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mzzledmutt · 4 months

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—BLIND DATE

starring.ᐟ katsuki bakugou x reader

synopsis.ᐟ “a social engagement or date with a person one has not previously met.” After neglecting his personal life for so long, Pro-hero Dynamight, also known as Katsuki Bakugou, can no longer run form the inevitable. With the help of his nosy parents, Katsuki ends up on a blind date with you.

warnings.ᐟ SMUT, fem!reader, pro hero!katsuki, first blind date, drinking, fingering, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, overstimulation, creampie, biting, marking, hair pulling, pet names (excessive use of princess), slight man handling, bakugou is a softie at heart, praise, slight softdom!katsuki, breeding

word count.ᐟ 4.8k words

m.mutt 𐂯 please enjoy my brainrot!!

KATSUKI Bakugou was known for many things. His boisterous personality. His bulky, intimidating stature. His impressive and powerful quirk. His less than family-friendly language and his hatred of paparazzi.

You would think being in the spotlight since 15, he would be used to it at this point. Maybe even indulge from time to time but, it’s never been his thing. He makes that fact well-known, constantly. Written and spoken interviews, press conferences, and award ceremonies, he will remind everyone to mind their own business. Especially when it comes to his personal life.

New photos and videos always arrive of the hero, dressed in alleged disguise, flipping off and yelling at the paparazzi. Especially when they get too close to his family and friends. One of his most iconic videos is of his poor father attempting to calm down both his large, rowdy son and his equally rowdy, yet smaller wife.

This strong distaste for the prying eyes and cameras belonging to paparazzi, unfortunately, takes a hard toll on his love life.

Their obsession with publicizing his entire life has forced his hand in many situations. That and the exclusive life he is now forced to lead. One of the biggest downsides of being a hero is the increase in difficulty in your love life.

These few relationships he’s had have all ended one of two ways.

One, in a ball of fury and tears. As a pro hero, Katsuki is often spotted with many people. Typically, people he knows. In bars and restaurants, caught conversating and drinking. Those candid moments are always being televised, even without his knowledge.

Suddenly, his after-work drink with a few friends is skewed and Dynamight is allegedly dating pro-hero Uravity. Resulting in arguments and watching as his partners stormed away.

Two, the spark simmers out. Coming home to put on a front feels exhausting as the days tick by, they both know it. It’s only inevitable until someone’s bags are packed. They’ll cry, holding hands on his couch as he speaks. They’ll go for a hug, only to realize now isn’t the time and leaving is the better option. Soon his apartment is quiet again, leaving him alone.

All of it has turned him away from the dating scene. He’s young and green, with plenty of time to settle down. Except, the consistent pestering from peers, fans, and his own parents is draining. Balancing his hero life, personal and love life all at the same time, was nearly impossible.

“I’m not going out with some chick you designed a dress for!”

“Just give it a try, you brat.”

Katsuki groans, his head rolling back at Mitsuki’s pestering. They were currently sitting in his childhood kitchen, eating brunch as they usually did on Sundays. “You have no idea, you could find the love of your life!” His father chimed in, attempting to add support.

“Maybe you’ll finally give me a grandkid.” Katsuki cringes, shaking his head at his mother’s words. “Look, as your parents we just want what’s best for our little boy. Even if you’re a hulking mountain a man now.”

“I think you should give it a try, she was a sweet girl too. Very well mannered.” Masaru pipes up in Katsuki’s silence.

“Look, just give it a shot. I’ll give you her number and you two can work things out. If things don’t work out you can always try again.” She sips at her hot tea, eyes fluttering shut due to the steam.

“And if I say no?”

“Why do you have to be so incredibly difficult?” Mitsuki scolds as he swirls his spoon in his tea. “Why do you have to be so incredibly annoying?” He muttered followed by a swift pop to the head.

“Ow! Shit!”

That’s how he ended up in this high-end lounge, awaiting a random woman his parents vouched for. He nursed a glass of whiskey, looking over their messages on his phone. Their conversation was rather bland, nothing incredibly enticing but, everyone doesn’t connect over text.

After some time, from his spot at the bar, he sends her another text. It’s only fifteen minutes, there could be traffic. He closes the messenger, choosing to scroll through his social media feed. Occasionally, he lifted his head scanning the area.

It wasn’t a quiet night, the place was bustling with conversation and laughter. Twenty minutes late.

He sent another text.

Everyone is secluded in their worlds, eating snacks and conversing with their loved ones. Their loud conversations exceeded the confinements of their seats. Katsuki was growing impatient.

Thirty minutes late. He’s already attempted to call, being sent straight to voicemail. Was this a joke? Had his parents set him up for some reason?

Glowering red eyes linger across the bar, noticing a figure he had seen earlier. Dressed in a sleek, black dress and nursing a martini between manicured nails. And another text.

Each time he looked in search of his alleged date, his eyes wandered back over to you. Watching as you pitifully looked around, maybe in search of someone like him. His eyes shut as he grimaced watching you pout. Your full, glossed lips jutted out with sadness.

He goes to pick up his phone and sends another message before, shutting the device off. Nearly an hour and a half late, he wasn’t that desperate to pester someone who didn’t care.

“Excuse me.” He calls the bartender. It didn’t seem like this mystery woman would be appearing any time soon so, might as well take a chance. “Lady at the end of the bar,” He gestured toward you. “Another of what’s she’s having, from me.” The man nods, heading off to prepare the new drink.

Katsuki grins seeing your reaction. Confusion washed over your face for a moment before you were directed towards him. Eyes locking for the first time that night. You smile and wave, he reciprocates nonchalantly.

Soon, his whiskey is finished and another is placed before him. “From the lady.” The bartender smiles, pointing his gaze to you once more. You raise your glass in solidarity, your beautiful smile still on display. He raises his glass, as a sort of distant cheers, taking a swig right away.

He watches as your gaze falls to the background, peering around the dim bar before you rise from your seat. Katsuki anxiously shifted in his seat, unsure of where you were going but, his anxiety didn’t settle as you stride over to him.

“Hi.” One word and he’s hooked. Your melodic voice wrapping itself around his brain and heart. “Hey, care to sit?” He offers the seat beside him. “Gladly.” You’re nervous, curt responses give you away along with the slight tremble in your hand.

“What are you doin’ here, beautiful?” He’s starting bold, liquid courage providing him strength. “I was supposed to be on a date. He hasn’t shown.” He ashamedly smirks. “Funny enough, I got stood up too.” He down the rest of his drink.

“What’s your name?” You answer sweetly, a bright smile on your face. He shared it, almost subconsciously. “I’m Bakugou Katsuki—“

“I know who you are. Everyone knows who you are. I’m surprised everyone is being so calm right now honestly.” You laugh and his heart skipped a beat, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a while.

“Places like these are used to seeing pros, they get over it.” He replies, leaning against the bar top. “Not every day one-half of the wonder duo walks through those doors.” You reason, a smug smirk on your face as if knowing you’d won.

“Touché.” You giggle, a sweet sound he yearns to hear again. “Did you enjoy your martini?”

“It was delicious. Thank you, again.” Well-mannered and gorgeous. “Anything for a pretty girl like you.” You flush, thanking him profusely. He orders you both another round, choosing to carry on the conversation.

As you two spoke he fell deeper and deeper into infatuation. “I’m the newest assistant for your friend, Chargebolt. This is only my third month at the agency and I’m tired.” You sip at your drink. “Really? Been so busy I haven’t had a chance to make the trip. Can’t be an easy job though, knowin’ Kaminari.”

“It’s not the most difficult task in the world but, I do have to keep my eye on him like a toddler.” You share a laugh at the comparison.

The conversation shifts to your personal lives. Lamenting on your lack of a love life, work beginning to consume your free time. How your close friends and family have urged you to get out of your shell. Which led to this night.

His hand lays over yours as he showers you with compliments. Deflecting anytime your humble attitude attempted to shut him down. He complimented your dress, you tried to brush him off claiming that the piece was old and unflattering.

“Well, I think that dress is absolutely stunning.” His hand grasps yours, and you reciprocate. “I should know, my ma’s a designer.” He’s almost smug in saying that as if his association with a designer made him the judge of all fashion.

“I’m aware, I’ve browsed her catalog since I was little.” The way your eyes light up talking about particular garments his mother fashioned that she always dreamed of owning. “I think you’d look gorgeous in just about anything.”

“Are you flirting with me Katsuki Bakugou?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment. The two of you leaning into each other's spaces unknowingly. He could smell your sweet perfume from her, the scent filling his senses. “I am, is that alright?”

“It is.” Your eyes flicker down to his lips as you lick your own before sitting back in your seat. Katsuki’s already hooked, still leaning into your space as if entranced by you. He leans back, stuck in an unfamiliar haze of attraction.

That haze seemed to slow the time as he checked his watch seeing he had been chatting with you for nearly four hours. It was dark outside, patrons still lingering in the lounge.

“Hey, it’s getting late.”

“Is there anything I can get you? A ride home? Maybe a nightcap?” The last part was slightly rushed as if he were embarrassed. “A nightcap sounds good, I’m off tomorrow anyway.” The wink you give him doesn’t go unnoticed making his stomach tighten. “Excuse me, can I close our tabs?”

“You don’t have to.”

“Please, let me. Besides that jerk should’ve been here paying anyway.” You sit in silence as he closes you both out of the night and thank him as he helps you to your feet. Bakugou drapes his big coat over your shoulders, holding out a hand which you graciously take.

The contrast of the warmth of the bar and the chilly night air flushes your cheeks. You’re thankful to the hero for his warm coat. “Your hands are really warm.” You mutter as you both stride down the sidewalk.

Katsuki’s notices before you. The stares. People turn to whisper to each other as he walks beside you. Soon, there are flashes and cheers of his name. He rolls his eyes out of annoyance, holding onto your hand tighter as he moves faster. “Can ya’ keep up, princess?”

A small swarm of fans and paparazzi crowd the couple, snapping photos and begging for an interview. He barks orders at them to leave you alone, keeping your face obscured from their ravenous gaze. You blindly follow, rather unphased by the crowd around you.

Before you, a sleek, exquisite sports car sat with flashing headlights. Katsuki opens the passenger door, still blocking you from view as he helps you inside. Once the door is shut, you’re concealed by his dark tint. “Can’t you guys just fuck off, for one night?” It was a rhetorical question, more to himself than the people around him.

He waves at fans along the street, ignoring the money-hungry reporters behind him as he opens his own door and settles into his vehicle.

“I’m so sorry.” He’s met with a soft laugh and a gentle touch to his hand. “Katsuki, I’m used to it. This is a part of my job too, I’m just more behind the scenes.”

“They’re just invasive,” The card engine roars to life, vibrating the interior. “Almost predatory. Going any length for a snippet of gossip.” He groans, leaning his messy blond head against the leather seats. “Bakugo—“ - “Katuski.” He speaks over you.

His head lulls to the side, his full attention on you. “Katsuki. I appreciate all you’ve done tonight.” Plump glossed lips upturned into a smile that melts his heart. “Consider it a late welcoming gift. You’re lucky, I usually send assistants gift cards to a spa.”

You both laugh, a break between the growing tension filling the cramped space of his car as you hold eye contact. His tongue darts to lick his chapped lips, teeth barely grazing the skin before he clears his throat and looks away.

“You sure you still wanna go back to mine?” He asks, buckling his seatbelt and you do the same. “Yeah, it’s just one drink.”

One drink.

Just one drink.

The phrase repeated in his mind almost the entire time. Your voice disrupting his thoughts the only thing keeping him from being completely silence. He drives you to his building. A large, clean structure. Covered in windows, and lights, and well decorated.

You don’t even need to enter the lobby. Katsuki leads you to an elevator activated with a special keycard.

After a short trip, the doors open to this grand place.

You find yourself in awe as you walk through his front hall. His apartment was massive and spotless yet, homey. Although he clearly preferred a more modernized look, it still managed to have the charm and personality of his childhood home.

“This place is ten times bigger than my apartment.” Katsuki laughs, taking his coat from you and hanging it beside the door. “I want to downsize, this was an impulse buy from when I first started. A financial disaster is what I refer to it as.” You giggle, he swoons.

The blond guides you to his kitchen, pulling out a stool for you to sit in at the island. “Are you hungry? I can whip something up.” He offers. “I thought I was just here for a nightcap, not dinner.” You joke, settling down in your seat.

“Well, I like a nice snack when I drink and a lady always deserves a nice dinner on the first date.”

“This is a date now?” You quirk a brow, still rather unsure of what to make of this evening.

“Wasn’t it always? We both had shitty dates who stood us up, we just found each other instead.”

“Yeah, then I guess it is.” You bat your lashes as silence falls over the kitchen for a moment. Katsuki clears his throat and smiles, moving away to gather something to eat. “What’re you making?” You ask seeing as he stands before the fridge. “Nothing.”

“Fresh bow of fruit, put it together today. I can get some crackers and wine, that work for you?” You nod.

“Could you grab the bottle off the counter? Don’t worry about a screw I’ve got one.” You help yourself to sort of peruse his kitchen, taking in little bits of his taste from the pictures and decor before returning the bottle to him.

Katsuki pops the bottle, pouring you both half glasses. You cheers, taking the first drink together and savoring the sweet taste. “I didn’t expect you to like sweet wines.”

“I indulge from time to time, besides it was a gift from my ma.”

“Aww, Dynamight the mama’s boy.” You giggle, grabbing a fresh strawberry and popping it into your mouth. “Oh hush, she gets these kinds of things for free and knows I’ll actually use them.” He’s close, using his elbows to lean on the counter.

“So don’t always do this?” You can smell his cologne.

“Do what?” He can smell your perfume.

“Being pretty girls to your apartment.” The scents colliding are an intoxicating concoction.

“Only pretty girls I like.” A strawberry is held cautiously between his fingertips, held between your space. “You like me, Katsuki?” A rather silly question on your part, he wouldn’t do this for just anyone.

“I do, princess.” He slowly bites into the juicy fruit, keeping his eyes on you.

The sudden bass and rap of his voice along with the intense eye contact fill you with a sudden wave of heat. The facade of small talk became harder to keep up.

It wasn’t long before Katsuki was brazen enough to lean over the counter and press his lips against yours. Your glasses of wine are soon abandoned, sloppily making out as you sit on his pristine countertop. He stood between your legs, hands crawling across your back and hips as you pant into each other mouths.

Soon, you’re both stumbling down his spacious corridor and into his dimly lit bedroom. He lets you go, turning to close the door as you take in your surroundings. Once the door is shut his attention is back to you, frantic hands roaming over each other skin, pulling at the almost offensive fabrics that keep your bodies apart.

Your clothes are eventually scattered among his own on the bedroom floor as Katsuki gently lowers your naked bodies into his fresh sheets. Cradling your head as he brushes his lips along your jaw and neck. You shiver under his touch, calloused hands running along your soft skin, cupping your breast, and rolling your hardening nipples.

You mewl under his touch, legs squeezing his hips to keep him in place. His teeth nip at your jaw, lowering to nip and suck marks into the skin of your neck. Your hips buck against each other, his hardening cock jumping against your dripping cunt.

It was becoming too much. you whine, pulling his attention away from your neck.

“What’s wrong, princess?” His words are followed by more gentle kisses. “Want you, ‘suki.” you pout, eyes watering dramatically. “You want more, baby?” You nod, lips still stuck in a pathetic-looking pout. His right hand moves to your jaw, pinching the bone between a few, thick fingers.

“Use your words.” His voice is strong, and commanding. Yet, loving and soft. “I want more, ‘suki.” He smiles at your muffled words and presses a wet kiss onto your puckered lips. “I’ll give you more then, princess.”

Your jaws sore when he lets go, the feeling of his fingers still remnant in their wake. Your legs fall slack as the blond kisses down your torso, from the valley of your breast to the bottom of your navel. He follows the trail back up and down once more, staring you in the eye.

His eyes shift down for a moment, a wolfish grin forming on his face. “You’re dripping, baby.” He cooes making your skin flush. another whine leaves your throat as you tear your gaze away, trying to focus on the ceiling above you. “No no, look at me.”

“Good. Look at me, baby.” His right hand moves from rubbing at your hips, to gently caressing your skin until his thumb lands on your clit. Your thighs quiver at the sudden contact, your gaze locked on him. Thumb lowers to collect the juices from your cunt, making a show as he brings the digit to his mouth to taste you.

You’re infatuated with the godly figure before you. His pale skin glistens with sweat, muscles unintentionally flexed as he lewdly moans around his fingers at your taste. “‘s so good, princess. You taste so fuckin’ good.”

He makes of show of it, wickedly at your already blissed-out appearance. “So damn sweet, soakin’ my sheets.”

Your eyes follow him as he descends between your legs once more, harshly biting the plump skin before soothing it with kisses.

You’re so caught in your own pleasure, the shock of his fingers prodding your cunt forces a gasp. His free hand moves your thighs onto his shoulders as he stares you down. “Can I?”

One thick finger breaches your cunny slowly, gently pushing in before pulling out. He follows the motions a few times, watching as you gush around his finger. Soon, another is added. Carefully, thrusting into your pussy as he presses kisses to your clit.

You writhe at his ministrations, fighting to keep your eyes focused on the man before you.

He sets a slow and mind-numbing pace, slowly thrusting in and out. The sounds of your slick coating his fingers and your breath moans a chorus to him.

“Yeah? Feel good, princess?” He teases, gaze fixed upon your pleasure-ridden face. Your mouth is agape as strained moans are pulled from your aching chest. He was breaking you apart in two fingers, stretching you open and preparing you for his cock.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight. Gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy, baby? ‘M gonna stretch you open like a good girl deserves.” He declares, mainly to himself. Too lost in how your walls greedily suctioned his fingers back in.

Bakugou carefully leans down to lap at your clit, eliciting a soft cry and an arch of your back. He shuts his eyes as he savors the taste he was beginning to yearn for, suckling your poor neglected clit.

“Katsuki!” You shout, digging your nails into the pillow behind you. “Katsu—fuckk! Please, fuck me, baby! I need you so badly, need your cock so bad!”

He’s devoted to searing your taste into his mind. Messily coating his face and your cunny with a thin layer of wetness. Soon, he’s haphazardly withdrawing his fingers from your salacious cunt, against your protests to taste you further.

Spikes of blond hair bob between your legs, his tongue delving between your folds making you whimper and writhe. His hands grab a hold of your ass, holding you close to his face so you wouldn’t escape. Your back arches from the comforter, keening into his touch.

“God!” You cry as you fall back onto the sheets, fingers grasping for anything to clutch. His pace never falters, gratefully drinking your slick that spilled into his awaiting tongue, then swirling it around your throbbing clit.

“Kat—fuck! Baby—Katsuki!” Your body felt electric, an almost buzzing sensation that erupted from your pelvis and spread through your body. Your wanton moans are loose into the air, eyes shut as your head is tossed back.

You were a gorgeous statuette of pleasure.

You felt as if you bit off more than you could chew. Going out with a pro hero was already anxiety-inducing enough, practical criminal, allowing him to lure you to his apartment with promises of a nightcap, and now naked and wriggling beneath him was driving you to insanity.

And he's not even inside of you yet.

The maddening way his tongue circled your aching clit, inscribing his name into the bud. His blunt nails digging into the meat of your ass, keeping you relatively grounded. His tongue unrelenting stimulating your soaked pussy pushed you to your first orgasm.

A sudden wave of pleasure and the ever-growing pit in your stomach unravels through your body. You grip his hair, keeping Katsuki’s mouth in place as your hips buck into the pleasure. You loudly cry out his name, and a few tears roll down your cheeks as you cum.

He groans into your cunt, eyes rolling at the sweet taste of your cum. His hands rub your skin, easing away any pain left behind by his grip. Slowly, you open your eyes, chest still heaving.

“‘Suki,”

He pulls away, the lower half of his face soaked with slick and spit.

“M’yeah?” You can’t even think of what to say, just laying your head back to catch your breath. “You alright, baby?” You nod, still returning from your high. Katsuki crawls up to face you, a soft smile on his lips. “You look so pretty.” He cups your cheek, running his thumb along the soft skin.

“I want you to fuck me.”

He quirks a brow, a smirk on his face. “Yeah? I’ll fuck you, baby.”

“I promise, I’ll fuck you real good.” He captures your lips, sharing the taste of you once more. Your tongues are quick to entangle as you pant into each other's mouths.

Your fingers naturally gravitate to his blond hair, keeping him close as you kiss. Your bodies move together as you grind against one another, his hard cock leaking pre cum against your stomach. You’re both growing increasingly needier, rutting and panting like dogs in heat.

Katsuki breaks from the grinding, settling himself between your thighs. The tip of his cock pressed against your clit, spreading his precum as he teases you.

“You want it?”

“I want it, ‘suki.” His grin is wolfish at the nick, happily dragging his cock from your clit to press at your fluttering hole. He groans at the warmth and wetness, your dripping cunt already leaking onto him.

A pathetic high-pitched whine leaves your open mouth as his thick, heavy cock slowly bullies into your heat. Pushing deep into your plush, warm walls. Katsuki is slow, taking his time to ease you into the feeling. His lips are on your breast, kissing and nipping the soft skin.

“More, please.” You whine, your hands moving to hold onto his back. His hips increase in pace, still slow as you hiss once he draws back.

Katsuki slowly molds your tight pussy to his cock, stretching you open to only accommodate him. The sharp pain of your nails digging into his back only encourages him to thrust faster, making you cry out his name. Your cunt loudly gushes around his heavy cock, spilling syrupy juices down your skin.

“God damn, this pussy—fuck—you’re s’fuckin’ tight.” He grits out, grabbing your leg and pushing it back to the mattress. The change of angle causes you to lurch forward, your hands pushing at his shoulders. “Oh my god, Katsuki!” You shout, as his throbbing cockhead smushes against your cervix.

He’s back to sucking your tits, leaving spit-soaked freckled hickeys in his wake. You’re still adjusting to his size, the sudden change in position driving him deeper into your guts.

He’s pressed himself closer against you, his pelvis adding stimulation to your nice neglected clit. You throb around him and cry, fat tears slipping from your eyes. “Y’feel that, baby? I’m so deep in this pretty pussy. Y’feel me in yer tummy, does it feel good, baby?” You’re incoherent, only capable of breathless moans and sobs.

“You look so pretty, all fucked out ‘cause o’ me. Tell me, baby, do I feel good?” His hand cruelly comes down to press on the slight bulge in your stomach, causing your poor cunt to twitch around him. “‘s too much!” You cry out, pushing against him to no avail.

“Too much? You can take it, princess. Can’t ya’?” His pace suddenly grows rough, hips slamming into yours as he fucks into your cunny. He pressed your other leg to the mattress, forcing his cock all the way inside.

You’re mindless. Eyes rolled back into your skull, unintelligible moans and clawing at his skin. The rooms full of thick, humid air, the sounds of your squelching cunt, and a chorus of moans. Bakugou savors this image, in case he may never get the chance to see you again.

He caresses all of the right places inside of you, each thrust full of never-ending pleasure. His wicked tongue in your nipples and sinful roll of his hips push you to the edge. Like a burning fuse, slowly trailing all the way to a firework.

“Y’close baby? Don’t worry, you can cum for—fuck! You’re so fuckin’ wet—cum for me.”

Katsuki’s thrust increases to a maniacal speed, jostling you around his mattress without care. He was chasing his orgasm now, keeping you secure beneath he ruts into you. Heavy balls slapping against your asshole, the rough feeling of public hair against your soaked cunt. You can’t think let alone protest before he’s spilling his cum deep inside of your womb.

Katsuki keeps himself buried inside of you as he changes position, opting to hold you instead. You’re both panting as if you’ve run a marathon, hearts racing and skin coated in sex and sweat. You lay in silence, catching your breath for just a moment.

“Please don’t tell me you’re thinkin’ ’bout leavin’.” He mutters into your hair, rubbing your back. You breathlessly giggle against his chest, shaking your head. “I can’t feel my legs, Katsuki.” He smiles, cheering to himself.

“How about we clean up and get some rest? I’m beat.” A yawn cuts you off as you agree, alerting you to how exhausted you truly are. Katsuki kisses your forehead. “Get some sleep and tomorrow, we can continue this date. That sound nice?” You nod again, and slowly drift to sleep.

“Good. Stay here and look pretty, I’ll run a bath.”

#bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou x reader smut #katsuki bakugou smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader #tw.alcohol #tw.breeding #𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚝!𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚜 #𝚖𝚣𝚣𝚕𝚎𝚍𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚝!

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 10 months

Text

Practice On Me — Part Twelve — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader does what she has to for the information she wants. Talking to Azriel takes an interesting turn. Kaeda’s not doing her job, and she’s feeling a bit sorry for herself — to which Cassian isn’t very sympathetic.

Word Count: 9.6k. OOF. A long one, sorry!

Warnings: None.

You should really just go to sleep. Mind your own business.

But you find yourself waiting. Listening. For some indication that Tathaln has left.

You think it might be hours that pass. Roza has long since passed out in her bed. But there’s no chance of you sleeping, too. Not with all the thoughts that are crammed full in your head and speaking too loudly.

The most pressing of which: Why the fuck would the Lord of Fenlaros be visiting the High Lord in his private home in this private city?

No other camp lords venture here, you’re sure. Don’t even know it exists.

And yet, from that short glimpse you got of Finadar and Tathaln, there was an air of…familiarity, about them. Like it wasn’t the first time they were privately meeting.

Eventually, you grow sick of waiting, wondering. It’s no use. You’re restless and wired and churned up. You need to move, to stretch your legs, grab a drink or something.

The house is eerily still. You take your time traversing the corridors, carefully listening out to catch lowered voices and hushed tones. Even decide to take the longer route — the one that would take you past the High Lord’s study. But even as you pass by the thick wooden door, you hear nothing but the distant sounds of a hooting owl and the slicing wind amidst the mountains.

You’re almost at the kitchen when a figure abruptly rounds the corner on too-light feet. You stop short — and so does the High Lord.

You’re so stunned that you forget yourself. It takes a moment for you to remember to act accordingly. You bow your head in greeting. “My Lord.”

“Y/N.” Your name sounds funny, too familiar, on his tongue. When Rhysand had brought you here at fourteen, Finadar had merely referred to you as that girl. It seems that with age comes at least a little bit of acknowledgment. His eyes rake over you, and you’re suddenly aware of your nightgown, your unbound hair. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“A little, my Lord—”

“Just Fin, please.”

You pause. And then smile a bland smile. “A little…Fin.”

He holds up the object you hadn’t noticed clutched within his hand. A bottle. “I was just about to have a night cap. Perhaps you’d like to join me?”

On instinct, you want to decline. Having a private drink with Rhysand’s father seems…inappropriate, somehow.

But then that curious little voice in your head reminds you that this — this is the perfect opportunity to ask some questions, hopefully garner information. He’s relaxed. Open. In his own environment. What better time than now?

So that bland smile becomes a pretty one, and you dip your chin. “It would be my pleasure.”

With that charming smile of his own, the handsome male leads you to his study and holds the door open for you. Stepping inside feels like breaching somewhere firmly forbidden, and a place of such luxury that it would chew up your poor-to-do self and spit you out. All rich mahogany wood and more books than you’ve ever seen in your life. Trinkets and papers and maps and war strategy. The sight leaves you a little breathless, and for a moment, you forget you’re not alone.

But then the door shuts behind you, and the High Lord is striding past, over to his desk.

“You’ve been a friend of my son’s for a while, now, haven’t you?” He asks casually, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows.

You step closer, nodding. “I have, My Lo—Fin. Nine years, to be exact.”

“And you’re his age?”

“Yes. Twenty.”

A vague smile plays on his lips. “Old enough to drink, then, Please, do sit.”

You do exactly that, taking a seat in one of the plush, cushioned chairs and folding your hands in your lap. And for all you had planned to speak with Fin, now that you’re in front of him, you’re not quite sure what to say. You don’t know how to talk to someone of such high status.

He’s entirely at confident — even arrogant — ease, though. With a wave of a hand, a fire roars to life, breathing heat into the room and bathing it in an intimate glow. He pours two glasses of dark, smoky liquid and hands one to you before taking his own.

Instead of sitting at his desk as you half expect, he’s slumping into the armchair beside yours and tipping his head against its back.

He looks…tired, you note, as you subtly study him over the lip of your glass. Devastatingly beautiful — there’s no doubt about that. Chocolate eyes that remind you of Mor’s and short, reddish-brown hair. His generously muscled arms push through his shirt as he shifts.

And then he says, out of the blue, “I don’t sleep well, either.”

You’re not sure why he’s telling you that, of all things.

“I’m sorry.” It seems like an appropriate response. “I imagine, in being High Lord, you must have a lot on your plate.”

A wry smile graces his lips. “There’s always someone wanting something from you.” His eyes then drink you in again. “What is it you do in Windhaven? I take it you’re unwed. I don’t remember approving a marriage for you.”

“I am. Until recently, I lived with and worked for my father. But my circumstances have changed, and I don’t know what I’ll be doing next.”

“Was it your father who took your wings?”

Heat burns your cheeks. “It was.”

“Is that what you want from me? To punish him?”

You stare back at him, fighting to keep your expression neutral. “Who says I want anything from you?”

“Do you not?”

“…It was you who invited me for a drink, My Lord. I can leave if my company is bothersome to you—”

“It is not.” He lays a hand on your arm, skin far smoother than you expect from somebody so accustomed to weapons. “But there’s no reason we can’t both get something out of this.”

Your eyes fall down to that hand, and your body is so very still. Perhaps you’ve made a grave mistake in seeking him out.

But you dare ask, “What is it you want?”

A chuckle rasps out of him, and he retracts the touch. “Honesty. I get the sense that you’re of the curious sort. Why else would you have been so intently watching me greet my guest earlier this evening?”

So, he’d seen you. Silly, for you to assume that you could slip into the shadows around such a powerful being. You can almost feel that power prowling under his skin right now.

“I am interested,” you admit, “in what Tathaln Baralas was doing here.”

“You’re familiar with him.” He states — and then chuckles again. “Of course, you are. You were one of the ones who snuck off to Fenlaros for a party. I wasn’t best pleased when my son told me.” His head falls into a tilt. “But why would you be interested in Tathaln’s business here?”

“I may not be from Fenlaros, but I am Illyrian. And I imagine that a matter that warrants a meeting at the High Lord’s personal residence is one pressing enough to effect more than just a single camp.”

Full lips — Rhysand’s lips — tilt upwards. “Beautiful, curious and intelligent. Such a waste in a place like Illyria.”

“You’re too kind.”

“And you are too bashful.” A quiet intensity lies within his brown eyes. “I will reward your candour with this: Tathaln Baralas was here to suggest — request — a grand ball.”

For a split second, you falter. Try not to let it show on your face that you do.

The answer is…underwhelming. Perhaps you’re so idle in Velaris that you’re looking for drama where it doesn’t exist.

“A ball.” You repeat the word rather foolishly, like it’s your first time ever saying it. “I…I wasn’t aware that a Camp Lord would need your permission to arrange such a thing.”

“Confined to his own camp, he would not.” Fin tells you. “But the Lord of Fenlaros proposes something on a far larger scale. Something that has never before been done, and something that, I must admit, has piqued my interest.”

“Which is what?”

“Tathaln,” the High Lord stands, draining his glass and returning it to his desk, “has asked me to throw an Illyrian ball — not solely a Fenlarion ball. Meaning the best legions from all Illyrian war camps will be invited, along with their wives, mates, whatever. They will all gather in one place for this event, and interact as they never have before.”

You stare at him.

You do not mean for your indignation to shine through so freely.

He is your High Lord and not to be disrespected.

But you’re studying him, and wondering why the fuck he doesn’t look as alarmed by the suggestion as you feel.

“Why, by the Cauldron, would he want to do that?” The words fall from your mouth, formality forgotten. “There’s a reason it’s never been done before. Rival camps do not mix because Illyrians are hot-headed and driven by ego, and there would be fights and bloodshed and probably death. It’s a terrible idea. I don’t understand why Tathaln Baralas would suggest such a thing.”

A deep chortle husks out of the High Lord, and you could be wrong, but you think there might be a hint of surprise in the sound. Like he’s unused to such brazenness from his subjects — female ones, in particular.

You asked a damn good question, though.

Fin turns to you, and for a lingering moment, he simply stares. And then he says, softly, “Stand.”

You pause. Think that maybe, you’ve spoken too much, crossed a line. But you stand.

The High Lord beckons you closer.

You take one step forward. Another. Another. He lifts a hand and motions for you to stop. You do. You smooth your hands over your nightgown. Think you might be shaking a little.

You do not need a wealth of knowledge nor experience to recognise exactly how it is that he looks at you.

Deep, tawny eyes trail the length of you and seem to miss no detail. Your loose hair and pretty, open face. The sharp lines of your collarbones and the smooth skin of your decolletage. The flowing silk of your nightgown and the bareness of your legs and arms on show beneath it.

He stares at you in a way that makes you feel you’re wearing nothing at all.

And then he’s prowling closer with preternatural grace, and the heat and scent of his body seems to snuff out the heat and scent of the fire.

You can only stand, your legs wobbling a little, as he begins to circle you, peruse you, like a predator assessing its prey. You might hold your breath a little. You’re not sure what he plans to do, whether you’re to be reprimanded for your candidness. When he raises his hand, you hope you don’t flinch. You learned not to do so, not to show your fear, in the years living under your father’s thumb.

But his hand merely cups the curve of your shoulder and sweeps a few strands of your hair back.

“Give me what I want, Y/N.” He says, his voice gritty. “And I will tell you what Tathaln wants.”

This is all starting to feel like a huge oversight. A mistake. If this goes too far — if he suggests something that would disrespect Roza in any way…

You’d sooner be reprimanded, however badly.

Your eyes shutter, and you speak again, “What is it you want?”

Fin slinks round until he’s stood before you. The mild smile on his lips hides so much. “If I’m to oversee an event with all the camps under my rule,” he says, “I want to look good. I’m a victim of extreme vanity, you see. Appearances are everything. And thus, I would go before my subjects with the prettiest little piece at my side.” His eyes drink in your face, unpainted and unguarded. “You would do nicely.”

You’re not certain that your breath of relief is a silent one. The suggestion could be far worse, of course, but anxious butterflies are still all aflutter in your gut.

It would be prudent to remember who you’re talking to — who it is you’re playing games with. To remember that you are just a young female from Windhaven, with no experience outside of it. You are not a seasoned courtier, and you do not know the rules of the game — how to play them, nor how to break them.

You clear your throat, lowering your gaze. “Forgive me, My Lord. Whilst I’m undoubtedly flattered…I must admit to also being confused. Won’t Roza fulfil the role at your side?”

“Roza will attend no more public appearances for the remainder of her pregnancy — a decision we came to together. She is far too tired and must rest. And she’s fully aware that I will need to invite a special guest in her place.”

“But if you’re trying to make an impression before your Illyrian subjects…I am the last female who would bring you any glory. I am ordinary. I do not have wings—”

“You do yourself a disservice, Y/N.” His slow footsteps begin again. “The likes of your father have got into your head, I fear. What I see, looking at you now, is not these.” Warm fingers touch your ruined back, and you jerk a little. “What I see is the embodiment of classic Illyrian beauty. Just as I see in my Roza. You may not know this, but they tried to take her wings, too. Until I stopped them. It — we — would send a message, don’t you think? That your repulsive father may have taken your wings, but he did not take your spirit. Your beauty. And that spirit and beauty earned you a place at the High Lord’s side. Perhaps I’ll invite your father, and his punishment can be the night’s entertainment.”

It's…strange. Conflicting. Because the High Lord is saying things that you so often long to hear. The shattered, self-loathing part of your brain perks up and leans into the compliments like a pampered cat, waiting to hear more, to be stroked.

But then there’s an angry part of you — one that wishes to yell at him that if he truly abhorred the practice of wing clipping, he would ban it altogether instead of keeping himself in the favour of Illyrians and simultaneously bashing their views and traditions behind their backs.

So many feelings. And yet, you try to remember why you’re here.

Because something eats away at you that whatever Tathaln Baralas is up to will impact Azriel somehow. At least as long as he’s with Kaeda.

So you lift your chin and ask, “I agree to be your special guest to the ball, and you tell me what the Lord of Fenlaros is up to? It’s that easy?”

Fin chuckles. Stops in front of you again. “It’s that easy.” He inclines his head. “As I said, I am of the vain sort — and this is merely a thing of vanity. I’d rather enjoy parading one of my son’s pretty playthings on my arm. Letting those Illyrian males know that I could have any of their females if I wanted. And the fact that I don’t particularly care for Tathaln Baralas means that I don’t particularly care to hold on too tightly to his secrets, either.”

You don’t bother correcting him about the nature of yours and Rhys’s relationship. Seems irrelevant, in the grand scheme of things. And if your only role in this is to dress up and look pretty at the High Lord’s side, you reckon you’ve gotten off pretty damn lightly.

For a moment, there, you really thought he might want…more.

“Alright.” You stand up straight. “I will gladly be your guest to the ball.”

He smiles an odd smile, like he knew you would agree all along. With his arm brushing yours as he closely passes, he makes his way back over to his desk. Refills his glass and yours. Hands it to you.

“The reason the Lord of Fenlaros wants an Illyrian ball,” he says, “is because he seeks a situation in which he can have an eye on all camps — and vet their talent.”

“Vet their…” Your brow pinches. “What?”

“Tathaln, Y/N, has a vision in mind.” Fin turns to you, perching on the edge of the desk. “One that, I have to admit, did pique my interest — if it were to work. You see, he’s of the opinion that Illyria should, eventually, do away with the individual camps entirely. He’d sooner have one huge camp — that he would be Lord of, of course, and have a team of the strongest, most powerful Illyrians working alongside him to train the most fearsome army in the entirety of the Fae realm.”

“That’s preposterous. Cramming all Illyrians into one camp under one lord would mean the eye would be taken off the ball quicker than lightning. How could an army that big be adequately trained by a small team of leaders, no matter how powerful? Even the strongest soldiers couldn’t keep command of such numbers. That is why the individual camps work. Weaknesses get smoothed out and strengths are honed.”

The fire in your tone seems to amuse the High Lord. And you wonder if Illyria isn’t unlike a dolls house to him. Figures he can pluck up and move around and pit against each other for his own entertainment.

“Tathaln would disagree with you.” He smiles. “He believes that the individual camps only create room for complacency, a lack of order. He thinks that your kind spend more time drinking and fucking and fighting amongst themselves than they do training for combat. And he thinks that if something isn’t done about it, the next war could wipe Illyria off the map.”

“And he believes himself to be a strong enough Camp Lord to somehow fix that?”

“Alone? Gods, no. He’s an arrogant brute, but not a stupid one. No,” He says again. “See, this unit he would build wouldn’t be just made up of highly-skilled warriors.”

“Then what?”

“Illyrians with further powers. Special abilities.” Fin’s eyes track over your face, waiting for the realisation to dawn. “Like a shadowsinger, for example.”

And finally, it’s like light blotting out the clueless darkness of your head. Suddenly, it all falls into place.

You don’t know why you didn’t see it before.

“Tathaln wants Azriel under his command.” The words are ash on your tongue.

“Yes.” Fin nods. “He does. And there are other males in other camps, too, with their own, unique abilities. Tathaln wants this ball to see them up close. Pick them out. If things go his way, he would have those males defecting from their current camps and making a home in Fenlaros. There, they would train — and begin bringing Tathaln’s vision to life.”

Azriel leaving Windhaven…moving to another camp and not being around to talk to, to spend mindless hours with, to face life with — the thought is like a cold, cruel stab to your heart.

Your friends are what make Windhaven bearable. Together, you’ve built a little home there, a family. And you may all be at each other’s throats right now, but you love each other. Wouldn’t want to lose each other.

The idea of no longer seeing Az makes you want to puke up the two glasses of whiskey now swimming in your stomach.

And even more sickening is the further realisation—

Kaeda is Tathaln’s daughter — his puppet on a string.

It was never a coincidence that she randomly started floating around Windhaven. Wasn’t a natural thing at all, that she’d found interest in Azriel, of all people. The only shadowsinger.

The entire thing had been carefully orchestrated.

Kaeda’s interest in Az isn’t genuine. Her father specifically sent her to Windhaven to get him on side.

You think you might actually be sick. Suddenly, the High Lord’s study seems far too small.

“Why would you allow any of this?” You manage to grit out around your growing panic. “You’re the High Lord…if you tell Tathaln no, he can’t take it any further.”

Fin shrugs a nonchalant shoulder. “As I said — his vision piqued my interest. It’s not a bad idea, provided it would be executed properly. But if it were? Imagine the glory. The power. The Night Court would boast the most steeled army in Prythian. Battle would be mere child’s play to us.”

You…no. No. You can’t sit back and act like you don’t know any of this.

Azriel needs to be told. He needs to know what games Kaeda is playing — that she’s only interested in doing her father’s bidding, pouring honeyed words into Az’s ear to coax him out of Windhaven and into their ready, waiting trap. To use him. Exploit him.

You need to tell him. Even if he goes straight back to being angry with you after, still doesn’t want to speak to you…you need to.

With shaking hands, you place your glass down. “I…I’m quite tired. I think I’ll try, again, to sleep.” There’s no chance of that. “Thank you for the drink. And the conversation.”

Fin’s head falls into a tilt. He looks…intrigued. “Thank you for the company. And I’ve no doubt I can trust you to uphold your end of our arrangement.”

You nod. Hate the words as you speak them. “I will be your guest at the ball.”

“I’ll be in touch, then. Goodnight.”

You only just manage to return the sentiment as you slip out of the room, the cold hallways making a grab for your bare skin. Fin’s words haunt you all the way back to your room. Keep you awake all through the night. Bury themselves deep in your mind, your heart, and fill you with such an icy-cold fear, you feel you may never be warm again.

You have to tell Azriel — or you may lose him for good.

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The next morning, over tea and pastries and your rushed retelling of the night before, Roza stares at you.

Her expression is unreadable.

“You’re angry with me.” You breathe, the very words pinching at your heart. “I understand. But I needed to find out what Tathaln Baralas was up to. I just knew that—”

“Angry with you?” She cuts you off. “No, my love. With Fin? Yes. That he’s even entertaining this idea of that odious Camp Lord’s, and that his ego is so great that he would parade you on his arm like nothing more than prize cattle. That, I am angry with.” Her eyes sweep your face with concern — and a hint of something else. Something like…admiration. “You, however…you remind me exactly of myself when I was your age. Scheming, pushing back against what’s simply wrong…and in the name of love, too. I cannot possibly be angry with you for that.”

Your eyes fall to your plate. Love. That word rings in your ears like a war cry. “I need to do this. For Azriel. He’s being used, and—”

“I know.” Roza reaches over, closing a hand over yours. “Believe me, I know. And you have my full blessing and support. But you also have my concern. The games of Courts and High Lords and Camp Lords are dangerous ones. Do what you need to do for Azriel — for love — but have your wits about you. Do not, at any point, let them best you. And if Fin tries to take your agreement any further and lays a hand on you, come and tell me straight away, and I will fucking castrate him—”

Her words are cut short by a night-chilled shroud, darkness-given-form, despite the morning light that bathes the room.

Rhysand appears out of thin air. “Who will you castrate, mother dear?”

“You.” Roza says without a beat, scowling at her son. “What have I told you about just appearing like that? You’re showing off. It’s rude.”

“But I’m so good at it.” He strides closer, kissing her cheek and then yours. And steals the remainder of your pastry. “Ready to go?”

You’d sent a note a little over an hour ago, asking Rhys to come get you and fly you to Windhaven. You didn’t specify that you were going to talk to Az — and potentially break his heart with the information you’d garnered last night.

Rhys, of course, had written back that he’d be more than willing to oblige — as soon as Zakai was done sucking his cock.

Indeed, your friend looks particularly flushed and sated as he swallows your food and washes it down with a gulp of your tea.

“Rhysand.” Roza scolds. “Have some damn manners. Will you steal food from the babe, too?”

“Well, considering you’ll be breastfeeding her, mother dearest, absolutely not—”

“Her?” You blink between them. “You know it’s a girl?”

Roza smiles softly, sliding a hand over her stomach. “Not for certain. But the healer seems pretty sure. Her magic can detect these things, and she says she’s never gotten it wrong in all her years.”

“Gods, I hope so.” Rhys’s violet eyes glitter. “I’ve said from the start that I’m hoping for a sister.”

And you can see it already — Rhys throwing himself into the role of older brother. Protecting that little girl with his whole heart. She’d be the luckiest child in all of Prythian to have Rhys for a brother. And to have Cassian and Azriel protecting her, too…

That is, if Azriel doesn’t choose to go to Fenlaros.

Your stomach turns all over again at the thought. No — you need to speak with him, to warn him. He wouldn’t leave.

“Let’s go.” You stand abruptly, your breakfast feeling leaden in your stomach.

“Much obliged.” Rhys sketches a flourishing bow, to which Roza rolls her eyes. He kisses her cheek again. “Take it easy. I love you.”

Roza inclines her head. “I love you both.”

Its as you, too, dip down to kiss her cheek, that she lays a gentle hand on your arm. Concern swims in her eyes.

“Be careful, my little dove.” She pleads quietly. “Not just of the game you’re playing — but of your heart, too. Protect it.”

The words echo in your mind too loudly as Rhys takes your hand and steals you away.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Twenty years in Windhaven should have you at least a little accustomed to the brutal temperatures, but landing your feet on the packed snow makes you wonder if even a whisper of the spring season will kiss these parts. It seems to lurk on the horizon, just out of reach.

As Rhys dusts flecks of snow from his jacket, you glance down at your pathetic, worn boots. The very boots that seemed to start this entire godsdamned situation with Az. It was these that made him scoop you into his arms and carry you to the mead hall, where you shared that first, heated kiss on one of the tables—

“What are you staring at?” Rhys hovers at your side.

“Nothing.” You straighten yourself up. Hope your blush can pass for cold-bitten skin. “Do you know where Azriel is? I’d like to speak with him.”

“Sparring rings, I’d presume.”

You nod, and you go to head off in the other direction, but Rhys’s hand is enclosing around yours. He squeezes gently. “Send word when you want me to come get you.”

The sentiment promises more than just safe transport back to Velaris. It offers support, too — in the likely scenario that this conversation doesn’t go smoothly.

Because you have to consider the possibility that the truth about Kaeda, while needing to be exposed, may not be well received.

Azriel will likely be hurt by it. And you might bear the brunt of that.

Rhysand will be there for you, whatever happens. Even if he has no clue what’s going on.

So you squeeze back, and you offer an unconvincing smile as you let go. “I love you, Rhysand.”

He scowls. “Don’t like it when you call me Rhysand.”

“Sorry, Rhysand.”

“You’re a little shit. But I love you, too.”

You smile wider. That little bit of jesting is what gives you the courage, the strength, to square your shoulders and stroll away from him, snow seeping into your boots with each step.

By the time you get to the sparring rings, you think your feet might be frozen solid. But lo and behold, Azriel is there, currently going head-to-head with another male in his unit.

The very sight is the picture of a hard-trained warrior — a dance, a performance, of flying fists and measured breaths. Az is big and muscled, but he’s lithe and swift, and he moves through each step and dodges each blow and delivers his own as though it’s easy as air. He’s flawless, and for a heartbeat, all you can do is watch, every thought eddying from your mind.

But then he’s dodging a flying fist and pivoting on his feet. His eyes catch you. He’s distracted long enough for his partner to grab the upper hand and knock Az off his feet.

The shadowsinger accepts defeat. He sprawls on his back, panting heavily, and you continue to watch as his opponent grins and offers a hand to help him up.

“Distracted by a female?” He jokes. “I thought you were better than that, shadowsinger.”

A tight smile forms and falls from Az’s lips. He hates losing. “It would seem not. Well fought.”

“I’ll leave you and your lady to it.” The other male says, and you choose to ignore the suggestion in his voice. Azriel ignores it, too. Doesn’t even acknowledge him as he strolls away, no doubt to boast to his insufferable friends that he managed to get one over on the shadowsinger.

Az looks at you in that quiet, assessing way of his. Surveys you head to toe, like he needs to reassure himself that your short stay in Velaris has brought you no harm thus far. It’s good that he still cares, you think. You hope.

“You’re back?” He asks, grabbing a towel to wipe at his face. It’s then that you notice that his lip is bleeding a little.

“Not entirely.” You shake your head. “I…need to talk to you about something. Something important.”

And whether he’s ready to talk to you yet, or not, is irrelevant — he seems to realise that as he studies you once more and nods. “We’ll go to the dorms. Nobody’s there.”

You hate this, you want to tell him. The awkwardness. The…the stagnancy of your relationship. It was never supposed to be like this between you and him. It hurts.

And it makes you realise that love isn’t always beautiful.

But you school your expression as he finally closes the gap between you. He glances down, and a soft sigh escapes him. “Those fucking boots.”

Before you can say something, anything, find some way to defend your continued wearing of those fucking boots, Azriel is grabbing your hand. The unexpected touch jolts you — as does the zip through thin air that has you landing in the kitchenette of the dorms only seconds later.

Despite possessing the ability to winnow, Azriel avoids it at all costs, if he can. Something about the practice unsettles him, and he doesn’t believe he’s ever refined it enough to use it reliably.

So, the fact that he just winnowed you to the dorms either means that he still cares enough to get you out of the cold, or he wants to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible.

Gods, you hope it’s the former.

“Stay there.” He murmurs, and he’s turning on his feet. You want to stop him and tell him it’s imperative that you speak immediately — but you can only watch as he strides in the direction of his room.

Moments later, he’s strolling back through — a pair of his own, thick socks in his hands.

You might just soften and crumble enough to forget about the conversation and throw your arms around him. Even now, he’s still looking out for you, making sure you’re taken care of.

You plead with yourself not to get choked up over a pair of socks. But you just…miss him. Miss this. And you think that shows as you hold a hand out and rasp, “Thank you.”

“Let me.” Is all Az replies. He drops to his knees before you.

Your mind goes quiet.

Gods.

The last thing you expected, from coming here, was to see Az knelt at your feet.

And it’s so fucking inappropriate, but as he begins to unlace your boots, your stupid, pathetic brain begins to lament on what a damn shame it is, that you didn’t get to behold this sight, have him on his knees, when things were still good between you. Maybe there’s something wrong with you.

“You don’t have to do that—”

“Need to make sure you’re warm.” He chucks your sodden boots aside, yanks your socks off. Dries your poor, pinkened feet. Tugs his own socks — so big on you that he has to bunch them at the ankles — onto them. And then rises to his feet. “I’ll get a fire going.”

His fussing over you has always bordered on outright hysterical.

“Azriel.” Finally, you lay a firm hand on his arm. Stop him. “I need to talk to you.”

The way he goes so very still at your touch has you realising — all this fussing is to avoid simply…looking at you. Facing you. He’s trying to busy himself in your presence.

But he does look at you. Lifts his gaze to yours. And there’s grit in his voice as says, “I know I fucked up, Y/N. I shouldn’t have reacted to you and Cassian the way I did. I had no right.”

“I’m not here about that—”

“I was angry because I was so damn jealous. And that’s irrational, and I know it, but I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t stand the thought of him…anyone else…putting their hands—”

“It’s Kaeda, Az. She’s using you.”

Finally, you’ve won his silence. His arm tenses under your hand. His eyes burn into yours.

“I learned it from the High Lord himself.” The words are so, so sour on your tongue. You hate this. Hate the truth — for Az. “Tathaln Baralas is trying to round up the most powerful Illyrians of each camp and have them under his command in Fenlaros. Eventually, he wants there to be only one camp — that he rules over. He covets you because you’re a shadowsinger, and he sent Kaeda here to cosy up to you and do his bidding, win you over. She’s been working for him—”

He tugs away from your touch. Takes a step back. And the anger, the hurt, that you expect to find on his face just…isn’t there.

“I know all of this.” He says, simply.

“You—what?”

“I had dinner with Kaeda and her family. Tathaln laid his idea out to me and asked me to go to Fenlaros. He was completely open about it.”

You study him, waiting for some vague indication that he’s angry at Kaeda’s manipulation. But he seems entirely nonchalant.

It stings.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You hate how small your voice sounds.

“Well, you and I haven’t exactly been talking—”

“I’d think a situation like thiswould override that.”

“Kind of had other things on my mind, though, haven’t I?”

“Well did you tell Tathaln he can shove his fucking vision up his ass?”

Silence.

Silence, and then the rustle of Az’s wings as he shifts on his feet.

Loud, loud silence.

You think your heart might plummet into your stomach. Your mouth goes dry. You stare at him, every inch of him, desperate for some sort of sign that his silence isn’t saying what you fear it’s saying.

But gods, it’s so very telling.

“Please tell me you’re not considering it,” you breathe.

He doesn’t answer straight away. He looks at his feet and shifts on the spot and takes his time answering like your heart isn’t thundering in anticipation.

And then he says, quietly, “I told Kaeda I would consider it.”

The words steal the air from your lungs. The picture of a Windhaven without Azriel’s presence suddenly doesn’t seem like a blurred, unlikely one. Feels like it’s being dangled in front of your face.

“What?” Your voice is weak.

“I just…told her I’d think about it.”

“Why?”

“The idea isn’t a bad one—I could hone my skills, put them to use—”

“You could also kiss goodbye to any ties you have to this place! To your family, to—to me!”

Cauldron fucking damn your voice for cracking the way it does. You’re going to break in front of him, and it’s going to be bad. You can feel your chest tightening, the idea of losing Azriel for good making you breathless and panicked and like you don’t know what to do with yourself, your hands, your entire body.

“Y/N.” Az says softly. “I haven’t given a definitive answer.”

“But you’re thinking about it.” You choke. “You’re considering it—leaving. Do the others know about this? Rhys and Cassian?”

“No. Haven’t really been speaking to them, either.”

“Is that all part of it? Distancing yourself from us until you sever your ties completely? Are you truly so angry with me that you’d choose this? To not see me anymore?”

You know immediately what you’ve said.

To not see me. Rhys and Cassian not included.

Azriel catches it, too. He purses his lips, and he stares at you.

“This isn’t about that.” He insists.

“You never would have considered this before I lay with Cassian—”

“This isn’t about distancing myself because you fucked Cassian! It’s because I want you and that terrifies me!”

The words, hard and solid as iron daggers, are actually enough to calm your growing panic. You feel them land, piercing through your skin and spreading a wanton, longing venom through your veins. You’ve spent days — weeks — caught up in your thoughts, trying to accept the fact that you want Azriel. You want Azriel. More than you ever had before.

And perhaps it says a lot about how you perceive yourself, but it hadn’t occurred to you that he might want you back.

Hearing it is heart-stopping.

You clear away what feels like a patchwork of hoarfrost that’s frozen over your throat. “I—thought you wanted Kaeda.”

Azriel makes a noise; something like a humourless laugh. “Believe me, I tried. But I don’t. I want you, so much that it burns. Burns me worse than what scarred my fucking hands. I’ve never felt like this before. I’m sick with it. I can’t sleep for thinking about you, wanting you beside me. I can’t stop myself aching for you and I’m losing my fucking mind.”

Blow after blow after blow, these words. Sour and sweet, pleasant and horrific, love and hate. You feel like you know everything and nothing at once. Like you understand what he’s saying but not quite.

But your honest response croaks out of you, “And if I want you, too? What then?”

Azriel’s jaw ticks. And he presses himself hard against the wall as if he’s trying to disappear through it. “Then,” he says, “that makes it even worse.”

“Because you’d sooner run off to another camp than give yourself to a pathetic excuse for an Illyrian like me, right?”

“Because I would sooner damn myself to a miserable existence in Fenlaros than allow this to turn into another thing of beauty that could be ripped straight from my hands. I’d sooner not see you at all than have you and lose you. And I’d rather base my decision on hypotheticals and protect my heart than give it away and wish I never had. If that makes me selfish—”

“It makes you,” you grit your teeth hard, blink furiously through forming tears, “a fucking coward.”

He pauses. “Then I’m a coward.”

But he isn’t. Never has been. Not when he was locked up in his hateful father’s keep and forced to bear his half-brothers’ twisted cruelty. Not when he came to Windhaven and was targeted here, too, simply for being different. Not through anything you’ve faced together in nine years of friendship.

Azriel has never been a coward. You will not accept it. You will not let him become one.

If he wants you like he says he does…you’re not going to let him have the sole choice of ruining this. He can try to push you away, but you’ll push back ten times harder.

“You think I’m not scared?” You move away from the counter, taking slow steps closer to him. “I am. I’m petrified. But fear is not cowardice. To fear and to face it head-on is to be brave, Azriel. When have you ever balked from fear?”

He’s watching you near him with what seems to be nerves. He swallows. “Never. But I know which of my battles to pick.”

You slow to a stop in front of him. Your body is inches from his, and his warmth and scent are like a punch to your gut. “It isn’t a battle to want.”

“No,” he agrees. “But it’s a battle to need.” So blatantly — he doesn’t try to hide it — his eyes drift to your mouth. “I was wrong before. I don’t want you. I need you.”

“And you’d rather run from that. You’d rather run than need me.”

“…Yes. I think I would.”

Finally, you close the miniscule gap between your bodies, slamming your hands either side of him, against the wall. You fight the curling of your lips when you hear his breath catch in his throat.

“What are you waiting for, Azriel?” You challenge. “Run.”

He pauses.

He does not run.

He snarls, and he grabs you by your jacket, and he hauls your mouth to his.

He tastes like the tang of sweat and blood, but also like the heavy fir trees that guard the mountains, and the crackling of a roaring fire, and the fresh berries he puts in his breakfast every morning without fail. He tastes like Azriel, and you think that taste might be the answer to every dark thought and doubt that has ever plagued your mind.

Without hesitation, you're bunching your hands in his shirt and pulling yourself against him, close as you can possibly get. This kiss is not a sweet kiss in the name of tentative practice. This kiss is a reckoning, and a choice, and it’s the past nine years in flashing moments that have led you up to this point.

Azriel makes a low, wanting sound and flips the script, using his grip on your jacket to spin you both until you’re the one pushed against the wall, and he’s pressing you there. Slotting a firm, muscled thigh between your legs. He pulls his mouth away from yours to pepper quick, biting kisses along your jaw, down the column of your neck. You gasp, and he gasps back.

“I want you.” His voice almost sounds like a plea — a plea for some solution to this. As though it’s a problem. “I can’t stop myself wanting you.”

“So don’t.” You breathe back, pushing the very centre of you against his thigh. “Stay in Windhaven and forget about everything else. Stay with me. Have me.”

“You make it sound so easy—”

“It is.” You pull his mouth back to yours. “It’s easy. We can be easy. We can be—”

Just down the hall, the opening of the front door cuts your words right off. Footsteps follow. It’ll just be a male returning from training, but it seems to send a tidal wave of ice-cold reality straight over the two of you. Azriel stares down at you, lips parted, still panting.

The nameless male passes by without even sparing either of you a glance. Azriel pulls away.

He turns his back to you and rakes a hand through his hair. You can only watch. So fast, he’s facing you again.

“I—I need you to give me time to register all of this.” He swallows. “I can’t…think right now.”

Do the words sting? Yes. Were you hoping that he would just impulsively let go of his fears and say fuck it? Absolutely.

You should be angry. You should tell him that if he truly wants you, needs you, then he shouldn’t need to think.

But something about the lost expression on his face speaks to you. He’s always been guarded. Always struggled to face his emotions head-on. So many years he spent locked up, trying to convince himself that the loneliness didn’t ache, that his heart didn’t wish.

If you push him right now…it’ll end up with him further away from you.

So it’s the hardest thing in the world to straighten yourself out and pretend your lips aren’t tingling, begging for another taste of his mouth. It’s an effort to put how you feel aside for his sake.

But maybe it’ll be for your sake, too. You are angry…somewhere beneath all the longing, the passion. He didn’t tell you about Tathaln’s proposition. He’d been considering it without consulting any of you. That hurts.

He watches you, waits for you to say something, as you reach for your boots and tug them back on. You came here to tell him what you’d found out, and you’ve done just that — and then some.

When you’ve laced up your shoes, only then do you look at him. Try to hide the bleakness from your face.

“I’ll leave you to your thoughts.” You tell him, and it’s a promise. “But can you do me a favour?”

His eyes sweep over your face, and he nods. “Always.”

“Before you make a decision about Fenlaros…” You actually have to stop yourself and swallow down the lump that forms at the words. You try again, “Before you make a decision about Fenlaros, please just…talk to Rhys and Cass first. The three of you have been a strong unit forever. Forget the troubles that we’ve had and just…just remind yourself of what you’d be leaving behind. Fix things with them. Talk to them.”

He opens his mouth. Snaps it shut again. Nods. “Alright.”

“You don’t need me, Az.” You say as you turn away from him. “But them? You’ll always need them.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The strutting confidence with which Kaeda Baralas usually carries herself is entirely absent as she enters her father’s study.

Her wings are limp — a telltale sign of nerves, intimidation — and it’s an effort to keep them from drooping.

Wings are supposed to be worn proudly. Hers were left intact for a reason. Never will she forget that fact.

Tathaln sits behind his desk, oozing authority, even through menial tasks like going through his correspondence. As Kaeda stops before him and threads her fingers together, she feels much like the younger version of herself — that little girl always trying to think of ways to impress her papa.

“Well?” Tathaln asks without looking up.

The female clears her throat. “He still hasn’t given me an answer.”

Her father pauses, goes deathly still. Kaeda hates that stillness. Dreads it. Knows it means she’s disappointed him.

The Camp Lord places his pen down, and he asks, his tone slicing, “And why have your efforts not been enough to glean an answer?”

Kaeda purses her lips. “I’m trying, father. It’s — he’s harder than I anticipated. I didn’t expect him to be so attached to Windhaven.”

She watches, stomach turning, as the great male before her stands and rounds the desk. He perches on the other side of it and studies his daughter.

“Your brothers seem to be having no problems with the missions I gave them.” He tells her. “Why do you let me down?”

How is she supposed to answer that? Azriel is simply…not what she expected. He’s unlike all the Illyrian males she’s surrounded by. He’s profound, sentimental, caring. He values more than just violence, than war.

“I got the go-ahead from the High Lord that the ball can take place.” Tathaln announces. “We will be amongst a room full of males with potential, who may join our cause. But they won’t if we don’t have some ground to work on. If I don’t have something to show them — warriors who can advocate for us. Like the shadowsinger.”

Kaeda’s gaze lowers. “I’ll keep trying. I’ll ask again.”

“Yes. You will.” He pushes away from the desk. “Because let me remind you of something, lest you’ve forgotten.” A step closer has him towering over her, and he’s…humongous. “I do not give you the freedoms you have, just so you can waste them. I did not leave your wings intact because I abhor the practice of clipping them. I told you to earn them. To hone yourself into a weapon that I can use.”

“I know, father.”

“And what do I do with weapons that are useless? That can’t be used? I rid myself of them. Make no mistake that I would do the same with you if you can’t give me what I need.” A sneer contorts his brutal, beautiful face. “I don’t care what you have to do to attain it. Trick him, force him, bed him. Just get your ass back to Windhaven, and don’t return until the shadowsinger is on side. The ball will be held on Starfall — you have until then.”

“I—”

“Go.”

End of discussion.

He doesn’t want to hear her excuses, her ideas.

He doesn’t want to know that his daughter, deep down, is not capable of the callousness of which he very much is. That in Azriel, she sees a person who is, perhaps, as lonely as she is, and insecure, and trying not to be, in an environment where those things get you killed.

He doesn’t care to know that all she really wants is for her father to throw his arms around her and tell her he loves her, is proud of her, no matter what.

No. He returns to his seat and doesn’t spare her another glance. She’s dismissed.

She takes to the brutal skies and makes her way from one hollow place to another.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Cassian decides two chapters into the book that reading isn’t for him.

He’s just so fucking bored. Rhys is somewhere being all moony eyed over Zakai, Roza and Y/N are still in Velaris, and Azriel still doesn’t seem interested in talking through their issues.

So he’s resorted to this — plucking some weird romance novel off the shelf and giving it a go. Some dramatic tale of a human girl who falls in love with a beast who drinks blood and glistens in the sunlight. Two chapters down, he’s tempted to throw it into the fire — but he remembers that it isn’t his book and returns it to the shelf instead.

He could go to a tavern, but those aren’t fun on his own. Could seek out one of his many sexual conquests for a good time, but something about arguing with his closest of friends translates, for some reason, into his dick refusing to get hard. He’s too churned up for an orgasm, and too churned up to give one out.

So, sleep it is. He heaves a deep sigh and drags himself over to the stairs, feeling mighty sorry for himself. He’s barely placed a foot on the bottom step when a knock falls on the door.

He turns, striding over too fast. He hopes for Rhys, or even Az, anyone—

But Kaeda slumps against the door frame, and he immediately wants to scowl.

Her eyes are glazed, her usually pristine appearance a little unkempt, with strands of cherry red hair slipping free from a ponytail and a stain of some sort of liquid on her shirt.

She hiccups, and the smell of booze rolls from her. “Azriel here?”

“No.” Cassian’s jaw ticks.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.” Probably at the dorms, but he doesn’t tell her that. “Don’t you have a rock to crawl back under?”

She makes a vague noise and bends at the waist, planting her hands on her knees. “Think ‘m going to be sick.”

“Not here, you’re not.”

“Can I just come in? Please? Need…need water.”

Cassian really, really doesn’t want to let her in.

If he had his way, he wouldn’t let her into the camp, let alone his house.

And he’s a shitty enough person that he’s tempted to turn her away…but not shitty enough to actually do so. She’s clearly wasted, and in a place like Windhaven, a lone, drunk female is a target.

So he grits his teeth and steps aside, and Kaeda doesn’t hesitate to stumble in. She heads straight for the couch, slumping down—

“If you puke on that,” Cass tells her, striding over to the kitchen, “I’ll hold you upside down and mop your vomit up with that obscenely red hair.”

Kaeda seems to find it funny. She snorts. Cassian ignores her and fills a glass with water.

He stalks back over. More or less slams the glass down on the coffee table and then sits at the far end of the same couch. “Your water. Drink it.”

The female grabs the glass and gulps it down, droplets rolling down her chin. Cassian has never seen her so…normal.

“Why are you drunk?” He asks.

She returns the empty glass to the table. “I drank alcohol.”

“Give me a straight answer.”

She sighs, and swivels on the seat so that she’s facing him. She’s a little unsteady as she tucks her legs beneath her and says, “Because I’m a desperately unhappy person, and I can’t do anything right.”

Cass stares at her. He isn’t convinced. She seems mighty happy every time she struts through Windhaven, giving pretty, sultry smiles to different males and revelling in their attention.

“I have so much pressure on my shoulders.” Kaeda says. “I can’t afford to get it all wrong.”

“Everyone has pressure on their shoulders. Welcome to the real world, princess.”

Another snort. She shakes her head. Never seems bothered by Cassian’s sharp-edged words. “You don’t get it.”

But Cass reckons he does. He narrows his eyes as he looks at her — thinks that her perfect outfit probably costs more than his entire wardrobe. Thinks that the fact that she’s got to her age, as a female, and hasn’t had her wings and spirit ripped away from her, is a very lucky thing.

“Oh, I get it.” He bites back. “I know exactly what I’m looking at. A spoilt girl who gets everything she wishes for and still wants more. You have riches and a good standing, and you never have to worry about where your next meal is coming from.”

“…Don’t have any friends, though, do I? Not like you and yours.”

“Perhaps that’s because you’re such an insufferable toad.”

Kaeda stares at him, and he stares back. Gods, he really cannot stand her. Even the way she looks at him makes him want to punch something.

But then she throws her head back, and she bellows a great, loud laugh.

That annoys him, too — that nothing he says, however harsh, seems to bother her. Maybe he simply wishes that he could be like that. So strong.

“Why is it that you hate me so much, Cassian?” Her laughter ebbs into a quiet chuckle, and she’s leaning forward to crack him a smile that has sent better males to their knees. “Tell me.”

Cassian, too, leans forward — tries to scowl that smile out of existence. “Because I think you’re up to something.” He answers. “And I think you’re going to hurt my friends. And if you hurt my friends, princess, I hurt you. It’s that simple.”

He means it. Kaeda can see he means it. And the threat should intimidate her, but it doesn’t.

It makes her hungry. Ravenous.

His hate for her is a challenge that she wants to chase. Every barbed word, every scathing glance —

It sets her on fire.

And she’s happily not thinking about Tathaln, or Fenlaros, or Azriel, as she grips Cassian by the cheeks and slants her mouth over his. She kisses him with such heat that for a moment, he forgets who she is. Her tongue makes its way past his lips—

He shoves her off him, probably too hard. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Before she can answer, the front door opens, and Azriel is wandering in.

He takes in the sight of them and stops. Stares between them.

His expression is…indifferent. Like he knows what he’s looking at, but he really could not give a fuck.

And then he clears his throat, and turns to Kaeda. “You should leave.” He says. “Cassian and I need to talk.”

az tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @katherinearcheron @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @azriels-mate2

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your-nanas-house · 6 months

Text

Be quick

(Credits to the owner @corodedcofin)

◇ Pairing: Perv Stepbrother!Neil Lewis X stepsister!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, pervy Neil, hanjob, dub-con but not really, indifference, age gap (both off age), shitty writing, curses

◇ Summary: Neil receiving a handjob on the sofa while his stepsister looks at her phone.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Been working on this things since weeks now... it's shit and I'm sorry. 🤷🏼‍♀️🙇🏼‍♀️

A small snort left Neil's lips, he was getting bored for the first time while watching one of the movies he usually liked to watch.

It had been a while since he broke up with Violet and he missed a bit... that thrill mixed with adrenaline. He certainly wasn't the Neil he once was, not even in the way he wished— especially when he thought at his step sister.

The young woman had been such a little tease lately.

The possibilities that she was it while Neil was in the relationship were pretty high but he was always too busy to actually notice and let his body react to it.... every day. Because it kept happening every single day since his eyes took her in, waking up his cock at the mere view of bit of skin.

He blamed it mostly on the lack of sex in his life and the urge of fisting his lenght to make time and stress go away.

Y/n, his mother's new boyfriend's daughter... aka his step-sister, was being a bother even though she was just sitting right besides him, her eyes locked on the phone rather than the TV.

His baby blue eyes couldn't stop wandering around her body, taking peeks at her cleavage and her short shorts she was wearing at home— and he was doing it again. Luckily they were all alone that day, no-one was around, so.... he could finally get what he craved so much.

The only issue that was stopping him from doing anything was the poor plan he had in mind... how could he start it all? he wondered silently.

A short mental battle and Neil shifted slightly closer, his face turned still towards the TV to pretend that he was watching the movie playing on it, as he spread slightly his thigh to brush it against Y/n's bare a couple of time to see if he received any reaction from her.

Receiving none he continued with the plan, taking her hand and placed it down on his lap casually, sending finally the message that he was trying to give her without murmuring it explicitly— he was so aroused, nearly thrilled... thrilled enough to twitch at the mere warmth of her hand.

Y/n not really, she was still cursing mentally for that drunk bet she had with him and her lost which causing her to fall in that absurd situation.

'That fucking perv' she thought while starting finally to move her hand, feeling his hard cock, pressing against his pajamas pants, with her little finger.

Her hand limited to only rub his thigh for the moment as she waited for him to lower his pants and free his lenght— her eyes never leaving the screen of her phone.

Neil glanced at her, his breath peaking up as he bit his bottom lip in anticipation too earger to actually move... just wanting her soft groomed hand to wrap around his thick long cock and lead the way to heaven.

She didn't even needed to glance in his direction to see what to do since her stepbrother's hand moved her own to wrap it around his leaking cock, allowing that way her eyes to stay glued to the screen.

His cock was hard, his skin soft and plesant to touch while his tip was of an angry red... as it let some pre-cum drip on her fingers as soon as she moved his foreskin.

"Oh fuck" Neil curses, biting harder his bottom lip as he watched her move her hand lazily, his hips jerking desperately up to meet her movements. The young girl had been able to give it just a couple of slow pumps before the older man wrapped his own big hand around her smaller one... so to guide her better and not allow her to tease him further.

His fingers intertwined with hers, his thumb caressed the back of her hand before he moved it off his cock, so that he could lean closer and spit on it as a lubricant to ease the handjob.

"Neil! You're fucking disgusting" Y/n cursed at his action, making a face at the odd feeling of his spit on the inside of her hand. He really was so gross sometimes.

"Fuck, say my name again" he breathed out overwhelmed by the situation, his hand guiding hers back around his lenght "Remember, squee—" he started, cursing softly as she interrupted him with her movements.

"Yes, yes... I know how you like it, now shut up" Y/n murmured, scrolling her phone while working his cock... her hand squeezing it teasingly while his rough action kept pleasuring him, her hand hitting his bases before moving fast back up to the tip... up and down, up.. and down.

His balls where already reacting, getting pulled up by the muscles as his breath got heavier, pathetic whines leaving his mouth.

"Don't stop, don't stop, fuck, Y/n!" Neil nearly cried, arching his back while fucking her hand faster, working on his balls with his own hand to reach faster his peak.

"Fucking hell, how much longer do you need?" Y/n's voice exclaimed making him shiver and whine while her other hand, which was previously holding her phone, slapped his hands away so that she could jerk him off faster and better... already without patience.

"Fucking pathetic" the younger woman murmured, cursing when his warm seed got shot... not only dirtying her hands but her face and top as well due to the bend over position she had been in.

"Neil!—"

#neil lewis x you #neil lewis oneshot #neil lewis smut #neil lewis cillian murphy #neil lewis x reader #neil lewis #neil lewis x y/n #cillian fanfic #cillian fic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy one shot #cillian murphy smut

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sashiavi · 1 year

Text

•·········🍑······• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𝓓𝓪𝔂 𝓢𝓲𝔁⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•······🍑·········•

𝚂𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝙰𝚟𝚒'𝚜 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 2023

#6•𝙿𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌•#6

𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚌 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ¹.⁴ᵏ

•· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·····.•🍑•.····· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·•

→ᴰᵃʳᵏ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵂᵃʳⁿᶦⁿᵍ←

ᵀʰᶦˢ ᴾᶦᵉᶜᵉ ᴹᵃʸ ᵇᵉ ⱽᶦᵉʷᵉᵈ ᴬˢ ᴰᵘᵇᶜᵒⁿ ⁻ ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᴰᶦˢᶜʳᵉᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᴵˢ ᴬᵈᵛᶦᶜᵉᵈ

Diluc was absolutely infatuated with his sweet, sweet Wifey, he was completely enamoured by the domesticality she brought into his busy life. Archons knows, sometimes he felt so utterly guilty, leaving his poor sweet darling at home all alone while he wanders out for the day - Diluc was a busy man, unfortunately, he had many commitments outside of his personal endeavours. He hadn't properly spent time with his sweet Wife for far too long and this date was well overdue. She graciously went out of her way to prepare the sweetest picnic for the two of them. Simple but delicious sandwiches and the richest chocolates in all of Mondt, splayed out beautifully on rich mahogany serving boards.

Diluc's mind fled astray, the effort his sweet Wifey poured into this moment, choosing a beautiful location just barely away from a bustling crowd of people. Under a pretty bridge surrounded by sweet smelling flowers, just enough privacy for the two of them to get lost with each other. His heart throbs at the simple yet love filled gestures she makes for him, refilling his glass and hand feeding him treats from her palm. He could feel his cock swell in his trousers, filthy thoughts plagued his cranium, with utmost desire for his darling sweet little wife.

Diluc couldn't remember exactly how he had managed to get his sweet Wifey laid under him, lipstick smeared messily over her lips, dress loosened and barely clinging to her form. Diluc bites against her soft, plump lips, devouring her pretty tongue with his own. Soft, hushed moans ripple from his darling's throat, right on his tongue, he swallows them up eagerly. His hands wander, easily caressing over the memorised curves of her pretty frame, squeezing at her perky tits, groping at her jiggly ass. He felt awful but Archons, was she insatiable, he couldn't keep his filthy hands off of her sweet little self. The amount he missed her day in and day out was undeniable, the pang of guilt he felt returning to a quiet home after a long, long day was too much. The sheer sight of her was enough to set him off, have his thick cock ache in his pants like some lovesick teenage boy.

"Diluc.. Not here, there's people-" His silly little Wife gasps into his mouth. Gods didn't he know it, perhaps he ought to put on a show, let the world know just how much he adored his perfect girl. He hikes her long skirt up, pooling it around her waist, showing off her racy laced panties, pretty and red, his favourite colour. Archon's his perfect Wifey thought of everything. He could just take her right now. Diluc growls, the sound grumbles from deep within his chest. He plants hot, wet kisses against her pretty thighs, nipping marks into her skin. He plants sparse kisses on her clothed clit while he attacks her soft inner thighs, revelling in the soft hiccuped mewls she makes with every wet press of his lips.

"..'Luc… someone's coming- can hear-.." His sweet wife pushes her hand through his bangs, attempting to push his lips from her skin. She was right, there were a set of footsteps trekking across the bridge they were situated under. Diluc bites hard into her inner thigh, cock swelling at the short squeal his silly wife barely manages to cover. He licks at the mark in mock apology, his tongue especially warm over the stinging mark. Diluc pulls himself up, nosing against his Wife's ear, breathing hot, sending shivers down her body. The footsteps above never seem to cease, when one crosses the bridge others follow. Muffled voices and the sound of boots scraping across the aged wood makes his cock ache. The light between the boards of the bridge flickers with the shadow of the people moving above. His hand trails down her body, his warm palm cupping his Wife's pretty pussy through her panties. She breathes out with just a little too much voice, sounding the softest moan into his neck.

"Shh.. shhh Darling… Don't want to get caught do you? 'Said it yourself, there's people." He chides her so sweetly, his voice low in her ear. Archons, think of the reaction - The elusive Master Diluc toying with a pretty girl under a bridge, barely known as his Wife to the general public.

Diluc slowly rubs at his silly Wife's pretty clit, his palm heated deliciously over the achey bud. Her breaths are shaky, trembling, trying her very best to stay quiet while Diluc teases at her pussy. A set of footsteps stop in the middle of the bridge, muffled voices muddle through the cracks of the boards. Diluc can feel his sweet girl's arousal pool into her panties, staining them a dark red with her creamy slick. He huffs a short chuckle, teasing a finger against her swollen bud before pulling his trousers down, just enough to free his drooling cock. He rubs his fat tip up and down the soft, pretty fabric of her underwear, pushing his head against her weeping hole through her panties. His silly Wife rolls her eyes back, gnawing at her bottom lip, her gaze locks on to the shadowed figures above them.

Diluc slips his fingers past the groin of her panties, pushing the fabric to the side revealing the pretty mess of her pussy beneath it. He breathes through his teeth, rubbing his cock head through her folds, catching her sweet creamy slick all over his cock. He prods at her achey hole with his tip, just dipping it in and out. Gods, the noises her pussy makes on his cock, slick and wet and loud.

"Thought you didn't 'wanna get caught.. pussy's beggin' for it" He whispers meanly, sinking the length of his thick cock slowly into her soft warm cunny. His silly Wife sighs out, biting into her finger to stifle any unwanted noises. Diluc tuts in mock sympathy, pouting his lips at her before making quick work of her gushy cunny. He thrusts his cock meanly, trying to get any sort of peep out of her. The muddled voices above become clear for a moment, a distinct sentence chimes through the boards.

"Do you hear something?" It says.

Diluc can feel his silly Wife's pussy clench on his cock, becoming wetter and hotter on his length. His cock glides easily within her walls, so fucking slippery and creamy. His Darling covers her mouth with her palm, silencing any chance for sound escaping her. Diluc couldn't have that, he takes her swollen clit between his fingers, pinching at her meanly. She squeals behind her hand, legs squeezing at his side, cunt pulsing on his cock. The voices continue;

"Must be a bird? Let's go, we have a reservation soon" The voice trickles away, footsteps clunk over the bridge before disappearing into the nearby dirt path. Diluc's silly wife breathes a sigh of relief, it's short lived however. Diluc's pace becomes brutal, hips clapping into his Darling's body, earning him the prettiest of cries. His hands hook under her thick thighs, squeezing at the soft flesh. He presses her squishy thighs into her tummy, mounting her creamy cunny with his thick cock. He fucks into his dumb little Wife from above, his heavy balls slap against her puffy pussy. Archons he needed this, missed her sweet stupid pussy on his cock. She cries under him, mewling soft moans between her teeth. He finds it in him to lean down, kissing so sickeningly sweetly at her puffy lips, dipping his tongue into her mouth.

Her mascara stains her cheeks, running down her face in pretty black lines, fucked stupid on his cock for anyone to see. Archon's he was done for, his hips speed up, pelvis slapping into her own, clapping so sweetly against her skin. His sweet wife hiccups, moaning soft little staccato notes into his shoulder. Her gushy cunt sucks him in, begs for the thick push of his cock, who was he to deny? She bumps her clit into his groin, crying out without a care, fucking him back so sweetly. His dumb little Wife is quick to cum, squirting messily over his cock, her slick creamy fluid leaking over the swell of his own balls as they clap into her pussy. Diluc doesn't last long, he pushes his fat cock deep into her creamy cunt, plugging her up with his length he shoots thick, creamy ropes into her messy pussy. He keeps his cock in her, all fucked dumb and plugged up so sweetly, his milky cum barely drips over his length.

Archons, he should take next week off.

Sweet men that aren't so sweet and are actually terrible people ♡♡♡

I just like it when diluc corrupts me

•··········🍑···········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•···········🍑··········•

Thank You For Reading! Comments Are Always Appreciated! ♡ I Love Hearing Y'alls Thoughts *Sob*

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#ʚ•*°SashiAvi's Kinktober°*•ɞ #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #diluc x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin x y/n #afab reader

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

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JEALOUS FUCKGIRL YAN.. yknow if ya don't mind. Coughcoughilovegirlswhoaremean

She's impossible to read.

One minute she's all over you, next she's disappearing off into the crowd. You can always pick her out sooner than later, watching you like a hawk cozied up with someone side night cared to remember by morning. You've told yourself time and again this is just how she is with everyone. Sometimes the flirty, extroverted type just don't get they can't be that way with everyone before someone catches feelings, but it's that same attention that makes you feel like there's so much more going on between you. Maybe you're just overthinking it. As her closest resemblance to a friend, you know better than anyone she'd be a tough partner to have..

Friends...

"hey..."

Yea, that's what you are.

"Hey!"

Over the music and chattering crowd, it's understandable to mistake the voice as directed at someone else. It's when you look at the glossy eyes of your slightly inebriated floor mate that you realize they were talking to you. Taking your gaze, they crack a toothy smile as they move closer so you're able to hear over the music - eyes watching their every step.

"What's going on with you and Dylan? Saw you two walk in and hanging around town before. She's never been so public with one of her partners."

The punch at the bottom of your cup tastes more bitter than you remembered as you sip from it. "It's nothing like that. Had a rough week so she offered to take me somewhere tonight. We're just friends."

The stranger frowns, but their pity never reaches their eyes. "Shame. Seems like she lucked out this time cause you're kinda cute. What's your name?"

"It's-

"None of your damn business."

The scent of department store cologne and tobacco assaults your senses as her hands fall at your waist. You can feel the weight of her glare over your shoulder as the stranger sheepishly backs away from promity to you and her line of sight. Gripping your waist, she pulls you to her chest - shooting an arm around your neck to keep you pinned in place as she swallows her visible anger with whatever's left in your cup.

"Baby.." She draws with that honeyedly sweet tone only she could channel, resting her head against your cheek with a sigh as she holds you close. "I leave you alone for a second and you run off with a stranger. Never pegged you as the type to break a poor girl's heart, but here we are."

The stranger looks between the two of you as her breath fans your ear through her laughter, confusion and a hint of disappointment clear on their face. "Sorry, Dyl.. Not trying to steal your date or nothing. They said you guys were just friends..."

"We are!" You argue, unsure of your own defense as her lips meet the skin of your neck. "we..are.."

Moving to your collar, her teeth close as her arms tight around you - biting down with no real force behind it, but enough to leave a sting. "All I know is if you're not out of my fucking sight in the next ten seconds we're gonna have a big problem on our hands and depending on how settling it goes there might be a few teeth on the floor."

The stranger opens their mouth-

"10...."

Turning tail as she opens hers. Watching as they flee, you finally wriggle out of Dylan's arms enough to shove her away. "What the hell was that, Dylan."

She shrugs, having the nerve to look upset as you raise your voice. "What? They were getting in your space so I helped you out. You're welcome by the way."

"They were just talking to me- Why bring me to a public place and go talk to somebody else if you didn't want me mingling with others. Why do you always insist we're just friends to people then turn around and act like my girlfriend when people trying to get to know me. Do you want me to end up miserable and alone?"

Something snaps in Dylan's eyes at your accusations. Grabbing a fistful of your shirt she yanks you back towards her - ramming her lips and tongue against your sealed mouth as she clutches your jaw, applying pressure to pry you open for her. The taste of liquor and the tobacco you smelt on her prior spills onto your tongue; the jewelry of her inner piercing clashing against your teeth as she robs you of breath and grasp on whatever grounding your relationship had before this. Her hand dips into your back pocket as her husky eyes into yours - voice dropping to a whisper so the watching crowd hasn't a clue what she says. All that matters is that you do and understand your place.

"What we are doesn't matter right now. Only thing that does is that you are mine. Don't let anyone put any silly ideas in that pretty head that make you think that you're not. Do I make myself clear?"

You swallow the air you had been holding.

"Do. I. make myself clear."

"..yea."

"Good." Her face relaxes into the smile you've grown accustom to as she pats your cheek. "Good. Say I'd hate to have to remind you, but I've been told I'm a bad liar."

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #female yandere #tw yandere #yandere drabble #Dylan my oc

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ladybirdswritings · 10 months

Text

Silken Webs & Pirouettes - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary - Miguel has plotted the entirety of his adult life to perfection, always in control and always respected. He owns a successful business that he buries himself in to forget what he left behind. People fear him, women throw themselves at him. Yet one thing remains strong for Miguel, order. When a clumsy little ballerina twirls into his life with no skills other than looking pretty and standing on her tip toes, Miguel is in for more than just pink ribbons and flushed cheeks. Alternate Universe with most of the characters included as seen in "Across the Spiderverse." Many cameos ahead. Miguel is a successful business owner but personality is canon. This is a steamy reader insert, Miguel x You! Enjoy and pls leave me lots of love and comments as it keeps me motivated <333

next chapter

one:

“Good, now turn.”

The strawberry blonde with bevelled locks complies, adorned in curled tresses and lilac cloth. It inches just below her bum. A twirling starlet for his hungry eyes. She catches them in a quick glance as she rounds her turn. Oh... Never mind then, they're unimpressed. She halts.

"Did I tell you to stop?" His voice is firm, cold, devoid of any sweetness like the warm and awfully bitter joe her father drinks this time of year when the ground is colored cream and the snowfall kisses flushed cheeks. The southern drawl peeks through her sweet, mousy little voice to greet the man before her. The suit he wears today is far too tiny for the muscles laced into is carmel skin, just like the rest of the ones stuffing his closet full.

"Well no but... I only did cause I can tell you don't like it."

He raises a sharp brow, fingertip scratching at the fresh stubble greeting his skin.

"You're right. I don't... but that doesn't mean I gave you permission to stop."

Lacy turns red, and yet the doll gives him another turn immediately. His eyes fall upon her bum. It's small and shaped prettily. Petite like the rest of her. But this lilac, ribbon clad number isn't pretty like her. Not to his eyes.

"You look like a slut."

Miguel is bold with his words, never once allowing his brain a second to gloss them over with second thought. Pretty, poor little Lacy gulps. She is flushed again.

"Well ain't that how you like me to look?"

He stares for a moment, tapping his index against his chin. He blinks slow, and assess her words for a moment. Then he stands, no- he towers rather over her small frame. She would cower if it wouldn't make her look so pathetic in front of the man she loves. He walks closer, words lacing each step he takes.

"Men like to imagine what's underneath. Like a Christmas present, Lacy. No one gets excited when it’s already been torn open... unwrapped.”

She gulps, icy blue eyes raising to meet his as he finally reaches her. A warm hand, even in December's icy clutches, meets her face. So gentle for a man so rough with her in silken sheets. It's why, of course. Why she loves him, a thing he can never know. He would kick her to the curb, and that's even scarier than keeping it a treasured little secret for her and her alone. She knows this because of Amber, the auburn haired girl and Rowan... the other blonde. Only three of the dozens that whispered those dreadful three words and got kicked to the concrete curb. It's just sex, that's all it is and ever allowed to be. That's what he told them all from the beginning, so they should know better.

Yet even through following these cruel rules, smart, sexy lacy adorned in lilac knows much better. She pouts, pink lip fighting not to quiver at the thought clutching her frozen and cold. His thumb gently strokes her alabaster cheek, and she whispers.

"You're growin' tired of me, ain't you?" She whispers it like it's the most heinous thing a human could say. His silence, the gentle exhale of breath that she hears just above the mandatory office Christmas playlist humming very quietly behind his oak door, to his dismay of course, all of it confirms her deep rooted fear. But maybe? He parts his lips to speak, her hope sprouts like springtime flowers in snow. But then?

"Sir, excuse me but this is urgent."

He stares at his pathetic little Lacy for a moment longer, eyes still pouring into hers as he responds to the pencil skirt peeking through the oak.

"What is it, Cindy?"

She pauses, "Sir, Javi had to leave due to an unfortunate family emergency."

Lacy's eyes drop, another moment longer of this torture and she's certain to start watering up. The dormant space between his eyebrows is pinched, almost pitiful looking. Yet his thumb still grazes her soft skin. So capable of focusing on his torn open present and the pencil skirt all at once.

"Okay?" He sounds annoyed, and he is.

"Sir, he was set to interview the new hire today. She's been waiting downstairs for about an hour."

He lets out another breath, sharper and more poisoned with undeniable annoyance. His hand drops from Lacy now.

"Then have one of my many other capable employees get the job done, Miss Moon. It can't be that difficult."

She winces, staring at her cautious reflection in his shiny tiles.

"Sir, tonight is the company's annual white elephant, remember? Morale? Miss Drew is hosting?"

He hates this time of year, truly and utterly despises it. And stupid little Cindy Moon? He hates her too, right now. His index and thumb lift to pinch at the bridge of his nose, shaking his head in exasperation.

"Then tell the hire to go find another place to work. We don't need any more useless hands around here."

Cindy frowns at that.

"Sir, with all due respect, we really could use extra hands around here... s-she's been waiting for an hour and it's the holiday season, she left twenty voicemails in the past week alone. Besides, after Daily Bugle's smear campaign about the lack of morale here, we would be stupid to make more enemies for them to put under the spotlight."

He hates her more now, because she's right. Lacy's head is still bowed but her peripheral is engullphed by emptiness once Miguel leaves her, collapsing onto the Italian leather throne tucked away in is desk.

"The stupid music and blue elephant wasn't enough, huh?"

Cindy Moon, she is payed enough for this of course, yet she is still frowning nonetheless.

"S' white elephant..." she cautiously corrects in a near silent whisper. His chocolate eyes narrow as he looks upon the girl. Her rapunzel-like, jet black hair tied up in a neat bun atop her head.

A moment passes, then another. Her horribly true words echo in his mind on repeat until he finally gives in.

"Send her up in five, I'll handle it. Get Lacy's coat, have someone escort her to her car."

If strawberry Lacy's frown could be any more prominent, it would. Yet that doesn't seem possible. He ignores her well, stacking his scattered papers into a neat pile and shaking his head as Cindy leads Lacy out.

Then? He waits for the mystery girl waiting anxiously downstairs... you.

chap 1 song 🎧 :

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chuubian · 1 month

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childhood friend ningguang

A/N: This is just a little drabble, my Chuuya one is taking so long but i wanted to put something out anyways and i'm a lesbian before anything else so ofc its about my wife.

cw: bullying, slightly suggestive, fem reader

Childhood friend Ningguang who grew up in a similar situation to you: poor and struggling to survive. At first, it was hard to get along with her. There was no way you could ever accept another girl who was the same age as you, she was taking everyone's attention away from you! As a child, the only solution in your mind was to ruin her hair. Putting gum in her hair, stealing her brush, and pouring out her shampoo were not off the table. Of course, Ningguang was too proud to show how it affected her. She has never done anything to you before, there was no real reason she could think of for you to start to terrorize her. When Ningguang finally got her revenge, it only made you more angry. The ‘pranks’ only kept escalating and getting worse.

It all came to a stop one day when you found her curled up under a tree, crying her little heart out. You had just stolen the little bit of mora she had painstakingly saved up over a month. It wasn't meant to be that serious, but to her, all her hard work had gone to waste. The scene of her watery eyes and red cheeks made your heart ache. You couldn't help but feel guilty. The only thing you could do was try to make things better- to give her back the money and apologize. Surprisingly, despite all you had put her through, she forgave you. Letting you comfort her, holding her chubby little hands in yours.

From that, a friendship blossomed. As teenagers, you both used to walk from Yaoguang shoal to the south wharf, feet burning from the hot sand on your bare skin, gathering what little money you could to scrape by. Laughing and joking the whole day together. At this point, you both spent more time with each other than with your own families.

The hard economic times growing up, only made you and Ningguang closer as you get older. Moving in together as she started her business made you realize something- you can't breathe while she's around. It's so irritating. You hadn't felt so angry at her in a long time. Her stupid face in the morning- while she was still a little sleepy, drool drying on her chin- was still annoyingly beautiful. When she came back home from a long day, she would melt into the couch. Her body was relaxed and open, sighing softly, pink lips parted and letting out little groans of exhaustion. Did she have to be so loud?

Ningguang noticed your frustration, and she tried her best to appease you. She would clean the dishes before you even asked, baking you your favorite treats. But unfortunately it didn't help much, you could still feel that hollow and fiery aching in your chest.

As her business took off, she moved out, leaving you more alone than you had been in years. You still met up and tried to be civil but it wasn't that same anymore. Ningguang had come to care for you, there was no way in hell she was letting your friendship, something so dear to her, fade away. Extravagant dinners and expensive diamond jewelry were things frequently given to you by her. Trying to deny her gifts only made her insist more. There was a stack of presents from her building up in your closet, making it almost impossible to even shut the door.

Thinking back on how you treated her as children made you feel worse. A dull pain gnawing in your chest from how cold you used to be, and are again. Something definitely needed to change. So you start giving her small things back- what you can afford to give her anyways. Little hair clips are her favorite things to receive. Something small, made by your own hands, inexpensive but thoughtful. She knew it was hard for you to save up and buy her gifts, so it made her appreciate what you managed to give even more.

Every Saturday was now set aside to spend time with your best friend, you both dressed up and went out to have dinner and drinks. Ningguang always insisted on paying for these outings, she was so generous with her money when it came to you. Something made her strive to see you happy and healthy. Every time you sat across from her, her cheeks flushed, her lungs felt compressed, and her hands would get shaky. If you asked, she would probably build you your own mansion right there in Liyue harbor.

As you beg her to stop spending so much money on you, she can't help but smile. She would never stop, you're the most important person in her life. When you invite her over to your place afterwards, her smile fades. This is how you're living? You both had worked so hard to escape the poverty that had confined the both of you as children. Your ‘house’ was an empty studio apartment. You could barely afford furniture so there was only a small couch and coffee table in your living room. This time it was her who felt guilty. She was the one who didn't bother to ask about your situation. So she asked you to move in with her again.

At first you refused. There was no way you were doing this again. Not only would tensions rise again- but it was embarrassing. Needing help from your millionaire friend just to survive is humiliating. When Ningguang asked why, you didn't know what to say. It sounded childish but it was true, you were unnecessarily upset at her just for existing when you used to live together. But Ningguang is nothing if not persistent, so you finally gave in- gathering your things, everything she had gifted you over the years, and boxing it up. Moving it over to her house- the lavish jade chamber.

Living with her again was hard. Your heart was throbbing in your chest, your skin felt hot anytime she would come near you, and she had suddenly decided that it was acceptable to walk in on you while bathing. She didn't even take a second look, talking animatedly while you were flushed and embarrassed, trying to cover yourself. Nigguang seriously had no sense of boundaries. Day through day, Ningguangs hands would brush against your back and waist, pulling you closer. Her breath would fan over your neck, making your stomach flutter. Recently, at night she started climbing into your bed, searching for your warmth, claiming to feel cold in her own room. You saw the dirty looks her staff would give you after they saw Ningguang leave your room. Seriously, what got them in such a bad mood?

Ningguang didn't seem to notice how weird this all was, she was getting so clingy. Forcing you to sit on her lap while she works, and now, deciding it's okay to shower with you. Without asking first. When you let out a scream, asking what has gotten into her, she seems confused. It's just a shower. nothing else. Things are awkward the next morning. You don't know how to act around her, what can you even say? After she forces you to sit down and talk to her, she admits her feelings for you. It makes you realize you felt the same way. The dull ache in your heart wasn't from irritation. It was love. Love for the girl you had grown up with. Love for the generous woman she had grown into. Love for the women who to this day, refuses to give up on you.

After the confession, you started officially dating. Surprisingly, Ningguang could be even more liberal with her money. You couldn't even go a day without Ningguang doing something completely unnecessary for you. You could feel the maids glare at you when they walked past, but unfortunately for them, you were the one Ningguang picked.

#genshin impact #wlw #ningguang #ningguang x reader #ningguang genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic

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haesunflower · 1 year

Text

jiwoong's 'shared' friend? | a friends with benefits story ft. matthew

genre: smut, threesome, minors dni

pairing: jiwoong x female reader, matthew x female reader

about/tags: in which jiwoong and y/n invite matthew to play (2.2k+)

this is explicit smut, minors dni, begging, toys, spitting, orgasm denial, use of 'sir' and 'daddy', slight jealousy, fluff at the end

┈•┈୨୧┈•┈ PART 1 HERE

The dorm is empty except for you and Jiwoong (and well, Matthew). Usually, you’d have your casual weekend fucks at your own apartment – away from all the members. But you’d insisted on spending your time in his place instead during the long weekend. Especially as most members chose to spend their break at their hometowns.

While Hanbin brought Hao, Gyuvin brought Ricky, leaving Matthew alone with Jiwoong. Jiwoong had also “made plans” to go home that weekend, inviting Matthew and convincing him with fun stories about his family. He honestly feels bad for lying to him.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. SMUT UNDER THE CUT.

But how mad would Matthew be when you’re practically begging to be touched, your whines heard all the way from the other side of the dorm. And he’s benefitting from the sounds you emit, shamelessly jacking off in his room.

Jiwoong is making himself busy and actively not paying any attention to you. He’s left his bedroom door wide open, with you tied up to the bannister with flimsy ribbon. Truth be told, you can easily undo the knots of the restraints. But you don’t, you’re a good girl after all. However it’s becoming incredibly difficult to hold yourself together. The vibrator against your clit is driving you insane, and all you is to be fucked.

“Jiwoong, please. I’ll be good, I promise.”

Still, he pays you no mind. Instead, he’s stirring the cup of coffee he just made. He faces towards you, and with the door left open he sees you struggle not to cum. Your eyes are closed, and you’re biting your lip so hard he thinks you’ll bleed. Like the sadist he is, he doesn’t do anything. Casually sipping his coffee “like I said, babe. If you want to be touched, you’re going to have to ask Matthew.”

And at the sound of his name, the younger boy freezes. His movements on his shaft come to a stop, and out of fear, he pulls up his shorts quickly. Jiwoong turns to the other side of the kitchen where Matthew’s room is at. He knows that his door has been left slightly open with just enough room to peek at the situation in Jiwoong’s room. Said situation that almost drove Matthew to cum in his hands just a few seconds ago.

“Mattchu-ah, I know you’ve been watching it’s okay, you don’t need to hide.”

Matthew feels a mix of shame and arousal when he comes out of his room, unsure of what to do with himself. He’s never been in a threesome before. Jiwoong signals him to come closer, leaning against the counter as he lays down the ground rules.

“She’s requested you, and since you’re too scared to make a move – I decided to play middle man and get things started for the both of you.” Matthew is gobsmacked at Jiwoong’s revelation. I mean, he did say he was more than okay with sharing, but Matthew didn’t know he was being dead serious.

He pushes the coffee aside, “first, no kissing on the lips, she hates that. I usually let her decide whether she wants to. second, you’ll have to ask her where she wants to take you, if you’ll get to fuck her that way at all. And third, her safeword is daffodil. what are things you’re uncomfortable with?” Jiwoong asks nonchalantly.

Matthew blinks once, twice, thrice. Poor boy had difficulty processing all the information with his mind already clouded with horniness. He wasn’t sure if this is a decision he should be making at all.

“Matthew, if you want in, you’re gonna have to respond to me. Otherwise I’m more than happy to deal with y/n on my own.” Jiwoong gestures to where you are, and your moans bring him back to reality. Matthew glances at the door briefly – catching you in tears, vibrator in place, begging for him “Matt, please. It hurts…”

With a gulp, he looks Jiwoong in the eye “okay understood, daffodil I got it.” Then, Jiwoong leads Matthew into his room.

┈•┈୨୧┈•┈

Jiwoong shuts the door behind him, and sits down on the bed next to you. He mercifully turns off the vibrator, as he brushes your hair away from your tear stained face.

“Poor baby, I’m proud of you for holding off for so long”. You let out a pathetic whine at the sudden loss of vibration. But at least Jiwoong is here finally, touching you. He places a soft kiss on your shoulder, “Matthew’s here baby, he wants to help you.”

That was Matthew’s cue to come closer. You have no pride left as you try to claw at him, completely forgetting about your ribboned restraints. Matthew looks at Jiwoong for one last approval, and upon seeing him nod – gently undoes the knots around your wrists. When you're set free, he tentatively watches as you wrap your arms around his neck. "Touch me please, Matt" you whisper into his ear, as he eagerly removes his shirt and latches his lips to your neck. Matthew's brain is clouded, and all he can think about is how he finally gets to see and touch you like this – he thinks you're so beautiful, naked, and begging to be touched. Small whines escape your lips as he litters small purple kisses across your chest.

Jiwoong takes a backseat on the office chair across the bed and simply watches as Matthew explores your body.

“Matt, please. Please please please” is all you could let out. Your brain getting all fuzzy with how turned on you are – Matthew latching on to your breast and Jiwoong burning holes into your skin with his stare, slowly palming himself through his pants. Matthew's touches leaves you with goosebumps, and you let out a loud groan when he swirls his tongue on your nipple. You want him to take his tongue elsewhere.

“Waited so long to touch you, so I’ll take my time.” You didn’t know Matthew had it in him to be a little mean. You wonder where the shy boy had gone as he shoves two fingers in your mouth, commanding you to suck. Pliant, eager to please, and hoping to cum, you do as you’re told. Sucking and swirling your tongue around his fingers. Matthew’s eyes darken and he removes his fingers from your mouth, a string of saliva following it. You’re drooling and about to cry, and with that Matthew couldn’t resist anymore - he thinks you're so cute looking all desperate.

He remembers the time where you left him hard on the couch, the night when Jiwoong was running late. You had teased him with bold statements, straddling him and whispering dirty things to his ear. In an act of revenge he manhandles you, flipping you over and placing your body atop his in a second. You're so far gone that you don’t register the change in position until you feel Matthew’s hot tongue on your clit.

The first few licks, gentle. He’s testing how you’ll react. You’re whimpering like a puppy at this point, and chanting “please” like a broken record. He wastes no time in sucking harshly at your clit, gripping your thighs in place to prevent you from squirming or moving away. "Right there please, don't stop". Matthew wants to see you suffer the same way you did to him, and releases you from his grip ruining your impending orgasm. "ngh no, why?" you cry, gripping on to the headboard as support.

From across the room, Jiwoong chuckles "seems like Matthew's just getting his revenge from all your teasing last week baby". You look to Jiwoong, and hopes he can come save you. But he already knows what those eyes mean, and he's not going to give in so easily. "No baby. like I said if you want to be touched you'll have to convince Matthew."

You look at the younger boy and you feel small next to him. You swallow your pride, and beg one last time – "please sir, I'll do whatever you want. please just let me cum". Maybe it's the way you parted your swollen lips, quivering as you utter the word 'sir' that flicked a switch in Matthew. He's done trying to torture you, he wants you just as bad.

"Since you asked so nicely, I'll reward you" he says as he shoves two fingers inside you, thumb lapping at your clit. He finds that gummy spot inside you, and you shudder against his ministrations. You cum embarrassingly fast, and Matthew pinches at your clit mid-high, overstimulating you. You yelp, and fall limply on Matthew’s chest, shaking from the waves of your orgasm.

Matthew’s fingers are coated with your arousal, and he sits you up properly to check on your previously limp figure. As if Jiwoong read his mind, “Y/n can you take more or are you done for the night?” Your head snaps, and you take a look at Matthew’s flushed face, his eyes hooded and cheeks red. Your post-orgasm brain is starting to clear up, and you want to thank Matthew properly. "I can take more" you say, determined.

You look down and find Matthew’s tent in his shorts, instantly feeling bad that you’re the only person in the room who got to cum. Undoing his zipper, you let out his cock and he hisses at contact of cold air. You make brief eye contact with Jiwoong, and he’s surprised too. While Matthew isn’t longer in length, he’s definitely girthier than what you’re used to. “Sir you’ve been so nice to me, let me repay the favor.” You hold his cock in your hand, and it spasms - precum leaking out. You begin stroking him gently and he throws his head back in relief. “F-fuck, y/n” he hisses.

“Cmon baby, you’re the one that wanted Matthew in your bed, that’s the best you can do?” Jiwoong taunts. He’s right, you can do so much better. You didn’t plan on doing this, but you place yourself to straddle him – taking a glance at Jiwoong, as if asking permission that it would be okay. He nods gently to give you the validation that you need.

“Y/N are you sur-'' Matthew's sentence is cut short as you sink down on him. Biting your lips to prevent yourself from groaning in pain – you’ll need adjustment to his size. He holds your hips steady, knowing that you’ll need some time before you both move. With you on his lap, eyes closed and breathing out slow breaths, he knows you’re trying your best to adjust quicker. Matthew wants to kiss you for trying so hard to make him feel good, but he knows that’s your boundary.

Instead, he distracts the both of you by placing kisses on your neck, marking down to your breasts. He playfully and gently bites on your nipple, and that’s enough to bring you to reality. You start to bounce up and down his cock, moaning his name freely. His head is thrown back, though he has to remind himself to keep watching you –wanting to keep the image of you on his cock burned into his brain. Obscene squelches resonate throughout the room, your vision gets a little blurry as you lose sense of your surroundings. Matthew notices you slowing down, taking charge of the pace as he harshly thrusts into you as you sink down on him. You let out a loud moan, “Oh my god, do that again.”

Then, Matthew remembers he’s not the only other person in the room. “Jiwoon hyung, you’re not going to join?”. You're still desperately grinding on to Matthew, and he halts your hips in order to reposition the both of you in favor of his hyung. Now, you’re on all fours. Jiwoong walks over to where your head is, he lifts your chin up with his finger and looks you in the eye. He has an unreadable look on his face – stoic, unfeeling. He is a good actor after all. So you suggest something that you know cheers him up each time.

“Kiss me?” you ask, fluttering your lashes at Jiwoong. He leans down to your face, lips ghosting over yours before saying “only good girls get kisses”. Then, Jiwoong grabs your face by the jaw, forcing your mouth open. “You’ll take what daddy gives you” as he spits in your mouth. Immediately, you swallow.

“Thank you daddy” you beam as you make yourself useful. Jiwoong looks somewhat satisfied as you reach down his pants to free his cock. You spare all the teasing as you know he's not in the mood for it, and take him wholly by your mouth. Jiwoong fucks your mouth mercilessly, tip hitting the back of your throat several times. Meanwhile, Matthew is still thrusting into you from behind. It takes extreme focus to keep at your task with Jiwoong, you don't wanna disappoint daddy.

It's getting increasingly difficult to stop yourself from gagging at Jiwoong's movements. After a particularly hard thrust from Matthew, you yelp, momentarily releasing Jiwoong from your mouth. “Faster Matthew, she can take it” Jiwoong commands. The younger obeys, and quickens his pace into you. Jiwoong forces your jaw open and inserts himself in your mouth once again. Your moans are muffled, sending vibrations to Jiwoong’s length.

Based on your expression, Jiwoong knows you’re close. “Baby, are you gonna cum?” he fucks into your throat, and you gag as a response. Still, you keep him in your mouth, head bobbing and cheeks hollowing out. As you make good work at Jiwoong’s length, Matthew lets out a deep groan. That’s when you notice Matthew stilling in his place, pulling out and painting your ass cheeks in white. “Shit. fuck.” he curses under his breath. Matthew’s body limps as he rests against the headboard.

With that, Jiwoong calls it off. “Aww, looks like play time’s over for both of you” Jiwoong states.

Jiwoong removes your hands and mouth from his length and pulls his boxers back up. “Wait, but you’re still hard, let me make you feel good daddy” you protest, but he’s stern when he looks at you. “I said, play time’s over, princess.”

Again, you can't read that tone and that stoic face he has plastered on. You’re mostly confused, especially with the sudden lack of physical touch from well, any one. Daddy always lets you cum at least twice, so you try to bargain “but I didn’t get to cum for a second time...” Jiwoong looks down at you smugly, “I said Matthew could help you, not me. And by the looks of it, he’s in no position to help”.

He’s right by the way, Matthew looks spent. You’re used to multiple rounds with Jiwoong, and Matthew’s endurance isn’t as high in that regard. Jiwoong throws Matthew his shirt and shorts, and tells him to clean himself up. Matthew mumbles something about having a great time, and he’s off to the shower.

You’re left naked on Jiwoong’s bed as he fetches a glass of water. He reenters the room, water and washcloth in hand, and silently takes one of his shirts to clothe you in it. He hasn’t said anything else since Matthew left the room, and you wonder if this was a good idea at all. You’ve never had a threesome with any of Jiwoong’s close friends, and you have a feeling that it bothered him more than he thought it would.

He’s wiping your thighs with a washcloth, when you take it from him. You look him in the eye when you ask “is something wrong, Jiwoong?”. He sighs loudly, comfortably taking a seat next to you. "Sorry I didn't let you cum" he looks really apologetic, ashamed even, with eyes glued to the floor. "It's okay, I still enjoyed it", reassuring that it's no big deal. In this moment, Jiwoong's feelings are more important.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?" you gently ask, wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to get him to look at you. Head down, as if physically paining him to admit “I think...I hated that, surprisingly I couldn’t stand seeing Mathew with you like that..didn't look like you needed me at all actually...” he trails off. He can’t seem to look you in the eye, so he places his head by the crook of your neck instead. You run your hands through his hair, “well thank you for thinking of me, but you didn’t need to push through with it if you weren’t comfortable with it, woong.”

“I know, I know. I just thought I wouldn’t be bothered by it. This was never an issue before.” Jiwoong responds, pertaining to your past escapades with other people. He removes his head from your neck and looks at you, then your lips. You give him time to say something, but he doesn’t.

“Let’s talk about it some other time, woong. I think we’re both tired.” He hums gently, agreeing with you. Again, he looks at your lips. With that, you lean forward and kiss him. You feel the tension in his shoulders and neck melt away at the kiss, and you open your mouth slightly for his tongue to enter. He pulls at your bottom lip, and you let out a small smile.

“For the record Jiwoong, you don’t have to ask permission anymore if you want to kiss me. Kiss me whenever, wherever.” He’s slightly surprised, and he’s hoping that his happiness doesn’t show too much as presses his lips against yours again – but you can literally feel his grin as he kisses you sweetly.

Jiwoong’s bedroom door is still open, and Matthew watches as you and Jiwoong kiss each other with smiles on your faces. He has a feeling that what happened just a few minutes ago would be the first and last time.

So, I guess Jiwoong does have a sharing problem after all.

-- -- --

PART 1 HERE

A/N: special mention to rose who fed me a few ideas!! also YEAH maybe Jiwoong does like Y/N that way

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bloodstained-porcelain-doll · 3 months

Text

Heel to her Master, ch 2 - Sandor Clegane x reader

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 here

Summary: The handmaiden finds him terrifying yet intriguing. The Hound finds her wildly attractive. He stakes his claim. Warnings: Eventual smut, dub con, public humiliation, bdsm, Master/pet dynamic

The handmaid was walking with lady Sansa, enjoying a promenade through the beautiful blooming gardens. The gardens were her favourite part of King’s Landing save for the taverns. Sansa blabbered on about some song she used to sing as a child, and they spoke of her upbringing in the North. The handmaid said she would love the visit the North sometimes, and it seemed to sadden Sansa. She probably didn’t expect to return there again after the death of her father and after king Joffrey had begun showing his true colours.

It wasn’t long before the king and his guard dog approached them in the garden. Sansa and the handmaid both curtsied to the king, then the handmaid looked away as her lady and the king spoke. She felt the Hound’s eyes burning holes into her as they always did. She wondered what kind of magic was bestowed upon him to make her feel like this. To grant her the desire to step closer to him, but not the courage to meet his eyes. He seemed to eat her up with his gaze and she found her knees weak. Last night she had touched herself again to the fantasy of him, of calling him her Master while he did unspeakable things to her body.

“Escort Sansa’s handmaid back to the castle, she’s not needed anymore,” Joffrey spoke. Her eyes snapped to him and then to Sansa. Lost in her thoughts, she had failed to realise that the king wanted to take his lady for a walk alone. The Hound nodded and grabbed the handmaid’s arm roughly.

“Wait-” she burst out without thinking. Shockingly, the Hound let her go.

“Catch up,” he muttered and began walking. She said her goodbyes to Sansa and gave the girl a hug, hoping to leave her with an act of kindness before the boy king destroyed it all. She jogged to catch up with the Hound, briefly wondering why she had to be escorted.

“Good girl, heel to your Master,” he said once she caught up and placed herself on his left hand side. Her eyes went wide and she almost choked on her own spit. Had she just misheard him? Given by the smug smirk on his lips, she had not. She thought it best not to reply.

“Where’s the king taking Sansa?” she asked a few moments later. The Hound pushed her up the stairs unceremoniously. So rough, all the time, that man.

“You’ll mind your own business if you know what’s good for you,” he said. “But you don’t, do you, pup?” He backed her up against the nearest wall and she realised he had led her into the castle through a back door and they were all on their own, with no one in the corridor. Her voice wavered when she spoke.

“What do you mean?” she asked. He was so tall, towering over her. His gloved hand came up to grab her chin, forcing her to look at him. When he gave no answer she continued. “We shouldn’t be all al-” “You shouldn’t be all alone with someone like me. Who knows what could happen to a poor little pup like you? Stupid little girl… you haven’t got a clue, have you? What they’re saying about you?” His voice was dark and coarse and he leaned in closer. The handmaid’s breath hitched and her knees were weak. The Hound still held her chin firmly with his thumb and forefinger, squeezing and holding her in place when she tried to turn her face away from him. Her body was frozen cold in fear, yet it burned with desire.

“What who is saying?” she mumbled, fighting back tears in her eyes. The Hound chuckled darkly.

“You gonna cry for me, girl? Would be a pretty sight.” He licked his lips, looking down at her hungrily.

“Please…” she pleaded, not knowing what for. The Hound groaned, making her eyes widen again. His eyes roamed her body, landing on her breasts for a second before looking in her eyes again. “Beg, too? Must be my lucky day. Maybe they’re right about you after all. Maybe you really are that stupid.” He let her go. “Go on, back to work with you,” he said and backed off, turning away to return to the his post by the king. A sudden rush of bravery washed over the handmaid.

“Wait! What are they saying about me?” she asked, needing to know. The Hound stopped and looked back at her. He grinned, and she swore this time he looked even more smug than before.

“They say when I’m not looking, you look at me like a whore does a Lannister. Now back to work, pup.” The Hound left her standing there with her mouth hanging open in shock.

#sandor clegane #Sandor Clegane fan fiction #Sandor Clegane smut #the hound #the hound x you #the hound x reader #Sandor Clegane x you #Sandor Clegane x reader #smut #game of thrones

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koiiiji · 3 months

Note

So when you get the chance 👉🏼👈🏼 Olly, vin jin, self loathing/heat mode Daniel’s reactions to a strong fem reader that fights well and is very witty and seems angry a lot. With smut if ur down?? I was thinking of different ways she’d meet the characters like, Vin Jin’s would be at school and the reader is sick of him bullying Duke so she tells him to fight her, Olly’s I feel like would be the reader is in a different crew and he was pissing her off so it escalated to a fight… SL Daniel too? To fight him from another crew? Despite knowing all these men are way too strong for their own good like—

YES VIN DEFINITELY FITS FOR THIS SCENARIO!!

author’s note ; i feel olly too but what’s the point if bro doesn’t feel anything? but let’s imagine that we are fucking magicians and olly was possible to feel ✨little something✨. and sorry, i didn’t include danny, i just can’t imagine him messing with girls, he is baby and total patootie😭🫶🏻

author’s note 2 ; OMG SORRY THAT IT TOOK SO LONG TO RESPONSE

tw ; f!body reader, suggestive, fighting, AGELESS BLOGS DNI, nsfw part w/ olly

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

vin jin

The bell rang, signaling the end of another monotonous school day. The hallways were bustling with students, each minding their own business, except for a few who were engrossed in a particular scene. In the center of the commotion stood Vin Jin, his trademark sunglasses glinting under the fluorescent lights as he cornered Duke. The boy, known for his rap skills, was visibly uncomfortable.

"You call that rap? My grandma could spit better bars," - Vin taunted, his voice full of mockery as he held up a notepad with lyrics for new songs. Duke, trying to muster some courage, opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by a sharp, female voice.

"Leave him alone, Vin."

It wasn’t that you was protector of every weak ones, but seeing and hearing that coward Vin Jin mercilessly attacked Duke, that poor guy, was miserable, to say less. You, and actually everyone who have eyes could say that this pathetic asshole is just trying to establish himself at Duke’s expense. Plus he was loud, he interrupted you from studying, so teaching him little lesson won’t hurt your next lecture preparation, right?

"What the fuck do you want from me, woman?" - Vin turned to face you, a smirk playing on his lips. You stepped closer, eyes locked onto his. "You know, i'm sick of you bullying Duke. If you want to prove how strong you are, why don't you fight someone who can actually fight back?" - a murmur of excitement rippled through the crowd. Vin's smirk widened. "You think you can take me on?" Without waiting for a response, you dropped your backpack to the ground and squared your shoulders. "Let's find out."

Vin chuckled, rolling his shoulders. "I don't fight girls, sweetheart. But I'll play along." He extended his fist towards you, feigning nonchalance. "Rule number one, usually, guys start with a pun-"

Before he could finish his sentence, you grabbed his fist, twisting it with precision and force. In one swift motion, you yanked him forward, using his momentum against him. The moment before his body met the floor, you wrapped your legs around his neck, and completing the grip, slammed his head harder into the floor. With agility and strength, you rolled, twisting his arm, pinning him to the floor. Before he could react, you wrapped your thighs around his neck harder, locking him in a tight scissor hold.

Vin struggled, trying to break free, but you tightened your grip, the muscles in your legs flexing as you held him down. His face was inches from your crotch, his breath coming in short and hot gasps.

"Rule number two, fuck your 'guys usually start' " - you taunted, tightening your hold slightly. Vin gritted his teeth, his face flushed with both effort and embarrassment. "Get off of me!" He puffed with an anger.

You leaned in closer smirking, lowering your voice and whispering in playful manere. "Not until you promise to leave Duke alone."

Vin's eyes narrowed, pride didn't allow him to give up so easily, but the same pride reminded him that some girl threw him to the floor, twisted him in front of the whole class, and even dared to set her own conditions. For Vin, this was a real blow to his enormously inflated ego.

"Fine, fine... I promise. Now get off of me, bitch" - all flushed he hissed into your thighs. You released him, rolling away and standing up. When you was about to leave the class you turned to Duke - "you heard him, he won't touch you anymore."

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

That evening, the school was empty, the silence almost eerie. You were alone in the gym, practicing your moves, when the door creaked open. You turned to see Vin leaning against the doorframe, his sunglasses gone, revealing his intense gaze.

"Couldn't stay away, huh?" you teased, not missing a beat. Vin walked towards you, his expression serious. "I intend on gaining revenge on you"

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms, studying him. "Listen, I was just protecting that guy. I said then, I will say now - if you want to prove how strong you are, find an opponent to match you, and to establish yourself at the expense of the weak… well, this is not just stupid, but disgusting." You sighed, turning away from Vin and intending to leave the ring. "Besides, you already lost to me, did you really enjoyed being caught by a girl that much?” You smiled to yourself.

A strong grip grabbed your elbow, sharply and roughly yanking you back, turning you towards your interlocutor. Vin stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "Now, I want to see just how strong you really are." The air between you crackled with tension. You took a step back, but he followed, closing the distance.

Who does this bastard think he is? Fueled by adrenaline and anger, you delivered a series of sharp blows to his chest with your foot, each one eliciting a grunt from Vin. Your final strike aimed directly at his crotch, but he was quicker than you anticipated. With a swift, powerful motion, he countered with a direct blow to your side, sending you sprawling.

Ignoring the pain, you jumped to your feet, determination blazing in your eyes. You darted behind him, your hands finding purchase on his powerful shoulders. Deftly dodging his grasp, you swung both legs over his neck, crossing them at the back of his head. Your body twisted gracefully, almost cradling his face between your thighs.

You hadn't expected Vin to be so resilient. Despite your hold, he remained on his feet, his strength undeniable. He gripped your waist with surprising force, his defiance infuriating.

Such impudence even took your breath away. With both hands raised, you brought your elbows down hard on his head, striking repeatedly. Each blow was meant to weaken his resolve, but Vin's endurance was formidable. With a swift, desperate maneuver, he spun 90 degrees, knocking both of you to the ground. The impact jarred you, the air rushing from your lungs as your back hit the floor. Vin, though still trapped between your thighs, managed to clasp his hands around your neck, his grip firm but not cruel.

"Give up," he croaked, his voice strained yet determined.

You met his gaze with fiery defiance and squished his neck harder with your thighs. "Only after you, overgrown gremlin," you hissed furiously. Without taking your angry glances off each other, none of you intended to let go first.

When suddenly the Vin's grip weakened.

Before you could react, he pulled you into a kiss, his lips crashing against yours with a fierce urgency. The unexpected intensity of the kiss caught you off guard, but you responded with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair. The kiss deepened, filled with a passion neither of you had expected.

And yet, not wanting to lose, you took advantage of the moment, and moving your legs to his sides and pretending to hug his shoulders, you rolled both of you, so that you were now sitting on top.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, eyes locked in a silent understanding. "Looks like the fight is over," - you whispered, your voice a mix of challenge and desire.

Vin smirked, his hands slipping to your waist. "No, it's just beginning."

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

olly wang

Olly had a reputation for getting under people’s skin. As the head of his gang, he knew how to push buttons and provoke reactions. Today was no different.

His laughter echoes down the narrow alleyway as he approaches, his eyes glaming with mischief. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Not happy to see me?" he taunts, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You clench your fists, your gaze unwavering. "You never know when to shut up, do you, Olly?" His grinning widens. "That's what makes this fun."

Without another word, you lunge at him, your movements fluid and precise. Olly is ready, deflecting your initial strikes with practiced ease. Your fight is a dance of aggression and skill, each move calculated, each strike intended to maim.

He dodges your right hook, countering with a jab to your ribs. You grunt but don’t back down, spinning on your heel to deliver a devastating roundhouse kick. Your massive heel connects with his jaw, sending him staggering. Sometimes there were advantages to coming to the showdown after the club. Without giving him time to come to his senses, you grab him by the dreadlocks, pulling his head down and delivering a knee strike right in the face. Without wasting a second, immediately going behind his back and stretching the wire, throwing it over Olly’s neck, starting to choke him.

He struggles, his vision blurring as he claws at the wire. With a roar of desperation, he slams you into the nearest wall, knocking the breath out of you and forcing you to release your grip. He throws you to the ground, your body hitting a nearby car with a sickening thud. Gasping for air, you lie on the ground, struggling to regain your breath. Olly approaches, his steps deliberate, his eyes dark with intent. He looms over you, ready to deliver the final blow. Just as he raises his fist, you grab a piece of reinforcement from the ground, swinging it with all your might.

The metal connects with Olly's head, and his world explodes into stars. He staggers, his vision swimming, but manages to stay on his feet, adrenaline pushing him forward. He shakes his head, trying to clear his vision as you charge at him again.

Your fight continues, more brutal and desperate than before. You move with the precision and power of a trained fighter, your strikes hard and relentless. Olly is no slouch either, his movements fluid as he counters your attacks. You circle each other, exchanging blows, neither willing to back down.

“What’s the matter, Olly? Can’t handle a woman who fights back?” - you taunt, your breath coming in quick bursts as you pause for a moment.

Olly wipes a trickle of blood from his lip, his eyes gleaming with a mix of pain and admiration. “You’re good, I’ll give you that. But I’m not done yet.”

You clash again, the sound of your struggle echoing through the deserted street. But as the fight wears on, something changes. The anger and aggression begin to morph into something else. The adrenaline coursing through your veins, the intensity of your movements - it all seems to ignite a different kind of fire.

You swing at Olly, but he catches your wrist, pulling you close. Your faces are inches apart, both of you breathing hard. The electricity between you is palpable.

“Is this what you wanted?” Olly murmurs, his voice low and rough.

Your eyes flicker with surprise. Without warning, Olly closes the distance, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss. You hesitate for a split second before responding, your hands tangling in his hair as you kiss him back with equal fervor. The fight forgotten, you are consumed by a different kind of battle, one driven by lust and need.

Olly’s hands roam over your body, feeling the strength and heat beneath your clothes. He pushes you against the wall, your kisses growing more urgent. You moan softly, your nails digging into his shoulders as you pull him closer.

“Olly,” - you breathe, breaking the kiss to look into his eyes. “This doesn’t change anything between our gangs.”

“Maybe not,” - he replies, his voice thick with desire. “But right now, it’s just you and me.”

You make quick work of your clothes, the urgency of your need overriding any thoughts of rivalry or conflict. Olly’s hands explore every inch of your body, memorizing the feel of your skin, the way you respond to his touch. You are equally aggressive, your touch leaving marks on his back as you guide him to where you want him.

When Olly finally enters you, it is with a growl of satisfaction. You gasp, your legs wrapping around his waist as he thrusts into you with a powerful, steady rhythm. Your movements are frantic, driven by the intensity of your emotions and the thrill of your unexpected connection.

“Fuck, (y/n),” - Olly groans, his lips brushing against your ear. You respond with a deep moan, your hips meeting his thrusts. The pleasure builds rapidly, the tension between you reaching a fever pitch. When- Before he can react, a distant voice cuts through the haze.

“Boss! Boss!” The urgency in the voice pulls him out of the moment. Olly’s subordinate is shaking him urgently, and suddenly he realized that he have slipped into a daze. The alleyway is as it had been, but you’re gone.

“Boss, are you alright?” The subordinate asks, concern etched on his face.

Olly groans, rubbing the spot on his head where you had struck him. The reality of your fight comes rushing back, the smutty fantasy dissipating like smoke. He pushes himself up to his feet, scanning the alley for any sign of you, but you are nowhere to be found.

"I'm fine," he mutters, though he feels anything but. The encounter has left him rattled, not just physically but mentally. He had underestimated you, and the intensity of your fight - and whatever had transpired in his dazed mind - lingers in the air.

As he walks away, he can't shake the feeling that this is far from over. Your rivalry has reached a new level, and he is determined to face whatever comes next. But for now, he needs to regroup and recover, his mind haunted by the dream that had felt all too real.

#[ ~ koi.talks🗣]#webtoon lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #lookism #lookism x reader #vin jin #vin jin x reader #lookism vin jin #vin j #olly wang #olly wang x reader #olly wang lookism #van ochun

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brooooswriting · 2 years

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Hello, I hope you have a great day <3

Jenna Ortega x female reader.

where R saves Jenna from a creepy fan/St4lk3r

They try to touch her and make her uncomfortable (kidnapping attempt if you want extreme shit) and R butts in and helps her

After that Jen has a panic attack but R finds and comforts her

by all means feel free to ignore this if it makes you uncomfortable

Situations

Situations 2, situations 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Jenna Ortega x reader

Tw: mentions of assault

Walking around California alone after sunset wasn’t always the best idea, a lot of people knew. There were people who just waited for you to not pay attention, there were men who cat called you, some who went further and there were high ones that will always try to touch you in some way. Of course there were also some normal ones that were going for a walk and some that were just high looking for the beach.

You didn’t plan on walking that far but that night the weed just hit a bit harder than normally and it was actually a really beautiful night. Riding your skateboard thru the city while gazing at the stars was beautiful and you were deep in your thoughts until you heard a shriek not far away.

You thought about ignoring it but the muffled scream that followed made you ride faster towards the sound. Even tough you were still kinda high you immediately saw what was going on, a petite brunette was cornered by some dude who towered over her. The girl caught your eye, the pleading look in her eyes made your blood boil.

“Hey, step away from the girl man” you called out as you walked further towards them. The guy wasn’t stupid, he really chose the darkest alley he could find. “This isn’t your business, so fuck off” he called out and closed in on the poor woman. “Look, I’ve had a great night until now and I really don’t feel like fighting. So why don’t you step away so I don’t have to step in even further?” You tried to be reasonable, you didn’t want to scare the girl even further.

“Why don’t you go and mind your own fucking business? The slut was clearly asking for it and the money I will make with pictures of her naked” you could hear his smirk and that was the moment you were done being reasonable. You walked closer until you could grab his shoulder to pull him around. The fist that collided with his face broke his nose before pushing him to the ground. After kicking him once more for good measure you turned to the brunette who was still pressed against the wall.

“Are you alright hun?” You asked carefully, keeping your distance so you wouldn’t scare her. Slowly extending your hand in case she wanted some comfort. It took a minute before she took your hand. Softly grabbing her hand you pulled her into the light where you first noticed two things; one: the girl seemed familiar, two: she was breathing heavily and had tears streaming down her face.

“It’s alright, I’m here and he won’t be able to get to you again alright?” You looked at her with concern in your eyes, your thumb rubbing over her hand. “I’m sorry but you seem familiar… what’s your name darling?” Her breathing started to pick up again which caused you to quickly wrap her in your arms. “It’s alright, you don’t have to tell me. Take a breath with me ok? In…. And out” carefully guiding her to take deep breaths while rubbing her back.

When she calmed down a bit she pulled away and mumbled “Jenna Ortega” and watched the wheels in your head turn. “You’re the chick from the new series… Wednesday, right?” You finally asked, a bit embarrassed that you didn’t recognize her immediately. She nodded grinning up at you “you’re pretty high huh?” She giggled when you nodded scratching the back of your neck.

Her giggling quickly stopped when you heard a groan and saw the guy from before coming out of the alley trying to grab the girl again. You pushed her behind you before stretching yourself so you could tower over the guy. “I told you to leave her alone didn’t I?” You smirked before hitting him again but this time way harder. He fell to the ground again.

You quickly called the police before turning to the girl who seemed to be gone. Confused you looked around until you saw her sitting pressed up against the wall with her legs against her chest and her face buried between her knees. “Jenna?” You carefully whispered as you came closer. The girl didn’t even look up which caused you to worry even more, “Jenna!” You said a bit louder and crouched down in front of her.

The soft touch on her knee seemed to get her out of her trance, her hands were shaking and sweaty, her breath shallow and her face covered in tears and ruined mascara. “Oh darling, it’s alright. The police will be here soon and until then I’m protecting you” you reassured her holding out your hands again. Her shaking hands touched your steady ones which seemed to calm her a bit. “I’m gonna put one of your hands on my heart to calm you a bit. Is that okay?” You whispered out which caused her to nod.

With her hand on your heart, your other hand brushing thru her hair and the constant whisper of reassurances it took around 10 minutes to calm her down. “There we go, pretty girl” you said in a low voice while your hands came to her face so your thumbs could wipe away the tear stains on her face. She giggled slightly which caused you to smile.

Jenna was exhausted. Exhausted and confused, how could a girl that she just met make her feel so safe and valid? It was scary but at the same time it felt right, just right.

She couldn’t help but lean her head onto your shoulder when you decided to move from in front of her to sit next to her. “Thank you” she mumbled out while looking straight ahead. “No need for that”

A couple of minutes later the police came. The whole time you didn’t leave Jenna alone, her hand was clawing at yours every time you tried to give her space. “So what exactly happened miss Ortega?” One of the cops asked her as he pulled out a paper. “I was trying to get some steps in and as I walked along the street I was pushed into the alley, the man… he cornered me. Then he…he tr…his hands….” She started to cry again so you decided to step in. “I think you can guess what happened next” you told him squeezing the girls hand.

After everything was done the police took the guy away and you were, again, left alone with the actress. She looked around nervously and when you tried to Step a bit away her hand immediately shot out to grab your wrist. “Wait… can you walk me home?” Her voice got progressively lower but you could still understand her. “I wasn’t going to let you walk alone, just getting my skateboard, darling” you could see a light blush forming on her cheeks before you kicked up the board.

“Lead the way hun” you fell into step next to her. The whole way you guys talked, it felt nice. It’s been a while since Jenna met someone who didn’t treat her any differently because of her popularity. But you saved her even before you knew who she was. It felt nice, great even.

“I live here” she said when you stopped in front of a house. “Alright Jenna, it was nice to meet you. Really sucky way to meet you but still” you told her rubbing the back of your neck again. A habit when you were nervous. You wanted to ask if you could get her number but you were scared that she would feel like she had to because you saved her.

“Can I have your phone for a sec?” She asked as you were still overthinking the whole situation. Still in trance you gave her your phone only snapping back to reality when she pushed in back to you. “Text me ok?” She leaned in to kiss your cheek before walking to the door. “Thanks again for saving me” she said and disappeared into the house.

You stood there still shocked about what just happened. Opening your phone you saw a new contact ‘Jenna <3’ you were grinning stupidly as you put your phone away and rode back home.

The moment your back hit the bed you pulled out your phone again.

Jenna<3

You: hey it’s y/n

#reader insert #brooooswriting #jenna #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams x reader

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kristlewrites · 1 year

Text

“Slow it down, Make it bouncy”

CW: Lactation kink, Sub Zoro, Nicknames (mommy, papa, baby, sweetie),Smut, Family AU, Titty fucking, Oral (m!receiving), mommy kink (jus in case)

PAIRING: Zoro x Blk!FemReader

WC: 1.1K

🫧🗯️: I had so much fun wrting this one omg, im always weak for a flustered man. anyways, tyyy SO MUCH for the support ive been receving on all my fics! it means so much to me. so pls enjoy this and ngl i was falling for reader a lil bit like hold awn. Also going thru some of my previous work I do realize that i need to do a little proof read lmao..i apolgise if theres any errors on this.

MINORS DNI

(bounce)

You and your husband have been terrorized by your little infant, crying, screaming, and throwing tantrums. It was almost impossible to get her to calm down, but when she did it wasn’t for long. When she was asleep you would try your best to quickly tidy up all her toys and her highchair just so you can have some peace of mind. Zoro was also a great help too, when It came to take care of the baby. He would give her bubble baths, feed her, and keep her entertained while you're trying to catch up with some sleep. Even though with all the pain and frustrations you can’t bring yourself to be mad at the situation at all.

But due to all of that you and Zoro had barely any time to even sleep in the same bed?!? As you were busy taking care of the baby, Zoro was also preoccupied with work. You guys had no time at all for each other! So you come up with a brilliant idea, you drop off your little baby girl at your parents house for the weekend, and clean up the house. You take a nice steamy shower and put on your most seductive lingerie you own and waited.

Alerted by the sounds of the keys clicking, you stay in the bedroom awaiting your husband.

Leisurely, Zoro twists the bedroom door knob flinching at the provocative sight. You laying in bed, in a too tight lingerie laying down. You get up immediately and greet your husband. “Hey baby, how was work?” you ask, giving him a fat kiss on his cheek.

“Uh It was fine” He says clearly startled by your appearance. “Where's Kamora?” He asks scanning the room.

“I dropped her off at my parents, and trust me they are elated to see their granddaughter” You reply tapping him on his chest.

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to have some us time, we've barely had any time for the both of us, alone.” You pout “Plus I wanna treat you, since you've been working so hard lately” you say trailing you acrylic down his chest. “What do you say papa?”

Zoro positioned on the edge of your bed with you on your knees. You drag both his pants and his boxers down, and you are met with his throbbing dick. Marveling at it in all its glory you reach for the base and spit on it using it as a makeshift lubricant. Swiftly you start stroking in a vertical motion going up and down on his large cock. You can hear Zoro moan above, “You like it like this?, honey” you whisper but just loud enough that Zoro can hear. Nodding his head you hear him let out a small whimper “Yeaah let it all out for mama” You grin, with one hand still stroking, you bring your breast wrapping them around his dick.

Bouncing up and down you envelop his dick within your large titties, going nice and slow. Using your hands you usher up your tits, swallowing up his poor penis. You feel it twitching, “Baby are you gonna cum?” You tease, pecking his tip. “It’s okay, cum all over mamas titties” and as if it was on command zoro came all over your chest. “It felt good didn’t it?” You ask, letting out a small giggle..

’Mhmm’ Zoro moaned.

Kissing his cock, you go down slowly leaving no area untouched and leaving salvia everywhere. Licking upwards you insert his tip between your lips. Gradually you admit his whole cock into your mouth. At a faster pace you start rocking back and forth, wrapping your warm tongue around his dick, taking it in so sloppily. Using your hands you enfold the rest of his fat cock and twist around in a fluid motion.You continue this for another thirty seconds until you feel zoro's dick tremor in your mouth. With no warning, you feel zoro's warm sticky cum lodges in your throat. Releasing his cock with a smooth ‘pop’ sound you smile, “Oh my god baby, you are so sensitive. Have you missed me?” You muse grinning upwards looking at your husband's flustered face.

“yes” Zoro shyly replies

“You are so cute papa” you marvel while rising up towards his face, leaning towards his lips and kissing him. He then opens his mouth and enters , bit by bit your tongue enters and works its way onto his. You push him down carefully so that now you are still on top of him. Still kissing, you bite down on his bottom lip and he lets out a small whimper.

You crawl down, now onto his pelvis region, you sensually remove your lingerie displaying your leaking cunt. You climb onto his dick, letting the slick from your pussy help ease it in. You gasp from sensation, continuing to position yourself upon his dick. You grab Zoro's still hands and situate them on your hips. “Cmon baby you can't expect me to take all this by myself” you pout a lil teasing zoro. Hearing your pleas he strengthens his grip on your hips and assists down his dick.

“Ah” you cry out, feeling his dick all up in your vagina. Firmly you press your hands against his abdomen using it as support and start bouncing. You start going up and slowly, but once you get more comfortable you start going in a faster motion. Adjusting into smooth tempo, your ass smacking against his pelvis noises filling up the room, you whine from the movement. Feeling his dick sliding up and down your cunt. Wailing from how good it feels to be so full. Mesmerized, zoro studies your breasts as they follow the rhythm of your bounce. Guiding his fingers to your nipples, squeezing them. Milk spurts out.

“Mmm” You wail “You can't do that, it's for kamora sweetie” You say gasping, exhausted. Your legs are sore from the endless bouncing. Your hands still placed on his stomach, you pick up the pace, going faster. You feel Zoro squirming underneath you. “Cum in me, i want another one please.” You plead, leading one of your fingers towards your tummy where his dick bulge is displayed. This drives him crazy and he shoots it up your pussy, painting your walls white. Your orgasm comes flooding down just right after. “Agh” you squeal out, collapsing down on Zoro's chest.

“Not too much, what about kamora?” you whine, gently tapping the side of zoro's face. Latched onto your right nipple draining all you have. You guys are laying down under yalls sheets, zoro as the little spoon indulging himself into your boobs.

“But it's so sweet mommy” Zoro sulks, leaving a small saliva trail on your titty.

“Well when you say it like that, only a little bit more ok?”

Zoro nods, and resumes sucking. Whilst you comb your hot pink acrylics through his short stubby minty hair

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goodeapple · 1 month

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how much do i have to pay you to write something with current canon show Aemond and Ysilla

absolutely CERO dollars (bc this has been in my drafts bEGGING to come out teehee)

“it is just gossip, my prince. something to pass the time between the smallfolk. words fill the mind when there’s no food to fill the belly-”

“i said,” aemond cuts off the squabbling squire, his tone icy. “tell me what was said about the princess ysilla.”

the boy pauses, the blood draining from his face and leaving behind a sunken gray parlor. when he speaks again, his voice quivers like a blade of grass in a storm.

“they’re saying she’s pregnant. quick work by the blacks to solidify ties with the north. or with the riverlands. the word is, she is some moons along. so the… union must have taken place soon after your business with the late prince lucerys. many are saying cregan stark, the wolf of the north, must be the father as he is very committed to the black’s cause. very committed to the princess and their coming child-”

“leave me.”

the squire doesn’t need to be told twice. he turns tails and scurries off, the heavy chamber door thudding shut behind him. the prince regent sits alone in the council room. all else is quiet, save for the war raging in his mind.

aemond shouldn't be surprised- he's not, in a way. bastards are rhaenyra’s specialty. certainly, she would implore her daughter to spread her legs and whelp out an alliance in the form of a babe. and if the father is indeed stark that fucking mongrel, how aemond wants to carve into his belly and pluck out his entrails until they are but a noose to hang him with then aemond knows he needs to tread cautiously.

‘this war will not be won with dragons alone.’ fucking horseshit. he'll burn down winterfell on the morrow if he wishes, until there's nothing left but ancient ash and stone. he'll kill the wolf in his own den, lest he has not already made room for himself in ysilla’s bed.

unbidden, fantasies of his niece swollen and plump with life rush forth. pregnancy would suit her: the swell of her hips filling out, the golden gleam from her skin glowing bright, the blessing of her bosom busting out of her neckline.

another vision, of a swaddled little thing in green and gold blankets, cradled in her arms so tenderly. ysilla would coo and shush them with her sugar sweet voice, all the while the babe would suck milk out of her heavy, aching breast, the dusty rose of her nipple bitten and spit shiny.

green and gold blankets. a foolish fantasy… but fantasies, have no chance of coming true.

“you’re pathetic. you and your lush of a brother ruin dinner and taunt my brothers into behavior that is unlike them, and you won’t even think of apologizing? our families are balancing such a fine line, and yet you dance on it with glee.” ysilla judges with such a biting clarity, she leaves no room for argument. she barged into his room like had the right to, and plucked the book he was reading right out of his hands and sent it flying into his wall. and now, she subjects him to this? her righteousness makes him choke.

“your poor poor, bruised brothers.” aemond pouts mockingly, before erupting into laughter. his niece flinches, more frightened by that then she would be if he shouted. “i hope aegon rang luke’s head like a bell. and i? i should’ve struck jacaerys the same as he attempted to strike me.”

ysilla regards him with something close to sympathy, but there's too much detestment alongside it to be at all good-natured.

“what a sad, small man you make, aemond. my pity is the only piece of me you may have. never my respect, never my admiration, just my pity.”

aemond takes her words and swallows them down, lets the sharp edge of them carve a jagged line down his gullet. if she wants to try her hand at cruelty, aemond will show her how it is done.

“the word of a bastard born girl means little to me. i do not have your respect? the only value you have within you is that of your last name. and that name ysilla, is not Velayr-”

ysilla’s palm crashing into his cheek stops him short. he toys with the idea of praising her- she hits harder than her brother could ever hope to. even in her brutality, her touch upon him is warm and the heat spreads to the rest of him as if he's being engulfed in a forest fire.

“do you think that hurt? come on, you can do better than that.” aemond taunts, pulling upwards into his full height. he towers over his niece but she does not yield, straightening her spine in an admirable attempt to seem formidable. “hit me.”

so she does- striking him again and again. a slap, a shove, a scratch, the next harder than the last. but still, he advances, accepting it all with a greed that has drawn open a pit inside his belly. ysilla spits and snarls, her adrenaline making her blows land soundly but sloppily until her back collides with the edge of his table. aemond catches her wild hands in his own and pins her wrists behind her to the tabletop. the smooth expanse of his cheek will soon begin to bruise like a ripe peach but for now, it glows ruby red, the very color of ysilla’s wine stained lips.

“not a dragon at all, i see. mayhaps, you’re more akin to whatever your father’s sigil is- whatever that may be.” oh how he wants to devour that fury that springs to life within her valyrian eyes. maybe not velaryon, but undeniably targaryen.

“you’re sick. you’re as sick and twisted as that fucking scar on your face-”

their kiss is more fight and fury than anything sweet. teeth catch tongues, and they battle for an upper hand neither are willing to give.

aemond sweeps his arm across the table, books, cups, and papers careening to the ground. he spins ysilla around, humming in appreciation as she arches back into him. she places both hands on the table, trying not to seem too eager as she widens her stance and therefore, opens her legs.

“don't care to look at me?” she asks primly, her haughty tone only dampened by the lust heavy on her tongue. the one-eyed prince can't wait to hear what she'll sound like when she's praying to him for release.

“quite the contrary, issa dõna. unless you wish to leave here in tatters, let me unwrap you like a gift and take my spoils as such.”

his words strike the right chord as he hears ysilla take in a shaky breath. she clutches at one of his hands pinching at her hip and guides his touch upwards, until aemond has a handful of her breasts. maybe it will be him that prays to her for salvation.

every button on her dress he pops apart reveals slips of skin he mouths at hungrily. she tastes of honeysuckle and salt, and he'll bet a million gold dragons her cunt tastes even better.

ysilla’s hands go behind her, fumbling and toying at his belt until she unlatches it. her hand dives into his breeches, cupping the pulsing thickness of his hard cock. he voices a warning groan into the nape of her neck, grazing his teeth along her skin in a promise.

“aemond, do it. take me… ruin me.”

and when she begs like that, he cannot find it in himself to deny her.

it was the night before his father died. the last night they were all together- the last night he’d seen her. only a handful of days before he and luke met for the final time in storm’s end…

he can’t be… it’s not possible. well… it’s possible but his niece isn’t stupid- she must’ve drank moon tea the morning after they…

but what if she hadn’t?

aemond snarls, sending the spherical stone once in his fist across the room in a vociferous clatter. all of his thoughts- aegon, harrenhal, his mother, the iron throne- melt away and leave behind a thread that has begun to unravel. ysilla, ysilla, ysilla.

he has to see her. he has to know for certain.

#this takes place sometime in between episodes 5 & 6 #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x you #hotd #nonnie mail

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findafight · 2 years

Note

I have an extremely stupid thought: Addams!Steve. His parents are horrified at his normalness. Everybody in the family tries to come up with ways to make him enjoy pain, even a little. They are all devastated that his interests are basketball and popularity. Usually, he isn't even cruel on purpose! His parents do their best to support him in his interests (this is why their house is so horribly decorated) and leave every time they feel the need to Be Weird or visit the family. When the Upside Down happens, they are overjoyed. Finally, a truly Addams pastime! But he doesn't seem to be having a lot of fun? Is he just trying to fit in their family? They don't want him to change for them, they just want him happy! His parents end up leaving him alone longer so he doesn't feel pressured to share the delightful portal to Hell (or keep getting involved if it stops being fun) and check in on him from time to time. He looks so delightfully beat up every time! What fun! Let's give him space. If he wants to battle hellmonsters, they definetely aren't gonna stop him! Even if it's a bit strange that he hasn't chosen one as a pet yet. Oh, no, is he secretely having a bad time? Does he not enjoy the hell portal? Look Steve we support your normal lifestyle! Do you want a job? A normal, horri- we mean, it's-totally-cool-if-you-want-one job? We won't think less of you if you do!

Steve for his part is very grateful that his family are so supportive of him, even if he's still trying to find a way to ask them for help with the Upside Down stuff without 1) secretely disappointing them and 2) his family making the situation worse on purpose. He knows they wouldn't mean to! But if he asks his mother to shut down a portal to a nightmare dimension full of flesh-eating monsters without even letting her keep one as a pet he might just make her cry, and that's unconscionable.

He's also under the impression that he knows the difference between people-normal and Addams-normal, but he still gets tripped up from time to time. Dustin keeping Dart as a pet? Duh, super normal, didn't even think about it until everyone started berating Dustin. What do you mean Jonathan and I aren't friends? We loved the same girl (who chose him), clearly we are Friends For Life.

(He'll never admit that Eddie is the first thing in his life that felt Right to every part of him. Sweet as pie the way he likes it even if his family is baffled by the preference, with a Deeply Weird appearence and demeanor that remind him of the best parts of home)

Yes yes Oh my god your mind.....

In S1 when Steve says his parents are away because dad has business and his mom went with him because she doesn't trust him it's not that his dad's adulterous it's because his mom didn't trust his dad not to, like, go grave robbing without her, (such a romantic date in the moonlight and it would be a shame to do it all alone, she knows he can't resist it though...)and they knew Steve wasn't particularly About That and also don't want him around for date night, and they don't want to do Weird Shit (their normal) in Hawkins because they don't want to have a reputation that would harm their darling normie son, AND he needed to stay in school at least for sports.

They return and he's like so I fought a demon creature from another dimension and got my shit rock by Jonathan who is now my best friend... (Because I doubt an Addams cares about NDAs within the family) and his parents are delighted! A portal to a hell dimension! Steven! You'll have to invite us along next time, and bring that nice young woman who is even MORE normal than you-oh she pointed a gun at you? Magnificent she'll fit right in! But they notice he's even more wound up than before and his mother, sister to Gomez Addams (hence the Harrington name), goes to her brother and bemoans the development.

"a hell dimension! In our own backyard, Gomez! We should all be rejoicing on our luck! But poor Steven only seems stressed. Apparently a girl died in our pool and instead of inviting her to haunt us he just feels guilty. I don't know what to do... However, the nail studded bat--complete with blood splatter, it's marvelous, you really must see it--is a welcome addition to the decor in the main room that we may be able to relax the highly attuned 'normal' look and expand from the basement."

And the next year, Dustin gets Steve to look for Dart and he's like "wait it's a baby demogorgon? Oh man my cousins would be sooo jealous. It ate your cat? Ah. I see. Eating a family member is certainly frowned upon." And Dustin is like. Why aren't you mad that it's a demogorgon u weirdo. What the hell. And Steve realizes that maybe weird carnivorous pets is an Addams Thing. In his defense Dustin got one. He'll have to tell his mom that it tends to eat other pets and isn't advisable.

Afterwards everyone is so proud! Steve helped defend some children who seem very keen on arson, which an Addams can relate to, and he always wears a broken nose so well. It is unfortunate that that Nancy girl broke his heart, but all's fair in love and war, and an Addams can bounce back! And what a tale, to have a girlfriend run away with you best friend! Worthy of a revenge plot, hmm Steve? Oh? No? You just what to cuddle and watch sad movies? Well. Alright then.

Perhaps a summer job, at that new mall will help. That is what normal people do, right? And Steve is so keen on normality that his parents can't refuse. They go on vacation, the last week of June, and tell him to just consider poisoning some of the icecream. Just a little! A bit of botulism or ecoli is good for a community! Keeps everyone on their toes.

They cannot believe they missed it AGAIN! Horrible luck, missing all the fun in their hometown. But, Steve seems to be bouncing back, (and his mother and father were both relieved and disappointed that the Russians who dared torture their sweet little pastel son and his friend were blown up before they could get a taste of Addams retribution) he's got a dear friend he works with and is overly attached too (excellent! His parents are so happy he's got someone he's mildly Weird with) and he happily drives the little arsonists around. (Steve's parents don't really meet the kids but know about them, are pleased as punch they all seem like little Addams-Harringtons Steve's taken under his wing. After all, arson, pet monster adopting, car thieving, and spycraft are all delightful pastimes for today's Youth)

But spring break of '86 rolls around and they return to their son in hospital besides another boy, who was apparently accused of serial murder, and discover that the hell dimension is gone for good (and, really, how can the senior Harrington-Addams' have such terrible luck! Missing all the fun once again, and to be told it's all over forever, well. At least their Steve was involved.) They kiss his cheeks and ask if they can get him anything, if his little arsonists are alright. They chat, telling him how little cousin Wednesday is doing and that his uncle Gomez was so thrilled to hear about the flesh monster last year and sends his love.

Eddie is there watching and once they leave he's like Steve....what is going on with your parents. Steve just shrugs.

Slowly, he falls for Eddie, sweet as pie and funny, with just the right amount of...well, freakishness, to settle that place in Steve's heart that's all Addams. Once they get to the stage where Steve introduces him to his parents as his boyfriend, he isn't even nervous about Eddie fitting in. He knows he will even if they live Steve's silly little picket fence and six nugget dream.

Steve's father is delighted by the development. "A murderer in the family!" He yells, which Eddie must interpret as some form of outrage or disgust instead of the delight it is.

He waves his hands in front of him "I didn't actually do it! All charges dropped!"

Steve's father Pat's his back in a consolatory way, "yes, yes. What a shame that is. We can't win them all. But! The reputation persists! And that is what matters. Oh, Priscilla! Gomez and Morticia will be besides themselves with envy!"

Eddie, who wore his most provocative and "fuck society and the man" outfit, on Steve's request which he assumed was to piss of his parents but...really doesn't seem to be the case now... Is. Baffled.

Steve's mother adds "indeed! You'll fit in so well with the rest of the family, dear, no need to worry that you're only an accused murderer. At least without prison time you are free to go where you wish and reap the benefits of a dastardly reputation!"

"I can't believe you didn't introduce us to your boy earlier, Steven. Look at him! Addams-Harrington material already. He even fought in the hell dimension with you!"

"you know about that?"

"of course, what's an NDA to family? We've been trying to join in the fun since the beginning." Says Steve's mother. "We've had such dreadful timing, though. And I'm still terribly annoyed that I wasn't able to give those Russians a torture session of their own!"

Eddie is...well. He doesn't actually know what's going on other than Steve's parents seem to like him? So. A win? He's calling it a win.

#steve Harrington #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington's parents #addams steve Harrington #findaanswers #finda writes stuff #the most addams trait steve has is Being Obsessed With Your Spouse Syndrome #silverseedthings #also to be clear his parents are t4t as many addamses are

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lanitalay · 11 months

Text

Before I Say Goodnight

Chapter 4

a/n: sorry this is a bit late, Halloweekend got very busy. Enjoy!!

Other chapters

Warnings: none

Word count: 2k

“I suggest someone else take her back, she did not have a good time during the flight” Cassian says and flashes you a mischievous grin. His face drops when he sees the far away look in your eyes and the wet streaks on your cheeks “seriously though, can someone winnow her?” “I need to speak with Lucien so I can take her, but I have a few meetings until later in the afternoon” she looks to Mor “do you mind giving her a tour of the house and finding her a room in the meantime?” Mor adjusts her hair and says “of course, we can have a little girls day and get to know each other a bit. I’ll fill you in on all of our juicy gossip” she winks at you. You wipe your tears away and put on a poor excuse of a smile “that sounds great, I love to gossip”. You laugh, kind of, trying to ignore the pang in your chest. Memories of long gossip sessions with friends flashing through your mind. At coffee shops, during phone calls, at sleep-overs before you fall asleep. Amren gets up from her chair “I assume this meeting is over. I’ll see if I can find something in my personal library” and walks out. “Meeting adjourned '' Rhysand announces and the group stands to go their own ways. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, y/n” Feyre smiles and walks out of the room. Mor is waiting for you by the doorway “Come on, girl, there’s a lot to see”.

“I think this should be your room” Mor opens the door and lets you walk in first. The tour had been… a lot to take in. The house is huge and it’s beautiful but it has about a hundred floors and a million rooms. When you step through the door, you’re not shocked to see a beautifully decorated room with an incredible view to match. Velaris, the city of starlight, Mor had told you. “It’s close to the stairs, has its own bathing room and if you pull this back” she goes towards the curtains and reveals a glass door that blends in perfectly with the wall of windows “a balcony! I think no one has claimed this one because it is a little on the smaller side but if all goes well you’ll be on your way home soon” she smiles as you look around. This room is twice the size of my room back home. The bed looks divine, it is made with expensive looking linens, it has about ten decorative pillows that take up half of the mattress. You sit on it and lay back. Good god, I’m never leaving this bed. “This is the most extravagant bed and room I’ve ever seen, let alone stayed in” months of traveling on a budget had gotten you accustomed to thin mattresses at crowded hostels or questionable spare bedrooms from online listings. This was luxury. From what you had gathered last night, a High Lord is someone akin to a king and by the looks of this “house” Rhysand has the taste and wallet of true royalty. “I can’t disagree, it is beautiful” she sits next to you “so… I was serious about the gossip. There are some things you might want to know about the whole dynamic within the Court of Dreams” you can’t help the genuine smile that comes on “tell me everything”. “I knew there was something about you that I liked” she giggles “ok so since you’ve met Lucien I guess we can start with him and Elain. This is crazy, the poor male has terrible luck. Anyways Elain is Feyre’s sister and quick backstory, Feyre and her sisters were humans but for different reasons got turned Fae a while back. Elain and Nesta got dunked in the Cauldron and that turned them. The thing is that all of us were there when it happened and when Elain came out of the Cauldron, the mating bond snapped between her and Lucien-” Oh this is good. “Mating bond?” “Oh right, a mating bond is something that happens between two people destined by the Mother, as I was saying Lucien just says it in front of everyone and Elain is there like totally in shock. Flash forward to a few weeks later her mortal fiance hates Fae and wants nothing to do with her now and she wants nothing to do with Lucien and then Azriel kind of likes Elain now” she goes on to tell you about how Feyre and Rhysand met and Cassian and Nesta. You noticed that she didn’t tell you anything about her own drama but chose to not acknowledge it. It was comforting in a way that these magical beings had personal dramas and gossiped about it like you and your friends did “those stories are wild, Mor” she nods “we’ve been alive so long that we really have to work hard to keep things interesting” you snort and there's a knock on the door. “I’m sorry to interrupt but y/n, I’m ready to go when you are” Feyre says and you quickly get up from where you’ve made yourself comfortable on the bed. “Yeah, let’s go. Thanks for everything Mor” you quickly hug her and go towards Feyre. “How are we getting there?” you ask, not sure what to expect “I’ll winnow us, you’ll see” you walk until you reach the terrace where you had landed with Cassian earlier and look at her wearily “this place is warded against winnowing so I’ll fly us out until we pass the wards and then I’ll winnow to the Manor”. As she speaks, wings appear on her back and she holds out her hands for you “it’ll be quick. I promise” you gulp.

Feyre did not lie when she said it would be quick but left out that it would feel like the world is slipping from your grasp. You feel sick as she puts you down. You rest your hands on your knees in an attempt to steady yourself. “It takes a bit of getting used to” she lets you take a breath and you say “It beats going through TSA”. Feyre nods and when you’ve gathered yourself begins the short walk to the manor.

Packing up your belongings was incredibly underwhelming. You had folded the tunic you’d been using as pajamas and the dress Vassa had given you and stuffed it in your bag. Feyre and Lucien had gone to the library to talk about whatever it was they had to discuss. You had a feeling they were talking about you and if you posed a threat of some kind, feeling that the offer of staying in the House of Wind came from the Court of Dreams wanting to keep a close eye on you. You zip everything up and descend the stairs to find your hosts and thank them for everything. Walking to the kitchen you find Jurian making dinner “they really take advantage of your talents here”. He turns from where he is chopping up produce and lets out a chuckle “it’s the price I pay for pissing Vassa off”. “What did you do?” you ask but before he can answer a lovely feminine voice interjects “he was being an idiot as usual” Jurian rolls his eyes but does not defend himself. “On that note,” you try to diffuse the tension “I’ll be staying at the Night Court while they research how to get me back home, thank you so much for everything. I think I would’ve been dead days ago if it weren’t for you” Vassa pouts “I’ll be sad to see you go, it was such a relief to have some feminine energy around here, but I understand” she walks over and hugs you tightly “please come say goodbye once you’ve figured it all out” you hug her back. Jurian stays by his vegetables as he says “you have to eat dinner here though, I’m making enough for the four of us and Lucien brought pie for dessert”. Your chest warms. He really got the pie. “In that case Feyre, will have to wait” you beam.

After dinner and dessert with the exiles Feyre lets you know she’ll be waiting outside while you say your goodbyes. You hug Vassa and kiss Jurian on the cheek. Lucien offers to walk you to the door and you take the chance to say “thank you for the pie, it was delicious”. He offers you a half smile “you’ve had a rough few days, it’s the least I can do”. “Will you come visit?” you ask hoping the answer is yes. Everyone in the Night Court seems nice enough but Lucien, Jurian and Vassa have a special place in your heart. “I’m due to go there for a meeting in a few weeks. You’re always welcome to use your room here as well” nodding you hug him and without letting go say “I’m nervous”. He hugs you back “you’re in good hands, the House of Wind is safer and you’ll have everything you need”. You let go and walk out the door.

Feyre walks with you until you reach your room “Mor showed you the kitchen and the common areas?” you walk in and set your bag down. “Yes, she was very thorough with her tour” you felt heavy. Maybe it was the flying and winnowing or saying goodbye or the weight of your reality crashing down on you. “Alright, try to sleep, if you need anything ask the house and if there’s an emergency you can wake up Azriel, his room is across the hall”. You remember him from earlier, tall, wings and devastatingly handsome. Historically, you had never figured out how to act around attractive men and during the meeting it was incredibly difficult to focus on retelling your story. “Thank you, Feyre” she goes to walk out and says “I’ll let you know tomorrow when the priestesses begin their research so you can join them if you like”.

Wait, did she say ask the house if I need anything? You go to ask her but she’s gone. “House? Can I have water?” you ask to see if you had heard correctly. You are shocked when you see a tray with a jug of water and a glass appear on the bedside table. That is the best thing I’ve ever seen. You do your night routine: you bathe, brush your teeth and hair and put on your tunic. You pull the covers from the bed and get cozy. The house turns off the lights and the curtains are open, letting through the shine of the city and the stars. During the day it’s easier to ignore the ever growing helplessness. It feels like you’re drowning in it. Trapped in a glass coffin in between space and time. You feel your throat get tighter and your chest feels hollow and- Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Count the stars, do something. Your mind screams. One, two, three, four, this isn’t working. You get an idea. Getting out of bed and walking towards your bag you pull out your phone. You haven’t used it since… well, since everything. It should be charged. Your heart skips when the screen lights up and you scroll to your photos as quickly as you can. Forty-five percent. You see a picture of your dog that your mom had sent you on your last day on Earth and tears well up. It hurts but it brings you comfort to know that they have each other. Committing the picture to memory, you shut it off and get in bed again. They have each other. They are not alone. Eventually sleep takes over. Mercifully, you have no dreams.

The house had closed the curtains after you fell asleep. When you woke up to a dark room you almost thought you had slept through an entire day. Sensing you had awoken, the curtains flew open and you see the sun above the city. It looks like it’s still early. You put on your dress and go have breakfast in the dining room. Azriel is the only one there. “Good morning” he greets. You fiddle with your dress, suddenly aware of the dirt that’s staining the hem and the way it falls off your shoulder. “Good morning”.

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