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biteofcherry · 30 days ago

Text

All the better to eat you

werewolf!Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: You muster the courage to visit Scaretale, with your heart full of hope for a magical romance. After all, the club promises that no client would leave without having their wishes fulfilled. So the love you've been longing after should be waiting for you, right?

warnings: werewolf!Steve; dark!Steve; monsterfucking, but no bestiality; heavy dub-con; blowjob/facefucking (possibly the nastiest bj I've ever written 😳); unprotected sex; knotting; biting; size kink;

word count: 5.3k

Author's Note: This is a part of the Scaretale universe. I think it's fitting I'm starting the monster fucking extravaganza with my fave man to ruin me, right? 🤭 The title is an obvious tease on the classic Red Riding Hood text.

It was a thrill reminiscent of the first minutes of a movie. The kind you watched on a late autumn evening, with a candle lit up and hot chocolate in hand, curled up on a couch and wary of any sounds creaking inside the house.

It spiked pulse and lured in with the mystical, almost forbidden atmosphere; keeping you on your toes in fear of something truly scary jumping out at you.

You grew up in a rather tolerant household, taught not to be scared of monsters more than you should human men. Still, certain caution and fear pumped through your veins as you neared the entrance of the Scaretale.

A building straight out of a fairytale, situated on the border of lands between human and monstrous worlds. Though those merged fluently over the past half a century, or so. Half of your coworkers were other species. It was impolite to call them creatures, or monsters, even if that word somehow always echoed in your head.

Perhaps you’d never have the balls to visit Scaretale, if it wasn’t for the deepening sense of loneliness and heartbreak. And since your regular methods at dating all failed, leaving you with an even worse feeling of self-loathing, the glow of the letters embroidered on the dark leaflet enticed you even more.

All fairy tales install fear, but they also give satisfying completion in the end. Come and start your own tale, find who you’ve been missing. We promise that once you get inside, you won’t leave without your ever after.

Scaretale tempted with making those dreams come true. Was it naive of you to have your heart squeezing in hope at the prospect of it?

Not a part of you was a romantic - it was all of you. Craving someone to share the life with. You didn’t expect perfection, that was unrealistic. But you yearned for connection and support, for a warm embrace to hold you after a tiring day, for someone to call you theirs and mean it.

Oh gods, how obsessively you sometimes wished that someone would really consider you theirs - even to the point of possessiveness, of certain ownership.

You explained it with your prolonged lack of any deep connection and love. A hole in your heart that kept growing and growing, until it was no longer sated by casual dates and sweet flirting, but needed a more intense, obsessive kind of love.

If human men failed in that department, maybe a monster would be your match. Didn’t even have to provide a warm embrace, you joked to yourself as you readied for the night. A nice, cold vampire would do. They had years to mature, most of them had an established income, or savings, a sense of dark humor.

So you left your apartment with your heart fluttering, moved by the flashes of dreams of a great love you’ve been chasing half of your life.

However, the second you stepped inside the Scaretale, your heart froze for a second.

It didn’t look scary, nor was it filled with screams and sounds of violence. Quite the contrary, the air of tranquility coated the space. But the glow within, that didn’t seem to come off of any actual lamp, heightened the sense of wariness.

Humans were here, but it was obvious this space belonged to the monsters and was most of all their realm. That enchanting sense of calm began feeling like a mesmer that forced your body to move forward, while your brain filled with rising anxiety whispering that perhaps it would be better to leave.

Somehow, you couldn’t.

You took a deep breath, smelling sweet berries and gardenias in the most natural combination, as if you were walking through an actual garden. It was relaxing, yet in a way seemed to clog your mind.

Maybe if you went outside for a minute to breathe the crispy, chilly air of late October evening, it would clear your head and help you regroup your thoughts.

Even as that thought formed in your head, your body didn’t move toward the exit. Only a step forward.

At your pace - shy and unsure, but never a step back.

The echo of the words from the leaflet clenched your heart in a tight grip. We promise that once you get inside, you won’t leave without your ever after. It appeared to be an actual enchantment.

Scared, you looked around. No one was charging at you, no gnarly vines gripped you to swallow you under the ground. Patrons were calmly mingling around. Some sat in booths alone, simply observing the others. Maybe even looking for the same thing as you - someone to love. Or less romantically, someone to share a passionate night with.

There were also groups, like in one of the big booths where a bunch of thickly muscled, quite scary looking orcs were drinking beer. Neither of them looked approachable, their faces seemed frozen in permanent scowl. Their bodies, though clean of any trace of it, screamed of bloodbath.

In the center of the room, far deep inside the neverending space of the club, stood an oval bar. The shelves hanging above the counter were so thin it looked like the glasses and bottles were floating in the air, among teardrop-shaped bulbs of light. A slim, graceful bartender was running the bar; her hair long and a color of impossible blue.

Two men sat at the bar, their gazes turning your way as you walked closer. At a first glance they appeared human, but the similarity quickly dissolved. Their dark skin had markings of burgundy red that flashed with a shade of molten lava. Between the curls of their dark hair sparked flickers of pure fire.

Ifrits.

A flush of heat passed over you as they scanned your form with interest. For a moment you felt a spike of curiosity, wondering how an ifrit’s heat would feel against your skin. But it quickly passed, being only a figment of natural desire, but not the deep connection you searched.

The men seemed to read you well enough to realize you weren’t one looking for an adventure and they weren’t interested in providing more than that. They nodded politely at you, then moved their gazes to roam around.

Though you felt a certain relief, there was also that bitter pang of sadness. Once again, you weren’t what someone was looking for.

All those years you repeated over and over again to yourself, that it was okay to not be interested in someone. After all, you weren’t interested in some people either. But for so long it felt as if you were never anyone’s choice, that you couldn’t help but think you would never be.

When you went out with your friends, back in college years, or even recently, someone always flirted up, or approached your group. Just not you. All your friends, but never you. Some talked to you, but it was obvious they weren’t interested in more.

A dreadful thought settled with heavy weight on your shoulders. What if you were now trapped here forever? Not leaving without your ever after, but if there was no one for you, what would happen to you?

Just when your heart squeezed painfully, your chin dropping to your chest as you stared at the dark green floor in hope to hide the shine of your tears, a low, rumbling sound teased your ear.

You didn’t feel anyone’s presence behind you, or anywhere near you, but you heard that sound. That… growl.

Slowly, you raised your head and looked around. For a long moment you didn’t notice anyone who could’ve been the owner of that voice. Until your eyes settled on the shadowed nook across from the bar.

Only a faint outline of the silhouette was visible from your standing point. And a pair of glowing, blue eyes. Beautiful, but wild. Something dangerous lurked in that gaze, raising goosebumps on your arms.

Anxiety rose anew, your instincts screaming at you to run. Fast and far. But you couldn’t move your feet an inch back, only stay in place, or move forward.

Breath hitched in your lungs as the mysterious shadow slowly stood up, stretching to its full form. He was even bigger than you assessed him to be while sitting. Those eyes held yours captive, demanding you watch him as he approached in slow steps. Once he got into the light and you took in all of him, your breathing stopped altogether.

He wasn’t just big. He was huge! And broad. Massive. His dark clothes didn’t hide what was obviously cords of muscles on top of muscles on top of muscles. While his shoulders were wide enough to get stuck in the door, his waist was tapered. His legs were long, but with thick thighs. Legs built for running.

For chasing…

His dark blonde hair curled at his nape, his beard was thick and trimmed. You saw curls of dark golden hair covering his forearms, where the sleeves of his dark sweater were rolled up, revealing skin.

As he approached you, his tongue swiped out to lick his bottom lip, then over the upper row of his teeth. You caught a glimpse of a sharp canine, but it wasn’t a vampiric one.

No, this monster was very much living. Blood and flesh and all things primal.

A werewolf.

Your body jolted, struck with an inner bolt of adrenaline. Like at a jumpscare in a horror movie, but this one very much real.

Your heart thumped rapidly, forcing your blood to rush so fast it almost made you dizzy. It was scary. He was scary. Yet, you couldn’t help, but follow that sensation further. Just like never turning off the horror movie and continuing to watch it, even though you’re shaken and sweaty.

“Hello.”

His greeting was so simple, seemingly unimpressive, but the timbre of his voice alone made it a knee-weakening seduction.

Or maybe a threat…

Because the way he loomed over you, his eyes never leaving you, you started to realize that he wouldn’t allow you to step away from him.

“Hi,” you squeaked out, then cleared your throat to hopefully regain your normal voice.

“I won’t ask what a sweet bunny like you is doing here,” his sharp, white teeth flashed in a truly wolfish smile, “but I will ask that you stay still while I take a first deep whiff of my future mate.”

What?! Your mind screeched. Your body, meanwhile, went still. Just like he asked.

“Ma- what?” Your tone dried breathless. “We’re not- I’m not-”

Your words got stuck in your throat when the werewolf breached your personal space and bent down to drag the tip of his nose against your neck.

A shiver rocked you, but a solid arm wrapped around you in a flash, steading you. Or maybe holding you in place, so you wouldn’t dare inch away from him. His incredible warmth engulfed you like a weighted blanket - a layer of comfort hidden deep beneath the scary sense of constriction and suffocation.

He smelled of pine and burnt wood and a heady note you couldn’t describe as anything other than masculine.

“Absolutely delicious.” He hummed appreciatively, leaning back with visible reluctance.

“I’m not your mate,” you managed to blurt out, looking around in panic in hope that someone would come to your aid.

“Of course not.” He smiled, but it wasn’t reassuring at all. “Not until I have you writhing on my knot and bite you.”

The visual of it had you whimpering in fear; your eyes stung with tears that threatened to spill out. He had you caged out in the open of the club, publicly; you were sure your discomfort and trembling were visible to others; yet no one came to help you. Were they scared of the huge werewolf, or maybe they just didn’t care?

“No, I meant that I won’t-” your nervous explanation died on your tongue the second his hand snapped your way.

His large hand cupped your chin; surprisingly gentle, even in its firm hold. However, the long claws protruding from his fingers, grazing the delicate skin of your cheeks, were far from non-threatening.

Shockingly, your body responded in contrast to your mind’s anxious thoughts. As the werewolf’s claws dug into your soft cheeks, your nipples hardened into stiff peaks.

“You will.” Came his calm, unyielding decision.

He yanked your face up, forcing you to stand on your tiptoes and rely your weight to be supported by his hold alone. Starking blue eyes stared down at you, the rim around the irises glowing a silvery moon.

Then there was that grin again - sinister and teasing, with a flash of teeth (which made your skin prickle in fear of the vicious bite mauling your flesh).

“Scaretale promises its patrons realization of their deepest desire.” He said and you felt dread building in your chest with a silent scream. “But I’ll let you in on a little secret, bunny. It’s the monsters that get the privilege of having their desires met. Sweet humans are the prey that gets to fulfill our demands.”

Your hope shattered into a million pieces. Or was it your heart that broke for yourself and the love you were dreaming of finding. Tears welled up in your eyes as the heavy reality of entering a nightmare settled in.

“Aww, why the tears, sweet bunny?” He cooed at you, with the pad of his thumb brushing away a tear trickling down your cheek.

“Because I didn’t want this,” your meek voice barely made it past your lips.

“I would perhaps believe you, if your nipples weren’t poking right through your pretty dress,” he chuckled. “Or-” he leaned closer, lips brushing the corner of your mouth- “if I didn’t smell your pussy priming itself for me.”

A flush of heat scorched your cheeks. You weren’t paying much attention to that part of your body, too lost in the anxious wailing of your mind, but as he mentioned your core your focus shifted to the pulse between your thighs. You weren’t wet, not exactly. But you felt that warmth and tingling; the growing interest your body had in the werewolf’s brutal ways.

“Will you let me go? Afterwards?” You asked, sniffling quietly.

A part of you wondered, if you had any chance fighting him off, but logic itself made that calculation quick. There was no way you would manage to slip away from his grip, without him allowing you to. So as bitter and numbing it was to accept, you knew you had to give in, to at least protect yourself from too much damage.

A frown marred his handsome face for a second, before it relaxed into that easy charm he first greeted you with.

“There’s no afterwards. There’s only forever.” He tenderly stroked your cheek with his thumb. “Werewolves mate for life, bunny.”

Your crushed heart gave a pang, a reawakening jolt.

Didn’t you want someone to call you theirs forever? To own you?

Scaretale gave you that wish, in its own very twisted, cruel way.

“But I don’t even know your name.” Your hands twisted in the fabric of his sweater; half of your mind still considered trying to fight the monster off.

“Steve,” he grinned. He released your chin to run his fingers down your neck and then to the back of your head. “You can tell me yours, or I can keep calling you bunny.” He gripped a fistful of your hair and nipped your earlobe with his teeth.

“Though, I admit, I’m a sentimental man and I’d like to groan your name when I break your holes.”

You made a pitiful sound of protest, which didn’t get a chance to really resound as Steve’s mouth claimed yours. Like with the way he moved and touched, his kiss spoke of the wild beast that ruled him. He wasn’t just kissing you, he was devouring. Conquering.

And you melted into it. Your body became pliant and aroused.

He tapped your swollen lips with a sharp claw, once again asking for your name. You whispered it and as your mouth parted to sound the word, Steve slipped a finger into your warm cavern. Tip of his claw teased at your tongue, causing you to stiffen in fear. Suddenly, there was pressure on the flat of your tongue as his thick finger settled on it and massaged; but there was no slice of claw anymore.

Steve withdrew his finger, but the grip of his other hand on the nape of your neck tightened. He pushed you in front of him and led you deeper into the club’s depths. In time, lights seemed to dim and the main room divided into three corridors.

The left and right corridors were shrouded in darkness, your human eyes couldn’t see any path other than the abyss. The middle corridor was doused in glow - soft, magical, luring.

Steve turned left and you felt yourself shiver as darkness engulfed you. He didn’t seem to have any problem in navigating the eternal, starless night that filled the tunnel. Finally, you reached the end, marked by the outline of an ornate door. The markings lit up as Steve’s hand touched the frame.

When he pushed you through it, you stumbled into a bedroom. A cozy looking, not too big bedroom, with a massive, wood frame bed taking most of the space. The place didn’t look like a fancy hotel room, nor like a bedroom that could match Scaretale’s interior. No, this place was personal and lived in. It was someone’s home.

A home that smelled of pine, burnt wood and musk.

You turned around, glancing at the door now closed behind Steve’s back. They didn’t look anything like the ones you stepped through, but like a normal door in what could be a cabin in the woods.

An intricate marking glowed on the upper beam of the frame, suddenly igniting in flame that burnt all the magic out. Leaving only a reminder of the portal that was activated, but now closed permanently.

You had no way back to the Scaretale. Or your home.

“Steve-” you took a tentative step back as your gaze returned to him.

“Strip.” He ordered, taking off his own sweater in one, swift move.

“P-please…” you felt the sting of tears again, even as your walls pulsed at the sight of Steve’s half naked, impressive body.

His skin was fair, near marble like sculpture of defined muscles. But not as bare and smooth. Thick curls of dark golden hair covered his arms, shoulders and chest, from where it trailed low across his torso in a stripe leading to…

Holy fuck, you were going to die!

His cock wasn’t just proportionate to the rest of his massive body, it was near monstrous looking in its shape - with the bulbous head angry red and shiny with pearly precum; pulsing veins that curved along his girth; large, heavy sack nestled in a crown of gold hair; and a thick, wide ring of a knot at the base that already felt impossible to push into any of your holes, much less when it inflated.

“I’m growing impatient, bunny,” Steve snarled, prowling towards you. “I can rip it off of you, but I don’t know if it’s a dress you really like, so I don’t want to make you sad by ruining it.”

“Why don’t you care about making me sad by ruining me?” You snapped, but it lacked viciousness. Partly because of fear, partly because you were breathless with unexpected need.

You had nowhere else to run when the back of your legs hit the bedframe and Steve loomed over you.

“Trust me, bunny,” he emitted a low growl, “when I ruin your holes, you’ll feel nothing but delirious pleasure and happiness.”

He didn’t give you a second chance to undress. With two harsh moves he ripped the fabric apart, his claws so sharp they easily sliced through. He held your gaze as he hooked one pointy talon beneath the lace of your panties.

“Such beautiful eyes,” he murmured, slowly dragging his claw back and forth. “That fear and arousal. Can’t wait to see it as you struggle to take my cock.”

A single snick and your panties were ripped away and tossed to the side. Then Steve’s hand was curling on your shoulder and pushing you down.

“On your knees, bunny. And open your mouth wide.”

You obeyed, feeling yourself shiver as your face found itself at level with his hard dick. Your fingers trembled against your thighs; the need to slide them between your folds growing stronger than the instinct to push the predator away.

“It won’t fit,” you stared wide-eyed at the cock bobbing in front of you.

“It sure won’t,” Steve chuckled, cupping your face in his big palms. “But you’re still going to take it. Now, tongue out.”

A whine shrilled in your throat when the wide crown stretched your lips and pushed deep inside. The more of him was forced forward, the wider your mouth had to open and the less room to breathe was left. A cry for mercy became only a garbled pitch as Steve held your head in place and pushed his cock to the back of your throat.

Tears streamed down, your drool flooded out as he slowly withdrew. Your spit was sticking to the curve of his dick, strings of saliva breaking and splashing on your chin.

When he surged forward again, your hands flew to his thick, hairy thighs. But there was no way of stopping him from taking you as he wished. It terrified you.

It also made your pussy drip.

“That’s all sweet, bunny,” Steve groaned, feeling your tongue moving against him helplessly, your throat constricting in resistance as he speared your mouth.

“But I need more from my little bitch!” He snarled and abruptly stepped forward.

You were pushed backwards, forced to change your position from kneeling to landing on your butt. Your back hit the sturdy frame of the bed; your legs spread wide, knees pressed to your chest.

Steve had your head tipped back, hands holding you in place as he fucked your face straight from above.

With your mouth and throat in one line, he could force his cock deeper. His balls were hitting your drool-covered chin over and over again. Your choking and obscene wet sounds mixed with Steve’s lewd groans of pleasure.

“That’s it!” He moaned, dipping in and out of your throat. “Taking your mate’s cock like a good little bitch and enjoying it. I can smell it, you know.”

You wouldn’t be able to protest, even if you wanted to deny his nasty claim. The worst, however, was that Steve was right. You were spread open, dripping slick down your buttocks; your pussy clenched around nothing, desperate for that monstrous cock.

You coughed and spluttered when Steve pulled out, a wheezing sob leaving your sore mouth. Steve slapped his wet cock against your cheek, then rubbed it all over your face, smearing your own spit and his pre-cum all over you. He barked at you to keep your pretty mouth open, then stuffed it with his heavy sack. Well, as much of it as he could fit in.

“Suck a little, bunny,” his instruction came out breathy, betraying how affected he was by the whole ordeal. “I know they’re a mouthful, but they’re just full of all the cum I’m going to fill you with.”

Your cunt spasmed and you let out a garbled moan.

Finally, another reprieve for much needed air was granted. Steve took half a step back, breathing heavily as he looked down at your messy, shivering form at his feet. Dark hunger flashed in his eyes and you weren’t sure, if it was only desire, or something more dangerous.

He picked you up so easily, lifting you into his arms with no strain and tossing you onto the bed. Instinctively, you squirmed up the mattress, seeking escape. Steve followed in that unrushed, steady prowl; like a predator, who already knew his prey was his to devour.

He spread your legs. You stilled, feeling tips of his claws pressing into your skin.

“My, my, bunny,” he licked his lips, “what a pretty, soaked cunt you have.”

Steve swiped his fingers higher. You squeaked when he lightly brushed your puffed, glistening folds with his claws. It made him grin wolfishly and he pressed a little harder.

“All the better to take all of your mate’s cock,” not easing his pressure on your core, Steve stretched above you.

Your thighs stayed parted wide for him, allowing him to brace the weight of his body on one arm placed next to you, while he settled on top of you.

“What tempting, hard nipples you have,” he continued his twisted fairy tale, his voice a deep, haunting caress.

“All the better to suck on and torment,” Steve closed his mouth around one peak and sucked, at the same time flicking his tongue over it.

Your back arched. Your arms encircled his back, fingers digging into the steel muscles as you held on. When his mouth moved to your other breast, one of your hands weaved into his hair. Your tugging evoked a growly rumble that reverberated against your sensitive nipple.

Steve trailed open mouth kisses up your chest and along your neck, grazing the dip over your pulse with his sharp teeth. You squirmed, a new surge of adrenaline quickening your blood flow as you remembered his promise about the bite.

When he took your mouth, it was with less vehemence than the first kiss. He coaxed your lips open and teased your tongue with his own. The fingers splayed over your pussy kept steadily moving, smearing your slick all over.

“What a sweet mouth you have,” he murmured, nipping your bottom lip. “And we already know what can be done with it.”

His blue eyes sparked as your breath hitched, when he spread your folds and dipped his fingers deeper. The fear of pain from the claws had you reacting first, though there was nothing to hurt you. He retracted them.

“You’re fucking dripping, bunny.” Steve groaned in satisfaction. “So much that I bet it trickled to your dirty rosebud, too.”

He didn’t wait for your confirmation, just slid a single digit lower, where he found exactly what he predicted. You strained against him; one of your hands shot down between your bodies to clutch at his wrist. But Steve didn’t budge, pressing his finger against your tight rim, which was slick with your juices.

“Shh, shh,” he cooed. “Why are you fighting so hard, bunny? Afraid it’s going to hurt? Or that you will cum from having your ass played with, like a weak, needy bitch?”

He circled and pressed, circled and pressed, driving you mad with sensations you couldn’t untangle.

“I promise you, my lovely bunny,” though he removed his finger from between your asscheeks, there was nothing reassuring in the dark promise he vowed against your lips- “You will cum from anything I do to your sweet body. Because you are my little bitch.”

“And it’s time that I claim what’s mine!” His snarl combined with your cry as Steve suddenly sat back and flipped you onto your stomach.

He yanked your hips up, making you kneel on the mattress. One of his hands pressed against the back of your head, pressing it into the sheets. You felt pinpricks of claws grazing your skull.

Steve settled behind you, coarse hair on his thighs tickling your delicate skin. His cock spread your swollen folds and he rocked his hips, rubbing the whole length of him against you, soaking himself in your slick. He was already wet with your saliva, but considering his size you didn’t mind him adding more lubrication.

“Ungh!” You keened when he pressed into your hole. “Too big! Steve, it’s too-”

Your toes curled, feet kicking helplessly against the mattress, as Steve ignored your pleas and inched forward.

At least he was taking it slow. But maybe slow was more tortuous than if he broke you on one, single thrust.

His hand on your head pressed harder when your body jerked in an instinctive attempt to scramble away. The other hand landed on your ass with a hard slap.

It made you clench around him, causing a new kind of ripple of pleasurable pain.

He was stretching you so much, so close to the edge of ripping pain. But for the most part it was igniting a delirious ecstasy, confusing you and burning away any protests. Your pussy wasn’t used to sensations like that, yet she welcomed it with creamy joy.

“There you go, bunny.” Steve encouraged you, delighted in the way you moaned obscenely when he was halfway in and the head of his cock nudged that special spot.

To reward you, he withdrew and slid back in, once again teasing that point. And again. And again. Until your thighs were shaking and your wetness was dripping onto the sheets.

“Almost there, huh?” He chuckled, feeling your walls fluttering. “Well then-”

He withdrew in the same steady pace, only to ram the whole length of him in one stroke on the next thrust.

You screamed, but even as the pain short-circuited your consciousness for a split of a second, your pussy spasmed.

Steve stayed buried to the hilt, relishing in your orgasm milking his cock. He didn’t wait for the aftershocks to subside, before starting a brutal rhythm. He fucked you like the animalistic monster that he was - with unparalleled hunger, incessant need, and no regard for your discomfort.

“Good girl, bunny.” He draped his weight over you, hot breath fanning your cheek. “Such a good bitch for your mate.”

He licked a wet line along your jaw, then down to the crook of your neck. Your mewling protest was ignored as Steve scraped his teeth over the spot he was going to mark.

“Do you feel it swelling?” He teased. “Do you feel it spreading you wider each time I drive into your tiny pussy? My knot ’s about to pop, bunny. And when it does, I’m going to fill you so much. It’s going to lock your cunt in place, so that you have no other choice, but to take every fucking load.”

“Until it feels like your belly is too heavy. Like you’re about to burst at the seams.” His thrust became harsher, jerky and - just like he said - each stretching you with the growing knot. “Like your cunt aches from taking too much.”

“And you will take it all, bunny. You know why?” Steve’s teeth dipped into your skin, not yet breaking, but threatening. “Yeah, you do. You know why. Say it!”

He slapped your ass when you didn’t reply, only moaned helplessly..

“Say it!” He spanked you again.

“Because I’m your little bitch!” You cried out, face half buried into the sheets and tears streaking down.

Beast’s teeth sunk into your skin, breaking it and drawing a flow of blood. His jaw locked in, just like his cock did in your pussy. Inflated knot, spreading you wider than ever before, shifted your channel so that the crown of Steve’s cock rested right against your cervix. And he bathed it in his seed.

White haze filled your brain as the pinnacle of pleasure and zap of pure pain switched off your consciousness.

When you groggily reconnected with bits of reality, your body was curled on its side. Steve’s body was aligned with yours; his cock still nestled deep inside of you. His arms were holding you tight, providing enough warmth for you to realize the tremors rocking you weren’t from cold, but the aftershocks from an orgasm.

Though you weren’t sure if it was still the one his knot ignited, or if the werewolf coaxed another climax out of you while you were unconscious.

You wouldn’t put it past him.

“Steve-” you croaked out.

“I’ve got you, bunny.” He tenderly kissed your shoulder. “I’ve got you and I always will. Your ever after, mate.”

#scaretale universe #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers smut #werewolf!steve rogers #chris evans smut #all the better to eat you

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inkskinned · 1 year ago

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it isn't really complicated, but i still can't tell my grandma about it. my girlfriend is also my boyfriend and i'm her girlboyfriend and there are a lot of days this feels like smoothing sheets over a good mattress. it feels like getting a cup of good hot chocolate. we paint our nails lesbian flag pink, and i watch her eyelashes make shadows on her cheeks. she wants to kiss me because i am really good at baking, and i want to kiss her because when i am freaked out about how i spilled coffee, she just hands me extra napkins and helps me clean. he is so handsome i want to eat my fist. they once just winked at me and i couldn't talk for like the next fifteen minutes.

i haven't seen the L word and i was raised catholic. my earliest experiences with queer relationships were through harrowing conversations and hushed questions and blood on the ground. i didn't like boys soon enough. what, are you gay? asked to a 6th grader, almost like a demand.

when she is asleep next to me and i can feel the dreams run up and down her body, i pretend we are both somewhere in the stars. i like to picture a future full of fruit trees, and writing him poetry. sometimes she wakes up, has a whole conversation with me, goes back to sleep, and utterly forgets that we ever even spoke. she is always kind to me, even in that liminal half-there ghost. i like the croaked, raw way her voice sounds in the very-early morning, the way she always seems surprised i'm still here, and home.

on the internet, there are a lot of people who would be annoyed by both of us, and how labels must be pruned into orchids. a box has to hold and define the insides. people must be organized.

we went on a date last night, and the host said, oh, table for 2 nice ladies? neither of us are ladies, but also we are very much 2 nice ladies. i have been wearing her sweater nonstop. he has frequently been forced into wearing my taylor swift official merch quarter-zip because i was worried about him catching a chill, and you simply cannot be cool in an official taylor swift quarter-zip. do not worry: they listen to better music than i do, and their voice sounds like leaves falling.

i wear the skirts and makeup and i am better with spackle and know how to drive stick. recently someone commented on my work - you're just a man trying to reappropriate lesbian spaces. sometimes i feel like she is a clementine to me, and sometimes i feel like he is a german shepherd and sometimes i feel they are a bird. i like watching his hands over a guitar. can i write this poem, even? how can you be a lesbian if you're sometimes with a man? or you are the man?

how can i, huh. you know, our first date lasted 3 days. we'd been flirting for over a year before i finally asked her out. i'd already written her into poetry. she'd already written me into songs.

last night, in the late night, when they woke up again, confused about where they were, they said - oh, thank god. this is your arm. there's just something so precious to me about the specifics, the denotation that the arm was (thank god!) mine. i really liked that definition. i liked the obvious relief because i understand it.

i say yeah, i have a partner. i mean - oh. thank god. it's your arm.

#writeblr #warm up #on gender politics lol #inkskinned try not to have feelings for someone challenge #time of death: they put my earring in their ear. they were wearing an unbuttoned black buttondown and a necklace with my name on it #you can just send me the coffin i was ready to crawl in

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junkissed · 10 months ago

Text

midnight cravings

member — minghao x f reader genre — smut word count — 1.7k synopsis — what better way is there to get a good night's rest than having minghao fuck you to sleep? warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, praise, nicknames (baby, honey, good girl), established relationship notes — june onlyhuis posting 2 days in a row... unheard of ! i was gonna wait a bit longer to post this but a) am impatient and b) i still feel bad about disappearing off the face of the earth for so long so i’m making up for it <3 pls feel free to reblog/comment/send an ask if you liked this!! i'm really trying to get back into writing again and any feedback helps me a ton :) enjoy!

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it's not often that you wake up in the middle of the night feeling restless.

sometimes it's because you desperately need a drink of water, and sometimes it's because you need to pee. sometimes it's because you had a nightmare that startles you so bad, you just need to lie awake for a second to calm yourself down.

but sometimes it's for a different reason. sometimes, you have a dream that's so good, you can't stop thinking about it when you wake up. thinking about… minghao.

rolling onto your side, you watch him, eyes still adjusting to the darkness as you try to ignore the throbbing between your legs.

as you start to wake up you notice the way his long hair falls across his face. his barely audible snores fill the room, the sound much too peaceful for the thoughts you're currently having.

you inhale quietly, hesitating as you debate your next move. finally you decide to reach out, tapping his shoulder as lightly as you can.

“hao?” you whisper, pushing the sheets down to your waist. seconds turn into minutes as you wait for a reply, but the snores continue.

you tap his arm again, almost holding your breath.

the snoring stops, so you whisper his name a little louder, hoping to wake him up gradually and not startle him. “minghao?”

there's a mumbled noise, then finally a “hmm?” as he lifts his head off the pillow.

you don't reply, not knowing quite how to reply, so he breathes out slowly and starts to shake himself away from sleep. “what time is it?”

“late,” you tell him hesitantly, voice hushed.

he squints his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. “why're you up?”

you pause for a moment. “had a dream.”

“good one or bad one?”

you feel your cheeks burn, but it still doesn't compare to the heat building in the pit of your stomach. “good. really good.”

he hums with a little chuckle. he knows exactly what you want now, but he never lets you off easy. “and what do you need me for?” he asks.

you try to hold back a whimper, knowing you're gonna have to use your words if you want something. “fuck me back to sleep, hao, will you? please?”

your hand slips beneath the sheets, gently resting on his thigh before trailing over the waistband of his silk pajama pants. before you even touch him you know he's already starting to get hard, just from the sigh he lets out at the warmth of your palm against his leg.

“is that what you need, baby?” he asks, his voice breathy and deep from sleep. “need me to take care of you?”

you squeeze your thighs together impatiently. “please?” you ask again. you move your hand against his bulge, feeling his hips push up against you.

minghao groans, his hand on top of yours pressing into his cock. “roll onto your side,” he says, the words gentle but commanding.

you move to face away from him as he pushes up onto his elbows, leaning over your body and gently brushing your hair onto the pillow. “tell me about your dream,” he says, bending down to kiss your neck.

his lips are warm and distracting. “don't remember,” you sigh. “just thinking about you. always thinking about you.”

he hums against your neck and you can't help but smile. the action is so similar to what he'd do during the daytime, but at the same time so completely different. you love it when he's rough and hard and makes you feel like you're bursting at the seams, but you love the times like this too, whispers and spontaneous touches that feel almost like a dream.

his hand curls around your body, cold fingertips against your stomach making you shiver as they slowly move their way down between your legs and push your panties to the side.

“so wet already,” he whispers, running his finger between your folds. “have you been awake long?”

you gasp when he pushes into you, clenching around his index finger. “no,” you breathe out. “i woke you up as soon as i did.”

“you didn't even try to take care of it yourself?” he asks, and you can almost hear the proud grin in his words.

“knew you could do a better job,” you whine as he pushes another finger into your heat. “a-always take such good care of me, i just wanted you.”

“such a good girl for me,” he breathes out in agreement, and you hear him groan as he presses his bulge into the back of your thigh. “are you prepped enough or do you need more?”

“need your cock, hao, please?” you beg him, and reluctantly he pulls his fingers out of you but quickly replaces them with his cock.

it's completely dark in the room save for the moonlight shining through the window. but it doesn't take minghao long to position himself behind you, guiding his length between your legs with the practiced ease that could only come from knowing someone as long as you have.

“fuck… not gonna last long, honey,” he groans as he slides into you, gently holding your thighs apart.

he draws back out of you, pushing himself into you harder and harder with each snap of his hips. “don't need to, just don't stop,” you moan at the slow and rhythmic motion. “just make me cum.”

he leans over to kiss your temple, his body almost completely surrounding you under the covers. with his free hand he brushes your hair out of the way, cradling your head against his chest.

you can tell he's more tired than usual because of the languid pace he's set, giving you slow, deep thrusts that make you feel so light, like you'd float away from the bed if it weren't for his arms wrapped around you.

each stroke seems almost deeper than the last, and you swear you can feel every ridge and vein of his cock ingrained inside you.

he pauses for a beat, adjusting his hips to get a better angle. you gasp, back arching away from him as each thrust kisses you in the spot that makes your knees weak.

“right there—fuck! right there, please keep going,” you babble to him, balling your hands into fists and gripping your pillow as you struggle to find something to hold onto.

he doesn't say anything in reply, concentrated on keeping his pace.

your walls throb with pleasure and you're sure he can feel it too, judging by the guttural moans he lets out each time he pulls out of you.

“minghao, close, c-close!” you whimper, voice shaking as you try to warn him. it only takes a couple more deep thrusts before an orgasm overtakes you that blurs your vision with stars, and all you can do is gasp for breath as you shudder in his arms, clenching uncontrollably around his cock.

you release your grip on the pillow and move your hand onto his, squeezing him so tightly you think you might break him as you struggle to ride out the waves of pleasure.

he exhales sharply as his thrusts begin to get sloppier, and you know he's close, too.

“cum for me,” you plead, breathless whispers cutting through the dark. “wanna feel you.”

minghao curses and pushes his face into your neck, his hot breath making your skin prickle. the weight of his body atop yours has an almost calming effect as you recover from your orgasm, even as he continues to desperately thrust into you, chasing that last bit of pleasure.

within just a few more strokes he's coming undone and you feel your walls flood with warmth. he leaves open-mouthed kisses and moans across your shoulder, his entire body tensed against your back as he empties into you.

the moment seems to last forever until he finally loosens his grip around you, keeping his cock inside you as he breathes out slowly.

“feel better, baby?” he asks, gently kissing your cheek as he pushes your sweat-drenched hair out of the way once more. “just like your dream?”

you sigh, unable to hide the smile on your face. “perfect. better than the dream.”

“i love you,” he mumbles against your neck. “always so good for me. anything you need, darling, i'm all yours.”

your face warms and you don't reply, but you squeeze his hand again and he squeezes back.

after a moment you throw the covers off and exhale, mentally preparing yourself to get out of bed as minghao pulls out of you with a groan. you can feel his cum beginning to seep out so you force yourself up before it can get on the sheets, not wanting to clean up any more than you have to.

your exhaustion hits you all at once, and you rush through clean up as fast as you can so you can finally relax. minghao follows you to the bathroom, cleaning himself up and handing you a cold washcloth once you're finished, seeming just as eager as you are to get back to sleep.

the second you're finished he tugs your hand back into the bedroom, both of you falling onto the bed. even with the overhead fan circulating cool air the room is much too warm to sleep with pajamas now, so you settle for just a clean pair of underwear before jumping under the covers again.

silence settles in quickly once you're both back in bed, lying on your side with minghao's arm draped across your waist. it's not long before he starts to snore again, but you barely stay awake long enough to hear it, the familiar sound lulling you back to sleep in no time at all.

it's not the first time you've woken him up in the middle of the night, and it certainly won't be the last.

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i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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postracehair · 14 days ago

Text

trust me

max verstappen x reader | 2.3k

after an incredible (and wet) weekend in brazil, you have a confession to make.

cw: a loving relationship! discussion of anxiety/fear/worrying about your race car driver bf, healthy communication, and softness galore.

a/n: being a wag must be so stressful. like, damn! also, rain races stress me out, personally. this fic is about that.

The triple header comes to an end in the best way possible.

Max Verstappen wins the São Paulo Grand Prix from a 17th-place start! It's the stuff of dreams. The fist around your heart unclenches just a little bit as you watch him smiling, roaring, hoisting his well-earned trophy aloft. It's your best day in a long time, watching your darling boyfriend like that, and you celebrate with everyone late into the night. The Championship battle looms in the background but tonight is about the hard work from the weekend. The stress, the frustration, the damn rain. All of it worth it for the pride you all feel right now.

But what comes after -- that, you can admit, you enjoy even more. Three weeks until Las Vegas and Max and the team have plenty of work to do before then, but for now? For now, it's this: rest.

Everyone gets to go home, finally. And for you, home is wherever Max is. You've spent the first few days of the break thus far at his place. On the floor with the cats, on the couch watching movies. In his bed, sleeping, sometimes, other times... not so much. Hours and hours just being together. You'll have plenty of time for this once the season ends but you can never get enough of him.

You're on the couch, sprawled across the length of it with a book in hand. It's a good one, so much so that you don't notice Max until he taps your ankle and you jump.

"Jesus," you gasp. His lips are pulled up at one corner in the precursor to a full grin, sweatpants slung low enough that you can see the branded band of his underwear between the drawstrings and the hem of his t-shirt. "Where did you come from?"

"Watching race replays," he says with a shrug. "Scooch." You tug your legs back and sit up a little, bookmarking your page as he rounds the couch and plops down where your feet were.

"Max," you whine. "I like to watch those, too. So you can do that thing where you narrate like, every second." You're teasing, but only a little. For all the jokes about "maxplaining," you really do love how he explains things. He tells you what he was thinking at every turn, what the trick is, how long it took him to get it right. He points out his mistakes and those of the other drivers. All of it thoroughly and with enthusiasm, answering your questions like you're the best student he's ever had.

"Yeah, well," he says, sinking into the couch, arm stretched across the cushions towards you. Your eyes rake over the line of his bicep as he talks. "You don't like rain races very much. Wasn't sure you'd want to see it again."

That gets your attention. "How did you know that?" You've never told him outright that they stress you out. It's really important to you that you keep your cool at the track, that you don't do anything to let on that he should worry about you.

But you should know better, it seems.

"I can tell," Max says, looking right at you. "I pay attention."

You hum, not sure what to say. "You've got me there," you confess. "I'm sorry."

"Hey," he tuts. "Why the apology? You can feel however you want to. This weekend was complicated."

He feels too far away. You set your book on the ground and shove your toes under this thigh. He keeps his eyes on your face but you fuss with the hem of your t-shirt rather than look back.

"They're exciting. Rain races, I mean." You sigh. "But I can't help but worry, Max. From the garage, it's so --"

You lose track of your words because Max grabs hold of your legs and tugs them over his thighs as he moves closer to you, almost crowding you against the arm of the couch. He reaches for your collarbone to pick some lint from your shirt, his other arm slung across your calves.

"Were you scared?" he asks. "This weekend, I mean."

Frankly, you avoid telling him things like this because you don't want to distract him. You don't want to detract from his performance in any way and maybe that's selfish, because you know he's very good at what he does and how you feel isn't going to derail his weekend. But you know he loves you, and you know how deeply he feels things. How much he wants to be a good partner, a good driver, a good man. And you try really hard to let him know that he is all of those things.

The reality of your position in his life is that there will always be people who heavily imply that your presence, your actions, your choices could be at fault. It's ludicrous -- Max has said so many times -- but it makes you hype-aware. You don't want to overstep. It's something you know you should articulate to him properly, but you know he'll be upset that you think you can be anything but a good part of his life. It's an endless cycle.

"Hey," he says, mistaking your silence for emotion. "Liefje, I'm fine." He reaches for you, cupping your cheek with a warm hand. You look up at him and find him frowning.

"I know," you say, leaning into his palm. "I know you are. I just -- I don't want it to sound like I'm a whining baby or something."

"Whining baby?" Max gently rubs the skin under your eye with his thumb. "Psh. We've got some of those on track. You couldn't come close to them if you tried."

That gets a laugh out of you and he cracks a smile at the small victory.

You sigh. "I was scared," you admit, voice soft. Max presses a little closer to you, his hand falling from your face to catch yours, fingers twining together.

"Are you always scared?" he asks. "You're more tense on rain weekends, I can tell that much. But you've never really talked about this. I guess I--" He frowns again. "I've never really asked you."

"That's okay," you say. "It's nothing, really."

Blue eyes bore into yours. "No, I want to know," he presses. "Please, tell me?"

You tip your head back a little, eyes on the ceiling. How to say it?

"I guess I'm always a little scared, yeah," you say. "I don't know how I wouldn't be."

He tugs on your hand so you'll look at him. "What is it, do you think?" The question comes out in his typical way. This must be how he is in driver briefings, you think fleetingly. Max is analytical, methodical, always looking for the root of the problem so he can understand it and adapt.

But how do you explain this?

"Well, it's a dangerous sport," you explain. "As you know. And I -- Max, I love you, and I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

The furrow of his brow lessens a bit and he presses a light kiss to the back of your hand. Your stomach flutters, even after all this time.

But Max has no time for your mooning, apparently. "Were you scared before we knew each other?" he asks.

You think about it. "It's different, I guess. I was worried, generally. For all of you. I'm still worried for all of you, but --"

His eyebrow quirks and he fails to hide a cheeky smile. "Me the most?"

You roll your eyes and squeeze his hand. "You the most. But don't tell Carlos that."

Max tuts. "So, now it's just worse? You feel it more?"

Nodding, you try to explain. "I don't even like watching on TV, now, because I'm so far away. I feel so helpless."

You can't make it to every race but you try your hardest, not only to support Max but for your own sanity. It's easier to calm yourself down when you're around other people who believe in him, when you have access to all the details and when he's only a few steps away when he's out of the car.

"I don't want you to be worried," he says, softly. "You don't let on that you are when we say goodbye before the race, aside from being a little tense."

One of your favorite pieces of race weekends -- those few moments when all of his attention is on you. He makes sure you have everything you need and leaves you with a kiss and a smile and a see you later. His confidence and his competence are like balms.

"When I'm looking at you, I'm not as stressed," you say, a bit shy. "You're very good at your job, you know. And your confidence is convincing."

"I know," he says, seriously. "That's why I know it'll be fine. Do you not know that?"

If he was less determined, you'd ask him to drop it, since you're starting to feel embarrassed. But you know he won't let it lie.

"I know it, too, Max." You reach for his face to push back some fringe from his forehead. "I'll always be worried about you, though. You get in the car and drive away and I just -- sit there. And wait for you to come back."

He frowns, deeper this time. You keep your hand on him, cupping his jaw and running your thumb along his stubble.

"And I love it. You know I was a fan before I met you and it's a dream to be there to watch you race. I love seeing you do crazy things like win from p17. It's so much fun."

He knows this about you. You've got a bit of a reputation for your facial expressions in the Red Bull garage, always the first on your feet when he overtakes, jumping up and down when he extends his lead. It's an infectious kind of joy and energy and you lean into it every time, even if your stomach is churning with anxiety.

Max is quiet for a few moments. He covers your hand with his and leans into it further.

"You trust me, right?"

"Of course," you say right away. "Always."

"I've never really thought about it," he says, slowly. "I mean, in the car. I don't worry about you because I'm not worried, so I just thought you knew not to be, too."

"I'll always worry, Max. Even though I trust you."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

Your cheeks heat and you look away from him, pulling your hand free to cradle it in your lap.

"You've got a million other things to worry about besides me," you say. "I don't want to distract you."

Max says your name with a scoff, literally waving his hand as if swatting away your silly notions. "Distract me? Come on," he says. "I wouldn't be a three-time world champion if I could get so easily distracted." He leans into your space, nosing at your jaw. "Even if you are very distracting."

You allow the attention for a few moments before pushing him back with a laugh. His cheeks are flushed, hair a bit of a mess, like after he takes off his helmet. And, god, he looks relaxed. You're so proud of him you can hardly stand it. The season is almost over and you know he's got a lot of work ahead of him, and you've got a lot of worrying. But he's motivated, and you know he can win. You know he'll come back to you.

Max leans his head back on the couch and casts his gaze sideways at you, nose scrunched. "I can't fix this, can I? You're still going to worry."

He sounds so resigned, so disappointed in himself that you tug on his hand so he'll get closer. This time, you frame his face with your hands and kiss him, just a light press of your lips to his. Both of you sigh into it, and you drag your mouth along his cheek until you reach his ear.

"I'm still going to worry," you whisper. "But I love you and I trust you. And I know it'll be okay."

Max sighs and presses his forehead to your shoulder, practically pulling you into his lap so he can wrap his arms around you.

"You better hope it doesn't rain for the rest of the season," he mumbles.

"That damn VSC," you groan, pulling back from him a bit. "I was going to tear my hair out!"

Max laughs. "It kept things interesting," he says lightly. "Rain isn't really a problem for me, schatje, you know this --"

"Because you're Dutch, I know, Max." You roll your eyes. "Even Fernando couldn't keep it together! I mean, the gasps from the garage when --"

The seriousness of your conversation fades as you trade tidbits about the race -- you've done this already, hashed it out in the hotel room and the flight home and in bed since Sunday. Max watches you talk, elbow braced on the couch and his head resting in his hand. His eyes sparkle and you know you're amusing him as he corrects you on the turn names and who went in the wall when. Max loves you: you've never doubted this. He loves you and he cares about how you feel and doesn't want you to be worried.

And while you will be, because you love him, you know that it'll be alright.

"Hey," Max says, interrupting your opinions about start procedures. "I love you, okay? Thank you for worrying about me."

"Graag gedaan," you say. Well, you try to say. Max laughs and corrects your pronunciation. You're welcome, he says, over and over, a kiss to your cheeks, your nose, your forehead each time. Ik houd van je. Your lips, your neck, your jaw.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen fanfic #mv33 x reader #f1 fanfic #my writing #mv33 #fic: trust me

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vividxpages · 3 months ago

Text

𐙚𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ᡣ𐭩"guilty as sin?" ᡣ𐭩⋆๋𓂃ִֶָ ๋⋆𓏲𐙚

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

words: 5800

summary: You always thought Jace could not be in love with you, his best friend’s little sister, but a dramatic incident during one of Cregan’s house parties reveals the truth.

warnings: modern au, pining, not so unrequited love, reader is Cregan’s little sister and a huge bookworm, Jace is Cregan’s best friend, fluff and falling in love, angst (mentions of childhood trauma/almost drowning), hurt/comfort, first kiss

a/n: i fought for my life uploading this via my phone, all the formatting from google docs went wooosh haha. Just a little something and different from what I wrote for Jace so far <3 The pool scene is inspired by the Maxton Hall series - if you watched it, you’ll know why ;)

-⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ☁️📖🤍୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Your brother Cregan had met a new friend, during one of his vacations with his boys. Someone had asked the curly haired boy if he wanted to join and just like that, Jacaerys had become Cregan’s friend.

It was easy like that, sometimes.

But when your brother brought Jace over for the first time and you were reading in the living room, deeply lost in your book and not prepared for visitors, things quickly got much more complicated.

He was cute and completely unaware of it as you shook hands and he gave you an adorable smile that made you weak in the knees.

In the beginning, you thought he was like a ghost in your home, only appearing from time to time and briefly, but always leaving goosebumps on your skin when he shyly waved at you. Just his sight alone was enough to make you want to bury your face in your book. You wanted to become his friend, too. Until you wanted to be more than that.

And over the months, their duo became a trio as you joined them more and more often, curled up on your brother’s bed as he and Jace played a video game or going out with them for food or random drives.

You laughed together - it was so so easy to laugh with Jace - and you got to know him better when he told you about his big family and how nice it was to retreat into your quieter family’s house sometimes.

You caught yourself watching him more and more when no one was looking, daydreaming about what it’d be like to be close to him, to kiss his pouty lips and be his girlfriend…

But you were a trio now and you two were only connected by your older brother in the end.

But god, how inevitably you had fallen for Jacaerys, how impossible it was to forget about these desires.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃🥛 ࣪ ִֶָ.

It didn't take long until Jacaerys followed you into your dreams.

When you were sleeping, especially after you had read a couple pages of your favorite romance novels, he came to you, surrounded by smoke and fog. And for only a short lived dream, you could see each other together, doing things you wouldn't dare to think about during the day.

It was maddening and perfect and everything you wanted, but when you woke up, you were alone still.

You stared at the ceiling of your room, sighing deeply. Tucking your favorite stuffed animal, a small wolf with spotted fur, back under your blanket, you slid out of bed, in need of a distraction from fantasizing about kissing your brother's best friend.

You tiptoed down the staircase, silently slipping into the kitchen and feeling around the wall for the lightswitch.

"Don't get scared, I'm here." A soft voice came from the darkness and as you switched the light on, you spotted Jacaerys sitting at the kitchen table.

His hair looked disheveled from sleeping and he wore a long shirt and boxers, sheepishly looking at you with his phone in his hands.

Your hand itched to tuck a loose curl behind his ear for him.

“What are you doing awake?” You whispered, shuffling closer and rubbing your eyes with a yawn.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He smiled warmly at you, shrugging.

“I live here and I wanted a midnight snack.” You gave back. You rarely were alone with Jace lately, he and Cregan seemed to have reached a new stage in their friendship where it wouldn’t have surprised you if your older brother took his favorite Velaryon to the bathroom with him. “Is Cregan snoring?”

Jace chuckled quietly. “No. I just wanted to check my phone in case my cousin Rhaena texted me. My brothers are on a little trip with her and I want to make sure they’re okay and not homesick. They seem fine though, she sent me a picture of them eating ice cream earlier.”

Your chest ached funnily at the way he talked so lovingly about his family. But you knew Cregan’s habit as the oldest son all too well, needing to make sure you were okay all the time and you didn’t miss the way Jace smiled sadly at the picture on his phone after showing it to you.

“I bet they have the most amazing time and can’t wait to tell you all about it once they’re back.” You assured him and before you would have thought twice about it, you reached out and squeezed his shoulder. Your touch lingered, just a little moment too long and your eyes met.

Your breath hitched at his dark eyes on yours, shimmering in the soft kitchen light. You were both barefoot, in your sleeping clothes and your hair was open and uncombed and your heart was way too open for this time of the night.

You heard him exhale softly as you drew your hand back, feeling as if you had burned yourself. But why did you want to throw yourself wholly into his flames then?

“Would you like a chocolate milk?” You offered, the moment between you vanished. “It always helps me get back to sleep again.”

Jace furrowed his brows. “Cregan’s crazy for them too. He told me earlier you’re out of any chocolate milk.”

You grinned knowingly, walking past him and illuminating yourself in the cold light of the open fridge. “Yeah, that’s because he doesn’t suspect me hiding them behind the healthy stuff he avoids.”

Brushing past your yogurts and meal preps for your summer job, you produced two small milk cartons, shaking them victoriously.

Jace grinned at you and it only made you a little bit weak in the knees. "You're brilliant."

"I'm trying to survive with my vacuum cleaner of a hungry brother." You joked and handed him a carton, the two of you content as you began to sip on the sweet chocolate milk.

Under the soft light of the kitchen lamp, Jace and you forgot about time as you shared whispered stories with each other, your drinks soon becoming empty and replaced by new ones.

His gentle and unhurried words were good at calming down your entire body and soon, you felt your eyes drooping.

"I think we should both go back to bed now." Jace whispered. "I told Cregan we'll go play some basketball tomorrow morning and I want to beat him."

You laughed at the thought of your giant of a brother going up against Jacaerys. "Well, good luck to you."

With a tiny yawn, you stood up and smiled at him once again. "Thank you for the conversation, Jace. Sleep well."

"Goodnight." Jace said softly and for a moment, you lingered in the doorway, imagining if you weren't leaving. Imagining the two of you, him with you in his lap, pulling you closer as you kissed.

But you could dream about these things.

With one last smile, you left him, although your heart ached to stay with him for just a little longer.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🍋.

One afternoon, you were reading by the pool in the backyard.

You had just come back after your shift at your holiday job, helping out in a little bookshop downtown, and were now ready to relax all day.

On a small table next to your sun lounger stood a carafe of freshly pressed lemonade and the bookish harvest of the day, ready to be devoured by you until the sun went down.

The garden gate by the house rattled and you looked up, your hands nearly forgetting to put a bookmark between the pages as you spotted Jace letting himself in.

Your mouth went dry at his appearance, dark sunglasses holding back his curls, his white shirt a stark contrast against them. Illuminated by your kitchen lights or the sun itself, it didn't seem to matter for him.

He was so pretty, it almost made you want to look away, but you couldn't. You never could. And wasn’t this the root of the problem?

You swallowed against the dryness in your throat. “Hey.”

“Hi.” He smiled sheepishly at you before he looked up to Cregan’s window. “Cregan is not home yet?”

You shook your head. “Nope. It’s just me right now. Should I tell him you stopped by?”

He scratched his neck, a little helpless. “Um…if it’s okay, I could stay and wait for him? I like spending time with you, too, if that’s alright.”

You wanted to bury your face in your hands and giggle like stupid. You didn’t. “Yes, of course, no worries. Would you like a lemonade?”

Jace gratefully took the glass from your hands, your knuckles brushing against one another. “Thanks. You can continue reading if you want, just act like I’m not here.”

You thought about the steamy chapter you had just begun reading and considered your options. If you read, it was like every character the narrator was in love with became Jace. In your head, you two had already kissed and made love a thousand times like this. If you continued reading those longing and hot scenes with Jace so close to you, you were afraid you’d actually implode.

You watched him closely as he sat down by the edge of the pool, abandoning his shoes so he could dangle his long legs into the water.

The words in front of you melted together on the page, making it impossible to continue reading when he was so close to you.

Shifting on your sunchair, you allowed yourself to simply look at Jace who tilted back his head, closing his eyes against the sun and appreciating the quietness of the backyard. You wanted to go to him and kiss him on the lips. You wanted to go inside and splash very cold water on your face to stop these thoughts from happening.

“You know, I never see you swimming in here.” Jacaerys looked at you curiously, eyes scrunched together a little from the sun and probably the fact he was not wearing his contacts.

You shrugged, a little shy out of the sudden. “I used to, when I was younger. But…not anymore.”

“What happened?” Jace looked at you, curious yet a little worried.You tried to shrug it off, only to realize there was no shame in you when you talked to him. He waited for you, patiently so, but somehow you knew he would’ve let it go if you wanted it.

“We were on vacation once, Cregan, Sara and I, with our parents.” You told him and in your mind you could see the three of you playing together in the garden, your brother giving you a piggyback ride as Sara laughed in delight. “I wanted to go swimming in the morning, but no one was awake yet, so I snuck out. I just couldn’t wait to get into the pool. But I underestimated how deep it was and I couldn’t hold myself up well enough then…Cregan had woken up when he heard me leave and found me. I scared everyone, but I was okay, just coughed up some water and was shocked at my own boldness. Ever since, the pool and I are not really on good terms.”

Jacaerys looked at you, eyes filled with consternation and empathy. “I’m sorry you had an experience like this. That must’ve been very scary.”

You looked at him with surprise, but there were no jokes in him, only sympathy. “It was, but it’s okay. I was…six, I think, so it’s long behind me.”

“This whole pool is a waste if you can’t enjoy it.” Jace tried to lighten the mood and as always, his playful tone lured a smile out of you. A certain sparkle danced through his eyes and you knew whatever came next could not be taken seriously: “What would you like to have instead of it? A garden library maybe, for all your books? Maybe I can convince Cregan to cement the pool shut once your parents are gone next weekend.”

You laughed, a warm rush blossoming through you at the mention of your own little library. He knew how much you read and he had no clue you were seeing him in every love interest of your cheesy romance novels… “I bet my parents would love that and totally not…murder us once they’re back.”

As you laughed together, the small weight on your chest lifted itself and the memory from your story faded again, nothing but a distant thought of the past.

Cregan came home a little later and as he and Jace left to go up into his room, the two of you smiled at each other one last time, as if you were sharing a secret no one knew but you now.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🍿.

It was getting late, but Tuesday was movie night and neither of the three of you wanted to pull out of it first.

Cregan, Jace and you had pushed the couch table to the side and splayed blankets and pillows all over the carpet earlier.

To our feet was the rest of your movie snacks, but only a half-full bowl of popcorn remained which you passed back and forth from time to time.

When Cregan had suddenly not grabbed the bowl from you anymore, you and Jace had shared a knowing look.

Your brother was snoring softly, his head tilted back and arms entwined in front of his broad chest. He was out cold, completely oblivious to the movie still running quietly on the TV screen.

But you and Jace were still awake.

And out of the sudden you realized that you had never sat so close to each other. Your shoulders were almost touching and somewhen, your legs had ended up underneath his blanket, your fuzzy socks brushing against his calf.

You willed your breathing to remain regular, seemingly impassive as you continued to watch the movie, but you simply could not concentrate, not when Jace’s presence so close to you clouded all your senses like this.

The atmosphere was thick with tension and you wondered if all of this was only happening in your mind. You took a deep breath and reached for the popcorn again.

Tiny lightning struck you as your fingers brushed against Jace’s, neither of you pulling back.

You took all your courage and looked up to him, his burning gaze already resting on you. You swallowed thickly, unable to look away and when you felt his thumb brushing over your knuckles, you were sure you were going mad.

It seemed like Jace couldn’t look away either and a full-body shudder went through him when your leg shifted against his.

“You can sleep.” Jace whispered into the darkness, gulping hard. “I’ll switch the TV off later. I…I’ll watch over you.”

I don’t want to sleep. I want you and I’m afraid of what happens to me if I can’t have you.

But you feared your own words and the impact that they might have, destroying everything Jace and you had become over the last couple of months.

What if dreams were safer than reality, where nothing could hurt or disappoint you?

Your head fell softly against Cregan’s shoulder, sweet oblivion already pulling you under at the outlook of his sweet promise to you.

As you drifted asleep, you could’ve sworn there was a featherlight brush over your thigh, four little invisible letters forever imprinted into your soft skin

m…

...i...

…n...

…e

And as he watched your breath evening out, Jacaerys sighed deeply, his head bumping against the cushions of the couch and trying to calm down his pounding heart.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ📖.

The weekend came and Cregan and you watched your parents’ car leave the driveway, your arms slung around each other as you waved at them before they drove out of sight.

Your brother and you were standing together for a moment of silence until you said: “If tonight escalates in any way, I’m telling mom.”

“If you sneak downstairs and drink with the guys, I’m telling dad.”

You snorted, unimpressed. “Please, I’d rather lock myself in my room all weekend long if it means I can avoid your stupid house party.”

Later that day, when it had gotten dark outside and the lawn was plastered with abandoned bikes and a few cars parked nearby, you realized how painfully true you had spoken.

Cregan’s party had been going strong for a while now and you felt like a hermit, hiding upstairs in your room to avoid the chaos that was probably taking place downstairs.

You had curled up by the window with a book, but couldn’t find peace.

Every minute, someone downstairs was calling for a toast or more shots which was celebrated by everyone. Music was blasting through the speakers and you groaned internally at the way the vibrations could be felt through your carpet.

Cregan could only pull this because the neighbors loved him for helping out here and there sometimes and because he always miraculously managed to clean up the house like nothing wild had ever occured here.

When you heard something shatter downstairs, you had enough.

You closed your book and got up.

Sure, you had wanted to stay away from all the fuzz Cregan’s friends made, but this was still your house. You were allowed to move around whenever you wanted.

You muttered the words to yourself as you closed your door behind you, stomping down the staircase Cregan had declared taboo for everyone.

No one really took notice of their host’s little sister as you walked down the hallway, past many guests who were lingering by the walls and chatting with each other.

Making your way past the living room, you could see that the couch table had been pushed back for more space to dance, but the kitchen was relatively empty compared to the rest of the house.

There were multiple open pizza cartons on the counter and you grabbed yourself an extra cheesy slice as you looked around, amazed at how none of these people seemed to care who was walking around here.

All except one.

“I thought you might’ve taken refuge tonight at Baela’s.” Jace said behind you and you turned around with a sigh, smiling at him in playful annoyance.

“I wish I could’ve, but she is not in town as you might know.” You told him, munching on your pizza. “She’s at some bonding activity dinner with her dad.”

Jace hummed knowingly. “I heard. So you had no choice but to suffer the consequences of Cregan’s actions?”

The two of you looked around and you winced when you heard some splashes coming from the backyard, accompanied by some carefree shrieks of delight. Jace bit his lip, a little guilty at your discomfort.

“I’ll come around tomorrow and help him clean everything up.” He offered as a small comfort, his hand itching to rest on your shoulder like you had done to him. “There won’t be a dirty spot, I promise.”

“I know, Jace.” You sighed. “Thank you, truly. Where is my brother, by the way?”

Jace looked flustered to the ground, before smiling at you without teeth. “I think he went somewhere with a girl.”

“Of course he did.” Another loud crash went down outside and something in you snapped. “Okay, I’m going to go outside for a second, I don’t think some of these assholes realize we have neighbors, hold on-”

Jace looked over his shoulder, telling a group nearby to keep it down a little before he followed you.

For just a moment, you disappeared in the crowd and he had no idea which side you had gone for, trying to stand taller to spot you in the garden.

You quickly found the source to all the noisiness.

Three of Cregan’s guests, all boys you had never seen before in your life, were battling themselves for the biggest jump in the pool, splashing everywhere and soaking the pillows on the sun chairs with water.

“Hey.” You stared them down, blocking one of them from taking another leap in the pool. “Could you stop being an ass and jumping into the pool like a maniac? We have neighbors on each side of our backyard and it’s almost midnight, it’s so rude.”

The guy grinned down at you, looking over his shoulders to his smirking friends. “Did you hear that, guys? I think Cregan’s mom just came home, are you the fun police or what?”

You stared at him, irritated at such rude behavior. “I’m just telling you to calm down a little or I’ll kick you out, how’s that?” You might’ve been only Cregan’s little sister, but growing up with a fiercely protective brother like him, you had learned to stand your ground. And you were not scared of an idiot who looked like he had pissed his pants.

“Aww, I think you need a little fun, don’t you think?” He looked down on you, stepping closer until you felt the need to step back. “How about a little cool-off for you, huh?”

And with those words, he abruptly pushed you into the pool and everything went dark around you.

The people who had watched the heated exchange gasped and Jacaerys perked up as he heard nothing but quietness, quickly pushing his way through the crowd.

He came to a sudden stop at the edge of the pool, his eyes flickering back and forth between the guys standing by the edge and the water’s surface, its softening waves quietening down.

But underneath it, illuminated by the night lamps of the pool, he saw you and his eyes widened.

He did not think, did not even hesitate before he jumped into the water after you.

The surprising cold was like a shock to his system, his wet clothes dragging him down to where you floated, your eyes wide open but unseeing as you watched the bubbles around you.

Suddenly, you were six again and you couldn’t move.

You thought you were dying and no one would know, no one would know what you still had to say.

You wanted to kick and scream, to do something goddammit, but you were paralyzed by the sudden overwhelming scare.

Jace blinked and pushed himself forward, icy fear shooting through his veins when you gave no reaction that you had taken any notice of him. But the fear was quickly joined by the rage, anger over you, the most innocent being in this whole house, having been the one who took the most damage tonight...

Jace and you broke through the surface, the air rushing back into your lungs all at once and making you gasp painfully. Disoriented, you clung to Jace's shirt, looking around wildly as he pulled you close and soothed you.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm here, it's okay, love." He murmured near your ear and you felt your body slump, not able to hold yourself up yet.

You felt his hands on your waist and then, with one hand around your back and the other supporting the back of your knees, he walked towards the low end of the pool, carrying you out as if you weighed nothing.

You painfully became aware of how quiet it had gotten around you. Everyone in the garden was looking at you, shocked and a little ashamed that a foul joke like that had escalated into something so serious.

Something ugly and hot burned in your throat and you buried your face in Jace's wet neck, holding on to him for dear life and wishing everyone would just disappear.

A helpless whimper escaped you and Jace held you only tighter. "It's okay, I got you. I won't let anything happen to you, we're almost out."

Both of your clothes hung heavily down your bodies as he left the pool with you, throwing one last deathly glance at the guy who messed with you before he made his way towards the house, still mumbling little sweet nothings in your ear as you tried to regulate your breathing to no avail.

You shivered even as you entered the warm house and simply tried to focus yourself on Jace. He efficiently made his way through your home and before you knew it, he was walking up the taboo staircase, going straight to your room.

You quietly sniffled to yourself, letting him carry you a few more steps before he gently set you down on your bed. He looked around, one hand brushing back his wet hair, and found your fluffy bathrobe hanging by the door.

"Can I?" He asked lowly, his heart aching at your slumped form on the bed. This whole incident had deeply shaken you to the core. "You're going to be cold soon if you don't get out of your…wet clothes."

If the situation had been different, you'd match his fierce blush, but it was like every feeling of shame had vanished from your chest and only left you empty. You nodded silently, taking the bathrobe he handed you before he turned around and faced the door.

You quickly slipped out of your clothes and sighed when you were enveloped by the fluffy robe.

"You can look again…" You told him and he turned around with a shaky exhale.

Normally, his job here was done now. He could go, rejoin the party and find Cregan so he'd kick those guys out.

But Jace could not imagine a single place where he was needed more in this moment than right here, with you.

"Should I make you a tea?" He broke the silence, fidgeting with his hands. When one of his younger brothers was hurting, he'd always make it better with a hug, but you were different, you were so much more-

"Can you just hold me for a while?" You pulled the rope tighter around you, your wet hair still clinging to your neck and cheeks. "Please?"

Maybe the leap into the pool had made you silly. It was bold and daring and you had no right to ask him of this, but your heart had spoken deeply from its core and you found that you did not wish to take the words back.

Jace's gaze softened at your plea. "Of course." He mumbled softly and sat down beside you.

A heavy shudder ran through you as his arms pulled you against him and you gladly fell into his side; letting yourself be held like a small child, your hands clinging to the arm wrapped around you.

You couldn't help yourself when your bottom lip started to wobble again and neither of you had to say it, he knew why this had been so scary to you. You felt his chin rest on your hair and his strong arms around you and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be comforted by him.

You had dreamed about being held by him, more than you could ever count, but not like this. It was a bittersweet feeling and when you snuggled yourself closer to him, in need for warmth and him, Jace took a deep breath.

"We should find you a towel." He murmured, his lips ghosting over your temple just like his hand had ghosted over your thigh…

You shivered, but not because you were cold anymore.

"I don't want you to get sick."

You nodded, sitting up with him and looking deep into his eyes. He didn't seem like he was able to get up just yet, the two of you lost in each other.

He had jumped into the cold water for you, not even hesitating a second. Your heart brimmed with love for him, nearly as bad as what it felt like to drown. And god, how you wanted to drown in him…

His dark eyes flickered down to your mouth and only now, you realized how close you still were sitting together, the slip of your bathrobe revealing half of your naked thigh to him.

"Jace…" You whispered and prayed all the prelude of wanting him and not being sure if you were allowed to have him was finally over now. "I-"

The door to your room opened and in came Cregan, panting as if he had run upstairs.

"Shit, are you okay?" He rushed to you, kneeling in front of the bed and looking you over in concern. "I was told what happened, I'm so sorry I wasn't there."

"It's okay." You mumbled, not wanting to worry him further. You already had scared Cregan badly enough for one time in your lives. "Jace helped me."

If Cregan noticed that he and you were still linking pinkies, he did not say anything about it. "I threw these fuckers out right away. The party is over."

You blinked at him. "What? You were excited about it all week. You don't have to-"

"Almost everyone is gone already." Cregan tried to smile encouragingly at you, but you could still see the worry in his eyes. "How about you'll change into something dry and I make us a snack? Are you sure you’re okay?"

"I'll leave you two." Jace announced quietly and squeezed your hand once more. "I'll go downstairs and make sure everyone is gone."

For just a moment, you did not want to let go of his hand and your fingers brushed midair before he slipped out of your grasp.

As the door closed behind him and Cregan brought you a towel for your hair, you already missed him like a lost limb.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🌸.

Of course, what had to happen, happened; a few days later, you found yourself sick.

Neither you nor Cregan had told your parents how the party had abruptly ended, a secret deal between the two of you so they wouldn't worry too much about you and they didn't have to punish Cregan for it.

So, your days at the end of summer were spent on the couch downstairs, curled up under a blanket and frequently attended by Cregan who brought you snacks and chocolate milk. It sucked and it was boring since you quickly ran out of books, but it was better than the horrible panic that went through you when you had been thrown into the pool.

On day three though, you had a visitor.

You blinked as steps approached your little sickbed, still a bit sleepy from your afternoon nap and the delicious noodle soup that had been made for you. But to your surprise, Cregan only stood at the staircase, smiling fondly at you before disappearing upstairs, making room for Jace who had waited behind him.

Your heart skipped a beat and a thousand thoughts rushed through your head. When had you showered the last time, did you comb your hair this morning, were you-

"Hey." Jace said softly. "I wanted to see if you were feeling better."

"A little." You smiled at him, sitting up and placing your wolf in your lap as he walked towards you. "You didn't have to come though, I don't want you to get sick."

He brushed your worries away and sat down on the carpet in front of your couch. "I brought you some tea. Raspberry was your favorite, right? And then, I thought you might want some new reading material."

You gasped as he conjured up a big bouquet of wildflowers from behind his back. At the first glance, it was only the most beautiful flower bouquet you had ever seen, but then you spotted a book in the middle of the blossoms.

And then another one.

And another one.

"Jace…" You whispered with wide eyes, shaking your head at him in disbelief. "You made me a flower bouquet with books?"

He bit his lip in flusteration, a pretty pink blush appearing on his cheeks. "Yeah...I went to the bookstore you work at and thought about what you might enjoy. I hope you like them, I kept the receipt just in case and-"

"Jace." You interrupted him and now it was your turn to blush as you pressed the bouquet to your chest, the new books in the middle of it already singing your name. "This is the loveliest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you, I love it so much. I bet the books you chose are wonderful."

In this moment, it didn't matter to you that you were sick and still a little nasal. The way he smiled up at you, like you were his entire world and his shoulders sagged with relief - your heart screamed at you to finally give in.

Give in to him.

The wrapping paper around your bouquet rustled against your chest as you bent forward and rested a careful hand on Jacaerys' cheek.

He looked up at you with wide puppy eyes, thunderstruck at the tender touch and then you really didn't know anymore who made the first move but it didn't matter, because then-

Your lips touched softly.

It barely was a real kiss, merely the brush of a butterflies' wing against you, but it was all you had longed for for so long.

Neither of you dared to breathe, the moment too soft and fragile to become anything deeper. But you felt him exhale shakingly, his thumb softly holding your chin to keep you close for just a moment longer. It was the softest first kiss you could’ve imagined for yourself.

You leaned back, but only a little, and watched as Jace's eyes blissfully fluttered open, fixing your own wide ones dreamily.

"If I would've known books are the way to your heart, I would've brought you some so much earlier." He confessed breathlessly.

You shook your head, your lips still tingling from this first shy kiss. "You have been in my heart since I first met you."

Jacaerys wanted to melt from the victorious roar his heart let out, a dragon taking flight. "I've been in love with you, too. Ever since Cregan introduced us."

Your hands found their way to each other before you let out a sudden laugh.

"What is it?" He wanted to know.

"I just- I kissed you."

He grinned. "Yeah, you did." And he was in need of a repetition already.

"Jace, you're going to be sick like me." You pointed out guiltily, although it didn't seem too bad to have a companion in your little misery, especially if it was him.

"Oh." He did not look like he had a single care for the consequences of your actions.

"Are you two done yet down there?!" Cregan called from upstairs and when your eyes met, you broke into laughter and your heart blossomed at Jace's happy giggle.

It knew now that he was yours.

And you were his, just as he had once written on your upper thigh…

𓆩♡𓆪

#jace velaryon #jace targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jace velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jace targaryen x reader #hotd imagine #hotd

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goldsbitch · 7 months ago

Note

can I request a Lando x reader where the reader’s weakness is when people stroke her hair? Her mind goes completely blank and she falls silent immediately when people stroke her hair and Lando uses it at his advantage.

Fluffy pls and ty🫶🏻

omg, i love this prompt so much - thank you and hope you like it!!

This is one is dripping with sweetness a little too much, don't say I did not warn you. No other warning.

Lando was born a tease, oscillating between clueless and shy, to unapologetic and bordeline dickish. It all depended on the setting, his relationship to the person and how much sleep he got the night before. Sometimes your boyfriend was the sweetest little thing, giggling shyly about everything instead of coming up with an actual response, and the other times he was a walking menace actively seeking every opportunity how to get you into a flustered state.

You and Lando were full on deep in the beginning of your relationship, the sweetest part of the honeymoon phase. To put it bluntly - fucking almost non stop. And the desire was never-ending. Blinding sunshine kissed good morning to every day you two got to wake up next to each other. Problems seem to be non existent. Bliss.

It was the way his hair curled when he got a little bit sweaty, his toned body what you were desperate to explore from every angle and the need to know every little secret trick that worked on him. It became some sort of a game, who would get better at knowing the other. Which one of you found all the buttons to push.

Lando rose up that morning and chose violence. Metaphorical one, of course. Snuggling up to you in order to wake you up as well for some morning work out, as he like to call it. Whispering sweet nothings to your ear and touching you all over your body. But you were just incredibly sore from the past few days, physically unable to keep up.

"Why don't you love me anymore," he pleaded jokingly as you murmured another weak appeal for your sleep.

"Lando, you know I love you more than anything," you replied, still half asleep. But it was hard to distinguish as reality resembled a sweet dream everyday lately.

"I remember when you used to want me, physically," he kept going.

"We literally had sex few hours ago, stop whining," you kissed him between your words. He looked at you with his incredible eyes, little devil dancing in each one of them.

"Exactly, too long ago. Wish I could go back in time when you were not sore and get inside you all over again."

You simply laughed, absolutely smitten with this lovey dovey side of him. His words made you melt like butter sitting under direct sun. You brushed your noses together and then he kissed you.

The best part of romantic relationships is the one that you cannot absolutely share with other people, the almost embarrassing pleas, desire and gross goofiness, simping at each other all the time.

"Fine, if you play by these rules, I'll come back with my own revenge," he said finally as you inevitably had to start getting ready to go to the paddock with him.

Today was the big day. You'd been spotted in public countless of times, the "girlfriend" title officially sitting on your head for weeks now. But this was the first time you were to join him in the paddock as a wag. You were trying to hide your nervousness, but he saw right through you. Before you exited the apartment, he made you stop and took your face in his hands. "I'm happy I get to do this with you. I love parading you around, for everyone to see that we're a team." You smiled, his words hitting like first snowflakes of the year. "Poor Oscar, I can't wait to finally trauma dump the shared misery you bring to our lives," you jokes and locked lips with him once again. "God, it's terrifying how much I like you," you said automatically, without having to think about it.

It actually wasn't as bad as you'd expected. It was definitely weird and strange, but not necessarily bad. Having Lando by your side as you passed the gates definitely helped. The photographers were lined up as people at a shooting range would and it did feel like that at first. But as quickly as you were initially overwhelmed, fatigue took over you and you blocked their ever-presence out. Trying to chat up those Lando introduce you to and memorizing the names. You knew how much some of these people meant to Lando, so you were trying to be at your best behavior. The thought that his friends would hate you in the same way as some of his fans haunted you.

In the middle of all the rush, you parted for a moment. To be honest, little peace of quiet and chill was something you appreciated. But remember, Lando woke up and chose violence this morning. And his plan was quite simple, yet bulletproof.

"Y/N! There you are, my love," you heard from coming from behind you. "I have someone to introduce to you! I'm very much sure you'll appreciate meeting him." As you turned, you saw Daniel Ricciardo walking your way with your Lando. You were a little perplexed as to why Lando was so cheerful about that. You clearly remembered him getting very upset when you admitted to him that at some point in the past, when formula 1 was a world far away from you, that you had a minor crush on Daniel. Which obviously went out of the window once you met Lando. That did not mean that Lando was 100% ok with it.

"Y/N, as I'm sure you know, this is Daniel, hell of a driver and good friend of mine," Lando continued and you knew him well enough to know he had ulterior motives. Not sure what to do, you smiles shyly and shook Daniel's hand.

"Hi, Daniel," you said, eyes flinching between him and Lando. You were full on preparing for anything. Lando's smirk almost had a life of his own at that point.

"Nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I've heard quite a lot things about you!" Daniel opened, life of the party as per usual.

You chuckled. "All good things, I hope!" And with that, Lando stepped behind you and put his arm around you.

"Only the best," he said, leaned closed and inconspicuously started to stroke you hair gently. Oh, he did not just go this low.

It was slow, yet like tidal wave. You stopped breathing for a moment. Your body relaxing, as if you'd just taken the world's best sedatives. The way his hands made you feel was etherial. It was the same sensation the luckier ones experienced when listening to ASMR and the less fortunate ones sometimes called an orgasm. Shivers slowly traveling around your whole body, every part becoming sensitive out of nowhere. You weren't able to look at Daniel, let alone continue speaking. Lando was more than aware of what touching your hair did to you. He'd discovered this trick quite early on. And it was his favorite one.

"So, where are you from?" Daniel attempted at small talk. But how could you possibly give a fuck at that moment. Not that your body would even allowed you to respond. The only thing you were able to take in from the outside world were the soft slow movements Lando's fingers were doing, blocking everything out instanteniously.

Daniel stared at you, waiting. From his perspective, this was a very awkward meeting.

Lando answered for you, with a smirk you did not see, but could feel from the tone of his voice. "You have to excuse her, she is bit shy in front of new people."

You could not give less of a fuck at that moment of what these two were saying. Your lips were starting to shiver from getting so sensitive. You took a short breath and someone who would be standing close and knew you well would know, that what escaped your mouth was not a nervous laugh, but something very close to a moan.

Lando and Daniel were saying words, but none of that was important, while Lando's fingers were working his magic. He would only leave your hair alone once he saw Daniel leaving.

You wanted to be mad at him. But you were still sort of high from all the sensation bomb Lando dropped on you. You slowly turned around to face him, coming down from your own personal nirvana.

You took a deep breath while he watched you without a blink and biting hims smile away.

"You promised," you let out air that got stuck in your lungs somewhere along the way. "You promised you would not do this in public." Your brain was slowly wiring up to normal again.

"I told you I'd punish you for the morning," he said as if it was the most amusing thing ever. "Also, if Daniel is my competition, I'm going to use all the advantage I have."

Lando had a way of looking at you that made you unravel instantaneously and there was no way of stopping it. There was just something about his smile that did it for you. As anyone who is properly in love, you could not imagine somebody being able tor resist that. In your love soaked mind, he was irresistible. To a normal mind, he was probably just a regular guy, but that idea was unfathomable to you.

"I'm pretty sure that after what I just pulled, you will not have to worry about Daniel liking me," you chuckled, having to accept that Lando won this one.

"I would never let my guard down...But yeah, I think this one is pretty safe," he chuckled once more. You kissed his overly proud face and promised to yourself to get back at him later, in the privacy of his bedroom.

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toxicanonymity · 2 years ago

Note

i had dream about this lol. reader is naive/innocent/virgin, they know about sex but not much about masturbation. reader tells joel that they’ve been having this problem at night (usually) where they get all hot and achey down there. joel’s like well i know a way you can fix that feeling!! hopefully this isn’t too outrageous, i just love perv!joel lololll

Aches

900 / Joel x virgin!Reader / joel master

✨ prequel: fires | sequel: thoughts

WARNINGS: I8+ mdni, big girthy age gap (20/50s) only one sleeping bag. fingering, grinding. mention of Joel being a girl dad.

You can't sleep. You scoot your lower body forward and away from Joel's crotch.

"You okay, sweetie?"

Not really, but you don't know how to talk to him about it. You’ve been sharing a sleeping bag with Joel ever since yours was lost in a scuffle. Joel's is big enough for both of you, but barely. You’re settled in against him with your head on his bicep trying to get to sleep, but he was poking into you again, and it makes you ache. The feeling between your legs is so distracting, so overwhelming you can't sleep.

It seizes you and won’t let you relax, but you don’t know what to do about it. You’re a grown woman, of course you’ve tingled before, felt the warmth between your legs, thought about sex, hoped to have it one day. But this aching, throbbing feeling worries you. It’s so beyond anything you’ve ever felt before. It's extreme and sometimes it hurts. You worry something has happened to you from sleeping so rough, not having the right products people used to have for their periods.

The feeling is at its worst when his dick gets hard and presses up against you. That makes you suspect it's sexual. But you never learned how to get yourself off, and it's too late now.

"Um, yeah," you whisper. "I'm okay."

You squirm uncomfortably and dig a hand between your legs just to stay there.

"What's wrong honey?"

You sigh. "I just feel funny, that's all. You can't help. It's girl stuff."

"Now, hold on. Gimme some credit. I was a girl dad remember? You havin' cramps?" He gently rubs your lower belly, making the throbbing between your legs even worse.

"No, not like that," you groan.

He lifts his head up and gets more serious. "What's goin' on, sweetie? Where's it hurt?"

Your face burns as you start to try to tell him. "In the front between my legs."

His breath hitches. "What's it feel like?"

"It just aches and tingles and feels like a lot of pressure."

He inhales deeply. "Anything else that goes with it?"

"I get wet," you say. "But I don't think it's like normal. This is really a lot, and I'm afraid something's wrong."

He's quiet for a moment. "Nothin's wrong with you, baby," he murmurs. "Imma try somethin', okay? Tell me if this makes it worse or better."

"Okay." You're desperate. Plus, you've been traveling with him for weeks and you're past the point of modesty.

He nestles in behind you and grinds his hard cock into your ass. "Worse or better?"

"Worse, worse."

"Okay, now we know what the problem is. It's just tension, baby. Built up pressure. Your body's reactin' to mine."

"Okay. . ."

"Just gotta relieve that pressure. It's okay, we all do it. I can give ya some space if ya want"

Your heart rate speeds up. He must assume you know how. "I don't do that," you whisper.

"Ya gotta. Not gonna go away on its own, sweetie."

"I never figured out how. maybe something's wrong with me"

"Nothin's wrong with ya sweetie." He's quiet for a moment then he strokes your abdomen reassuringly. His hand finds yours between your legs. "Want some help?" He asks.

"Um, alright."

You move your hand out of the way and Joel's replaces it, first feeling you over your underwear. He whistles silently when he feels how wet you are. Then he slides his hand into your waistband. "This okay?"

"Yeah."

He backs up and urges you to lie down flat on your back. His hand wedges between your thighs and you move them apart, making space. He watches you watch his hand. He bypasses your clit to wetten his fingers with your arousal. "This okay?" He asks and you nod.

His middle finger prods at your entrance "can I go in?" You nod again.

He scoots up and presses his hard cock into your hip as he swirls his finger, then inserts it to the first knuckle and your mouth falls open with the intrusion. "Real tight," he mutters.

"What's that mean?"

"Nothin', baby."

He proceeds to insert his whole finger, then adds another. He slides his fingers through your folds then finds your clit and begins to rub wet circles. "Tell me when it feels right," he says.

He tries a few angles, speeds, and techniques until one really hits the spot and you say "that."

"Good girl."

He rubs you just how you like. "Now if you wanna touch your nipple or somethin', sometimes that helps, too."

You slide a hand under your shirt and lightly caress your breast. You feel your lower belly heating up, you're getting more tense but also feeling so good with his hand between your legs. He grinds himself into you as he fingers you and watches your spine begin to arch.

"Come on, sweetie. Let it happen."

You whine from the pressure. "Joel, I - I don't know how"

"Sure ya do, baby just let go, let it happen," his voice is soothing and low.

You whine again and pinch your eyes shut.

"I know baby, you're almost there;"

A few more strokes and you see stars. You ride massive waves of pleasure and relief. It feels so good you cry.

"Shhh, it's okay, baby. I got you." He caresses your face. "You're okay, I got you, sweetie." He presses a kiss to your temple.

SEQUEL: Thoughts

Thank you so much for reading. I always love your comments 🥹🙏

If you're into innocent readers, there's more where this came from. . . My ongoing series Left in Lincoln has an innocent, naive, virgin reader. And my master list has a virgin section lol.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller drabble #joel miller fic #pedro pascal fic #perv!joel miller #dark!joel miller #pedro pascal #pervy!joel miller #pedro pascal smut #toxicanonymity ☠️

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buckgasms · 2 months ago

Text

How do we feel about more fluffy Bucky?

Because I'm feeling good about it...

This is also very much inspired by my own insomnia lol...

I had this thought that maybe you stay up late with Bucky some nights because you can't sleep and it's nicer to be awake together than alone right?

And maybe you start talking about ASMR and Bucky is like "wut?" So you explain what it's all about and show him some videos. And I like the idea of sitting tucked into him, watching videos together and it's all cosy and tingly.

So he tries it out for a few days and he LOVES it. He finds some that he likes and he gets all the tingles and feels super relaxed and he actually manages to get a few nights of sleep!

But one night he comes down to the living room all grumpy and dejected. Flopping down on the sofa next to you.

"What's up?" You ask offering him a bit of blanket as you flick through netflix for a film. He groans and rubs a hand over his face.

"I lost my tingles doll."

You can't help but giggle at him as he gets grumpier, stealing more blanket as punishment.

"Hey, quit it! I'm sorry. It does happen, sometimes you need to not watch for a bit, then they come back..."

He huffs and covers your legs again. "I guess. It's just... It was so nice to get some sleep for once."

You sat back for a moment, looking at the tired man in front of you. Then you had an idea.

"What if we tried in for real?"

He gave you a side eye, before turning to look at you properly. "Whaddya mean try it for real?"

You chuckled and sat up a little, already bouncing with excitement. "Like I can do it for you, which ones do you like watching?"

His cheeks flushed a bit and he tried to evade your question but you kept prodding. Finally he relented.

"I kinda like the skincare ones.... And hair brushing I guess... But you don't have to..."

You squealed a little in delight and stood up, grabbing his hand and dragging him to your room without any chance to argue.

"Get into bed and I'll grab some bits. Just get comfy" you instruct and leave him to head to your bathroom to gather everything you need.

Bucky stood in the middle of your room feeling like he was in a dream and that you were, at any moment, going to start laughing at him. He hesitated for a moment but then heard you call, "get into bed Bucky..."

How could you hear his thoughts? He was sure you had a secret power you hadn't disclosed to the rest of the team.

He carefully pulled back your soft duvet and settled his back into plumped up pillows. The sheets smelled fresh but also like you. He felt better already. He was sure if he shared a bed with you every night, he'd sleep just fine.

Before he could think anymore you appeared with a little bag full of bottles and skincare tools and a shy smile on your face. "I'm not sure the best way to do this, but if it gets too weird, then tell me ok..."

He nodded and watched as you popped your bag next to him on the bed, then panicked a little as you climbed on top of him and sat gently on his covered thighs.

"Is this ok?"

He nodded after a moment and exhaled gently. You smiled and broke the tension by taking a deep breath and exhaling out.

"Welcome to Bucky's BFF ASMR, your personalised pamper session to provide as many tingles as humanly possible."

You both giggled as you started your session. He hummed when you started brushing his hair, parting delicate lines and running your fingers gently along each part.

"Damn" he muttered as your fingers gently pulled as his hair, releasing tension from his entire body.

"You feeling ok there?" You whisper as you clip his hair back and give his shoulders a squeeze. He nods, before cracking an eye open to look at you. "You alright?"

You nod enthusiastically and run your hands gently down his arms. You're about to start when he reaches his hands forward and holds onto your hips gently.

"Actually doll, do you mind if I...just hold you there?"

You think your head is going to explode with how much you are very ok with that, but play it as cool as you can and nod. He smiles and closes his eyes again, his fingers squeezing at your hips ever so gently.

You then grab the skin care and quietly explain everything that you are doing. Cleansing his face with cool micellar water, applying a sheet mask and using a little roller to reduce tension in his face and neck.

Once you remove it you apply some moisturiser and notice his breathing has evened out and his hold on your hips has become a little looser. You sit for a minute, watching his handsome face in relaxed mode.

It was so lovely to see him like this, and your seat for the view was pretty great. You pulled the clips gently from his hair and brushed a little strand of hair out of his face. Just one kiss would make it perfect but it would have to wait.

You quietly packed everything away before lifting as gently as you could off the sleeping former assassin without waking him. You slipped under the duvet and clicked off the light before curling up, hoping he would be ok sleeping with you in there.

Your question was answered when be stirred and rolled towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

"Thanks Doll...goodnight.."

"Goodnight Bucky..."

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #fluffy #avengers au

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barleyo · 1 month ago

Text

Build-A-Bride.

Enji Todoroki X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: i can't stop writing broken enji... he's so depressed and lonely i LOVE it ^_^ isn't he just so dreamy? all downtrodden and sad? anyways this is so half-assed, sorry!

Tags: dub-con, forced/arranged marriage (sort of), age gap, mostly plot tbh (minimal smut), brief mentions of dehumanization, breeding, creampie, p in v, size difference, language barrier

Wordcount: 1.8k

Women don't like divorcés. It's a mark of failure. It brings down one's stock value. Enji's mistakes with Rei were numerous. He knew it was for the best, that he had nothing to fight for when she had the papers mailed to him. Why would he argue with her about it? The kids had all grown up and moved out. Their assets were easily separable. She did not ask for much in the split, and even if she did Enji would have given it up without pushing back.

He was a man defeated. What point would there be in chasing after Rei again? He did not love her; not truly, at least, and she certainly did not love him. They had been living stagnantly ever since she was released from the hospital. It would be a feat for them to even speak to each other over breakfast. Idle chat about the weather or what their adult children were doing was a rare treat.

Enji's life had slowed significantly. No children to fill his too-big-for-one-man house and no woman to be kept company by. Work had slowed down. Younger heroes took the top spots, slowly but surely. Even his own son was predicted to soon surpass him. Old timers, or "Golden-Age Heroes", as the media titled them, were losing fame and fortune alike. No longer the hot commodity, old was out, new was in.

He expected it, really. His goal was to be the number one hero, and he was for a while. Was it his dream to remain number one? He didn't have time to think about it before he got knocked down to a measly third place in the ranks.

He had thrown so much of himself into the hero life. It crossed his mind a few times, it all ending, but he never realized that it would come crashing down so soon. What friends he had, using the term very lightly, were less than helpful in his condition.

None less so than Hawks, of course. That damned fool.

Keigo had been dragging Enji out to these annoyingly quaint cafés for a while now. He'd force piles of biscotti and scones onto Enji's plate while blabbing on about some new excursion of his or the other, taking up the prime hours of Enji's day in the name of socializing.

Seldom it was that Enji left the impromptu meet-ups with anything but slight annoyance at best and utter exhaustion at worst. He could hardly pay attention to the meaningless drivel Keigo threw his way. Sometimes it was talk of the current hero ranks, which Enji immediately tuned out. Other times it was about a concert or movie Keigo was going to.

Lately, though, Keigo had an interest in trying to play matchmaker for Enji.

"You should really get out there," he said, smug little smile plastered on his cheeky face while he sipped his espresso. "You aren't getting younger."

Enji's response was the same as always, in that he was too busy and too old to be worrying about such things. "I do not have time to woo a woman like a schoolboy. I'm fine where I am," he responded with his arms resting on the café's comparably small table.

Keigo chuckled, curling his lips upwards. "You can only spend so many nights with your right hand, Endeavor."

"Shut your damned mouth."

"If you won't let me set you up with someone," Keigo said, not taking Enji's gruff tone seriously, as usual, "there is another option."

Enji pressed his mouth closed tightly, eyes narrowing into a judgmental squint. "It had better not be online dating."

Defensive hands flew up. "No, no. You've made that pretty clear, man. I'm talking about getting, like, a mail-order bride or whatever they're called."

"You do realize how much that sounds like human trafficking, right?"

"It does not! They still do it, you know. There are websites and everything."

Enji sighed and leaned his head back to look up at the ceiling. The idea sounded horrible. God only knew how sketchy something like that would be, and besides, how horrible were the moral implications of that? Some old bastard like himself purchasing a young girl like a farm animal.

It wasn't completely unheard of. Plenty colleagues of his had foreign brides ordered for them. Even his own cousins had done similar things. Hell, he wasn't far off from trying it out to get the perfect quirk marriage before he found Rei.

But now? It sounded cruel. Unnecessary. He already resented himself for how he treated his family— he didn't need to ruin the life of some other woman too.

"I am not going to order a wife," he said, voice strained, "like a spare part off of eBay. Do you not see how horrible that would look on me?"

Keigo waved his hand dismissively, unbothered. “It’s not like that. These women are looking for a chance at a better life," he explained before teasingly adding, "just like the lonely men who send for them."

Enji stared at him, trying to decipher if he was serious. “You really think I'm desperate enough to buy some random woman?"

"Don't think of it like 'buying.' Think of it as rescuing. How will the press feel about that, hm? Imagine the headline: ‘Endeavor, the hero with a heart, saves a foreign damsel in distress by bringing her to Japan to live a new life of riches and mind-blowing sex!'"

"You disgust sometimes, you little brat."

Keigo leaned over the table, teeth flashing briefly as he spoke. "Just think about it, okay? I'll send you some links tonight." He got up and pushed his chair in with his foot. "Besides, I'm tired of being your only friend. These little 'dates' of ours are cutting majorly into my work."

Keigo had compiled a ridiculously long list of websites and companies that specialized in international marriage deals. He had definitely committed to the bit too much or he had researched this topic heavily before presenting it to Enji via text.

Either way, Enji peered at his cell phone screen in distaste. Link after link, scrolling through the masterlist Hawks compiled, he just felt more unsure of the idea. The names of the sites left a strange feeling in his gut.

GoldenBride, Rose Brides, Latidate. For fuck's sake, UkraineBride4You dot com? "Legitimate & Cheapest Mail Order Bride Sites! Click here for more!"

He clicked his phone off. The light from the vibrant ads and taglines disappeared from his face as quickly as they appeared, leaving him in the dark of his bedroom. He didn't speak, he just stayed in his bed, leaning on the headboard in silence.

He had gotten used to his house being quiet. It was never especially loud, but at least when the kids still lived at home, he could hear the sounds of life. Of Shoto's feet padding through the halls. The sound of Fuyumi's books opening and closing. Natsuo's grumbling under his breath. Proof that he had gotten them all this far— that he had done something right for them.

No. He couldn't stay this way, living in the dark silence, figuratively and literally. He turned his phone back on and clicked the highlighted link with the least concerning name.

Well, you were just the perfect little thing, weren't you? Young, pretty, doe-eyed, and sweet. After perusing a website that looked less criminal than he thought it would, Enji decided on you. He had to have you.

You stood out immediately from the pages of other women. All of them were, of course, gorgeous. They would not be advertised if they weren't. You, though. There was something about you. You were small—Enji liked that—but not frail. Built for carrying children was what you were, he decided, with your soft curves and buxom build.

Your profile did not give much away. Basic information and a little greeting. It intrigued him enough, so clearly it worked.

The two of you chatted for a few weeks, if you could call it that. There was little getting to know each other and more plane tickets being purchased and pick up times being arranged. To say that you had him hooked was an understatement, especially considering the only tools you had to connect with him were shitty translations of your language to his from Google and emojis.

Everything about you read as gentle. Docile. Probably the only personality Enji was equipped to deal with. He would just die if married to a combative woman. His enemies would love to see him nestled up with a loud, abrasive one with a temper to match his own.

No, you would do quite nicely, with your limited speaking and non-provoking nature. You were the perfect escape, a blank canvas onto which he could project his hopes for a new life onto. He could start a family over again. He could fix his mistakes and move on. Maybe, just maybe, he could forgive himself.

The flood of ideas filled him each time his phone buzzed with your messages, even if they were often short and punctuated by misunderstandings and screwy sentences due to poor translations. He found himself counting the days until your plane would take off to bring you to him, to his home. He had plans for you.

Things moved quickly with your new husband. Just last week your flight landed. Then you were saying "I do," and now he had you bent in positions unimaginable.

He worked fast. His hands were large and rough, but God, they were efficient. Thick fingers rubbed at your clit. A thicker cock prodded at your entrance. You wriggled beneath him a bit, eyes widening at the stretch.

You didn't have the words to tell him you were a virgin, but you didn't have the desire to stop him either.

"Hold still, you," he said, voice gentle in comparison to how rough his strokes were. "You've got to let it adjust."

Even if you could understand his words, the heat burning your ears drowned out any sound completely. Fullness filled you everywhere. Like a missing piece you never knew you didn't have.

"Ah, you still aren't broken in yet for me," he muttered to himself. He watched as your struggles to swallow him into your walls. "Virgin, yeah?"

You mumbled incoherently to yourself, feeling his words cast over your face. More or less, you understood the tone of his words and hummed in agreement, hands playing with your tits absent mindedly.

Pain tinted moans escaped you. Enji felt good, sure, but a warmth of discomfort passed through you with every inch of him. Your mind told you yes, but your body tried to reject him. He was simply too big, and too much.

Not that it would stop him.

He spat on his length to ease the friction. A steady hand stayed over your clit, abusing it to the point of overstimulation. He wanted this to be pleasurable for you, but he had a goal in mind.

The load or two he had pumped into you earlier wasn't enough. He wouldn't dare give up yet, especially not with the adrenaline rush hearing you whine gave him.

Besides, your plane ticket was expensive. He planned on getting paid back in spades.

#enji todoroki x reader #enji todoroki #endeavor x reader #enji x reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #endeavor x you #tw dubcon #tw: dubcon #my hero academia x reader

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ashherahh · 2 months ago

Text

what was your past life like together?

Note: Please take it if it resonates, leave it if it doesn't. Meditate before making your decision. It's completely okay if you don't resonate with this reading. The collective is huge and I'm sure you'll receive the messages you need in due time.

🌕paid readings are open🌕

pile 1

Cards: Four of Swords, The Lovers, The Fool Rx, Eight of Pentacles, The Devil, Temperance

You've shared a significant past life with this person. The connection was consuming in every possible way.

With this life, you feel like you might have a second chance again. In your past life, you and this person had planned to be together until death, to grow old together but it never got to that. Unfortunately, the person you feel so drawn to died before the two of you could live out your dream.

The urgency you feel to be with them, to speak to them, to always know about their days; it all stems from a longing a lifetime over.

You're perfect counterparts for each other, you match. Ying and Yang. At times, you feel like you're losing yourself in this person, that there is a darkness to this connection. Partially, you want to remove yourself from this. It feels so crazy, right? These feelings at times feel so foreign. They are remnants of a past love that never got to fully bloom.

Being with them would be like riding a bike, it'll be so easy and like you never stopped. It's entirely up to you how you want to proceed, sometimes we just need closure but if you want more, understand that you need balance in this relationship. Although you balance each other out, both of you are just as capable of creating an equal chaos.

Balance within is needed before anything else. To become lost in someone else, it's a prison we're often unaware of until it's too late.

pile 2

Cards: Three of Cups, The Emperor, The Moon Rx, Four of Wands Rx, Strength, The Star

They were your saviour.

In your past life with them, their presence alone brought an end to a horrible experience. In a way, you were kept from ever being yourself. You were always in the shadow of those around you. When you met this person, you stepped out of that shadow, you shed away the doubt and fear, and stepped into who you are.

They were a mentor, a companion, someone you could always depend on to see you and understand you. In turn, you were able to understand yourself and you were able to blossom.

To this day, you still feel this connection. You still experience how protective they are. This person still makes an effort to let you know how amazing they think you are. You can always count on them.

When you met them in this life, you were immediately comfortable with them. You immediately felt like you could be vulnerable, against your better judgement, you felt yourself feeling so at ease with them.

This is the kind of connection you'll experience in every incarnation. Even if they don't reincarnate with you, they will still be a guide of yours. They want to protect you and see you flourish, and so they'll be there anyway they can and anyway you need them to be.

pile 3

Cards: The World Rx, The Tower Rx, The Sun, Ace of Swords, Nine of Pentacles, Six of Cups

Your connection was tampered with in your past life.

There was upheaval and chaos and everything was at odds with your connection. Every time you tried to move forward together, you would find yourself being pulled away from them. Your past life with them took place during a time of war so there was never closure, but the feelings you had for each other have carried on into this life.

I'm seeing that in your past life, the two of you knew each other since a young age and in this life as well, you met as children again. There's the desire to spend as much time with one another as you possibly can.

This person is a soulmate, definitely. It felt like this connection in a past life was just never meant to be so the longing is still very much there. I'm really seeing that a lot got in the way of this connection. It seemed like the world was against it. How heartbreaking.

This life is an opportunity for a new beginning with this person, one where you both build the life you want. This person is going to be your best friend, someone your inner child feels comfortable and safe with.

#tarot #tarot readings #tarot community #tarotblr #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pick a card #tarot pac #tarot love reading #witchblr #intuitive messages #intuitive readings #ashherahh

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barefoot-joker · 9 months ago

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Destined for Heaven, Stolen by the Devil~ Yandere!Lucifer X Reader

Hey, guys and welcome to another Lucifer story. I'm sorry I write for him a lot. I just find to him be a very relatable character and I love him so much! Anyway, this fic deals with heavy Christianity themes, so I did my best to research. If something is wrong, please tell me and I'll do my best to fix it. I was very inspired by the song 'The Plagues' from "The Prince of Egypt". As always, I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night!

Words: 2899

Warnings: Heavy Christianity Themes/Beliefs, Swearing, Christianity Mocking, Slight Possessive Tendencies, Reader's Aunt likes crystals, Reader Dies, Kidnapping?

I sighed as my mother pulled a light blue cardigan over my shoulders. She dusted off my dress and fixed my hair so that I looked presentable. Today was Sunday so that meant we had to go to church. I wasn’t too fond of going and I would have rather been playing in the backyard as a twelve year old does. However, my mom made it her duty to take me and make me a good Christian girl. “Why do we have to go, mom? It’s soooo boring!”

I stuck out my tongue at her. She gently pushed it back in. “You know I want our family to have a good relationship with the Lord. It’s our Christian duty. Besides, going to church is in your blood. After all-”

“Yeah, yeah. God told you that I was destined to be a wife for Adam. How can you believe that? It came to you in a dream.”

“Y/n M/n L/n! You do not question God’s ways! You know better! Now come on, we don’t want to be late.”

Dragging me by the hand, she ushered me into the family Cadillac and sped off. I sighed heavily. There were so many things I’d rather be doing than go to church. I could be with my friends, heck I could be at my cool Aunt’s house. “Hey, mom?”

“Yes, dear?”

“When are we going to visit Aunt Hailey? When she called you said we’d be seeing her soon.”

“I only said that to get her off my back. You know how I feel about her.”

I grunted and crossed my arms. Aunt Hailey was seen as the black sheep in the family all because she was wealthy. A lot of our relatives (my mother included) thought she sold her soul to the Devil in order to be immensely rich and refused to interact with her. I, however, thought she was so cool. When she used to come over she’d regale to me hundreds of stories about her travels around the world. She even showed me her cool crystal collection when we went over to her house a few times. “Now don’t be like that. It’s not ladylike.”

I grunted again and slid down in the tan leather seat. A few minutes later the car was parked in the church parking lot and I was being dragged inside. Sometimes I wish I had siblings so I wasn’t the only one to feel mom’s wrath. She seated us near the front and handed me the heavy white Bible from the pew. I robotically turned to the page with the Lord’s prayer and stood when Pastor Bob entered. We began reciting the Lord’s prayer and sang a hymn before we sat. I didn’t pay much attention as our Priest told us his sermon for the day but I didn’t dare to look around the room. I had to look the part after all. Fidgety, I played with my ring finger. Glancing down, I took in the birthmark that oddly looked like an apple. I remember it showing up after I stayed at Aunt Hailey’s house one day. I never told my mother about it though. I was often reminded of the tale of Eve and the apple and I don’t know what she would do if ever saw the fruit insignia. After the sermon and another hymn, it was time for communion. We all stood in line and when it was my turn I took the small Ritz cracker and ate it. I coughed lightly and then took a sip from the golden chalice. My mom and I returned to our seats and when everyone was done, we recited the Lord’s prayer one final time. Thank goodness it was over.

As we walked out, I was forced to shake hands with our elderly Pastor. “How is my favorite little disciple doing today?”

I cringed at that. Ever since my mother told the church of her insane dream I was treated like some goddess. “Good.”

“That’s great to hear. I look forward to our weekly blessing.”

“Of course, Pastor Bob,” my mom butted in, “we wouldn’t miss it.”

He smiled and bid us both ado. We walked back to the car and drove home. As we passed by houses in our neighborhood, I looked longingly at the kids playing. Besides church, Sunday was dedicated to my education of becoming a housewife so when I did die and go to Heaven I was prepared. Parking the car, we went inside. I slipped off my Mary Janes and put them by the door. The rest of the day was spent cleaning, doing embroidery work and cooking. Just as I was getting ready for bed, the phone rang. I went into the kitchen and picked up the landline. “Hello?”

“Is my dear Y/n there?”

“This is her.”

“It’s your Aunt Hailey.”

“Auntie! Hi! How are you?”

She chuckled. “I am good, my darling. And you? Surviving another day in that stuffy house?”

I giggled at her commentary. “I’ve been okay. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering when you can come over. I was talking with a friend the other day and he would like to meet you properly. I believe he saw you at my house when you were five.”

“I’d love to come over! Let me ask mom real quick.”

I walked into the living room and pressed the phone to my chest. “Hey, mom. Aunt Hailey’s on the phone. She wants to know when I can come over.”

She looked up from her book and glared at the phone. “You know my answer.”

“Come on, mom! It’ll just be for a day!”

“I don’t know.”

“Please! I promise when I get back I’ll focus on my wifely duties! Please!”

I gave her puppy dog eyes and slightly whimpered. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Alright. You can go tomorrow, but I expect you to stay true to your promise. You know how God would feel if you went back on your word.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

I lifted the phone up to my ear and quickly ran into the kitchen. “She said I can come tomorrow.”

“Wonderful! I’ll see you then, my dear.”

“Bye, Auntie!”

“Goodbye for now, darling.”

I ended the call and put the phone back on the receiver. I returned to the living room where mom and I did our nightly prayer. When we finished, she gave my forehead a kiss and sent me to bed.

The next morning I dressed in a plaid dress shirt, brown capri pants and black oxfords. I bounced in the passenger seat giddily as my mother parked the car in my Aunt’s gravel driveway. “Now remember to behave. I don’t need any calls about your disobedience.”

“I’ll be good, I will.”

“That’s my girl. And you have your cross necklace?”

“Yes, mom. Can I go now?”

She kissed my forehead and I got out of the car. “Be safe! Call me if something happens and I’ll be back around dinner to pick you up!”

“Okay mom, bye!”

I waved and she drove off. I turned towards my relative’s mansion and walked up the stone steps. I grabbed the handle from the golden lion’s head and gave three loud knocks on the large oak door. The door opened to reveal Timothy, my Hailey’s middle aged butler. “Ah Miss Y/n, we were expecting you. Please come in.”

He stood to the side and allowed me inside. Closing the door, he led me across the marble floor to one of the drawing rooms near the back. I could hear muffled voices talking as we entered, Timothy clearing his throat. “Your niece is here, madam.”

“Thank you, Timothy. That will be all.”

He bowed and exited the room. My Auntie smiled and gestured for me to come over. I ran to her and gave her a big hug. Her navy silk and lace dress clung to me. “It’s so good to see you, darling! I’ve missed you so!”

“I’ve missed you too!”

I pulled away and she motioned to the gold and floral print armchair next to her. I sat and looked at her guest on the chaise lounge. He seemed quite the esteemed gentleman. He had slicked back blonde hair, pale skin and red eyes. I found them quite odd but didn’t judge. Mother said it was bad to judge based upon appearances. He wore a white suit with a red dress shirt, a black tie with black flower detailing, black leather gloves and shiny black dress shoes. He was on the shorter side as well. “Y/n, I’d like you to meet my friend Luci. He’s the one to thank for my wealth.”

The man stood and bowed to me. He took my hand and kissed my apple birthmark. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, my little apple. Your Aunt has told me so much about you.”

“It’s good to meet you too, sir.”

“So polite. Your mother is raising you right.”

“Except for the amount of gospel she puts in my poor baby’s head. I swear all because of her fucking dream, she’s gone total Bible thumper.”

Luci titled his head to the side. “Oh you’ll have to tell me over tea. Speaking of which, I think Timothy has finished setting up the garden for us.”

“Splendid!”

We all stood and the blonde offered me his arm. I gladly took it and we walked outside to Hailey’s marble floored porch. A metal table sat in the middle overlooking her large flower garden, a lacy white tablecloth set on top. Luci pulled out my chair and after I sat, pushed it in. He sat next to me and began pouring tea for all of us. Today Timothy had picked out the clear glass kettle so we could see the yellow liquid inside and the pastel teacups. I thanked Auntie’s friend when he poured into my cup and marveled at the small pink flower floating. “I see we’re having chrysanthemum tea. You know it’s your Auntie’s favorite.”

I giggled and picked up my cup. Blowing a little, I took a sip and smiled at the sweet taste. “So you were talking about Y/n’s mother?”

“Ah yes. She’s always been a Christian woman, believing in the power above. Then one night she had a dream, a vision she calls it, that Y/n is to be the third wife of the first man Adam. Ever since then she’s been obsessively devoted and is dragging my poor niece with her.”

“I see.”

Luci seemed to become stiff at the mention of Heaven and God. Perhaps it was a touchy subject?

“So God came to her and said this, hm?”

“Sure as shit supposedly.”

The three of us sipped our tea in silence. “So has school been going, my dear?”

“Good, Auntie. We learned how to do cursive in English the other day so now I can write my name all fancy!”

“That’s great, darling. Anything else?”

“I’ve been feeling kind of left out lately.”

Both adults turned to me in curiosity. “How so?”

“Well none of the other kids my age are really learning wifely duties, at least not as much as me. When I want to go outside and play mom forces me to do my skills.”

“Wifely duties? Pray do tell,” Luci cocked an eyebrow.

“I learned how to clean the house from top to bottom, cook all three meals, sew, embroider, and do laundry. Basically anything my mom deems necessary to please this angelic husband of mine.”

“I can assure you it will come in handy. Especially with how much of pigish brute he is.”

“How do you know?”

“I just got that impression when I’ve read his passages in the Bible, sweetie.”

“Oh.”

“If you had a real man I can be sure you wouldn’t need those skills, darling,” Auntie piped up, sipping her tea.

“A real man? Like who?”

“Like Luci for example!”

I turned to the blonde and he smiled. His eyes glinted with what looked like adoration. He gently grabbed my hand and held it, his hands quite warm through his gloves. He brought it to his lips and kissed the back of my hand. “It’s true. If you were my wife you wouldn’t want for nothing. Every day would be spent in marital bliss.”

“Sounds gross!”

He chuckled and kissed my hand again. “When you’re older you’ll come to love it.”

‘If you say so.”

“I know so.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent listening to Luci’s tales from his travels while drinking our tea. They were quite intriguing and full of adventure. The people he met, the places he went were all so fascinating. It soon became dinner time and true to her word my mom sat in the driveway. Luci walked me to the door and gave a little bow. “It was a pleasure to chat with you, Y/n. I have a feeling we will see each other more in the future.”

“I hope so. You’re so cool, Luci!”

He smirked and patted my head. “Farewell, little lady.”

“Goodbye, Luci!”

I gave him a quick hug before running to the car.

Sure enough as I grew up I ran into the short blonde more often than not. From trips to the grocery store to when I was allowed at Aunt Hailey’s house, we would bump into each other. We’d always exchange a few words and always those red eyes sparkled bright around me.

That was eleven years ago. Now I lay in a hospital bed, feeling like I was on the brink of death. A few years after meeting Luci I had gotten terribly ill. I was feverish, pale and felt nauseous. My mother was worried and took me to the clinic. I was just diagnosed with the flu. I took my medicine and stayed in bed as best as possible but the final straw was when I fainted in the backyard while gardening. Since then, I had been in and out of hospital with different doctors viewing me like prize cattle. I was poked, prodded and dug at only to be told no one had a clue as to why I was sick. It was like it had just fallen upon me. My mother became even more obsessive in her Christian ways. I was blessed every weekend and prayed upon every day to try and heal my mysterious illness. I was forced to drink holy water at every opportunity and had to wear my cross necklace with two rosaries.

Currently, I was coughing so hard I felt like I dislocated my lungs. My mother sat next to me holding my hand, a rosary wrapping around us. As I continued to cough she pushed some hair out of my face. “You’re going to be alright, honey. Just stay strong.”

After my coughing fit, I laid back and tried to catch my breath. “I feel like I’m dying.”

Her hand tightened around mine and I could feel her body shake with sobs. “Maybe this is God’s way of letting us know Adam needs you. As much as I’d hate to see my baby go, you’d finally fulfill your purpose.”

“Mom, please. Not now.”

“I’m sorry.”

A knock at the door made us both look over. There in the entryway stood Luci, his white hat with the dark red band hanging tightly in his hands. “Come in.”

He stepped forward and gave a small smile. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

“Y/n! Language!”

“Sorry.”

He chuckled and came to my side, putting a hand on my shoulder. “May I have a moment alone, please?”

My mom looked at me and I gave a curt nod. She sighed and stood. “I’ll go get something to eat. I’ll be back later, honey.”

She gave my forehead a kiss and walked out, shutting the door behind her. Luci took her place in the chair next to my bed. “What can I do for you, handsome?”

“I wanted to come see you. Hailey told me how you were faring and I knew I needed to come immediately.”

“I appreciate that. Especially since I feel like this may be the last time you see me.”

“Nonsense. We will always find each other, even in death.”

He brought his hand up and caressed my cheek. I smiled and then began coughing. I turned away and hacked into my arm, only turning back when I was done. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

His hand wrapped around mine and squoze tightly. “You know, I could end your suffering right now.”

“Yeah right.”

“I’m not lying to you, my dear. One small kiss and you’d go peacefully.”

“Luci-”

“And then we can be together forever. Adam, not even Heaven will keep you from me.”

“What are you talking about?” “Just kiss me.”

What could go wrong? I was already suffering so much.

“...Alright.”

He leaned forward and connected our lips. He tasted sweet like caramel apples and I just melted. My soul felt like it was being sucked out of my body and when he pulled away I couldn’t breathe. “You’re mine, little apple. Forever and always.”

He caressed my hand and my eyes closed.

The beeping of the heart monitor slowed and then faded to silence all together.

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theminecraftbee · 1 year ago

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There are several things Martyn realizes, all at once, when he opens his eyes:

He is dreaming.

It's one of those in-between dreams, the ones that aren't quite dreams.

He is sitting at a green felted table. It is sitting on a stage. The lighting is dim, and no one is watching, but out of the corner of his eye he can see the stagehands dressed in black, waiting.

He is not the only one sitting at the table. There is a Watcher, draped in purple. There is a Listener, draped in yellow. There is someone he recognizes in a red sweater. There is someone he thinks he should recognize, but can't quite, shuffling a deck of cards.

"Right. What's all this, then," he mutters.

We are playing blackjack, the Listener says.

We are deciding the rules, the Watcher says.

"It's not like we have anything better to do. Honestly, I'm glad you're here. Do you know how boring these guys are?" Grian says, and Martyn decides to quietly file Grian away as a dream-Grian, as opposed to real-life-Grian, so he doesn't go insane and/or stab him when he wakes up. He waits for the almost-familiar dealer to say something. He does not. After another few moments of awkward nonsense dream-silence, Martyn sighs and leans forward on the table.

"Sure, this might as well be happening," Martyn says. "Deal me in. How's the betting work, again?"

"You put your bet on the table. If you beat the dealer, you get to add it to the game," Grian explains. "If you don't beat the dealer, it takes it."

"Yeah, but like, that's abstract, isn't it? What does that mean, exactly, me losing what I bet if I don't beat the dealer," Martyn says.

Grian shrugs. "Don't ask me. To be honest, I'm hardly the storyteller you are."

"Me? Why are you acting like I have any control over these things when you're--"

Are you ready to play?

Martyn shuts up, looks at the Listener, and sighs. "Yeah, sure, I'm ready to play. Why not."

The dealer looks to its left. Grian sighs. "Why are you making me bet first. Again. We should rotate where we're sitting--fine, fine, I know it's an advantage because I'm the worst at this. Uh. Hm. No trading or giving away lives again. Not even as time or something. It makes the dynamics all weird, and I think we could use a nice straightforward death game next time."

(Martyn wants to roll his eyes. Nice and straightforward. Sure.)

The Watcher goes next. I would like there to be deep and wonderful bonds between the players. I would like those bonds to seem unbreakable.

"Coming from you, that's ominous," Martyn says.

Can I not just miss the alliances of the early days? the Watcher says.

"Never left the desert," Grian says, rolls his eyes, and looks at Martyn in commiseration. Martyn just stares back. So sue him, he's a bit more worried about this whole concept than an eye roll and a pithy phrase. Things Watchers want are rarely good.

When the bonds are enforced, they're less interesting, complains the Listener.

Martyn looks over sharply. Hey, wait, he thought--

I didn't say they had to be enforced by rule. I said they had to be deep. Encouraged, as opposed to discouraged.

Just saying. You'll never recapture Third Life.

Martyn swallows. His throat is dry. Weren't the Listeners supposed to be the good guys, here?

Besides, what I want is for each death to be meaningful again. They've felt too meaningless, lately, the Listener continues.

Martyn thinks the dealer raises an eyebrow, but it strikes him he's not exactly sure. Grian snorts. "Meaningful deaths. That's rich for you to say. I mean, I guess they're meaningful sometimes? I don't know, Martyn's the one who understands dramatic sacrifices, I just like killing things."

"Why do you keep on looking at me when you say those things," Martyn says.

"Look, you wouldn't be here if you weren't helping write," Grian says.

"What?" Martyn says.

We're here to play our cards for the story, the Watcher says. Aren't you also one of the authors?

"Me? What? No, I'm--what are you talking about," Martyn says.

Oh, well. I also hope your meaningful deaths make it in, the Watcher says the Listener.

Thanks, even if I disagree on the bonds, the Listener says.

"They hardly ever talk about real, concrete rules they want," complains Grian. "It's easier to understand the consequence if they bring up actual rules. Like boogeyman or no boogeyman."

"We're all just betting on cards!" Martyn says, throwing his hands up. "You're giving me a headache!"

It's your bet.

"Fine!" Martyn says. "Fine! You know what? Screw all of you. I hope this is the last one. I hope we never have to go back to that stupid death game. I hope it's miserable to watch or to listen to or to play and everyone just gives up. How's that for a bet?"

You're no fun.

Is that what you really want?

"Suit yourself," Grian says. "Honestly, if I still had that to bet, I guess I probably would."

"What do you mean, if you still had that to bet?"

"Well, I mean, that's not how blackjack works, is it? I don't just get back my in when I play it."

The dealer nods, and then silently, with a long bony hand, deals the cards.

Grian is dealt the four of diamonds. The Watcher is dealt the nine of spades. The Listener is dealt the five of clubs. Martyn is dealt a jack of spades. The dealer deals itself a seven of hearts. The dealer deals Grian a six of clubs--

"Hey, isn't that supposed to be face-down?" Martyn asks.

"Not here," Grian explains. "They're all face up so we can't touch the cards. So we don't have to. So we can't cheat."

"Who said anything about cheating?" Martyn says.

"Please," Grian says.

The dealer makes a hand motion. Martyn, grumpily, falls silent. He supposes they're playing by casino rules, then. He hasn't been in a casino since--he wouldn't know. Hard to remember anything that isn't this, isn't it? Isn't killing and dying and things out of his control and things very much in his control and, apparently, bizarre dream sequences designed to make him want to strangle Grian.

Anyway. Grian is dealt a six of clubs, giving him ten. The Watcher is given an eight of spades, giving it seventeen. The Listener is dealt a king of hearts, giving it fifteen. Martyn is given a six of clubs, giving him sixteen. The dealer deals its own second card face-down. Martyn stops to try to speak, and then shuts his mouth. Right. Dealer's advantage.

He stares at the numbers.

Grian sighs. "Well, I've got to double down, don't I? Fine. I want the whole 'red lives can kill' thing to be enforced somehow. I don't care how. There's my double down."

The dealer nods.

"Why would you want that," Martyn says blankly.

If we all win, that will be interesting with the bonds, the Watcher says mildly.

Grian shrugs. "I mean, we've enforced red names not befriending green names, but not the murder thing before. Figure we should switch up the game, right?"

"Why?" Martyn says again.

Well, it wouldn't do for it to be boring.

"No, not that. Just... isn't it easier to handle when the rules are laid out properly?"

Martyn throws his hands up, but stops arguing. The dealer gives Grian a face-down card. The dealer moves to the next party at the table.

The Watcher looks over at the dealer and makes a cutting-off motion. I stand.

The dealer moves on. Hit me, the Listener says, and is dealt the queen of diamonds. The Listener gestures to Martyn. It seems I bust. Pity. I suppose there will be no guarantee of meaning, then. Not what I'd prefer.

The dealer looks at Martyn. Martyn looks at the other hands. Martyn pauses.

"Wait, this is like, casino blackjack, yeah? I'm only playing against you, not the whole table?"

"Why would you be playing against us?" Grian says. "Writing's a collaborative process."

Martyn looks entreatingly at the Listener, but the Listener is a little too caught up in the bad hand it has been dealt. Martyn looks entreatingly at the Watcher, but the Watcher just looks somehow confused.

"I was under the impression that, I don't know, you all were adversarial."

Why? All we want is the same thing as you: the story to be told a certain way.

Martyn's not sure if he's furious or just numb.

"Fine. Got a sixteen, don't I? Hit me."

Two of spades.

He's furious. He wants to win against the dealer. He wants to win against everyone. He wants his idea to make it through. He has an eighteen, though. There are only two numbers in the deck that will not bust him, and he's no fool. Hitting on sixteen is a risk enough; if he wants his stupid bet of everything finally ending to make it through, he's got to hold here.

"I hold," he says through gritted teeth.

The dealer silently deals itself another card. A three of hearts. Distantly, Martyn's ears rush. He could have taken that. He could have taken the hit. He could have won. He could have had blackjack, and he doesn't know what the extra payout for blackjack even means in a game like this one, but he could have had it, and he held back, he didn't take the risk, he didn't--

The dealer flips up its cards. Seven, eight, three. Eighteen.

Martyn's heart pounds. A stand-off.

Grian flips up his own card and groans. It's a five of diamonds. "There goes that bet," he mutters.

The dealer makes a sweeping motion around the table. The Watcher smiles, a terrible, terrible thing. Martyn, all at once, realizes that he can't ask again. He can't say 'this is guaranteed to be the last one' again. He backs out of his chair. To the sides, he sees the stagehands change the lighting. A spotlight, on him and the dealer--

"That isn't fair," he says. "It's a tie. I should get my bet back, right? It's a tie!"

THAT IS WHERE WE DIFFER FROM THE HOUSES IN VEGAS, the dealer says, and Martyn's heart stops.

(The voice is familiar. Familiar, but he cannot place it.)

YOU SEE, IN THIS GAME, THERE IS ALWAYS ONE THING THAT HAS AN ADVANTAGE. ONE THING THE STORY IS ALWAYS PLAYING AGAINST. ONE THING, THAT INEVITABLY, AFTER LONG ENOUGH PLAYING, WILL WIN.

There, the dealer looks Martyn in the eyes, and Martyn, all at once, knows exactly what the dealer must be.

AND THAT IS ME.

Martyn stares Death in the eyes.

Then, in a cold sweat, Martyn wakes up.

He does not sleep again for a long time.

#trafficblr #martyn inthelittlewood #grian #the watchers #the listeners #a bee fic #this is me getting ALL OF MY MOST PRETENTIOUS URGES OUT before i go write more giftfic #literally all my most favoritest pretentious tropes. death personified. weird audience/writer avatar watchers and listeners. cards.#the series abstracted as a stage show. martyn being tired and confused.#really really ominous portents of the next game that hasn't actually happened yet #this is what self-indulgence looks like. if you're me.#there could not be. a more me fic.#anyway. ANYWAY. martyn doesn't understand why he's here. but why WOULDN'T he be here?#out of everyone in the series he's one of the ones who shapes the narrative the most after all

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