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lowkeyerror · 12 days ago

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Ours Together pt 2

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Notes: Graphic depictions of violence, could be described as slight gore, more hurt/comfort, fluff, hopeful ending (i think), protective Rio and Agatha

Summary: With the three of you on the same page, walking the road should've been a cake walk. However things take a turn, when you end up with your own trial.

An: Yall asked for a part 2 so you know I had to deliver 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Part 1 | Masterlist

Waking up in between Rio and Agatha brought a small smile to your face. It’s a luxury that you thought was long forgotten. You were careful to rise without waking them. Your back cracked as you stretched, the ground of the road was not comfortable in the slightest.

“So you’re a familiar?” Lilia speaks, staring cautiously.

The way your eyes cut over to her is soft. It’s softer than you want it to be. You look at the ground and then the sky, deciding not to look at the witch.

“Yep,” a rough sigh comes out with the simple word.

“It typical that familiars have a second form. A pet or a-"

“Do they look like pet owners to you?”

The others begin to stir, before the conversation can go any further. You’re grateful for the interruption. You were not here to dig in to your past. Well, not any more than reigniting your relationship with Rio and Agatha.

“Look alive, witches. Let’s get this show on the road,” Agatha yawns as the words leave her mouth.

Though you’d rather do anything else, you prepare yourself for the journey.

“What’s wrong?” Rio falls into step with you as you begin to walk the road.

“I still don't want to be here,” you admit kicking some of the dirt up with your heel.

Rio takes your hand in hers, “We can leave whenever you want.”

You dismiss the thought with exasperation, “I’m not abandoning Agatha.”

Rio squeezes your hand, “I don’t want to leave her either, but I don’t want you to be burdened by whatever this is.”

“Woah,” Alice’s voice, makes you look away from Rio.

The other witches also stop, most with their mouths agape. The sight before them unfathomable. This was drastic change from the other trial they had come in contact with.

Instead of a house, there was large mansion. The building was purely white with gold accents. The pillars that stood on each side of the building seemed to go all the way.

The color leaves your face staring at the building. You drop to the ground and begin to scramble away from the building. You shake your head vigorously. Your eyes wide in horror, you try to find the breath in your lungs but you struggle.

“No, no, no, no,” you begin to mutter under your breath.

Agatha and Rio are by your side at a moments notice. Agatha’s hands rest on your face and you can feel Rio’s arm wrap around you.

“Breathe baby,” Rio whispers in your ear.

You search Agatha’s face frantically, “Agatha, I can’t… I can’t. I’m not even a witch, I’m not in the coven. Why?”

“It’s not real, sweetheart. We know it’s not real,” she whispers for only you and Rio to hear.

You close your eyes and begin nodding your head. You swallow hard, trying to focus on the feelings of their hands on you.

“I’m guessing this is her trial,” Jen says, breaking the moment between the three of you.

Agatha glares at the witch, “She’s not going in there.”

Teen interrupts, “I don’t think that’s how the road works.”

The scowl on her face only deepens, “Then make it work Teen. She’s not a witch, she’s not in the coven, she shouldn’t have a trial.”

Alice interferes, “Is it possible it’s not her trial? The three of you are close.. could it be Rio’s or Agatha’s.”

“It would be mine, if not hers,” Rio offers up.

Lilia interrupts, “We have to go into this trial.”

“NO!” Your voice didn’t boom when you yelled, instead it cracked in desperation.

The conversation dies there, but not because of your outburst. You feel the energy shift all around you.

“The seven are coming,” Agatha mumbles under her breath.

“Nope,” Jen immediately turns to run into the building.

Lilia goes in after Jen. Alice and Teen hesitate, but they follow the other two women forward.

You can hear the seven getting closer.

“My love, we must move forward,” Agatha tries to hide her panic, but you see through it.

“We will protect you,” Rio helps you to your feet.

You look behind you, the seven quickly approaching. You look at the building once more, before rushing ahead inside.

Agatha looks at Rio, “Take her out if things get too much.”

Rio shakes her head, “We do not know the repercussions of leaving in the middle of a trial.”

“We both know what happens in there Rio. I can’t bare to see it.”

Rio grabs Agatha’s hand as they rush towards the building together, “She is stronger than we give her credit for.”

As they enter the building a bright light almost blinds them. They see the coven members dressed in all white. Most of them having full halos. Agatha looks similar. Rio however is dawning an all black hooded cloak. If it weren’t for your distress, she would’ve laughed.

The clothes felt wrong against your skin. There wasn’t much around. The walls were painted with clouds. The only other thing in the mansion was staircase in the middle of the room. It looked like it led nowhere, but you knew better.

“Where’s the trial? Do we just get to leave?” Teen says focusing on the stairs.

You try to keep your breathing normal, “Just give me a minute. I know what we have to do.”

“What is this place?” Alice looks around.

Lilia’s eyes sparkle, “I think this is Heaven.”

The coven turns their attention to you.

“Are you-”

Agatha interferes, “We’re already in the trial, save your questions to the end.”

Rio adds on, “Or better yet, don't ask any questions.”

“Let’s get this over with,” you wipe your hands on the white pants.

You stand at the bottom of the stairs. Agatha stand on the left and Rio on your right. The link their arms through yours.

“Up we go,” Agatha directs the coven.

When you get to the top, you can see an abyss waiting for you at the bottom. You can’t see the bottom, and you know what you have to do.

“It’s easier if you don’t look,” you turn your back to the abyss.

“Are you seriously just going to-”

Before Jen finishes her question you are leaning back first into the abyss. Your lovers at your side trusting you completely. The rest of the coven is hesitant, but they eventually all jump into the hole.

It's like you’re being pulled down. It feels like it’s never going to stop. When it does, it’s abrupt. You’re expecting flames and heat, but instead there’s only dirt around you.

The space is shaped like a cylinder. There’s a gracious amount of space. The floors and walls were both constructed of dirt. You looked at the ceiling and it too seemed to be dirt. It was like you all were buried alive.

“Take me back upstairs,” Lilia says looking around the dark and dirt filled hole.

“So, Y/n what now?” They turn to you, looking for guidance.

You use your hands to dig into the ground. You pull out a scroll.

“How did you-”

“Where else would it have been?” You snap at the Teen.

Rio peers over your shoulder, “Fly free with your clipped wings or submit to the sin of the earth.”

The dirt begins to rise as Rio finishes reading the paper. You look up again, this time being able to catch a glimpse of the white room where you had come from.

“Taking us down, to go right back up. How clever,” Agatha says.

“So is now the time we ask the questions?”

“Stand back,” you ignore the question, hoping to get this over with quickly.

The group listens to you. With much discomfort you pushed out the muscles on your back. There were a few loud pops and cracks. You bit your tongue to mask the pain. Your wings popped out and everyone in the room gawked.

“They’re-”

“White?” Rio says with confusion.

You wrapped them around your body, surprised to see white wings sprouting from your back.

“Questions later, fly up,” Agatha says and you do as she instructs.

You begin to flap your wings, dirt flying about in the space. You shoot up to the exit in less than 5 seconds. Instead of freedom you find yourself smacking hard against a piece of glass. You pound on it, hoping to break it.

“I can’t break it,” you call back down.

“Then we’re missing something,” Jen calls out.

The dirt begins to rise in the room at a faster pace.

“Start digging, maybe we’ll find something else,” Teen starts digging, the rest follows.

“Shit,” you hear Agatha cry out.

You decide to fly back down. You land close to her. “What is it?”

She pulls a pair of scissors out of the ground. Her palm bleeding from the cut on her hands.

You scramble back again.

“Didn’t it say something about clipped wings?” Alice recalls.

“That’s why they’re white,” Agatha connects the dots.

“Fuck no,” Rio stands in front of you. “I’m not letting you clip her wings.”

“We’re going to die,” Teen argues with the Death.

Agatha shares a look with Rio, “Get her out of here.”

You shake your head, “No, I’m not leaving you here. Give me the scissors.”

“Y/n, you don’t have to do this,” Rio tries to reason with you.

“Just heal the wounds when it’s over,” you say to her softly.

Agatha still has the scissors in hand, “I won’t let you.”

You get close to her. Your hand reaching for the scissors as you lean in. You can see her squeezing them firmly in her grip, deepening the cut in her hand.

“It’s not real,” you whisper to her just like she had done with you outside.

Her grip loosens just enough for you to pull the scissors from her hand. The dirt is piled at the mid thigh level now.

You once again fold your wings over your body. You turn your head to get a good look at your back. Your eyes follow the seam of where your back is lined with your wings.

Your hand shakes as you open the scissors, opting to use them like a letter opener. The nerves are piling up inside you. Your eyes close and you get a glimpse of your past. You see yourself kneeled over in pain with your back covered in blood.

“We’re running out of time,” Lilia says, as the dirt begins to climb higher.

You scream as you cut off your wing in one swift motion. The pain makes you want to fall to your knees , but its impossible with the dirt surrounding you. Tears fall rapidly as blood pours from your back. Snot drips from your nose as you sob at the pain.

You’re in too much pain to notice, but the dirt begins to rise at a slower pace. No one is happy, or joyful as they look at you in agony.

“Fuck,” you mutter as your body shakes violently at the pain.

The scissors had slipped from your hand at the sheer force you made the cut with.

“Rio,” it comes out of your mouth through gritted teeth. She’s close to you, and you know she carries a blade. “I- you have to do the other one.”

Rio’s eyes widen, “ I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Please, my love. I- I can’t die like this. Please, I just got you back, please.”

Your pleading breaks Rio’s heart. This didn’t feel fake, it was real. The wound pouring from your back, the tears in your eyes. The panicked look in Agatha’s face as she watched this unfold. The suffering felt real.

Rio pulls her dagger out, wading through the sand to get right behind you. It was hard, with the sand covering most of her torso. The sand burned as it pressed into your open wound.

Rio’s hard was cool and soft as it touched the bottom of your wing. She felt through the sand to find the seam of the wings. Once she found it she took a deep breath.

“Forgive me, my love,” her cut was much more swift than yours.

You fell forward as the yelled ripped through you throat. It burned your esophagus. You folded forward, Rio’s arms try to hold you from underneath your stomach, not wishing to touch your back.

The wings lay in the dirt beside you. The dirt that had covered everyone started to sink down back into the ground. Once it was all gone, one side of the wall began to open up. Stairs appeared, indicating the trial was over.

Rio is quick to carry you out of the trial and back on to the road. She hopes that bringing you back to the road will erase the injuries. However as she feels the blood coating her clothes, she knows they are here to stay.

She lays you on your stomach and you groan. She straddles the back of your legs. The weight of her is lost on you, all you can feel is the burning from where your wings were supposed to be. You squirm under her when her tongue connects with your back.

She licks the brutal cuts on your back, the taste of your blood clouds her thoughts, but she doesn’t dwell on it. Her own tears gather as she waits for the wounds to heal.

Agatha rushes to her side, “Is she going to be ok?”

Rio holds her breath, but as she sees the wounds slowly closing she nods, “She’s going to be ok.”

Agatha pulls Rio into a chaste kiss, “Are you ok?”

Rio’s forehead rest against Agatha’s, “No, I’m not.”

The rest of the coven watches the scene unfold with intrigue.

“So your familiar is an angel?” Teen can’t help, but ask.

You whine under Rio as you feel a new pain simmer in your back.

“Off,” you mutter, and Rio gets off of you.

You stay laying as you feel a well-known ache spread through your body. You dig your palms into the ground and let out a huff of irritation. In the spots that Rio had just healed, a set of wings popped out.

This time, they were black like tar. It hurt just as much as before. You prop yourself on your knee before standing to your full height. Just like when your voice had echoed, your eyes were purely black.

“I was an angel,” your voice vibrates through the road.

“What happened?” Jen asks, mesmerized by your wings.

Agatha and Rio are seconds away from forbidding the coven from asking questions. You use your wings to bring them into your sides.

“I fell in love. The higher ups, said it was… impure. Which was a falsehood; there had been nothing in my life or after that was as pure as this love. They wanted to have me banished to hell. I was ungrateful, wasting my eternal happiness by fraternizing with… Rio.”

“Why not Agatha?” Alice questions.

You look at Rio, who gives you a nod, “They didn't like my relationship with Agatha much either, if I’m being honest. Rio was different, forbidden because she is Lady Death.”

The coven members all look to Rio, their eyes wide in shock. Rio simply waves her up, wiggling her fingers in response, “Guilty.”

Lilia speaks next, “But if you’re her familiar, why would your relationship be an issue?”

“I wasn’t her familiar then,” you explain. “I became Agatha’s and Rio’s familiar because Rio interfered during my banishment ceremony. These ceremonies were somewhat of a public shaming. My wings had been forcefully yanked out of my back. Brute strength just ripped them right out of my back. They were in the middle of speaking when she appeared. I’ve never seen her so furious, yelling at Life and God and the other angels. She made an offer for my soul.”

Rio clicks her tongue a few times, “No, no I made a threat. They were going to give me your soul or I would take every soul that passed to hell. There would’ve been no more angels. A demon uprising would've been imminent. They didn't really have a choice.”

“Wait, I know this story. An angel who was swayed by darkness due for banishment, but saved by Death itself. You’re the first fallen angel,” Teen speaks enthusiastically.

You chuckle, “Not exactly the first, there’s one before me, but I am the first with this look. The black wings, dark eyes, echoing voice.”

“So what happened after you threatened them?” Jen is extremely invested.

“She took me to Agatha. I was powerless without my wings. They were trying to figure out what to do. When Rio went to heal the wounds they left on me, we didn't expect new wings to sprout, but they did. The power was different, stronger. They helped me navigate it.”

“It took us some time to realize what the agreement meant for her. They did not believe in our relationship, which is why they made her our familiar. It was a punishment,” Agatha adds some more context.

“How is that a punishment?” Teen’s confusion shines through.

“It burns to be away from them. Literally boils my insides,” your wings fold back into your back.

“Ok, kids, question time is over. We’re setting up camp for the night,” Agatha claps her hands together.

You can see them want to protest, but an eyebrow raise from Rio quiets them all. They begin to set up a camp similar to the night before.

“Come with us,” Rio tugs at your arm.

You follow her and Agatha away from the rest of the coven.

When you feel like you’re far enough from the rest. Your shoulders slump and your body trembles, getting the last of the aches out.

The two witches stop both worried for you.

“I’m fine,” you say softly.

Agatha can’t help but pull you into her, “You’re not, neither of you are. I think it’s time you left the road.”

Your head rests on her shoulder. Your lips press a gentle kiss against her neck, “I don't want to spend any time apart. Especially now.”

Rio is careful as she presses her front against your back, wrapping her arms around you. You grab her arms pulling her flush against you. The warmth of the two women, soothes the aches in your body.

“Baby,” Rio tries.

“Just hold me for a few minutes, please,” you beg the both of them.

The both tighten their grip.

“We’re not going anywhere sweetheart,” Agatha kisses the top of your head.

“Not ever,” Rio doubles down.

You breathe them in. Finding comfort in their presence. Agatha’s hand find a place in your hair, rubbing the tension away. You lay your hands over Rio’s keeping them against your skin.

“Aggie what do you need from this place?” You whisper against her skin.

“My purple.”

You raise your head to stare at her, “I can get them to blast you. Then we can all go home, together.”

“I tried that already, sweetheart. They know about my powers,” she admits to you.

“What if there's nothing at the end of this? We don't know what this is?” Rio tries to reason.

Agatha meets Rio’s gaze, “I do know what this is, you know too. We all know that the road isn’t real. Yet, here we are standing on it, going through trials. This magic is familiar to me, the sigil prevents it, but I know who that boy is. He’s just like his mother.”

“We can find another coven,” you suggest.

Agatha lets out a humorless laugh, “My reputation proceeds me, sweetheart. There are no more witches who wish to gather with me. Lilia, I trust her divination. This is the only way.”

“Then we have to stay,” you turn around to look at Rio.

Rio averts her gaze, “We must go after the next trial.”

You steel your gaze, “Why?”

The Green Witch looks to Agatha for help.

“Sweetheart, it’s not safe here. You just had to clip your own wings. Rio has work to do, and she can’t do it in here. Go with her and I will see you when this is over.”

“Agatha, I-"

She kisses you, softly, “I will come back to you. I won’t be going anywhere. It will be us three, I promise.”

“One more trial don’t say goodbye yet,” you say against her lips.

“I’m never going to say goodbye again, ok? It’s just a promise to meet later.”

You look at Rio, “And we’re staying together, right.”

Rio’s hand reach to cup your face. Her eyes are serious when they look into yours, “I’m never leaving you again.”

You press your lips hers, need seeping through your kiss. When you break the kiss, you find yourself between the two women again.

“Let’s get back to the camp, and rest. I’m sure you’re exhausted, sweetheart.”

“Carry me?” You ask.

Agatha rolls her eyes but scoops you up anyway . You hang on to her like a koala causing Rio to laugh.

“You have wings,” Agatha grumbles.

You nuzzle deeper into her, “They’re not as comfortable as your arms.”

“She got you there, my love,” Rio moves in closer to walk shoulder to shoulder with Agatha.

“You’re carrying her next time.”

The three of you share a laugh. A nice moment to end a chaotic couple of hours. The stress of the road ahead not lost on you, just pushed aside for a moment. There had been enough pain for the day. You didn’t want to dwell on the near future, opting instead to think of the moment it was over. When you’d finally get to have Rio and Agatha to yourself.

#lowkeyerror #agatha x reader #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x rio vidal #rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x rio vidal x reader #agatha all along #jennifer kale #alice wu gulliver #billy maximoff #lilia calderu #agatha harkness #rio vidal

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fastandcarlos · 3 months ago

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Dangerous Game : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri

summary: losing your independence whilst pregnant was tough, but when you try and be a little bit dangerous, oscar is far from impressed to see you do so

Panic struck you as soon as you heard the front door open, dropping the paintbrush down onto the floor as your feet scrambled to get you down the ladder that you were up. As Oscar called out through the house you shouted back, placing the lid back on the paint pot and hiding the brush underneath one of the cardboard boxes in the room.

As your eyes darted around you kept finding things to hide, moving bits around the room as the sound of Oscar’s footsteps got louder and louder towards the room.

Just as the door handle was pushed down, you sat yourself down on the rocking chair that was in the corner of the room, leaning back with a smile on your face as Oscar walked in with his suitcase just behind him.

“I didn’t think I’d find you in here,” he remarked, glancing around the room.

It had been a couple of weeks since Oscar had been home but straight away his eyes narrowed as he looked around the room. Something wasn’t quite sitting right with him, taking a good look around the room as he remembered how things were when he left a short time ago.

“It looks different in here,” Oscar commented, noticing your eyes looking a little more nervously at him then they usually did. “Have you made a few changes?”

Your head nodded as you forced a smile onto your face, “I’ve just been doing the odd little bit here and there, trying to make life easier for you so there was less to do when you got back.”

Oscar nodded too as you spoke, walking further into the room. Your heart began to race as his eyes narrowed on something, walking over and picking up the paintbrush that you had tried your best to hide, quickly noticing that it was still covered in paint, as was the ladder where droplets had fallen.

“Please tell me you’ve not been up a ladder painting this nursery,” Oscar asked you, although he already knew the answer, unable to quite believe what you had been up to.

Oscar had left you under the promise that you would do everything possible to keep yourself as safe as you could without him there. He was reluctant to go, but he trusted you. The worried part of you couldn’t keep that promise though, conscious of how much you had left to do and how little time you had before your baby arrived.

“What if you’d have fallen from the ladder Y/N? Are you actually out of your mind?”

Your body tensed up at the harsh tone in Oscar’s voice. “No, I’m not. I’m fed up of being treated like I’m unable to do anything though, I was only a couple of steps up and I was completely in control of what I was doing Oscar.”

“Anything could have happened Y/N.”

It didn’t exactly seem like the most dangerous job in the world to you, but to Oscar, it was almost as if you were tempting fate. He was happy for you to do a few jobs around the nursery, but the hardworking jobs, like painting and building, he wanted to do to make sure that you didn’t run the risk of injuring yourself.

Oscar dropped the paintbrush back down, brushing his hands through his hair as he tried his best to stay calm. There was an anger in him that you hadn’t seen for a long time, taking you by complete surprise.

“I’m not joking when I tell you not to do these things,” Oscar spoke, turning back to face you again. “It’s hard enough leaving you at the best of times, but especially so when you’re pregnant, and even more so when I know you’re not being safe.”

“Surely I’m the one who decides when I’m being safe and not safe,” you argued. “Every time you say you’ll do something, something else comes along, we can’t keep doing that forever Oscar.”

Painting the nursery was one of those things that Oscar had insisted that he would do for quite some time, but nothing ever materialised. It was either work, or family, or the time when he came home and fell asleep instead because he was so tired, but Oscar seemed unbothered that time was running out.

“We’re supposed to do these things together, as parents,” Oscar calmly reminded you.

“We can, but you’re never here.”

“I’m here right now,” he huffed, throwing his arms down by his sides. “I know that I’m busy, and trust me, I wish that I wasn’t, but the thought of something happening to you absolutely terrifies me love.”

A soft sigh came from you, “I didn’t realise that you were this worried about me.”

Oscar took a step towards you, taking a hold of both of your hands. “Every second I’m worrying about you, nervous when the phone goes that it’ll be someone to tell me that something has happened to you.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered as Oscar gave your hands a squeeze. “I guess I’m quite calm right now, I just assumed that you would be feeling the same.”

To Oscar, you were far too calm for his liking, he couldn’t believe how you just took pregnancy in your stride like it was nothing huge. He watched you carry on as if nothing was changing, with your big smile constantly still on your face.

He was well aware that you wanted very little to change, you still wanted to be you, to be independent, and to be organised, even if he didn’t want you to be. Oscar wanted to step up though, your pregnancy was a chance for him to take control and take care of you, despite your protests.

“The only person going up that ladder for the next three months is me,” Oscar told you, “but I still want you to be involved and doing things as well.”

You nodded at Oscar’s suggestion, although you knew the ladder was pretty harmless, before you drove Oscar insane, you knew not going up it anymore was the best decision.

“We’ll get this done, together,” Oscar assured you.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“How about we make a start tonight?” He proposed. “Let’s order some food and plan out the jobs that we need to get done. I’ll get up the ladder and we can bring one of the chairs in from the dining room so that you can sit down and paint the lower parts of the walls. Does that sound like a plan?”

Your smile turned up as soon as Oscar started speaking. “That sounds like the perfect way to spend tonight. You don’t have to do all of this though Oscar, the baby isn’t going to be arriving tomorrow.”

“I’ve not done enough so far, I’ve got plenty of making up to do for all the jobs I’ve neglected,” he assured you.

Your hands slipped out of his and wrapped around Oscar’s neck. “I’m sorry for breaking your trust whilst you were away, I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Don’t be sorry, I get it. We’ve just got very different definitions of what safe activities are for pregnant women to do,” he couldn’t help but joke.

“I only did it because I was bored without you around.”

Oscar questionably glanced back at you, “I know for a fact you’d have been up that ladder anyway, but I’ll pretend to believe you. I love you, just promise you’ll take care of you, of both of you, for me.”

“I promise that we’re both safe, and healthy, and we will continue to be too,” you smiled, pressing a kiss against Oscar’s lips. “Welcome home by the way.”

“It seems like I got home just in time.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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carlsangel · 6 months ago

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CARE TO KNOCK?

carl grimes x fem!reader

(you and carl get caught. twice.)

tags: SMUT!! oral sex, f!receiving, getting caught! fun!

masterlist here!

You tried your hardest to be discreet about how…active you and Carl were. It wasn’t the easiest considering Carl was the leaders’ son and it seemed like eyes were always on him, whether it was his dad’s or Michonne’s. Sometimes people in the community.

You’d try to sneak off and do what you could but with your guys’ luck, you almost always got interrupted. One time something possessed the both of you to try it in the church house when there was a community event. That went as well as you’d imagine.

“Holy mother of-” Gabriel had walked in on the both of you on one of the pews. God was it embarrassing. (see what i did there) The scene he’d walked in on consisted of you without a shirt and Carl’s hand practically groping your tits over your bra. Also you were attached at the mouth so you could see why he’d be terrified.

Obviously you scrambled to put your clothes on while Carl tried to explain for the both of you, begging to not tell Rick or Michonne. “Look man, we’re really sorry we just- please don’t tell my dad. I’m begging you he can’t know about this.” He explains worriedly. Gabriel stood there still shocked. You had to make it up to him somehow, considering you were doing an unholy act in a holy place but, there wasn’t really any real repercussions because Carl had gotten him to keep it a secret. Something about making it up to him for something Gabriel had done when they first arrived at Alexandria.

Anyway, a large reason you didn’t want Rick to know, was because you two shared a room. You were happy to almost always get away with things at night (you tried not to be too loud) and not have anyone know. It was nice. Until one particular day.

Rick and Michonne go out on Wednesday mornings to scavenge, so you two took advantage of the time you had..and got to it. It wasn’t really anything crazy, your morning sex was usually romantic and sweet. It’s not like you were going at it like animals.

One week, they’d left a bit earlier so in your mind, you were able to get some extra time.

“Oh fuck-” You spoke breathlessly, he was under the blanket eating you out. Something about the way he was ruthlessly lapping at your clit made you realize that today’s morning sex wouldn’t be so romantic. He began to move upwards and start kissing up your body hungrily. He started to place harsh kisses all around your neck, leaving small bruises around as well. “You’re so perfect.” He mumbled against your neck.

The next thing you know, he’s sitting up with your legs between his knees. He flips you over on your stomach and lifts your hips up so you’re arched for him how he wants. You giggle at his sudden movements and you’re surprised by him literally shoving himself inside of you.

“Oh-” You moan loudly, surprising yourself and immediately slapping your hand over your mouth. He began thrusting himself in and out of you with no plan on stopping. That was until the door beside your guys’ bed suddenly opened. It opened just enough so Rick could see you and your back, Carl’s arms and his face.

Your eyes go wide and once he realizes what was happening, Rick quickly shuts the door, catching Carl’s attention which causes him to stop. “What the hell was that?” He asked, his hands still resting at your hips. “Your fucking dad.” You pull away from him and Carl sits there sort of astonished. “W-wait he saw?” He covers himself with the blanket and you move to find your underwear and shorts.

“Not everything, just me I hope. He didn’t open the door open too much.” You pull up your underwear and scramble around for your shorts which Carl pulled from under the blanket he was using to cover himself. “What’s scary is that you didn’t stop.”

You throw him his own clothes which were on the floor and he feels somewhat upset he didn’t realize the door had opened. He was too busy fucking you. “Well it’s kinda hard to focus on stopping when I’m in the middle of something.” He says defensively, pulling up his boxers and sweatpants. You plop on the bed, dropping your head to your hands while he found a shirt to wear. After seeing how worried you were, he walked over and kissed the top of your head.

“Don’t stress out okay? It’ll be fine, worst comes to worst he’ll take the room away but we’ll work our way around it.” He reassured. Maybe he’s right. This didn’t have to be such a big deal. If Carl didn’t make it one, you wouldn’t either.

“Care to knock? What the hell?” You both were now in the kitchen, Carl was scolding Rick who was standing with Michonne and Maggie at the island. You were standing behind him quietly. “Well I thought we were way past knockin. Plus we got home early.” Rick sort of laughs, seeming unfazed. Your eyebrows furrow at this and he notices. “What, you thought we didn’t know about what goes on in there at night?”

You look to Michonne and Maggie who were both sort of smiling at you. “What?” You asked peeved. “I mean…you’re not exactly the quietest.” Michonne reasons. Your face is flushed and you’re super embarrassed, it doesn’t help that when you turn you realize both Glenn and Daryl had been in the room as well, you just hadn’t noticed. Glenn sort of giggles at you, Daryl just…is Daryl. “Oh shit.” You mutter to yourself, hiding your face in your hands and Carl just stands there annoyed as hell.

“They’re not wrong though you are quite loud.” He says quietly, slightly teasing you over a conversation you’d had many times before, he always made fun of you for being so vocal, even though he loved it. You look up from your hands just to give him a pissed off glare. You give him a shove to the shoulder and make your way back upstairs.

“Fuck off.”

a/n: sorry guys for this HAHAHA idk how smutty anon wanted this request but they got smut..sorry pookie :| ANYWAY i hope you all enjoyed, currently deciding on closing my requests cause im gettin a shit ton but we’ll figure that out later!!! love you bye!!!

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @evilnight07 @ilikestrawberriesandwomen

#carl grimes #the walking dead #twd #carl grimes twd #carl grimes smut #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes the walking dead #carl grimes angst #the walking dead carl #twd carl #smut #twd smut #rinas writing 🌀

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joannasprose · 11 days ago

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ellie williams x nervous!reader

content warning: slight insecurity, a nervous girl who doesn’t know what to do with herself, fluff, comfort (as always), vague angst, proofread this time! (proofread but not edited, sorry I’m lazy!)

note: I found this in my drafts, I didn’t even know I made something like this and decided to post it :) also you can thank my mind (in good ways and bad), because I have another Ellie post that will be ready soon 👀 trying so badly not to post back to back though 💜 (this one is a little rushed and not as good as my others because I completely forgot what it was about 🫡)

| ellie can tell that there’s something up with you. when you finally tell her, she can’t help but be slightly amused.

———

ellie’s hand has yet to leave the small of your back. as the two of you walk through the unfamiliar bar, you cling onto her a little more tightly.

she watches you—unbeknownst to you—as your brows furrow, as you begin to chew the flesh of your cheek. “you okay,” she questions, now leading you over to what you assumed to be the bathroom, closing the door and locking it behind you.

her hand moves slowly to the side of your waist, pulling you closely towards her, holding you gently. you smile, a nervous one as your arms nervously wrap around the sides of her shoulders and loop around her. “yeah. i’m okay, i’m just…” but you’ve stopped yourself.

it had now been four months since both you and ellie had started dating. even then, before she knew of your feelings—her actions had never failed to make you nervous. sure, she had her moments where she would stumble over her words while a rosy hue coated her cheeks. but the moment she had figured you out, the teasing became relentless. not that you minded it, though.

“I’m fine. It’s fine.” you say, eyes once leaving every inch of her figure and darting to the tiled floors, the decorative picture frames—anything but her.

“Y/N,” ellie says, the softness of her eyes never leaving as she spoke, “tell me what’s on your mind. you know I won’t judge.” her hand abandons your waist, now grazing over the skin of your cheek, holding you gently.

“It’s stupid. It’s nothing really,” you begin. this time ellie doesn’t interrupt, practically forcing you continue on with your ramble. “the people. they make me nervous. and you—“ you say but interrupt yourself. you almost don’t see it. the way ellie’s eyes flicker in guilt, the way her grip on you loosens subtly, as if to free you from the overwhelming feeling of her presence.

“no-no. that’s not what I meant.” you say as you scramble for words. abruptly, you pull her closer to you, a tightening hug that she embraces with you when the feeling subsides. slightly.

“you just. when I’m around you, I don’t know what to do with myself. you make me nervous, it’s just embarrassing. and yeah, I know we’ve been dating for a couple of months now,” ellie watches as you continue with your ramble, the words falling from your tongue mindlessly. she just waits, watches, “but I don’t know. It’s stupid. I’m sorry.”

ellie pauses, and she looks at you, pulling away just to see your face. you look away, eyes finding the hem of her shirt but she pulls her hand to your cheek, making you look at her now. “I make you nervous?” even if you hadn’t looked at her, you could practically hear the smile on her lips. you push her away, now embarrassed.

“ellie, stop,” you say, dragging out the letter p when you say it. You try to sound irritated, but you find yourself fighting away a smile.

“What? I like seeing my girl smile,” she begins, grabbing your waist, pulling you closer to her as the music from the house becomes distorted, slowing becoming nothing but background noise. “And, I don’t want you worrying about anything okay?” ellie backtracks, nearly cringing at her words, “not that, I could just make you not worry, you know? Like I’m not forcing you or anything. I hope it didn’t come out that way.” this time, you find comfort in ellie’s loosely put words.

And as you smile, when you smile, she stops, watching you like she always has.

“It’s okay ellie. I get it.” You pull her closer to you, and this time you don’t hesitate when you push your lips against hers. for a moment, her lips are still, presumably in slight shock—but she quickly recuperates and kisses you back.

after a moment, you pull away and speaks, “you’re not shy anymore? you can kiss me now?”

you shove ellie playfully away from you, muttering asshole, under your breath.

In the height of the night, even with your undying anxiety, you’d always known ellie would be there to comfort you no matter what.

#the last of us 2 #ellie williams #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams x nervous!reader

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wandaslittleweirdo · 25 days ago

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A/N: just a little idea I had….. this is kinda intense, so viewer discretion is advised :p — masterlist.

tw: jealousy, toxic relationship, wanda holds your head under cold water, heavy dom/sub dynamics, pet names (darling, little angel, sweet girl, etc), dirty talk/coaxing, possessiveness, age gap > reader is 23 wanda is 36

dark!mommy!wanda ༝༝ fem!reader

ೀ The cool evening air clings to you as you step into your home, the light scent of rain sneaking it’s way through the open door. You had spent the day out with a friend, laughing and sharing stories that made your heart feel lighter than it had in months.

The air is heavy with the scent of incense and candle wax, and you assume it was Wanda trying new spells while you were away. You sigh, feeling the weight of the world lift from your shoulders as you kick off your shoes, your socks sliding along the wooden floorboards.

You pad your way into the kitchen and over to the fridge, the hum of its motor the only sound in the otherwise silent house. You cracked it open, the chill rushing out as you grab a bottle of water.

Wanda's embrace is sudden but comforting, her arms slithering around your waist, her chin resting on your shoulder as she breathed in your scent.

"How was your day, my sweet?" She asks as she sways you in her arms.

Her eyes look for yours in the reflection of the fridge door, a silent demand for details. You twist the cap off the bottle, the plastic crunching under your grip. "Hey, Wands," you smile, turning to face her and leaning against the fridge. “My day was nice. Met up with a friend, had dinner, watched a late movie. All that jazz.”

Wanda’s smile remained, but her grip tightens around your waist. "Which friend was this?" The sweetness in her voice now has a brittle edge to it, like a thin sugar coating ready to crack under pressure. You hesitate, the chill from the fridge seeping into your bones as your mind scrambled for the right words.

"A random one," you shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. She raises her brows expectantly, clearly not satisfied with your answer. "It was just a guy from work."

Her eyes narrow slightly, the green in them darkening like a storm approaching. "A guy?" she repeated lowly. "What's his name?”

You swallowed hard, taking a deep breath through your nose in an attempt to hide your rapidly increasing anxiety. "His name is Alex."

Her eyes search yours, looking for any sign of deception. "Alex," she murmured, tasting the name as her eyes fell to the pendant of your necklace. "I don't recall you mentioning him before.”

You feel your throat tighten, looking down at your hands and squeezing the bottle nervously. "He's a new friend. I've only talked to him a couple of times."

She purses her lips, running her tongue over her teeth. "And why didn't you tell me you were going out with this Alex guy?"

"Because it’s not like that, Wands—“

“Do you expect me to believe you went to a movie theatre, alone with a man, and that’s all you did? You just watched the movie and came straight home?” Her tone is accusing, her hand moving to play with the neckline of your dress, the action feeling more threatening than playful.

“Yes! He’s not like that, and you know I’m not.”

“You probably wanted him too. Because that’s what you sluts want, right?”

Panic floods your chest, your mind racing to find a way to reassure her. “Please, you know that’s not true!”

You try to pull away, but she holds you still, tutting you when she sees your lip quiver and your eyes water in fear of what she might do to him, or you. Her thumb traces your cheekbone, the gesture eerily gentle despite her harsh words. "You know I can read your mind," she reminds you softly, her fingers coming up to caress the side of your forehead. "So tell me the truth, Y/N—“

“I am, I didn’t do anything! Just fucking drop it, Wanda!”

Your reaction surprises the both of you, her eyes widening and her hand pulling back slightly. You feel the blood drain from your face as you realise what you had said, your heart picking up its speed. A moment passes, and your words seem to finally sink in, watching as her jaw clenches and her nostrils flare.

Suddenly, her hand flies up, and she grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking you forward and pulling you away from the fridge. You gasp, stumbling as she drags you across the kitchen, the floorboards protesting underfoot. She stops at the sink, her grip unyielding as she twists the faucet handle.

The cold water gushes out, and you feel the first droplets hit your face, the chill of them making your breath hitch. She bends you over the sink and stands behind you, your shaky hands gripping the cold counter to keep yourself steady. “What are you doing?" you choked out, your eyes wide with horror.

“It seems to me you’ve forgotten your place, Y/N,” Wanda says, her voice deceptively calm. "Maybe after this, you’ll remember to watch your mouth."

Without warning, she plunged your head under the stream of icy water, holding you there as you sputtered and squirmed. Your lungs burn as the shock steals your breath away, the world around you reduced to a muffled roar as the water fills your ears.

“Shh, you’re okay. Mommy’s got you,”

“The more you fight me, the longer I hold you here.”

“I know it’s cold, honey, but it’s for your own good. Just a little longer,”

“Sweet girl, why do you always push me to this point?” Her voice is a mix of feigned disappointment and pity as she continues to hold your head under the frigid water. You struggle, your hands slapping against the sink and counter, trying to break free, but her grip remained firm. Your eyes squeeze shut as you choke on the liquid invading your nose and mouth, each gasp for air met with more water.

"I'm sorry, mommy!” you manage to gasp out, your voice high and desperate. She doesn’t flinch hearing you beg, cruelly watching the water soak your hair and distort your features.

Wanda didn’t move until your struggles weakened and your body went limp. She pulls you up from under the water, and you gasp for air, your vision blurry and your hair plastered to your face. You cough violently, a mix of water and blood splattering back into the sink.

"Look what you made me do," she murmurs, looking down at you with faux empathy. "You know better than to speak like that to me. If this happens again, you give me no choice but to teach you a lesson. Do you understand?”

You nod, hysterical as tears stream down your cheeks. Wanda turns off the faucet and tugs your head up, her voice like steel. "I said, do you understand?”

You let out a hiccup, your voice trembling as you nodded again. "Yes, mommy. I understand. I only want you, no one else, I promise.” The corner of her lips twitch into a small, proud smile hearing your frantic response, the storm in her eyes finally starting to simmer down. Her thumb strokes your cheek, smearing the mascara trails that the water had left.

“My little angel," Wanda whispers, her grip on your hair loosening. "You always know just what to say to make me happy."

She gently pulls you up from your position over the sink to turn you around, wrapping her arms around you and pulling your trembling frame close to her chest. "I know you don’t like when I hurt you, but mommy just wants what’s best for you, okay?”

"I know, I'm sorry," you murmured into her blouse, another sob rocking through you. “I won’t see him again.”

Wanda visibly relaxed hearing your words, letting out a soft sigh as she stroked your wet hair.

"That’s my girl.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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occamstfs · 6 months ago

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Roommates’ Trivial Tiff

Pretty standard nerdy asshole to himbo TF, who doesn't love some cosmic justice ! -Occam

“You just don’t understand what it’s like dude. You have no idea how hard all this stuff is for me.” Brock was struggling to get through to his roommate, someone he has time and time again been more than cordial with. In response Harvey scoffs and rolls his eyes refusing to engage and instead doubling down, “I’m sure it’s real difficult with all your paid tutors and your-”

“You’re not even listening bro! You like to think you’re so elevated, like you have all the answers but you don’t even try to understand what anyone else is going through.” Harvey grimaces and briefly tosses about whether or not this is true but stubbornly neglects to internalize the criticism, “Uhh, I do too?” Brock bites his tongue to prevent just blowing up at his roommate and instead he tries a different angle, “Oh yeah? If that’s the case then, bet you know a lot about me huh? Since we’ve been roommates for a year now,” pausing as he narrows his eyes briefly at Harvey, “and ostensibly we’re friends right?”

Harvey struggles not to display his ever present irritation as he retorts, “Of course we are, uh, dude.” Brock does a better job hiding his intentions as he issues a challenge, “so if we were to say, quiz each other you think you’d come up on top lil dude?” With this gauntlet laid there is little recourse in Harvey’s mind but to accept it, there are few times he enjoys showing off so much as in a trivia contest. So what he might have a less than pristine record of respecting oafs like his roommate, he is certainly not to lose in any battle of the wits regardless of topic or stipulations there may be.

Brock puts out his hand and states the stakes, “You can of course bow out whenever, but uh, how about every question the winner takes something from the loser?” Harvey was resolved to win before hearing the terms and is now spitefully even more eager now as he eyes Brock’s side of the room looking for whatever his prize is sure to be.

Without any further clarification Brock promptly launches into the game, “I guess we’ll start real easy yeah? Only fair.” Harvey feels resentment start to brew as he feels he’s being talked down to as Brock goes on, “For starters then, What’s my major?” Harvey audibly gulps and feels his face blanche as he scrambles to find such an incredibly simple answer. This is such an obvious and pressing piece of information it would be impossible not to have it on deck.

Seeing the hesitation Brock laughs incredulously, “God dude are you kidding? How could you not know this, I-” He shifts his jaw waiting for the second shoe to drop as it is suddenly clear he is about to clean house, this asshole is going to learn respect by hook or by crook. Harvey’s eyes that were just hungrily looking through Brock’s possessions now retread their path, searching for the answer, his eyes linger on some sports bandages and protein powder and he kicks himself for forgetting. “Well duh dude, you’re doing a sports medicine or a trainer degree or whatever. Sorry that I forgot what the proper name is, it’s not exactly high in the list of things I need to know.”

Brock stares down at the clueless nerd before him and slowly shakes his head. “Not even close Harv. It’s-” Before he can finish though Harvey stands and shouts, “Don’t fucking call me that! I bet you don’t know mine either!” This leaves Brock aghast, he crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, “Of course I fucking do! You never shut up about it! I’m lucky if my headphones can block out you whining about homework while also constantly talking yourself up! It’s so, fucking, annoying!”

Hurt by this despite his typical apathy to others Harvey starts up once more, “Okay but you didn’t say-” “Computer Engineering.” Harvey blushes in shame, not over his disrespect but of getting the question wrong. Suddenly there’s a hum in the room and the shadows in the corner grow darker and Brock looks around, “Well I suppose that question really tees me up on what to take huh? I’ll take your major.”

“Wha?” caught on the other foot Harvey blinks and sees that his textbooks and assignments are suddenly piled on Brock’s desk. He feels anxiety rise in his chest unsure of what has happened though confident this must be a prank or something. “No no no that can’t be right? What is happening?” He then returns to look at his roommate once more, a scowl plastered on his face as Brock who, despite his impressive stature always aims to present as kind and gentle, cannot help but smirk as he feels he has gotten one over on this jerk.

He stretches, exposing his midriff and flexing his arms behind his head, perhaps to try and allure or intimidate Harvey, he’s not sure, but Harvey is not going to just take this sitting down.Though at the present, he is too uncomfortable to even vocalize his discomfort as he stands there trying not to shake. Instead Brock begins once more, “Urgh kinda see what all that complaining was about now Harv, kinda got a lot on my plate now hah!”

Harvey stares daggers at his roommate, “Brock I don’t know what kind of nonsense is going through your dumbass ox brain. But it’s not funny, I’m sure you’re used to bullying little g-”

“Excuse me? I’m a bully!? I know you’re not saying that, I go out of my way to be kind, even to little chip on their shoulder assholes like you. I just,” Brock takes a deep breath and flexes his jaw before he continues. “It doesn’t matter actually. I trust you have a vested interest in trying again though right? Surely you want your major back?”

At the moment Harvey is caught between the idea that this is some kind of Christmas Carol-ass dream where he’s supposed to learn a lesson or once more that this is just a prank by Brock. Amenable as he’s always been, Harvey's convinced that behind this lunkhead is the vitriol of the typical jerk jock. In this impossible chance that this is reality though, he can’t just give up his major. He needs it to be an, uh? God what was, no what is his major anyway?

Harvey looks around in shock as he suddenly can’t bring his current course schedule to his mind, but he was literally in class this morning right? He feels his coursework draining from his mind as fear and rage begin to rise in his frail body. Images of lecture halls and professors flash through his mind before they just as swiftly dissipate, somewhere within him deeper than memory he feels that he was studying something with numbers. Mathematics, physics, engineering, something he was good at. He is determined to get that back as he speaks up finally, “What is the next question.”

Brock smiles and toys around in his head, confident that he will end up on top. “How about you pick this one, give you a fighting chance.” Harvey purses his lips and struggles to produce a question that he knows the answer to that his roommate will not. Oh duh, he’ll just ask him a math question, easy! Certainly not the aim of the game but Harvey just needed to get his life back. “What’s a derivative.”

“Kinda not in the spirit of the game dude but whatever. I took calc you know. It’s the rate of change in response to a variable. Now since you’re still being an ass how about I lob one back? How about you derivative 𝑓(𝑥)= 2cos⁡(𝑥)−6sec⁡(𝑥)+3?” Harvey is flat stunned, this is some entry level shit but he cannot for the life of him bring the information to mind. He’s just as sharp as he always has been but anything beyond rudimentary trig is continuing to trickle out of his mind. He meekly chuckles out, “uh easy, it’s f(x) equals, uh tan-”

There’s a blaring in his head as both men are aware of his immediate slip up. Energy once more rises in the air as Brock looks down almost pitifully at his roommate this time. “Now I am sorry for this Harvey but, oof that course load! Like you so relish to say, I am just not that bright hm?” Harvey shakes his head as he realizes the horror about to occur. Brock looks a little uncomfortable as he continues, “After failing to pull your little gotcha, I think I’ll just go ahead and have your intelligence.”

Both men are instantly struck with headaches the likes of which neither could endure under normal circumstances. As soon as the pain arrives though it is converted into a deep profane pleasure. Pins and needles fill Brock’s mind as it becomes heavy. Ideas and understanding fill his mind as a euphoric warmth flows through him. Harvey had enjoyed learning without truly lifting a finger, he had flourished and gained knowledge through no effort on his part but simple absorption. Brock is overcome with the ease at which he will now flow through life. Equally is he overcome by the ecstasy within his body as it only continues to heighten.

Opposite him Harvey clutches at his head as now not only do his learned experiences at university vanish, but all of his capabilities as a student and academic. Even the pleading within his mind slows down as he feels his ability to swiftly process information breaks down. Harvey turns from the man across from him as Brock’s hands feel up and down his musculature in rapturous delight, just in time to see whatever books and tomes he had collected as trophies begin to fade into the aether along with his memories of reading them. He looks down at his hands in confusion and horror, even with his unaddled mind at full steam he could not make sense of what has befallen him. He knows this is not right.

He is unable to find any answers, though as he searches his brain he begins to find a pleasant warmth in the vacuum where there once was knowledge. While his mind has been emptied, the bulge in his crotch demands his attention, which shall likely be a constant issue now that his mind shall evermore be less than preoccupied. He feels his mouth start to fill with drool as he looks down at his cock as it almost feels larger than it should be. He almost laughs at the idea that from now on he may fully be thinking with his cock. He opens his mouth allowing drool to spill out which shocks him back to sense and he turns around to demand that Brock return this all to sense immediately.

Brock for his part is reclined in a chair just rubbing his cock over his shorts almost forgetting about what they had been doing not seconds earlier. He laughs as he sees the expression on Harvey’s face, “Woah dude sorry about that, got lost in my own mind for a second there! No wonder you had, or have rather, such an attitude problem. It all just came so easy to you didn’t it? I mean we could keep going if you want, what else do you have to lose yeah?” Harvey wipes the drool from his face and takes stock, he can still read, he is pretty confident he still passed high school, he remembers his life before whatever hell is currently happening as well as whatever this new reality is. He nods his head and pushes his erection down as it continues to rise upon seeing his roommate’s cocky repose. He answers, “let’s keep going. Your question right?”

Harvey can’t help but trace Brock’s traps as he shrugs, “If you insist lil bro. What’s my middle name?” He knows this one for sure, he would bring it out to tease his roommate as needed. Brock slams his arm down in excitement and shouts, “fucking Laurel!” then he recalls this is only half the battle, Brock must also get his wrong, “what’s mine?” Brock smirks once more and laughs as he stretches to scratch his back, his roommate hungrily staring, “you don’t have one dude”

The energy rushing between the two men is drastically different this time. Unlike the pleasurable prickles of knowledge or the soothing burn of loss there is a direct, deeper connection between the two. Brock’s grin grows wider as understands, “Oh I getcha, question’s a tie so we share the spoils Harv. Only fair that since you’ve the mind of a what, meathead? May as well have the body of one.”

Harvey watches as his roommate takes off his shirt, he feels a warmth in his chest as he stares directly at Brock’s pecs. His breath catches as he watches his roommate flex them and he feels a nervous energy begin to surge within his own. He’s never had pecs before but he feels his chest pushing, growing, into his shirt. He sees his nipples harden and grow too large to ever hide as his chest expands. His swallows to stop from drooling once more as he sees Brock pose and flex his massive biceps, forcing a burning delight down the whole of Harvey’s arms. He matches the pose of the powerful man he has spoken nothing but ill of and flexes, sweat immediately staining through his shirt as the energy and strain heats his body beyond reason.

At the same time both men drop into a crunch, there is a loud tear as the pants of both men tear as they reach the lowest point in the crunch as Harvey’s ass bursts larger and his thighs swell with strength well enough to carry his increasingly top heavy torso. Not only is Harvey to gain the muscle of a tight jock, but the masculinity expected. The cock he has been til now proud enough of pulses with his heartbeat, with each pump it gorges larger, veins thick as the ones surging down his biceps force his cock thicker and further down his strained shorts. He tears at his pants to free his bulge as his balls bloat to the size of eggs, they pull tight ass they’re exposed to the air and all the soreness, strain, and pain of his still growing body becomes agonizing delight.

Harvey’s eyes water as he struggles to even stay cogent with the pleasure and power coursing through him. He smells his new musk breaking through his senses. Through the burning bedlam across his body he feels a soothing burn as hair begins to sprout and thicken where every man should make clear his masculinity. His pubes thicken and curl beyond his waistline and his pits grow wild and begin to spread to make it clear they, nor his musk, can ever be contained.

He lies, sits, writhes, flexes, exists in nothing but pleasure for some time, no longer concerned for his lost intelligence, beyond the care of his education. His hands, larger and painted with still thickening hair, press tight against his body as he feels the new contours of his body. Each new valley and mountain is a testament to the ecstasy he shall now prioritize above all. Until his roommate’s voice breaks through the haze, “Fuck bro you’re really feeling yourself huh?” Harvey’s eyes open to see Brock’s arrogant sneer has only grown worse as he has contendly watch Harvey lavish his new corpus.

Harvey meets it with a scowl and Brock tilts his head, “Want to do one last question then, bro?” His smile grows tight as he tries not to laugh as the appellation of bro has become the paramount definition of this once genius. Harvey just nods his head, still understandably disoriented as he lies in a pool of his own sweat and pre that remains dripping directly onto the floor. Brock motions for him to ask whatever the presumably final question is but is met with a grunt and a wave of the hand. Brock grimaces slightly, “if you insist bud,” he grimaces slightly as he looks down at the man. Asshole he may have be, may still be even, surely there’s something Brock could do to fix even that. He leans to whisper the question in Harvey’s ear, “what color are my eyes.”

Between grunts, Harvey strains to look at his roommate only to find them obviously closed. His body contorts with pain and pleasure as he feels the throes of defeat and one final lose begin to seize him. He groans out through clenched teeth as his jaw widens and his brows thicken as changes already begin to work upon his mind, “don’t… know…” Brock nods and sits next to his roommate laying Harvey’s head on his lap. At the point it would be a kindness for the man to forget his life before, and that is exactly what he is to do.

Brock removes the memories and identity of the sour nerd that made life perpetually unpleasant not only for him, but anyone unlucky enough to grace his presence. His breathing speeds up as his body heat rises beyond imagination, sweat turning to steam in the cold dorm room as he shakes his head and clenches his fists. He writhes only briefly, each flex of his body a final protestation of Harvey as Brock erases even his name from his head.

After a minute of this his body goes still before he opens his eyes blearily and groans. Still lying in Brock’s lap he stretches his arms, turning to smell his impossibly rank pits before turning it into a flex as he must do anytime he raises them. Brock watches this with trepidation, unsure of who exactly his roommate is to be now before suddenly a name surges into his mind, Bull. Perfect fodder for the jerk he once was and an apt name for the behemoth lying on his lap. Testing the waters Brock pats his chest to wake him up, “Morning Bull.”

He yawns and scratches at the same stubbled face he has always known and he sits up, “urgh got a massive headache bro, must have gone pretty hard to have a hangover this bad huhuh! Wanna go grab brekkie and hit up the gym?” Brock stifles a smirk and helps his roommate up to standing, slightly surprised to see him standing taller than himself before responding, “You got it big guy, how about you get some clothes on first though right?” Bull guffaws, looking down at his hairy sweat-drenched body as he throws an arm around his roommate, cock bobbing around in the open air, still chubbed up. “What would I do without you bro huhuh!”

Brock looks to see all of Bull’s tops have changed to stringers and tanks. Where Harvey had nothing but pants Bull has piles of unwashed athletic shorts, one of which he promptly throws on, going commando. Seeing Brock watch him, Bull grabs at his crotch and juts at the door, “Come on bro! Faster we get a pump in faster we can get back here and have some fun dude.”

With that Bull again throws his arm around Brock, once more smelling his b.o. as he almost deliberately spreads it on his roommate’s neck, like an animal marking its territory. The two then off to start their day, in Bull’s mind as they always have. Brock feels his crotch grow weightier as the amble down the hall, unsure if he’s made a horrible mistake in all this. Who is he to say what is too far in acts of cosmic retribution. Brock is certain at the end of the day he and Bull are at least to have quite a bit of fun.

#male tf #mental change #masculinization #jockification #himbofication #hair growth #nerd to jock #muscle tf

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jesuistrestriste · 2 months ago

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Sage hear me out...

Divorced dilf art who calls his younger gf mommy

art stays cooped up in the house all day—everyday—when you’re out at your hot new job.

he thinks about all the guys your age who probably ogle you and try to make passes at you, not knowing that you’ve got a man pushing 40 waiting at home for you with dinner and a pair of warm, strong open arms.

sigh.

when you do get home, he’s there to greet you (as always). he walks over and holds you close; kissing your cheek, and then your lips and your neck. each one soft and sweet and attempting to wipe your mind of any flirtation from younger men that you may or may not have endured throughout the afternoon.

“hi,” he whispers, and you slide your fingertips down his lower back, making him tremble like a wet kitten.

“hey, baby,” you hum in return. you’re shorter than him, and so when he leans his weight into you his forehead naturally falls into your shoulder. he smells like warmth and outdated cologne and need.

he mouths at your neck in the next moment, his hands sliding to lovingly cup your waist, “i missed you so much.. can i have you now?” he breathes out, his voice shaking and pleading. you feel something thick and warm press into your hip from inside his sweatpants.

and you chuckle and shake your head. he bites his bottom lip to stifle a petulant whimper.

“i missed you too,” you nip at his ear, “but i need you to use your manners if you want something from me.”

he stiffens for a moment before he stumbles forward a bit, taking you with him and gently pushing your back up against the door. “i’m sorry.”

the apology spills from his lips with an earnest desire to make his obedience known. he’d never want to disappoint you. you’re all he has these days.

“can i… can i please have you now?”

a breath. a shake of your head. a rock of his hips against your body followed by a sorrowful, begging moan.

“no?” he shifts against you, his body aching for yours.

“you’re forgetting something, Art.”

it only takes a moment for him to process your words before he’s mumbling a slurry of “i’m so sorry”s into your neck. but apologies only go so far, don’t they? he needs to correct his behavior. he needs to show you that he knows what you want from him.

“please…” he whispers, “please, mommy..”

the honorific rolls off his tongue like honey, heavy and sweet. it hangs in the air between you two and then you let out a low chuckle, “much better.”

“mommy,” he breathes out again, his erection involuntarily pulsing against your body through his clothes, “mommy, mommy, mommy—ngh“

his tone grows more desperate with each mumbling of the word; higher in pitch and more urgent. your hands move up to stroke his short blonde hair, and then you whisper into his ear.

“what do you want?”

god, what doesn’t he want? he wants your hand down his pants, your perfect cunt wrapped around his unworthy cock, your mouth, your lips, your tits. everything.

but he knows you. he knows that this is a trick question. you’re phrasing it like you’re going to give him something, a treat—a reward, but it’s a bit of a trap.

there’s a right and a wrong answer here. pick the wrong one, and he’s in for a night of painful orgasm denial (coupled with a ruined one to end the evening).

but luckily, art is smart. he knows what you want to hear.

“i.. i wanna eat mommy out.”

you pull back gently from him; and judging by the look that spreads over your face when he says that, he picked the right response.

you smile, and then your hands slide from his hair to his shoulders. in an instant, art finds himself being pushed down to the floor in front of you. he can’t help but scoot forward and shove his boner against your ankle, rutting himself into your soft skin as he dribbles precome in his briefs.

you lean back against the door, hiking up your skirt, before you’re looking down to him expectantly.

“don’t make me do all the work, baby,” you practically purr.

art’s hands scramble up your thighs to your panties, which he peels off of your sticky core with wide eyes, letting the thin fabric garment fall to pool at your heels. you giggle.

you kick them off to the side, feeling your boyfriend’s hands clutched around your legs. you sling a leg over his left shoulder, spreading your folds for him to see, and he wastes no time in parting his lips and engulfing your heat with his mouth.

you groan, letting your head loll back, and you move your fingers—letting them wander to the back of his hair once more to push his face further against you. you grind on his eager tongue, feeling him flick it over your clit as he whimpers and suckles. what a slut.

his baby blues look up to you with weighted lids, lapping at your cunt like it’s something he’s been starved of for years. his pupils dilate intensely as he stares up at you like you’re a god; something holy and unreal. and when you shake over his mouth’s ministrations, getting close, he lets out a long, drawn-out whine into your core.

he’s murmuring something that sends vibrations up your spine from the coil deep in your gut. it’s hard to make anything out when he’s drowning in you and loving it, but you can decipher bits and pieces.

“please, mommy”

“come in my mouth, mommy”

“give it all to me, mommy”

“i can take it, mommy”

you’re everything he’s ever dreamt about. you bend his perception of time and space and reason and logic. how could a sweet, beautiful, young thing like you ever want a washed-up, older athlete like him?

he prays that you don’t only like him for his money, and then he closes his eyes and mouths at your sensitive bud. he drools all over it like a sick dog, his brows pinching up as he moans out incoherent pleas for you to finish.

and holy fuck, you come hard.

a strangled cry jolts out of you as your back arches, mixing with a helpless sob from art, and then you absolutely soak his tongue with your juices. it gushes all over his face and he swallows as fast as he can; hell, he nearly chokes on it.

“ffffuck! art! oh my god, good boy, good boy, such a good boy!”

you rock over him until your orgasm recedes, and you pull his head back from you shakily by your tender hold on his hair. strings of your slick cling to the lower half of his face and the tip of his nose; a lewd squelch echoing out as he’s forcefully disconnected from your body. a dazed smile graces your lips and you peer down to watch as art’s hips shake against the hardwood floor and a dark stain appears at the front of his sweats. it’s a pathetic sight, really.

but you watch him moan softly and keep his gaze trained on you as he wipes his chin messily with the back of his hand.

“was i good?” he whispers, like he’ll cry if you say no.

he needs to hear you say it when he’s not lost in the throes of your climax.

your chest is still heaving while you try to slow your labored breaths, but you lean down anyways and meet his lips with yours. you taste yourself on his tongue. he shudders and winces.

you pull back, your bottom lip brushing his.

“so good, baby..”

art kisses the corner of your mouth softly, just once. he’s melting into you.

he loves you. but he swallows that down for now. he opts to murmur out something that’ll sum up everything he feels in a more palatable manner. something that makes him seem less desperate to keep you all to himself for as long as you can tolerate him.

something that he’s earnestly dying to say.

something that he knows you deserve to hear.

“thank you.”

#🌸 - ask prompts #💌 - mutuals #WHOOAA i wrote too much #but angelll ???#ooh my god i’m srry this is late by a couple days but good god i’m eating it up #i love the concept of domming older men #like yea fuck u i own u old man ! now open ur wallet and gimme 20 bucks !#(and then the old man in question is like only 40)#art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson fic

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homeofthelonelywriter · 6 months ago

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Night Sky

(A/N) Drunk Simon...I love him.

Pairing: Simon x Reader (no Y/N)

Warning: mentions of alcohol, Simon being drunk and freaking adorable

Synopsis: A rare moment that the Reader and Simon just get to enjoy.

A knock woke you from your slumber on the living room couch. You looked around, confused about where you were and how you’d woken up. The TV was still running in the background as you grabbed your phone to check the time. A bright 11:21 blinded you as another knock echoed through the house.

“Coming. Coming!”

You stumbled to your feet and slowly made your way to the front door while trying to rub the sleep from your eyes. Who the hell would knock on your door so late? You hesitated for a second, wondering if you maybe should grab your husband’s gun in case it was not just the neighbor who had locked himself out again. But now you were already standing before the front door, you might as well open it.

“Wha-?”

The word died on your tongue as you came face to face with Price. A sight that you’d always been afraid of and for a moment panic gripped your heart. But then you remembered, they had gone to a pub earlier that night. They hadn’t just come back from a mission, so there was no way something had happened to Simon. Right?

“Where is he?”

Price chuckled and stepped to the side so you could see what was going on behind him. There was your husband, lying in the grass with Soap and Gaz standing over him. He was pointing at the night sky, mumbling something incoherent. It was clear that he was wasted. In no other state would you find Simon just lying on the ground.

“Do I want to know what happened?”

Price shook his head, a bright smile on his face.

“No, but he is all yours now, sweetheart.”

You smiled yourself as you shook your head in slight disbelief before you grabbed your keys and walked outside, closing the door behind you. As you ventured closer, both Gaz and Soap looked up and smiled at you.

“Thanks for bringing him home, boys.”

They all nodded and bid their goodbyes before leaving. As soon as they were gone, you laid down next to Simon and grabbed one of his hands, interlacing your fingers. That got his attention and he looked at you, his eyes widening once he recognized you.

“Luv.”

He sounded so excited as he slurred the word, making you chuckle and roll over to face him properly.

“Hi, Si.”

He grinned, his usual mask gone, an unusual sight outside the house. He too rolled over and quickly wrapped both arms around your waist, before rolling back onto his back. A surprised squeak escaped your lips before you started to giggle as you were now lying on top of your husband.

You looked at your husband as he gazed back at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. A grin spread on your lips as you held eye contact.

“Hi.”

It was only a whisper, but Simon’s ears easily picked it up.

“Hi.”

You smiled at him, before lowering your head against his chest, a content sigh leaving your lips. His arms around you tightened and for some time all you two did was lay there and cuddle underneath the night sky.

Moments like these were rare with Simon. His trauma often prevented him from enjoying the simple things in life, so you were set to enjoy it even more. But soon the cold started to seep through the small amount of clothes you were wearing and shivers started to run through your body.

“Si? Can we go inside? I’m cold.”

His head snapped to look at you and while his eyes still held adoration, they now looked determined. For what exactly, you didn’t know. With a nod, he quickly scrambled to his feet while still holding onto you. He expertly shifted you, so that he was carrying you bridal style into the house, opening the door and kicking it shut behind himself.

You giggled as he quickly went up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Within a few seconds, you were in your bedroom and Simon gently sat you down on the edge of the bed, before he started to strip. If he weren’t drunk you wouldn’t have been able to not enjoy the show. But now you were rather concerned since he seemed to get stuck with every piece of clothing.

With a light chuckle, you got to your feet and gently helped your man out of his clothes. Once he was only wearing his boxers, you led him to his side of the bed and told him to lie down, while you quickly grabbed some water and pain meds for him. By the time you returned to the room, he was already softly snoring, sleeping peacefully. The sight painted a smile on your lips and you couldn’t help but just stand there and look at him for a few moments.

Once you were sure you could never forget that view, you laid down next to him, cuddling up against the behemoth of a man. And with a content smile on your lips, you fell asleep next to the love of your life.

Please consider reblogging and following me! It helps a lot!

Call of Duty - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

#ghost #ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost cod #cod #cod fanfiction #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #fanfiction

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6esiree · 3 months ago

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Halloween With The Hazbin Men And Your Daughter

With Spirit Halloween already showing up around town, I’m out here thinking about Alastor, Lucifer, Husk, Vox, and Adam taking care of your daughter during Halloween. 🤭

Alastor:

• I feel like he would be the type to hand out treats—or more like tricks—but with your daughter in the picture, he’s walking around Hell’s neighborhoods with her little hand holding onto his, his back slightly hunched because of the significant height difference between the two.

• If your daughter begged Alastor to wear a costume… it would most likely be something as subtle as Jim from the Office wearing a sticker on his shirt with the name “Dave” on it. While she’s 5-years-old, she’s already accepted her adoptive father’s stubborn nature.

• Oh! And if someone tries to pull a trick on your daughter, which is not likely to happen with him around—but if it does, you best believe that Alastor will summon one of his minions to make sure that she listens to his instructions: close your eyes, cover your ears, and turn around, while he devours the poor soul for trying to scare her.

“Daddy? Why did you ask me to do that?” Your daughter innocently asks after he shrinks back to his normal size. His minion vanishes with a wave of its hand, so she narrowly misses the way his tongue swipes across his teeth.

“Well, to get your treats, my sweet little doe,” Alastor says, handing her a full-sized candy bar, which he definitely stole from a random kid’s basket. That house was only dealing tricks, after all. “Now, let’s move onto the next house, shall we?”

• Your daughter tries to grab his hand again, but Alastor decides to carry her, his spine slightly aching after walking down several blocks with his back hunched. She is delighted, of course, a chuckle reverberating through his chest as she marvels at the different view, eating her full-sized candy bar all the while.

Lucifer:

• Oh, Lucifer would be absolutely elated to take your daughter out trick-or-treating. He’s willing to wear everything and anything as a costume, no matter how embarrassing it may seem, excited to relive what he used to do with Charlie.

• Hunching? What’s that? Our short King doesn’t have to worry about his back hurting if your daughter holds his hand while going door-to-door in the neighborhood, although he’d rather have her sit on his shoulders in fear that someone will try to take her.

• Nobody is going to try and pull a trick on your daughter with Lucifer around, they’d be stupid to do so. But if they have no treats and only tricks, the random sinner will probably scramble to find something sweet in their house to avoid him turning them into a frog or something, lol.

“Wow! They gave me more candy than the other kids,” Your daughter gasps as she stares down at her basket, already filled to the brim despite only trick-or-treating for 30 minutes. “Look, daddy!”

“Oh, that’s amazing, ducky! Do you want to continue walking around or…?” Lucifer asks, his hands clasped behind his back as he anticipates her response.

“No, because my mommy won’t even let me eat that much candy,” Your daughter says, but Lucifer leans down and whispers in her ear, telling her that he’ll promise not to tell her how much candy she eats.

• And he keeps his promise, allowing her to eat all the candy she wants on the way back to the hotel, even eating some alongside her. But when your daughter complains to you about having a stomach ache, you end up scolding both of them, leaving Lucifer a flustered mess.

Husk:

• Oh, Husk would definitely be the type to stay back and hand out treats, but only because Alastor forced him to. With your daughter in the picture, however, he’ll be spared from the mind-numbing duty.

• Would Husk wear a costume? Hmm, I’m not quite sure, but if your daughter whines enough, he’ll acquiesce and allow her to put something on him. He is not pleased when she swipes his hat off of his head and replaces it with a tiara.

• Husk is not as tall as Alastor, and even though your daughter is rather short, the man spends most of the time hunched anyway. He doesn’t mind holding her hand as they go door-to-door, but he does mind the snickers random sinners toss his way at his half-assed costume.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, bub?” Husk growls after your daughter receives her treat, and he almost feels bad for causing a scene in front of her… until she unwraps the candy bar and it ends up being fake.

“Oh no, it’s plastic,” She pouts, her big, round eyes staring up at Husk in disappointment, brimming with tears, especially as the sinner in front of him laughs. “Daddy?”

“Aight, pumpkin, turn around and let ya old man deal with this chump,” Husk instructs her, and she complies… sort of, kind of, peeking through her fingers and giggling as he knocks him out.

• After that, Husk takes your daughter in his arms and uses his wings for once, an excited squeal seeping past her lips as he flies to the nearest gas station, allowing her to take whatever candies she wants, leaving his poor wallet hurting. But the way she smiles up at him as he pays for everything makes it all worth it.

Vox:

• Does Vox even go outside? It would take a whole lot of begging and whining from your daughter for him to even consider giving out candy outside of the Vee tower. Much like Alastor, he’ll wear a half-assed costume and call it a day, your daughter sitting on his lap as you give out candy.

• Every time your daughter looks over her shoulder with those big, round eyes of hers, he’ll put on his signature grin, making sure that she doesn’t see how displeased he is that he’s giving out candy in Hell for the first time. For some odd reason, it’s just embarrassing to him.

• Vox doesn’t bother giving out tricks… until one unsavory child tries to take more than what your daughter is supposed to give, hurting her in the process. He has a TV for a head, so I can imagine him putting on something scary, and all your daughter sees is him chuckling as she turns around in confusion.

“Daddy? Why did that little boy run away screaming?” Your daughter asks, turning away and watching the boy run down the streets of Hell in fear, candy spilling from his bucket all the while.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, sweet pea,” Vox says as he settles down, affectionately carding his claws through her hair, making her giggle. “Is the candy almost done?”

“Yes—are we going to do something else after that?” Your daughter asks, digging through the bucket, finding a candy she likes. “Oohh, and can I eat one?”

• Vox allows your daughter to have whatever is left, knowing that you’re not particularly keen about her eating too many sweets. Plus, he could have anything else sweet whipped up in the Vee tower easily, alongside some child-friendly Halloween movies, of course. Maybe next year he’ll go trick-or-treating with her.

Adam:

• Look, I’m not religious or anything, but I’ve met plenty of Christians who do not celebrate Halloween, but let’s say Adam is in a secret relationship with you, a sinner, and begrudgingly agrees to look after your daughter while you’re out with some friends.

• He can’t take your daughter out trick-or-treating, so he decides to put on some movies in your room and brings a lot—and I mean a lot—of candies and sweet treats for the two of them to indulge themselves in. Adam ends up eating most of the stuff he brought, however.

• Your daughter plays with Adam’s mask, pretending to be an Exorcist after losing interest in the movie, an amused chuckle reverberating through the angel’s chest as she trips over his leg. He quickly spreads out one of his wings, so all she feels are his feathers when she falls.

“You wanna be an Exorcist, just like me?” Adam asks as he watches her peel his mask off, her head nodding vigorously. It’s bittersweet to him—the 5-year-old doesn’t know the full extent of what Exorcists actually do.

“I want to be a fighter just like you, daddy!” Your daughter says, jumping over his legs and pretending to fly, her mouth stained with chocolate. “And have wings like you, and that round thing on your head—“

“The halo?” Adam chuckles as she approaches him, her hand tapping it. “Yes, this thingy majiggy,” She giggles, sitting back and taking some of his candy; and while he usually doesn’t like sharing what he’s eating, he doesn’t mind her taking some. “Hmm, I’m not sure if your mommy would like that, princess.”

• Adam invites her to eat more candy with him in an effort to make her drop the whole Exorcist topic. And fortunately, your daughter drops it, sitting next to him and eventually falling asleep in his arms, using his belly as a pillow. He never thought he’d feel bad about Extermination Day, his hand stroking her hair as he watches the TV.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor x reader #lucifer x reader #husk x reader #vox x reader #adam x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor imagine #lucifer imagine #husk imagine #vox imagine #adam imagine #just did this for fun hehe

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cameronsprincess · 5 months ago

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@babygorewhore sent in this delicious ask, and this concept CONSUMED me. pls pls enjoy this hot ass shit!

CW: 18+ only!!! stepcest, stepbro!jj, obsessed!rafe, unprotected sex, male receiving oral, dirty talk, praise, degrading, threesome, rafe kinda blackmails reader n jj.

daydreams 𓆩♡𓆪 main masterlist 𓆩♡𓆪 taglist form

you’d been secretly sleeping with your stepbrother, jj, for a few months. neither one of you could help yourselves, it just sort of happened.

little did you know, kook prince, rafe cameron, was obsessed with you too. and one night plus a little blackmail on rafe’s end (because of course he’d blackmail y’all) was all it took to start a beautiful sexual relationship between you, rafe and your stepbrother.

jj was balls deep inside your sopping wet cunt, his harsh breaths and the sound of skin slapping against skin bounced off the small walls of your bedroom. “takin’ me so fuckin’ good, princess. my little step sis is a dirty fuckin’ whore for me, aren’t you?”

your brain was fuzzy. loud, pornographic moans slipped freely from you. jj continued his brutal assault on your overstimulated pussy, both of you none the wiser that rafe had managed to make his way into your house. rafe stood in the doorway of your bedroom, watching the scene in front of him in awe. he thought something was wrong with him, because he should be disgusted that you’re fucking your step brother, but instead, he was completely fucking aroused.

he’d clear his throat, loud enough to halt jj’s brutal thrusts, both of your heads whipping in the direction of your bedroom door. jj scrambles off of you, falling to the floor beside your bed. you quickly sit up, pulling your sheet up and over your body, covering yourself from rafe’s intense gaze.

“w-what’re you doing in here?” you’d ask, voice shaking as you watched rafe from across the room.

he’d smirk, pushing his shoulder off the doorway and stalking toward you. “i came to try and get a taste of the sweetest pussy in the obx, but i see you’ve already let your step brother have a hit,” he’d pause right in front of you, large hand reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before tsking, “don’t look at me like that, baby. i can keep a secret… if you let me join.”

your eyes would widen in shock, gaze flitting down and seeing the outline of rafe’s hard cock through his khakis.

“i-” you’d begin, but jj hops up and cuts you off.

“what’s to say we let you join but you still run your fuckin’ mouth? kooks can’t be trusted.”

your eyes dart between the two tall, muscular men. you’re not sure how this would end, but the way it does end, was at the very bottom of your list.

rafe assures you both that he wouldn’t tell a soul if the two of you let him join you tonight, and any other night he pleased. jj — being stubborn and hesitant at first — finally agrees.

you find yourself laid horizontally on your bed, jj’s cock mercilessly pounding in and out of your slick cunt, while rafe’s cock is shoved down your throat. tears fill your eyes at the immense amount of pleasure you feel.

“god damn, maybank, who knew your step sister was such a dirty fucking slut? takin’ my dick like a goddamn champ, baby.”

jj would smirk, his thumb finding your swollen clit and applying firm pressure as he rubbed harsh circles around it.

“she’s good at swallowing dick, but just wait til you feel this sweet fucking cunt wrapped around your cock, you’ll never find anyone like her.”

they’d both switch off, taking turns fucking your throat and pussy the entire night, only stopping when you’re a brainless, boneless heap in your bed. you’d smile contentedly when jj and rafe place soft kisses on your forehead and cheeks, whispering, “sleep tight princess, you’re in for another long night tomorrow.”

hehehehe oh lord this shit just flowed out of meeee. i’m obsessed with rafe x reader x jj <3

#₊˚ෆ daydreams #rafe cameron #jj maybank #rafe x reader x jj #rafe cameron smut #jj maybank smut #stepbro!jj #rafe x you #jj x you #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron concepts #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank concept #jj maybank brainrot #rafe cameron brainrot

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bldhrry · 4 months ago

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gold rush

Cassian x Fem!Reader Summary: After stopping your father from clipping your wings, Rhysand offers you refuge in Velaris at the House of Wind. Living with Cassian isn't terrible but he is loud and annoying and overly interested in you. Despite his overbearing nature, you can't help but start to fall for him. Masterlist

warnings: cursing, abuse, suggestive language, kissing

word count: 9.2k

author's note: lil cass slow burn! hope you like it n lmk what you think!

When you woke that morning with blood soaking your sheets and legs you knew you stood no chance against the expectations of females in the village. You hid your ruined bed sheets and night clothes in your closet and despite an hour in the bath, your scent was simply too strong and your father pieced it together quickly.

The start of an Illyrian female’s cycle was the death of her wings and you were desperate to save them. You loved your wings; they were unlike any of the other villagers. Unlike their dark brown, yours were a reddish pink and the sun shone through them easily revealing all the intricate veins that hid beneath the skin.

Your father chased you around the house and despite efforts to dodge his attacks, he cornered you in the kitchen and before you knew it he had your hair in his fist, dragging you to the village square. You were to be made an example to the other females in the camp that this was inevitable and although you were the daughter of a camp lord you were not an exception to the culture. Your wings were not meant to be used; they were simply decorations and nothing more.

You had put up a fight, kicking and screaming and scratching your father and when you had managed to escape his grasps, the other lords were quick to tackle and pin you down. A few received bites and threats, but this wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle. This was an almost everyday occurrence.

Your father threw you on to the stone pavement and you rose to your hands and knees and tried to scramble away but he grabbed your ankle, pulling you towards him and flipping you around.

“I fucking hate you,” you snarled at him, kicking his stomach.

It was raining so bad you could barely see what was going on but you felt him release his grip on you but it was quickly replaced by another set of hands and your father made his way behind you. He grabbed the talon on your left wing and pulled you up so you were on your knees and through the rain you could see the glint of the knife he held in his hand.

You started to cry, your tears mixing with the rain that was pouring down your face. “Please,” you begged, twisting in his grasp.

You tried keeping your wings tucked in so he wouldn’t be able to destroy them, but it was to no avail as he forced them open and pierced it with his knife.

You screamed and fell forward on to your chest. Whoever had been grabbing you was gone and you crawled away from your father, the knife still lodged in your wing. He maintained his grip and the more you moved, the more the knife ran down the muscles, tearing them apart.

The rain was so loud you didn’t hear the footsteps approaching or the voice that demanded your father to stop. But you felt it. The knife was ejected and you felt the weight of your father off your back. You didn’t stop to see what had happened. You pushed yourself up to your knees and stumbled; your left wing couldn’t move, throwing you off balance so you staggered forward, trying to find some place to hide but the rain made your visibility almost nonexistent.

A hand, large and firm, grabbed your wrist and without thinking you whirled around, your fist connecting with a nose. The movement threw you off balance again and you stumbled backwards into someone else, this time their chest. They tried to straighten you, but again, you raised your fist and swung, but whoever it was had a quicker reflex than the previous person and grabbed your wrist mid air.

“I’m here to help.” The voice was deep, but elegant.

You tried to pull back, but their grip was too strong. “Get the fuck away from me,” you growled.

They stepped closer to you and you squinted and as their face came into view you let out a small gasp.

It was Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court.

Rhysand, with his arm around you to support your weight, and his male companion took you to the healer and there you sat as the healer promised you that the wing would heal and you would still be able to fly.

The male companion, who you had recognized in the faelight was Cassian, the Court’s General.

“You pack one hell of a punch, sweetheart.” He laughed and pushed more tissue into his nostrils.

You had fractured his nose and his face was already starting to bruise. You should’ve felt bad and apologized, but you didn’t. You weren’t sorry and in fact you were proud of yourself for leaving marks on every single person who had attacked and put their hands on you today.

And maybe, just maybe, Cassian should have not grabbed you so aggressively given the situation.

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” Rhysand said from across the room. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He was pissed and he made no attempt to hide it. Despite the law forbidding wing clipping, the practice was still widespread amongst the villages. You were lucky he was visiting that day and that your father was stupid enough to do it while he was there.

You didn’t say anything and you weren’t going to thank him either. He needed to do a better job at preventing this.

So, you let out a breath of annoyance through your nose and straightened yourself, looking into his violet eyes. “Thank you for doing what is expected of you, my Lord.” You drawled out his title, narrowing your eyes at him. This was the one thing he said he would do and yet almost every female in the village had their wings clipped.

Rhysand’s face flushed and he looked down in shame.

Cassian let out a laugh of surprise earning a glare from Rhysand. But Cassian didn’t care. He was in pure awe of you; in awe of the fight you put up, the strength of your punch, and your confidence of chastising the High Lord. You showed no fear, just rage.

The healer gave you an ointment to put on your wing nightly and sent you home, but as you left you stopped, looking around. Your father was receiving his punishment along with the other lords and you knew if you went home it would be chaos. Your mother was gone and you had no other family. You had no home left.

“I take it you have no other family in Windhaven?” Rhysand stood next to you, his hands in his pockets. His gaze was soft, sympathetic, and incredibly apologetic.

You didn’t want to let him see your fear and sadness so you scowled up at him. “No.”

“I have more than enough room at the House of Wind in Velaris. You are welcome to have a home there.” Seeing your apprehension, he quickly continued. “If you wish of course. It is the least I can do.”

You grunted. It was, actually. And you really did need a place to stay. You accepted his outstretched hand and he winnowed you away to your new home and your new life.

You lived with Cassian and Azriel in the House of Wind. They were incredibly kind and good roommates even if they both left their dishes out and never cleaned up after themselves and put their feet up on the coffee table. Okay, maybe they weren’t the best or the cleanest, but at least they were kind and you enjoyed their company.

Your room was on the opposite side of the House from where their rooms were. You claimed it was because you wanted your own space, but really it was to avoid another awkward run in with an almost naked Illyrian.

Azriel was your favorite. He was quiet, kept to himself, and cleaner than Cassian. Every time he spoke it was with a purpose and you appreciated that. You hated nonsensical conversations and that’s the one thing you hated about Cassian.

He had a lot to say about nothing. He asked stupid questions and never stopped talking; you didn’t think you had ever seen him sit in silence. He asked you what you did with your day and when you responded with a one word answer he’d ask you for details; he asked about the books you were reading and what they were about and you wouldn’t have minded this had it not been when you were actively reading.

“How was your day today, sweetheart?” He bounded into the kitchen and you could’ve sworn the walls shook. He always called you that and it was obnoxious but you could tell in the tone of his voice it meant nothing more than a friendly pet name.

“Nothing.”

“Just nothing?” He sat across from you.

You were reading yet another novel and was attempting to have a peaceful, quiet lunch.

“Yes,” you huffed your response hoping he would get the hint you wanted to be left alone.

But Cassian was stupidly oblivious. “What exactly does ‘nothing’ entail?”

“It means I did nothing.” You looked up and gave him a deadpan stare. “I read and went to the library.”

He smirked. “That’s not nothing.” He chuckled at your frown. “I love when you make that face.”

“I’m glad I amuse you.” You looked back down at your book, sighing.

“You do.”

There was something about his tone and the way he said it that made you look up and he was looking at you with an unreadable expression. Something like sadness, and maybe longing, flashed in his eyes and for the brief second you tried to decipher it you were struck at how beautiful his eyes were. They were hazel with more green than brown and if you looked closely enough they had a sheen about them that made them seem alive with mischief.

He quickly composed himself and flashed her a lopsided grin. “I actually think you’re very funny.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “How interesting.”

He eventually left, claiming he was tired and wanted to take a nap but as you read your mind drifted to that look in his eyes. It cut you inside and you felt an unfamiliar feeling spread in your chest.

Rhysand offered you a place in his Court and his Inner Circle after six months of living there. He would have asked sooner, but wanted to give you time to settle in and look at him with something other than distaste.

You didn’t hate Rhysand. You just wished he did a better job at protecting his people. Wing clipping was cruel and stripped away all autonomy that Illyrian females had, forcing them to rely on the males in their life. It kept them trapped in an endless cycle of oppression.

You knew it had to be difficult, hell maybe even impossible, to regulate all camps and enforce the law. You were rational in that thought process and you couldn’t fault him for that; he was trying his best. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t be angry for yourself and for every female across Illyria.

He made you Cassian’s “Second” despite the fact that you had no formal battle training or knew nothing about how the camps worked outside of the domestic duties of a home. You hadn’t even been born during the war with Hybern. You were essentially a glorified assistant with a seemingly important title. Your job was to accompany Cassian during his visits, or rather inspection, of the camps and check for compliance and the status of the training and would be warriors, and hopefully soon, the integration of females into the training ring.

This, you scoffed at. If Rhysand couldn’t stop wing clipping then how the hell did he think he would be able to force the camp lords to allow females to train?

You didn't care to ask questions, you were just grateful for a job and something to do. There was only so much to do at the House and in the city and you were bored. You had essentially become a librarian with how well you knew the library.

After saying your goodbyes after dinner you were about to fly back to the House when movement to your right caught your eye and Cassian was running after you, a boyish smile lighting up his face.

“Are you excited to be working together?” He breathlessly asked when he came up to you.

You gave him a sarcastic look and smiled. “Enthusiastic.”

His smile faltered and for a brief moment you felt bad, but his face lit back up and he grinned at you. “Well, I think if we’re going to be working together at the camps then you need to learn how to fight. What do you think?”

You mulled this over for a few seconds and shrugged. “I was never allowed to, so I’m not going to be any good at it.”

He waved dismissively. “That’s fine.” Then he leaned towards you, that stupid grin on his face, and much to your disbelief you found yourself tilting your head up, your faces inches apart. “I like a challenge.”

His tone was playful but at the same time it wasn’t. Hidden beneath those four words was a promise. A promise of what, you couldn’t pinpoint, but the way he said it, his voice raspy and dropping an octave made your heart skip a beat and your breath catch in your throat, a familiar heat rushing through your veins. He seemed to notice this, his eyes glancing ever so quickly, but slow enough you noticed, between your eyes and lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early at six.”

Training was fucking awful for both you and Cassian. You thought too much about your movements, double guessing yourself which resulted in your stumbling and falling or a strike from Cassian. Wielding a sword and dagger was uncomfortable and felt so unnatural that you had thrown down the ones Cassian gave you a half hour into training. You preferred hand to hand combat much to Cassian’s dismay. The more you trained and the stronger you got, so did your punches and kicks and while he tried to hide the bruises, he couldn’t hide the limping to his room after your sessions.

“You need to stop thinking so hard and just trust your gut.” Cassian told you.

It was a hot Summer day and the sun was relentless as you sweated under its hot rays. Cassian had repeated himself at least six times by now and you were getting so frustrated. He kept coming at you so fast and hard that you didn’t have time to register his movements. And when he did slow down and gave you some space you spent too much time considering his next move that by the time you decided on how to counter, he had already knocked you down.

“If I trust my gut then I would just throw you off the fucking balcony.”

He laughed loudly and shook his head. You were brash and quick witted and sometimes he would press your buttons just to hear what insult and remark you'd come up with. You were incredibly creative with them.

You two had been training for three months at this point and you actually weren’t that bad considering how awful you were in the beginning. He didn’t mind teaching you how to fight and in fact he knew you enjoyed the routine. You were always on time and if he looked hard enough he could see a glimmer of excitement in your eyes. He liked that you always had questions that even followed him out of the ring and he particularly enjoyed the way you sought him when you found something interesting in the countless books he had given you on the art of war and fighting.

You two hadn’t gotten closer so to speak, but you were tolerating his presence a little better than before. As of recently you didn’t mind his pointless talking and incessant questions. He had a loud personality but it suited him well; a big personality for a big male.

He was conventionally attractive and on the first day of training when you had entered the training ring, he was already there finishing his warm up shirtless and sweaty. It had taken your breath away; he wasn’t just good looking, but he was downright sexy. He was beautifully built with broad shoulders and extremely prominent muscles. His hair, jet black, touched his shoulders in waves and his skin was a flawless brown that seemed to glow no matter the lighting. His face was chiseled, resembling a god, and you found yourself admiring it while he was busying himself with preparing whatever he had planned for the day.

You hated that you started to notice all of this and the way it made you feel. Sometimes he would catch you looking at him, your eyes fierce and aflame with something he couldn’t name. You didn’t mean to look at him with such discontent, but you were discontented. He was gorgeous and you liked him. You liked him a lot. You liked his childish and crude sense of humor and his contagious laugh. You liked the way his brow came together when he was concentrating and the way he shifted on his feet when he was thinking.

Cassian liked you too. You were gorgeous with thick hair that reached your mid back with cheekbones that were high and round and a slightly pointed chin; your face resembled the shape of a heart. Your body was unlike anything he had seen before; you had gained a lot of muscle since you had started training and it filled you out in places that he was ashamed to look at. You had a naturally round body with wide hips and thighs and a slightly slim waist; your chest was big and your shoulders wide. But his favorite feature were your eyes; they constantly had an analytical look to them like you could see through everything and everyone. You regarded him with a mixture of interest and indifference and while he couldn’t figure out exactly how you felt about him, he took what he could get and tried his hardest to get and keep your attention.

It was a bit pathetic how hard he tried with you. He followed you around like a lost, starving dog, and the only time he was fed was when you looked and talked to him. The conversations were always short and you never cared to entertain him with a discussion that had no end goal or a discussion that wasn’t started by you. You were selfish in that way but he would take what he could get. Which really wasn’t a lot but he didn’t mind.

You both never forgot that night on the front lawn of Rhysand’s townhouse. Cassian thought of the way your eyes widened and you leaned into him ever so slightly when he did the same and the way your lips, full and slightly pink, parted when he spoke. You also thought of the way Cassian had smiled at you, a mix of joy and seduction, and his eyes, usually a light hazel, were a dark amber that seemed to see your soul in ways that made you want to hide. In your darkest moments you thought of his voice and his breath fanning your face and the way he said those four words made your knees wobbly and you gut tightened.

Cassian didn’t just mean it in the sense that it would be difficult to train you given your inexperience but also in the sense that he knew you would be difficult to get to know. He also knew it would be a challenge to get you to like him, both platonically and romantically. Whether you consciously knew it, you were guarded and armed to the teeth with walls so thick nobody had yet to learn anything about you. You chose your words carefully, but not your facial expressions. You were quick to let Cassian know in little and polite words that you didn’t care about what he was talking about, but your face said you would rather bang your head on the table than hear him speak about the bird that took a shit on his wing as he flew to meet Rhysand and Azriel.

“No training tomorrow,” Cassian told you as you walked out of the ring.

You had a better session today ending with you only falling once and Cassian dodging all of your jabs.

“Oh.”

Cassian could’ve sworn you sounded disappointed.

“Why?” You finally asked halfway up the steps to the House.

“I have an assignment in Windhaven.”

You stopped on the steps and he turned to look at you. Your eyes were sharp as they narrowed on him and he suddenly felt very naked under your stare. He could see the gears turning in your head as you took in the information.

“Shouldn’t I be going with you?” You finally asked after a few seconds.

It was his turn to give you a look, cocking his head to the side. “If you want to, I guess.”

You resumed your walk up the steps, brushing past his arm and he sucked in a breath at the contact. “Well, I think I have the right to go given we are supposed to be working together. Right?”

“That is very true, sweetheart.”

“Yes I know. That’s why I said it.” A few moments passed before you spoke again. “Why didn’t you ask me?” Your voice was soft as you two walked into the kitchen.

He stopped in the doorway and watched as you grabbed two cups from the cupboard and filled them with water.

“I didn’t think you’d want to go. It wasn’t anything personal, I promise.”

You hummed and leaned against the counter. “I know it wasn’t; you’re not that kind of person. But,” you raise your eyes to him, “it would have been nice to be asked. I have a job here too.”

You’re not that kind of person. The statement took his breath away and you tried to figure out why he was looking at you so bewildered.

“I’m sorry,” he gave you a soft smile and lowered his head. His face shifted and his eyes grew mischievous and his smile turned into a grin. His stance relaxed and he crossed one foot over the other. “If I didn’t know any better, sweetheart, I would think you wanted to spend time with me.”

You scowled and he reveled in the way your face contorted when he annoyed you. And you did it often.

“Well, it’s a good thing you do.”

You two left early in the morning before the sun had risen and flew in silence to the camp. You loved flying, especially so early in the morning; the world was so quiet and peaceful and the only life around were the birds who let you fly so close to them you could see your reflection in their eyes.

You never truly felt at peace for some reason. Your body was always wounded up with stress and anxiety and the anticipation of whatever the day was going to bring, but when you were in the sky nothing mattered but the sun on your face and the wind whispering in your ears.

Cassian could see how relaxed you were. A smile ghosted your features and it was probably one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen. He was looking at you so intensely that he didn’t notice he was leaning towards you until he bumped your wing with his.

You snapped out of your trance and side eyed him and he chuckled. “Sorry.”

You rolled your eyes. “First time flying?”

He blushed and bit his lip. No, he wanted to say, just looking at the most beautiful thing in the world. But he didn’t. Instead, he just straightened himself and led the way.

After another two hours of flying you two landed on the doorstep of Rhysand mother’s house.

“After you,” Cassian held the door open and you walked in.

It was an appropriate size with a living room and two rooms to the left and a kitchen to the right and a set of worn stairs in front of you. A fire was already going in the hearth and it left a warm glow on the furniture and walls.

The size of the house suddenly shrunk as Cassian walked in. His hair grazed the ceiling and he had to turn sideways to get through the door frame. It was a comical scene and to his surprise you laughed, your head tilting back and your eyes squeezing shut. He stilled, his hand still on the doorknob. You looked stunning.

“What is so funny?” Cassian shut the door and leaned against it.

“You look ridiculous. You are too big for this house.” You bit your lip and clasped your hands together, trying but failing to suppress another laugh.

“And that’s funny to you?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No,” your face stilled and you grew serious, standing straighter and brushing your hair over your shoulder. But it quickly dissolved as you let out a snort and covered your mouth, turning away.

He did look insane in this house and you weren’t sure why you found it so funny. You were aware he was freakishly tall and built like a bull, but the House of Wind was so big it made him look an average size. But here, in this normal sized cottage for normal sized people, he looked so out of place and his indifference to it all was hilarious.

“I’m glad my vertical condition amuses you, sweetheart.” He brushed past you taking your bag to your room and to your shock he took his bag to the room next to yours.

“Our rooms are next to each other?”

And without looking at you, Cassian said, “yeah so be careful bringing anyone over; the walls are so thin.”

You hadn’t seen your father since you had moved to Velaris and you were glad for it. You never liked him; he was mean and cruel and had driven your mother to madness and eventually her death. You had never forgiven him for that or any of his misdeeds for that matter. Sometimes you fantasized about his death and how much relief you would feel knowing he was burning in hell, paying for his sins.

You sat across from him during the meeting with the camp lords. You wore traditional fighting leathers and like Cassian you had a sword strapped to your back. In reality you didn’t know how to use it or how to fight, really, but appearances mattered with males who thought they were better than everyone and it mattered to you for them to know just how good you were doing.

Your father’s stare was overbearing as he took in your clothes and weapons and the hard set look in your eyes. You looked just like your mother and he hated that.

“We are just here to oversee the training of the warriors and your preparations for the Blood Rite.” Cassian had an easy going, but threatening smile.

He knew these people hated him. They hated that he was a bastard; they hated how powerful he was; and they hated that he was above them, giving them orders and commands.

Devlon frowned at Cassian. “We have 200 warriors. They train from dawn to dusk. And nearly all of them have qualified for the Rite. What else is there to see?”

Cassian shrugged, rubbing his siphons. The red glow was enchanting and intimidating. “The specifics of our visit are on a need to know basis; I hope you understand.” His smile was sent a chill up her spine.

Devlon’s frown grew but he knew better than to argue. “Fine,” he sighed and waved his hand in a dismissive nature. “Just don’t bother them while they train.”

And with that the group disbanded. You got up along with Cassian and nodded to everyone. They didn’t bother to look you in the eye or say goodbye as they left, but you kept your head high and your hands folded in front of you. This made you appear strong, but in reality you were hiding your shaking hands.

When they all left you let out a shaky breath and cleared your throat, sitting back down in your chair. You wrapped your wings around your shoulders, cocooning yourself within them.

“You okay?” Cassian’s voice was soft and he placed a hand in between your shoulder blades.

His touch was warm and soft despite the calluses on his hands and you found yourself wanting to lean into it and maybe even ask for more. Instead you moved away from it and cleared your throat, tucking your wings in and standing up.

Facing him, you gave him a tight lipped smile and nodded. “Of course.”

You two strolled through the camp after the meeting. You weren’t really here to oversee the training, but to see about properly implementing the law banning wing clipping. Since you had left, nobody else had been subjected to that abuse but it was only a matter of time that someone did it, causing a domino effect and it would come back in full swing.

You had only been here a day and you already wanted to leave. It was dull and sad here and looking up at the sky you couldn’t help but let out a groan. You missed the sun in Velaris; in Windhaven the sky was always gray and dark like this place was destined to be constantly punished by the gods.

“That bad huh?” Cassian had noticed that you had not smiled once or chastised him for being annoying since arriving. You weren’t sure which one concerned him the most.

“It just sucks here.” The response was juvenile and it made him smile.

“I hate it too.”

You knew of Cassian the warrior, but nothing else except for what you saw at the House. And it hit you in that moment you had never thought to ask and it made you stop in your tracks and you pushed out your bottom lip and squinted up at him. “Why?”

The question threw Cassian off. You had never asked him anything about his personal life.

“Bad memories.” He shrugged. “I lost my mother young and was tossed here having to beg for scraps.” He had a far away look in his eyes and your heart lurched in your chest.

“I’m sorry,” and you meant it.

By the fifth day of the “mission,” you two had come to the conclusion that trusting the camp lords to enforce the ban was futile and that a permanent position in overseeing it was necessary. You had known that from the start and reminded Cassian of such with a sarcastic, “I told you so.”

Cassian was writing out his report for Rhysand and you were laid out on the couch, a book in your hands. He had made little to no progress on completing it; he kept getting distracted by you.

You were laying on your stomach with your head propped up with one hand and the other cradling the book and your leg hiked up, making your backside more prominent than it already was. It was a crazy sight and his head was dizzy every time he beheld you. You were completely enthralled in your book that you did not notice how tightly he was gripping the papers in his hand or the way his knee bounced furiously and the way he shifted ever so slightly in his seat.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how soft your skin would be beneath his hands or the way you would react to his touch, your back arching slightly and your breath coming out in soft pants. You were playing with your lip as you read and he admired their color and fullness and then he pondered how they would feel against his and how you would taste as he swallowed your moans. He could picture it clear as day and it scared him slightly how vivid and real you existed in his mind. Cassian was so trapped in his thoughts that he didn’t hear you calling out to him or hear you walk up to him.

He jerked when you touched his shoulders and you saw how crazed his eyes looked, wide and his pupils blown, drowning out the green and leaving gold in its wake.

“You okay?” You asked, your brow furrowed together in concern.

He had been so quiet all night and it worried you. He was usually talkative and aggravating but he hadn’t said a word since you two settled in the living room. He was staring at the papers but it was like he was seeing through them and his leg was bouncing a mile a minute. You worried you had upset him by asking about his past and you thought of apologizing but you didn’t want to bring it up again and upset him even more.

So instead you opted to leave it to him to tell you if something was wrong.

Your hand was still on Cassian’s shoulder and your face was so close that your hair tickled his arm and he sucked in a deep breath and your scent filled his senses, making his nostrils flare. You smelled like lavender mixed with pine.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, placing the papers on his lap and prayed that it concealed his erection.

He leaned away slightly, hoping that some distance would calm his nerves and you noticed it, feeling your heart sink.

You jutted your bottom lip out slightly and exhaled through your nose, straightening but keeping your hand on his shoulder. “Okay. I was just checking.”

Your eyes locked with his and he still had a look that was a mixture of disbelief and fear and it made you look at him even harder and you found yourself leaning, invading his space again.

Cassian stilled so much he wasn’t even sure if he was breathing anymore. His skin felt so tight and his pants even more so. He could feel his blood pump through his veins and his heart was shuddering with every beat. You were so, so close that it sent an irrational fear through him; anything could happen right now and a million scenarios ran through his mind, all of them including you and him kissing and what happened after that varied.

Leave him be. Back up. Go to bed. The thoughts were so loud but you didn’t move. You were entirely entranced by his gaze and you were rooted in place. He smelled like the aftermath of a forest fire, the air thick with smoke clouding your vision and making its home in your lungs. You felt like you were in a haze of him and you couldn’t find your way out and honestly, you didn’t want to. It was comfortable and warm and oddly safe.

You barely heard yourself over the roar in your ears as you asked Cassian once again if he was okay, but you definitely heard the way he rasped out his response. It was a stangled “yes” and your entire body grew hot, so much so your vision tunneled and you could only see him.

His response wasn’t just a direct answer to your question. It was a response to the unspoken questions floating between you two and he hoped you had understood that. It was also a plea, a one word beg for you to close the distance and let him lose himself in you. He didn’t just want it, but he needed it. He had this ache in his chest since the day he met you that no amount of times he thought about you while he pumped himself into oblivion could quell it. He begged Rhysand to give you a position that would keep you close to him and you didn’t need to train in order to work with him but he made up that excuse so he could spend even more time with you. And it was worth it even if you gave him a blank stare when he said something ridiculous or when you snapped at him for bothering you.

And this closeness was only making it worse. You were so close but so far and he didn’t want to do something that made you uncomfortable and shatter whatever you felt for him, if you did at all. So he stayed where he was, letting you make the decision, praying it was the one where you kissed him.

But to his utter disappointment, you released the grip on his shoulder and pulled away, giving him a pained smile.

“Okay.” You exhaled, expelling the thoughts and feelings and his scent from your body and mind. “Goodnight, Cassian.” And as you walked to your room, leaving him reeling from this three minute encounter, you turned and gave him another smile. “If you need to talk just let me know.”

He gave you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and felt like he was being stabbed. “Of course. You too.”

Neither of you slept that night.

He spent an hour in the bathroom, making himself finish three times and even then he couldn’t get his erection to go away. You had stood so close to him that he could see the brown that flickered in your eyes and every pore on your face and even now he could smell you on him, like it was clinging to his skin, taunting him.

You didn’t rest either. The bed was uncomfortable and the room was too hot and the blankets made you itch. You couldn’t stop thinking about his eyes and the way his lips were parted just enough you could imagine your tongue snaking its way in, claiming it. If you allowed the thought to fester, which you did, you could see yourself moving against and feel his arms around your waist helping you reach your climax and you could also see his eyes, with their pupils blown, staring into yours, encouraging you.

You made the fantasy stop there. This was ridiculous. You were being ridiculous. You couldn’t say why or rationally curse yourself for these thoughts and feelings, but this was wrong and just couldn’t happen.

It was unrealistic anyway, really. Cassian had lived a life you couldn’t even begin to fathom and though he could act like he knew nothing, he actually knew a lot. He always had an answer to your questions and could go on and on about the endless strategic tactics used when fighting. You could listen to him all day if you could.

You were a camp lord’s daughter from a village that hated the existence of your gender. Your education had been cut short and you were forced to teach yourself basic arithmetic and reading beyond a grade school level. Your dreams were crushed beneath your father’s boot and any flame of ambition was snuffed out and replaced with patriarchal propaganda. You were a nobody wanting a somebody.

You two were complete opposites but were the same in your insecurity: thinking you weren’t enough for each other.

The tension between you and Cassian was so thick that Azriel started to sleep at Rhysand’s townhouse.

You and Cassian still had your morning training sessions but you both pulled your punches and kept your distance which ruined the point of training.

You were avoiding him, too. He still looked for you during breakfast and lunch and made unformatable small talk. You couldn’t bear it and after a few days you started taking your food in your room.

You did want to be around him and hear whatever nonsense came out of his mouth and his pointless questions because you had a gripe with how you felt about him. You felt stupid with the way your mind became foggy when he was near and how you stared at him when he wasn’t looking and most of all how your body came alive when you saw him. It was embarrassing and you hoped by spending less time with him it would go away.

You hated crushes. They were childish and pointless especially when pining after someone like Cassian. You knew so many people wanted him and it was evident the few times you had gone to the city with him. Females and even some males were shameless in the way their eyes trailed his body and the way they openly flirted with him when they stopped him in the streets. You never felt jealous about this because you completely understood the appeal but you knew with how many people he could choose to be with, you wouldn’t be the one he wanted.

Cassian noticed the way you would scurry away when he came into the room and stiffened when he spoke to you and it broke his heart. It aggravated him to degrees he didn’t think was possible. You had no reason to avoid him unless you were put off by the night in the cottage and you didn’t like him anymore, if you ever did. Maybe you were tired of being around him and the way you seemed to detest his presence prior was real and you finally got sick of it. He wasn’t sure but he missed you in a way that was foreign to him; he missed your scowl and raised eyebrow that said ‘are you fucking serious?’ He also missed the way you would curl up on the couch, with your feet tucked in underneath you, and smile at whatever you were reading, holding your lip between your fingers. But he especially missed your eyes and how they saw him. You saw him in a way that was entirely too personal despite you never asking him a question; it was like you could see every single thing about him and sometimes he could see a glimmer of acceptance dancing in them.

He thought about that night in Windhaven and the way you looked at him with concern and a hint of need. The scent of your arousal that night mixed in with your natural scent followed him wherever he went. He would smell it at the most random moments and he was ashamed to admit that it caused a physical reaction that left him biting his lip and stifling his moans and no matter how often came, your name falling from his lips, the craving for you never ceased. It was driving him crazy. He had never felt like this before and he knew that even if he had you, it still wouldn’t be enough. He had the idea that he would never not need and want you.

You had been eating a snack in the kitchen when Cassian sauntered in. He had seen you when he had walked past and decided to essentially trap you so he could get just a few minutes of conversation. He missed your voice.

You didn’t hear him come in but you felt his presence immediately. It was powerful and filled the room and seeped into your pores, making you flush with heat. Your body tensed at it and you glanced up and he was already looking at you, that stupid grin on his face.

“Hey.” It was a greeting but a dismissive one as you looked back down at your book.

“Hello.”

You could hear the smile and joy in your voice and you just knew he was going to bother you despite seeing you preoccupied. You closed your eyes and inhaled through your nose waiting for the avalanche of bullshit that was going to spew from his mouth.

From the corner of your eyes you could see him brace against the counter and scan you. Your body tensed even more.

After a few seconds Cassian sucked in a breath and bit the bullet. “Why are you avoiding me?”

The question was unexpected and you looked up at him and frowned. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“Yes you are.”

“No. I am not.” You punctuated each word hoping he would understand those simple, yet clear, four words.

“You are,” and before the scowl could take root in your face he added, “we don’t hang out anymore.”

“We never did to begin with.”

“Fine, you don’t let me hang out with you.” Now that was more accurate.

You shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”

“Doing what? Walking the house and the city and reading?” His words were dripping with annoyance and sarcasm.

“What I do is none of your concern, Cassian.”

He made a noncommittal noise and sighed through his nose. You noticed the way his shoulders sagged slightly and he took his cheek in between his teeth. “You don’t want to be around me anymore.”

You scoffed. What the fuck? “You’re being absurd.”

“Fine, then let’s hang out. We can go to the city.”

You gave him a blank stare and looked back down at your book. “I’m busy.”

“You’re eating crackers and reading.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. This was stupid. He was being stupid. “This is being busy for me.” You gestured to your book and before he could counter you added, “and frankly, Cassian, if you’re taking this personally that’s just not my problem. If you think I’m avoiding you, then maybe, you should take the fucking hint.” Your eyes were hard as they stared into him with such conviction he stepped back even further into the kitchen counter.

He made a small noise that you could only discern as shock and a little bit of anguish, but it was quickly replaced with narrowing eyes and a set jaw. “You’re a fucking bitch.”

This made you roar with laughter and you got up, pushing your chair back behind you. “Excuse me? What the fuck is your problem?”

“I try to be nice and do you a favor and be your friend and you act like it’s the most ridiculous thing in the world!” He didn’t mean to get loud with you but he was so tired of being rejected.

“Do me a favor?” You took a step forward. “I never asked. You did that on your own. And have you considered that maybe I don’t care to be more than your roommate? Have you considered that maybe it’s not all about you?”

He matched the distance you took towards him. “And why is that, sweetheart?”

Because I like you. Because whenever I’m with you I feel like I can’t breathe. Because I want you so much I feel like my body is going to explode.

But you didn’t say that. It was too beneath you to be that pathetic over a male. “Because I don’t care about you.”

This stung Cassian, bad. And Azriel and Rhysand, who had been eavesdropping, grimaced at the blow.

Cassian cleared his throat and he felt tears starting to sting his eyes. “Well, sweetheart, that is not very nice is it?”

It wasn’t and it wasn’t the truth but the actual truth would make it too real. You had been pining for him for months and if you said it, confronted it, spoke it into existence, and he rejected you then…you didn’t even want to consider the aftermath. You hated the feeling of falling because you knew sooner or later you knew you would crash and hit the ground.

“I’m sorry the truth hurts, Cassian.”

Cassian took another step towards you and he was so close your chests were touching and you had to tilt your head up to look at him.

“You don’t mean that.”

You let out a breathless laugh. “I just said it, so yeah, I mean it.”

“You don’t.”

“By the cauldron, Cassian,” you hissed and his eyes widened slightly. “I don’t owe you shit. So, do me a favor and fuck off.” You turned to leave and he grabbed your wrist.

He scowled and sucked his teeth. “You’re a fucking coward, you know that?”

You made a face, a ‘what the fuck are you talking about’ face, and it made Cassian smirk. He loved it when you did that.

“Look me in the eyes and say that shit.”

The demand startled you. Not because of what he said, but because of how he said it. Full of anger and rage and a slight twinge of despair. His eyes were hard and dark as they bore into your soul and you sucked in a breath. You knew he was seeing right through you and through the lies that were falling from your lips.

And it was true. You hadn’t looked at him every time you took a jab at him. Instead you opted to look around his face or close your eyes in feign annoyance. This would be your downfall because the longer you looked into his eyes the more you felt like you were drowning, being pulled under and covered in the green and gold and brown that swirled in them.

“I said what I said so deal with it and leave me alone.”

He tightened his grip on you and took another step towards you and you were acutely aware of how close you two were. One move and he would consume you.

“Say it.”

“No.”

“Why? Because you don’t mean it?”

Yes.

“No, because I’ve already said it and I don’t want to repeat myself.”

He snorted. “You’re impossible.” He ran his tongue over his bottom lip and you followed the movement.

You two stood in silence for a few seconds and he saw your expression shift from one of annoyance to longing as you said, barely above a whisper, “if I did,” you cleared your throat and straightened yourself, “it wouldn’t even matter.” You meant for your voice to sound strong and defiant but instead it came out broken and hopeless.

He matched your volume and his eyes turned soft, the brown taking over. “It would.”

You popped your hip out and made a face that said ‘you’re joking, please be serious, and leave me alone.’ He smiled and took his lip in between his teeth. Gods, he loved the faces you made. So real, and transparent, and comical, and expressive. You could say nothing but it all would be said in the ways your eyes narrowed, your eyebrows raised, and the downturn of your lips.

“It would matter a lot because unlike you I wouldn’t lie about how I feel about you.”

You didn’t say anything but you squinted your eyes and tilted your head, once again silently asking, what the fuck are you talking about?

“So, tell me the truth.”

You narrowed your eyes and huffed, stomping your foot. “You know Cassian you are the most obnoxious and annoying person I have ever-” you weren’t able to finish your sentence because Cassian cupped your face and crashed his lips into yours.

It was the most exhilarating feeling in the entire world. His hands, so big and warm and confident in their hold of you, made you melt and the sensation of his mouth working against yours made you see stars. You stumbled with the force and failed your arms slightly to steady yourself, but Cassian removed one hand and grabbed your wrist again, placing it on your chest and you gripped his shirt and threw your other arm around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair.

You pushed yourself on to your toes in an attempt to get closer to him and with a small groan he arched his body down against yours and tilted his head, deepening the kiss. You matched the way his mouth feverishly overtook yours and it wasn’t long after that he swiped his tongue across your bottom lip asking, no begging, for entrance and you allowed it, moaning as he explored and tasted you.

This was exactly how he imagined you would feel, sound, and taste. This was even better than what his imagination had conjured up these past few months. You were soft beneath his grasp and you moved your body as his hands trailed down your back and under your shirt, gripping your waist. The sounds you made were small and quiet but they vibrated his body and his pants grew tighter and tighter and he feared that if you pressed yourself into him more he would come undone.

You had thought about this moment for so long, too and the reality was so much better. His stubble scratched your chin and his hands engulfed your frame and his tongue dominated your mouth. You wanted to be entirely consumed by him and he was doing just that and it was like the heavens had come to you. Your hands roamed around his chest and shoulders and hair; he was firm and his skin tight as you explored his body and you ached to know every muscle and crevice, every scar and expanse of skin. You yearned to know him and you didn’t think this level of need was possible but here you were, silently, mentally begging for him to take you and reach for the stars.

He pulled away and you followed him with your mouth, a small whimper leaving your lips. Your eyes were still closed, reeling from his touch. Cassian’s eyes were still closed too as he brushed his lips over yours and brushed his nose on the tip of yours. You two were panting, your breaths heavy and moving in synchrony.

A small smirk spread across his face as he brushed his lips against yours again and you tilted your head, trying to capture them in another searing kiss.

“Tell me again,” he kissed you. “Tell me you don’t like me.” Another kiss. “Tell me you don’t care about me.” Another kiss. “Tell me you don’t want me.”

You wouldn’t because it wasn’t true. It was never true. Yes he was annoying and sometimes you detested his presence but at the end of the day he was fun and kind and made it a point to include you in everything he or the Inner Court did. You secretly did like when you asked about your day or what you liked to do. Nobody had ever been interested in you back home; how you felt and what you wanted was of no concern to anybody. All that mattered to your father was that the house was picked up, the laundry was done, and the dishes were clean. It felt amazing to be noticed even if Cassian was overbearing with his interest in you.

“I can’t,” was all you said. It was true. You couldn’t lie anymore. You liked him, you cared about him, and you wanted him.

“Good.” Another kiss; this one was hot and long, making you both moan, leaving you dizzy and throbbing with desire.

“Because I don’t just want you, sweetheart. I need you.”

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