

'Let 'em.'

***

Noah kept his promise, staying nearby and keeping an eye on you throughout the night. At first you hadn't thought he'd need to, but a couple of guys tried to hit on you, and even Folio got a little comfortable after a few drinks. When Noah wasn't busy batting away the other girls, he was close by, keeping people's hands off you.

As the hours wore on, and midnight grew closer, you found yourself drifting from a conversation to a drinking game and back again.

Outside by the fire pit there was a game of "never have I ever" going, and for the short time you and Noah joined, you ended up downing three shots and finishing a white claw. Noah didn't drink as much during that game, but he didn't do so well with beer pong.

You were both sufficiently buzzed when someone turned the tv on for the final countdown to midnight.

Noah dragged you inside, standing in a quiet corner while people filled the living room.

'Have you got a resolution this year?' He asked you, leaning against the wall.

'Have you?' You said simply, mirroring his stance, facing him with your shoulder on the wall.

'Nothing serious,' he said with a laugh, 'I wouldn't mind getting laid.'

'Oh god, same,' you agreed, turning and leaning your back against the wall. 'It has been way too long since I've had a good fuck.'

Noah nodded, chuckling with you. Through your drunken stupor you didn't see the way his eyes trailed over your body.

'Me too,' he nodded. 'You ever thought about the whole "friends with benefits" thing?'

'Yeah,' you sighed, 'but most guys who want that are only trying to cheat on their girlfriends or wives. I've never found a guy who was open to it without being a total sleaze.'

'Shame,' he said softly. The room was filling with people, everyone's eyes on the screen as the ball began to drop.

People began to yell out, counting down.

'Hey, Noah?' You asked, a stupid idea forming in your mind.

'Yeah?' He asked, watching you as a grin spread over your lips.

'Wanna do the midnight kiss thing? Just so we can say we did?'

THREE!

TWO!

ONE!

As the city filled with cries of "Happy New Year" and fireworks filled the sky, Noah's lips crashed to yours. It was sloppy, it was drunk, there was a lot of teeth to start with because the two of you were laughing so much, but it was fun.

His hand grabbed for your face, pulling you to him while you figured out your harmony.

You pulled back, giggling as you looked up at him. Your lipstick was smeared across his lips, his beautiful smile now tinted with streaks of deep red.

For a second, you were frozen, looking at each other with dumbstruck grins.

And then he kissed you again.

And this time it was careful, tender. This wasn't a joke anymore.

You kissed him back, feeling your body fluttering in every way while your head spun. His hand snaked to your lower back, pulling you closer to him. Your hand ran into his hair, your heart hammering in your chest.

You clung to him while your arm locked behind his neck, his tongue exploring your mouth in ways you'd never experienced.

For a moment, the din of the party fell away. It was just the two of you, clinging to each other like you'd just found the only life preserver left on a sinking ship. Fire burned through your veins, his touch only stoking the flames. It had been so long since anyone had touched you that way, since anyone craved you the way Noah seemed to in that moment.

His hands stayed on you as you panted, a small gap forming between you while you accustomed to breathing again.

'Upstairs,' you breathed, 'now.'

Noah didn't need to be told twice. He took your hand, guiding you through the still packed room of people making out with whoever they had chosen for the night. You climbed the stairs behind him and quickly made your way to his room. He lead you in, locking the door behind him and taking two quick strides towards you.

His hands ran over your body, pushing the chains off your shoulders while his lips pressed against yours fervently. You fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, wanting to just rip it off of him and send the buttons skittering across the carpet...

You'd never thought you'd want to do this with Noah, but now, the idea couldn't turn you on more.

His head dipped to your neck as you shoved the shirt off of his shoulders, his teeth clamping onto your throat and earning a whine from you.

His hands dropped lower, pulling the dress down until it pooled around your feet. You fought with his belt, determined to have him just as bare as you.

Finally, he helped, his rushed hands unbuckling the belt and letting his slacks fall to the floor.

Noah laid you down on the bed, hovering over you and kissing every part of your body he could reach.

'I have wanted to do this for so fucking long,' he breathed, taking your pert nipple into his mouth and sucking hard while his fingers slipped into your panties.

'Oh fuck,' you whimpered, his finger swirling over your clit.

Your core ached for him, and in your haze, you didn't have much patience for foreplay. You were so wet already, you didn't need it.

'Noah,' you begged, 'please...'

Returning to your face, Noah freed himself from his underwear, his cock springing up and slapping his abdomen. It was swollen, angry, and already leaking.

He slid your panties to the side, lining himself up with your entrance.

'You're sure about this?' He asked gently, kissing you again. The fervour had dimmed for a moment, his tone earnest and his eyes searching yours. All you had to do was say no and he would stop...

'I'm sure,' you told him, kissing him again.

'Okay.' He kept his lips on yours, kissing you deeply as he slid his cock into you. Slowly, inch by inch, he stretched you open. You hadn't had a real man between your legs in years, and vibrators only felt so real...

Noah moaned against your lips, your mouth falling open as he seated himself as deep as he could.

'Holy shit, Y/N, baby you feel so good,' he murmured, his cock twitching while you each adjusted to the squeeze and the stretch.

'Fucking hell, Noah,' you couldn't think of what to say, your mind was blown with pleasure and he hadn't even moved yet.

Slowly, Noah began to move, rolling his hips in a fluid motion. Your back arched into him while he figured you out.

'Does that feel good, baby?' He murmured, taking one of your breasts in his hand and pinching your nipple lightly, 'or do you want faster?'

'Faster,' you agreed, whining, 'oh god, you're so perfect.'

Noah chuckled against your skin, kissing at your neck and your jaw while he sped up. 'You're so wet, so tight,' he told you, 'you're everything I dreamed you would be.'

'You dreamed about this?'

'Mhmm, a lot.'

The idea of Noah secretly fantasising about you set your body on fire. You wondered how many times you'd missed him staring, how often he thought about it. Did he think of you when he was alone? Was it your name on his lips when he finished himself off in the early hours of the morning?

You could only hope he never found out that you'd named your favourite vibrator after him. It was a secret you had been harbouring for a while, and in those hours where it kept you company, you felt a pang of guilt every time you finished with a cry of his name.

But here? Now? You finally got to fulfil that secret dream of yours, knowing he thought of it too. Fuck the consequences. That would be a problem for tomorrow.

'Show me,' you mewled, 'oh god, show me what you dreamed about.'

Noah grinned, raking his teeth over your throat gently.

'Gladly.'

His hand dropped from your nipple to your pussy, his thumb swirling over your clit and shooting sparks through your body.

His pace increased, and he lifted your leg over his shoulder, letting his cock stroke deeper.

'Oh fuck,' you whimpered, feeling his tip drag along the fleshy spot that would turn you into a puddle.

'Good girl,' he grinned, kissing the inside of your leg as he fucked into you, 'look at your pussy, so eager for me, god, you're so perfect.'

Your muscles clenched, his words only driving you closer to climax.

'Keep talking, baby, please,' you begged.

'You like dirty talk? Or is it when I praise you?'

'Fuck, both, both,' you whined, gasping as he tormented you right where you needed it. Spots began to cloud your vision as he dragged you closer to the edge.

'You're doing so good for me, baby. I'm getting so close,' he breathed, 'you're getting so tight, you're gonna make me come.'

Endurance was a distant dream. With the drunk fog in your brain, there was nothing to think about. You were both operating on pure instinct and sensation, and the high was ready to crash over you like a tidal wave, dragging you into its deep waters.

'I'm gonna come,' you told him, your back arching and hands reaching for anything to hold on to. The delicious feeling was so close, teasing you.

'That's my girl. Come for me, I wanna feel you fall apart for me,' he groaned, his thrusts starting to falter and his fingertips digging into your hips. 'Come with me, baby.'

'Don't stop, oh god,' you cried, your muscles clenching hard around him.

'Fuck, so tight, so good,' he groaned, his head falling back as your orgasm finally peaked. It took everything in you not to scream.

Noah's laboured cries matched yours, moaning as he gave you his all, fucking through both of your orgasms and emptying himself into you.

'That... was... exactly... what I needed,' you gasped. Noah rested his head on your chest, his eyes fluttering closed.

'Definitely,' he agreed.

***

You awoke the next day to the sun peeking through the blinds.

An arm laid over you, the skin warm against yours. You rolled over in bed, trying to get away from the sunlight, and opened your eyes.

Through bleary eyes, you saw Noah. He was disheveled and his lips were covered in deep red streaks, completely knocked out on the pillow beside you.

The sight made you giggle a little, until you realised it was your lipstick.

And that you were naked.

And that your thighs were sticky.

'Oh shit,' you whisper, your head pounding as you sat up. Thankfully Noah didn't stir, and you slid out of the bed quietly.

Last nights events seeped back into your thumping head as the cool air hit your bare skin. You could still feel the ghost of his grip on your hips. In the mirror you could see the bruises of hickeys left on your neck and chest, each one ringed with a smear of lipstick that had journeyed from your mouth to his and all over your body.

Thankfully, your panties were still on, so you grabbed your sweater, throwing it on and covering yourself.

Your face burned as you looked at Noah, sleeping so peacefully. He slept like the dead, and you had never been more grateful for that. Snatching your phone off of his desk, you ordered an uber, not wanting to be around when Noah woke up.

The rest of the house seemed silent, and it was only nine. You hoped that everyone would still be asleep as you grabbed your shoes and your dress and silently left the room.

The house was a disaster, cups and streamers littered the halls and most surfaces. You paid no mind, edging your way to the front door. As you passed the small alcove where you and Noah had stood, you remembered what happened when midnight struck.

You had been the one to come on to him. You asked him to kiss you. You made things weird. Shame burned through you as you shook your head, cringing at yourself and the headache that the motion brought on.

Sure, the parts you could remember had been fun, but there was no way your friendship could be the same after this. You couldn't be sure what happened in those black spots.

You'd had a crush on Noah for a long time. Anyone with eyes would, and anyone who knew him loved him. Of course you'd fallen into that trap.

How could you be normal with him after having a taste of what could have been? And how quickly would he be repulsed by what happened?

Mercifully, the Uber didn't take long to arrive. You slipped out the front door, closing it as quietly as possible as you disappeared into the morning sun.

***

Noah tried to call you later that day. You had already decided to lie and say you slept for most of the day. But the weeks after? They were hard to bluff your way through.

He was your best friend, he knew something was up, and it was clear that it was hurting him that you were avoiding him.

He worried. He made it clear that he was concerned about you, pushing to talk to you. Every time, you blew it off and tried to dissuade him with a half truth about work.

You dodged phone calls, and you sent as many short texts as you could, trying to assure him that everything was fine, you were just busy. You even did everything you could just to keep yourself busy, trying to keep yourself somewhat honest.

Noah knew better than to believe you. He knew this behaviour. The last time you had dodged him like this, you were hiding the time you had spent in hospital after a bad night. When he finally found out the truth, he made you promise to call him instead, and this was the first time you'd broken that promise in years.

After a few weeks, he stopped waiting for you to come to him. Noah showed up at your house unannounced. He had let himself in and he sat on your couch to wait for you to get home from work.

When you opened your door that afternoon, you hand your head low. His truck in the drive was a giveaway, you knew he was waiting for you.

You considered not going inside, but you knew that he would stay all night if he had to.

Unlocking the door, you entered the house quietly, almost hoping he wouldn't notice you. Instead, his eyes followed you as you toed your shoes off by the door and kept your head down.

'Hey,' he called.

'Mm,' you mumbled back, beelining for the kitchen. You figured you could busy yourself making dinner or a coffee, anything to avoid him for a minute longer.

'Y/N.'

His voice was stern this time. You froze, shoulders hunched and shrinking in on yourself. Pursing your lips, you listened as he stood up and crossed the tiled floor, his socked feet almost silent.

'What's going on?' He asked you softly. He stood in front of you, his arms crossed as he stared you down.

He didn't look mad though. His stance might have, but you could see the worry in his eyes. It tugged his lip into a slight frown while he waited for your response.

'I told you, I'm fine, I've just been really-'

'Busy? Yeah, so you've said. If you were "just busy", why are you sneaking around your own house like you're scared of me?'

You felt the blood drain from your face. He had you there. Your fingers tightened, clenching into fists and loosening again while you tried to think of anything to say. You were sure you looked like a goldfish while you stammered.

You were panicking, but he wasn't going to let you leave, and you couldn't avoid him. Instead, he carefully took your hand in his. He was gentle as he lead you to the small living room.

'Y/N, what's going on?' he asked, sitting on the edge of the couch while you stood awkwardly, picking at your fingernails. 'You've been off since the party, and I know it's me. All I can wonder is "what did I do?" And you won't tell me.'

You paused, holding a breath. He thought it was his fault. Of course he did, you'd never given him any reason to think otherwise.

'What do you remember from that night?' you asked, your voice small as you sat down on the wooden coffee table. You couldn't meet his eye, too afraid of what he would say if he knew the truth.

'Not a lot,' he said, 'I remember that we played some drinking games, and I remember losing really badly at beer pong, but after that is mostly a blur.'

'Mostly?'

'I...' he trailed off, his thumb running over his palm awkwardly. 'I remember that we kissed, at least, I'm pretty sure we did. I was that far gone that it could have been anyone...'

You took a deep breath, preparing for the worst as you summoned the courage to tell him the truth.

'It was me. And it was my fault. I said that we should kiss, just so we could say we had a midnight kiss with someone. I didn't think this would happen. I didn't think we'd go that far, but even then, it was still my fault. It was my idea-'

'Y/N, you're rambling and you're being cryptic, I'm gonna need you to take a breath and spell it out for me,' Noah prodded gently. 'Whatever it is, I'm sure it's no big deal.'

'It really is a big deal,' you said, your throat trying to close over the words.

'How bad could it be?' He said softly, a reassuring smile lifting the corner of his lips. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he tried to meet your gaze, but you couldn't.

Your head dropped, staring at your fingers while the words caught in your throat. You hadn't said them out loud yet. You were so scared he'd regret it, or find it repulsive.

'We...' you stammered, swallowing hard, 'We had sex.'

Noah froze. His eyes widening while he processed the information.

'We... We had sex on new years?' He asked slowly, his face flushing as he spoke.

'Yeah.'

'That's why you've been avoiding me?'

'Mhmm,' you hummed with a tight nod, picking at your fingernails again. 'I know it's stupid, but I didn't want to ruin things between us and then I did it anyway because I was too scared to talk to you and-'

Noah shifted from the couch, moving to sit beside you on the coffee table and taking your hand, squeezing it firmly.

'Y/N, breathe,' he told you, his other hand rubbing your arm gently. He was going through the same whirlwind of emotions that you had gone through that morning, but somehow he handled it with ease.

'I can't, this is all my fault, I started it.' You were adamant. You'd been telling yourself the same lines for weeks now, trying to absolve him of fault. 'I initiated, I made the mistake, and I didn't want to drag you into this. I hoped that it would blow over and we would just forget because you're my best friend and I don't want to fuck that up-'

Noah shook his head, cutting you off again. You weren't oblivious to the way his face screwed up as you called it a mistake.

'Don't do that to yourself. It takes two, and I'm sure I was more than willing to be involved.'

You pursed your lips, remembering the things he'd said. Silently you cursed yourself for the way your body tingled at the memory of his words. His hand on your arm seemed to burn at the thought.

'You were. You told me you'd dreamed about it before. I assumed that was just the alcohol.'

Noah's pink cheeks and awkward laugh gave him away quickly.

'Uh, nope. Definitely a case of drunk words being sober thoughts.'

You turned to him, a quizzical look on your face and a hint of a laugh bubbling in your chest. All the emotions you'd been fighting had reached a point of delirium.

'Hold it, you've actually dreamed about us fucking?' You asked him incredulously. You were flattered, but also baffled. How could he want that with you?

Noah nodded, chewing his lip and looking around the room for anything else to focus on. He could feel your eyes boring into the side of his head while he rubbed the back of his neck.

'Look, now is probably the best time to put the cards on the table,' he said quietly, scratching his jaw. 'I've wanted a lot more with you for a while now, but I didn't think you wanted the same since you were always pushing me at other girls, so I just shut my mouth. I didn't want to force anything on you, but Y/N, dude, come on. I've been in love with you for years, and you're the only person who doesn't seem to notice it.'

You froze, furrowing your brows and shaking your head a couple of times before looking up at his sheepish smirk. Your mouth opened, a smile on your lips as you processed what he said.

'Did you really just call me "dude" and say you're in love with me in the same sentence?'

Noah nodded, pursing his lips as he laughed at himself. 'Yup.'

'For gods sake, what a way to share your feelings, man.'

'I know,' he chuckled, 'but I'd rather you know instead of hiding from me and beating yourself up about a night I only wish I could remember.'

You smiled, blushing and laughing softly. 'I guess now is probably the time where I'm supposed to let you down easy and tell you I'm flattered, but I really just want to be friends?'

'Wow, just go straight for it, huh?' he chuckled, gently placing his hand on your back. 'Look, if that's how you feel, then thats okay with me. I'd rather be your friend than not have you in my life.'

You smirked, looking up at him. You could see the slight disappointment in his face as he looked at your entwined hands, but he was doing his best to hide it for your sake.

'Oh my god, Noah, look at me,' you said, his eyes lifting to yours, sparkling in the low light.

Your heart fluttered as you lifted your free hand to his cheek.

'I'm kidding, you dipshit, fucking kiss me already,' you told him, a grin on your face.

His eyes lit up, and he didn't need to be told twice. His lips were on yours in seconds, and it felt a million times better sober. His fingers stayed tangled with yours, his other hand pulling you close to him.

That same feeling of fire burned through you, wanting nothing more than to feel him everywhere. Your head spun and your heart pounded in your chest as he kissed you, his soft lips felt like home. You started to wonder what you were drunk on that night, was it the vodka, or him?

Your fingers ran into his hair, and you had to break the kiss so you could let out the giddy laugh that was building in your stomach.

'You're cruel,' he told you, his face inches from yours as his thumb ran over your knuckles.

'And yet, you love it for some reason?' You shot back, pecking his lips.

'I do,' he grinned, 'I really do.'

'Good, cause fucking hell I love you.'

***

If only that was where it had ended. A dopey, saccharine happy ending.

But no.

There was a consequence you had yet to encounter. A choice you had yet to pay for.

Something so simple, so many people fall into the same trap. And you didn't even notice, you wouldn't have either.

Until the app on your phone told you that it had been a while...

Two months, to be precise. You didn't dare tell Noah yet. Not until you were sure. He was busy preparing for a UK tour, and you'd only been together as a real couple for a month.

So you couldn't tell him until you tested with a doctor. Home tests could be wrong, right?

The doctor ordered blood tests, and waiting for those results was agony.

But here you sat, digesting the information the doctor had told you while you sat on the side of your bed.

You were pregnant. Seven weeks pregnant, give or take. But it didn't matter, you knew exactly when it happened.

This was not how this was supposed to go. If you were ever worried about upsetting Noah before, this was going to fuck him up.

You didn't even know his stance. Was he pro choice? Pro life? What would he say if you told him that you didn't want this yet?

Should you even tell him?

Of course, there was no way around it. You'd have to do it soon if you wanted to just take the tablets. You couldn't wait til he was on tour. He would see you in pain and know something wasn't right.

He deserved to know, didn't he?

It took him a little while, but Noah eventually found you in the bedroom. He saw you sitting on the side of the bed, crying softly to yourself, hand clutched to your belly.

'Hey, baby, what's wrong?' He asked, moving swiftly to your side and sitting with you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you to him, rubbing your back.

'We need to talk, and I don't know how you're going to handle it,' you whimpered, sniffing hard.

'You're not leaving me, are you?' He asked, his tone low and worried. You felt his arms tense around you, but you quickly shook your head.

'No, god no,' you coughed, looking up at him. 'I just got off the phone with my doctor.'

'Are you okay?'

You could see his eyes widen with fear, the idea of anything bad happening to you squeezed at his heart.

You weren't sure how to answer that question. Hell, you hadn't even said the words out loud yet. You'd only found out a few days before, you'd barely had time to process the home test, let alone the phone call confirming it.

'I'm pregnant.'

'And you don't want to be.'

'Not right now,' you said quietly, shaking your head. 'I'm so sorry, Noah. I'm sorry if you want this, but it's not what I want right now. I want us to be together for a while longer before we even think about kids, or marriage, or any of that. I'm still learning about this side of you, I want that to myself, I want to make stupid choices with you and not have to worry about a kid yet. One day, sure, but not now.'

'Baby, breathe for me. It's okay,' he assured you, 'I understand. And whatever you choose, I'm with you. But you're right, we're so new to each other like this... and I want to be able to steal you into empty bedrooms for a while,' he chuckled. 'I want you to myself too. One day, we'll talk family, but you're not ready and I'm not ready, and that's okay.'

He wrapped you in a tight embrace while you sniffled, trying to control your breaths as he stroked your hair.

'I love you, okay? No matter what,' he breathed, kissing the top of your head firmly.

You nodded against him. 'I love you,' you told him, your voice muffled by his hoodie.

'I have something to run by you,' he asked, 'I was gonna ask anyway, but I think you need it now more than ever.'

'Mmh?'

He chuckled as he rocked you from side to side. 'I was wondering if you wanted to come to the UK? I know you've got a lot of personal time you need to use, and I really don't want to be without you for three whole weeks...'

'I'll talk to my boss,' you said softly, 'but a few weeks away sounds like a realy good idea right now, with or without the chaos.'

Noah smirked, kissing your head again.

'We'll get you in to the doctor as soon as we can, and I'll be there with you every step of the way. And when everything is over, we'll be on our way to London,' he told you, his tone soothing.

You loved how good it sounded, and his voice was exactly what you needed in that moment. The tears finally slowed, knowing he was with you and that he had your back.

'I love you,' you told him earnestly.

'I love you too,' he said.

'No, like, I love you,' you murmured, 'I love you so much for supporting me with this, and just being there in general. You hold me together a lot more than you need to, and I don't know why the fuck I thought you wouldn't be with me on this one.'

'Neither do I, whatever you need, I'm always with you.'

'And I'm with you.'

Sinking further into his embrace, if that was even possible, you let him soothe you. This was love. This was everything you ever wanted, and you'd never felt better.

Who knew that New Year's parties could be so special?

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louvaine · 3 months

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pairing: aaron hotchner x reader synopsis: slow, sometimes uneasy, mornings spent with the love of your life. mornings you want to have for the rest of your days.

The early morning sunrise is welcoming as it spills through the crack in the blinds, swallowing the room up in a blend of soft oranges and reds. The sun continues to make a slow ascent over the horizon, waking the world with a gentle explosion of comfort as it splinters across the sky, expelling the lingering nightmares pulling at your subconscious. It’s the first time in weeks that Aaron’s next to you, so close that it’s hard to decipher where your body ends and his begins.

“Aaron.”

A soft grunt.

“Aaron.”

His eyes flicker.

“Baby,” another murmur.

But he still doesn’t wake up to the affection in your voice.

Nor does he acknowledge the faint touch of your fingertips as they dance across his abdomen, tracing the old scars that blemish his skin: memories of a survival of the fittest, where the reaper’s blade had permanently sliced his skin and almost destroyed the future you’d been building together. His body is eerily still except for the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he takes a breath, freckled skin pale against the dark sheets beneath him.

He looks peaceful; innocent.

Angelic in the early morning fragments of light.

Except you know Aaron Hotchner is anything but holy.

“Aaron,” you whisper, mouth pressed to his ear.

There’s a brief moment where there’s nothing and then, without warning, he’s quickly shifting his position, fists closing around the covers in anticipation of them being snatched from him. Even when he’s half-asleep, he seems to know you better than you know yourself, predicting the moves you want to make before they even enter your mind. There’s no flicker of regret or annoyance at the way he can read you so well, because this is the life you’d always dreamed of; curled up in one another’s warmth as though the world doesn’t exist outside the two of you. It’s barely dawn but you find yourself wishing that this moment never ends, that you never have to sacrifice another moment with him for the sake of his job.

“Morning, baby,” you hum.

He presses a tender kiss to your shoulder.

The sun dances along his skin as he adjusts his body so it rests against yours, the palm of his hand brushing innocently against your thigh. His touch doesn’t linger before he’s reaching for you again, toppling your body back onto the mattress and trapping you underneath him.

“I can’t breathe,” you groan out.

“Should’ve let me sleep in then.”

He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, following the slope of your neck until eventually his forehead is resting against yours. There’s a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and it feels like you’re in a freefall, spinning out as you experience all the butterflies you felt when you first met, falling in love all over again. It doesn’t take much; it never has when it comes to him.

“Let me go, Aaron.”

He kisses you, then murmurs, “Never.”

A smile crawls across his face when the sound of your laughter echoes through the room. He’s still holding you close, feeling the thrum of your heartbeat against his as he profiles the way your body subconsciously seeks him out. He watches as you follow his movements, craving the closeness as you lean back into his emanating comfort as though you won’t be able to survive without him.

“I hate you.”

“Didn’t take you for a liar.”

Aaron’s kiss is warm and a little sleep-sour and slow, soft lips moving against yours. It’s chaste at first and incredibly sweet, making your stomach flip as you open your mouth. Aaron chuckles at your obvious neediness, breath ghosting over your parted lips, but obliges, licking his way into your mouth and deepening the kiss.

“I missed you,” you whisper into his skin.

Aaron’s been gone for longer than he ever has before, working through a backlog of cases that he can never talk about. He’s spent the last month speaking up for victims who no longer have a voice, but for each case the team dedicates themselves to, the weight of the burden that comes with it increases tenfold. The aftermath is written in the tired lines of his face, and this time, it matches the dark purple bruising across his cheekbones and split skin of his knuckles that look raw in the muted shadows of the sunrise. Seeing Aaron hurt makes your heart ache in your chest and all you want to do is take him in your arms and never let him leave again.

“How are you feeling?”

He nods, reassuring. “I’ll be fine.”

He almost sounds like he believes it, and deep down, it might be true. But all you can see is the bruises, the vacant look in his eyes, the fact that he looks like he’s been through hell and there’s not one single part of you that takes him at his word. There’s always a brief period of time when he gets home that he’s still Hotch, the stoic Unit Chief, the man who never smiles, all detached and cold, eyes closed off in a way that sets your frayed nerves on edge.

It takes time to teach himself how to just be Aaron again.

“And you? How are you?”

An ever-steady silence begins to grow, settling amidst the distance but he doesn’t loosen his grip. He allows you as much time and space you need to readjust to having him back, knowing that the thread tying you both together could slip from his grasp at any moment. He watches you, a sharp-clawed glance that pierces through skin until he’s so far deep into your soul, he can see straight through you.

“Better, now you’re here,” you answer.

He can feel the catch in your breath and the way your pulse races under his touch and knows, without a shadow of a doubt, you are his home and there is nothing in the world that could stop him from coming back to you.

“What are you thinking about?”

“How I’d sell my soul if it meant you’d never leave again.”

The words seem to trigger something in him, something so visceral you can almost feel it in the air. He pulls back, not too far, but creates enough distance that he’s able to scan you, seeking some clarity in the way you can’t meet his eyes. His keen eye surveys the room like there’s something out of place, like there’s something missing, something he hasn’t noticed before. He just can’t put his finger on it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Aaron──”

“I don’t deserve you.”

His voice is hollow; muted.

It’s something he’s thought about far too often before, losing himself in the what-ifs. He has this recurring nightmare where he loses you too, like he’s lost everyone else who meant something to him. He’s so used to losing those he loves, he doesn’t understand what it means when someone stays, when someone survives.

“Don’t say that,” you beg.

“It’s true──”

“I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.”

He shakes his head, and holds you tighter; there’s no telling when he’ll let you go again. It’s a tangle of bruised limbs against soft, dewy skin and arms entwined until there’s barely any space to breathe in between. He nudges his nose against yours as he mumbles soft, overdue apologies against your lips, like he’s trying to make up for his absence with excuses you’ve never really needed or excuses you’ve never once asked for.

“Aaron?”

His eyes soften as they meet yours.

He savours the way the morning casts a subtle light over your body like a soft caress of a hand, highlighting the soft freckles on your skin. He never takes this for granted, knowing deep down in his bones that he’s lucky to have you waiting for him at home, regardless of the bitterness inside him, regardless of the sacrifices you both have to make to stay together. Somehow all of the darkest times are instantly dwarfed by moments like this.

“Honey,” he says, with a grin.

“Why are you looking at me like that?

“Any reason why you’re on my side of the bed?”

The observation, as unexpected as it is, coaxes a laugh out of your throat, the sound bubbling up in your chest before you can stop it. It seems like a mundane thing in the grand scheme of things. Minutes ago, the room seemed smaller, the sombre mood immersing you in bruises and nightmares and the metaphorical distance separating twin souls.

“I missed you.”

Aaron frowns, then asks, “What?”

“It’s just──the pillow still smells like you,” you explain, voice low as you rest the palm of your hand against his jawline. “It made me feel a little less alone, like maybe you were here by my side all along. It sounds stupid, I know, but it helped.”

“It’s not stupid,” he breathes out.

He reaches out for you, fingers intertwined with yours.

He’s careful as he drapes his body on top of yours, leaning down to press the gentlest of kisses against your lips. It’s brief, but it’s filled with every ounce of the love he feels and your chest tightens at the gesture, choked up with the sudden rush of emotion. He kisses across your nose, then your cheek until eventually he seeks a path down to your neck, pressing another kiss there before he rests his head against your chest, hugging your body tight.

“I love you so much, honey.”

His voice is quiet; subdued as the confession lingers.

He’s said it before, a thousand times, in a hundred different ways but this feels different. He’s clinging onto you like an anchor in a raging storm and he’s afraid to drown in your absence. He says it again, and then again, and it strikes against your entire being as you melt further into his touch, relishing the moment before the outside world steps in to destroy it all over again.

But here, in this moment, his sacred declaration settles in your soul and for the first time in months, a semblance of peace washes over you.

A simple reminder that you’ve found a home in Aaron, and he’s found a home in you.

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