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moonyasnow · 6 days ago

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Ship Intro: Artemil

First of all! Some short fics/thoughts I think are PERFECT to show their relationship:

Jamil basically with someone who genuinely cares about him as a person (THIS IS PERFECT THIS IS EXACTLY HOW I IMAGINE THEIR RELATIONSHIP)

Summary: "you[Artemisia] confess to jamil. he doesn't know how to respond until he throws his inhibition out the window."

Spotify list:

[ art by 0honeybones0! ]

And below will be a timeline of their interactions, from start to finish! It will probably be updated as I go along because it's not 100% complete yet.

Making this its own section because it's LONGGGGGG

Some stuff just copied and pasted from Artemisia's Showcase Post!

T I M E L I N E :

After arriving at NRC, due to her being there under special circumstances(her parents- who are the King and Queen of the Land of Dawning- basically bribed Crowley to let her stay there) she wasn't actually a student for the first month, instead living in a spare room in the staff quarters.

B O O K 1

So when she was made a student, just after the events of Book 1, Crowley assigned her to Scarabia at random.

She first arrived at Scarabia in the middle of one of their famous parties. The Housewarden had greeted her briefly, saying he didn't recognize her but welcoming her to the party and encouraging her to get something to eat— then his attention was snatched away by someone else in the room calling out his name. So she just stood there.

The familiar, uncomfortable prickle of people's eyes on her settled into her skin, and though she held her arms protectively around herself and had tried to hide crammed into the shadow of a large vase, she still felt far too exposed for her liking. This was all why she never attended social gatherings anymore…there were always too many people, all of whom would undoubtedly stare at her like she was some exotic animal at least once during the night, and the constant sound of voices was always drilling into her head… Though at least with those gatherings, she could sneak out at some point; go to the library and disappear. Not this time. She wished with all her might that she could be allowed to go back to her room, or at least seek out someplace quieter or darker, where the light wouldn't sting her sensitive eyes. But alas, she had no such luck; she'd be forced to stay there until she worked up the courage to move through the throng of people to try to speak to the Housewarden again. She took a moment to settle her back against the wall, close her eyes, and take a deep breath, though she could already feel a headache coming on.

Seeking any kind of distraction, she became curious and decided to watch the other people present, maybe see if she could place them into a Dorm based on their clothing. It's not like there was anything else to do; she would never be able to just focus on her own thoughts with all the noise, and her mind would undoubtedly keep wandering back to the unease and anxiety she was just barely managing to smother. She looked over the rest of the students, sorted them, before moving on to the next, no one really seeming interesting enough to cast a second glance at.

That is, until she saw him.

She'd never exactly been the romantic type— for the longest time, having never felt it, she'd been convinced that romantic love didn't even exist and all romance books should be classed as non-fiction— and had never really payed any attention to what people look like. Until that very moment, apparently. When she saw him for the first time, it was like the rest of world began to move in slow-motion. Everything around her beginning to feel blurry and distant, even the sounds of people talking, and only his image remained clear and in focus. She couldn't stop staring at him, his beautiful long, dark, almost silken hair, his intelligent charcoal eyes...

Those strange, unfamiliar feelings took hold of her, made her chest tighten in a way she wasn't used to, and made her breath hitch. She couldn't explain it logically no matter how hard she tried. She'd never felt anything like it before. She forced herself to tear her eyes away, lest she be caught staring. She stared into space with her eyes aimed to the ground, calmed her breathing, and glanced in his direction again. She battled with herself, caught in some strange, inner battle between instinct, logic, her confusion, and the new sensation of bewilderment she felt. When she glanced up at him again, he seemed to notice, and he looked at her. At her. The moment their eyes meet, her heart suddenly exploded in her chest. The only term she could think of to refer to it as was a feeling of helplessness; of not knowing what to do and being unable to do anything except fall pray to whatever spell seemed to have been cast on her.

When he introduced himself and said he was supposed to lead her to her room (on Crowley's orders) she swore she forgot her own name. Her pale milk-toned face lit up strawberry pink. She found herself straining herself trying to make conversation and ask things about the dorm as they passed, and about himself, too. She had no idea what was going on— it was so out of character for her to want to talk to someone! But she did want to. More than she'd ever wanted anything. The words just kept coming out, she felt so tense and like she had no control over what she was saying. But she liked it. And when at the end he smiled at her and said goodnight, she thought she would faint. She wanted to see him again, to talk to him more, to learn more about him! She could barely sleep that night because her heart wouldn't stop pounding and she couldn't stop thinking about him…

But she had no choice but to request a transfer to Diasomnia not long after, due to Scarabia's sunshine being too much for her skin- what with her being albino making her very sensitive to it.

In-between Books 1 & 2

This is where Artemisia slowly starts settling into Diasomnia. Also thus where Jamil encounters the Ramshackle trio (Grim and my other OCs Tomoe and Irina) and ADeuce.

But whenever Artemisia sees Jamil, like in the hallway on the way to and from classes, she always tries to wave to him, and walk up to speak to him if she has the time to spare.

Jamil thinks this is weird. Very weird. Suspicious, even. He at first wonders if maybe she's trying to get closer to Kalim through him.

B O O K 2 Denial

Something eventually happened which shocked her— Kalim, her former Housewarden, found her in her little alcove in the school library and invited her to one of his parties. And weirder still, she accepted? Some tiny part of her was hoping she might get to see Jamil there. And she did! She felt absolutely over the moon. She spent every second that she could talking to him, offering to help carry small things back and forth from the kitchen. It wore her out, with her very poor stamina, but she was just too happy to be able to talk to him that it didn't matter to her. Her crush on him made her feel normal, in a way, for the first time in her life.

Later on, she ended up asking Lilia— who, as she'd barely ever even talked to her own father, had started to feel like something of a father figure to her— if he could teach her how to cook. She wanted to be able to help Jamil, both as a way to spend more time with him, and also to help lessens his workload. He agreed, but… Even she could tell the food he made was not fit for consumption. Though Silver and Malleus gently persuaded her otherwise when she wanted to give Lilia an honest critique on his food and how he could improve.

Instead, she started going to every single party Kalim ever invited her to, to be able to spend time with Jamil. She'd always seek him out, to the point even Kalim caught on and started just telling her where he'd last seen Jamil when she arrived.

She ended up spending a lot of time in the Scarabia kitchen as a result, asking to help carry dishes out to the lounge.

When she found out Jamil was in the basketball club, she asked him if she could come watch their practice sometime, to which he agreed.

And so that became routine for her. On the days they had practice, she would show up and watch. When they had breaks, she would go up to Jamil and ask him something or other about how the game worked, as well as other things.

He was no longer suspicious after realizing she was a literal princess- he hadn't known when showing her to her room previously, since all Crowley said was her first name. Because why would a princess who was of higher status and nearly as wealthy as the Asims try to get close to Kalim through him?

The theory especially crumbled when he caught on the fact she never talked to Kalim at any of the events the boy in question invited her to-- only to Jamil.

B O O K 3 Denial -> Anger

He once told her he was impressed by how quickly she'd memorized the rules, which lead into a conversation about academics in general, during which she said she was great at the theoretical parts, but not so great at the more practical applications of magic, since she just wasn't used to seeing it up-close. He was still pretending to be nothing but average, but she still complimented him on his magical ability, from what little she'd seen. (what? why?).

At this point in their time knowing each other Jamil had actually started getting irritated. What did she want? Did she just want to waste his time? That must have been it. She was just trying to distract him for...for whatever reason. Her own amusement, maybe.

...SO WHY DID HE OFFER TO TUTOR HER???

These tutoring sessions eventually lead to cooking practice, too. Artemisia has never liked people she doesn't know (which is everyone) touching her, literally and physically shying away whenever someone tries to so much as shake her hand, and backing up even further if they don't get the hint. Even with people she's acquainted with it usually feels unpleasant. But when Jamil had to hold her hands to show her how to properly use a knife, she didn't mind at all. For once, touch even felt...pleasant. Not 'not unpleasant', but actually nice in itself. And unlike with most people, she could actually look him straight in the eye without feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Though she tried to avoid it, because she knew if she did she'd end up becoming too flustered to speak properly.

In-between Book 3 & Book 4 Anger -> Bargaining

At this point he'd stopped being as upset about Artemisia's presence in his life. He'd even started becoming somewhat used to it. It was not because he liked having her there- obviously not. She was just...not as irritating as Kalim. Taking time out of his day to teach her to cook...well, it was made easier by the fact that she made sure to always come to him instead of vise versa, knowing how busy he was, so he could fit it into the time he'd be making food for Kalim anyway, so it was just not time-consuming enough to not do it. And lending her his notes when she'd been forced to take time off due to her semi-regular, impromptu bouts of sickness, even though she was on friendly terms with the Malleus Draconia...well, skill doesn't always translate to being able to teach well, after all. And she had specifically asked him for help (he'd need to stop thinking about the fact she went to him over everyone else NOW). And even if he did try to go out of his way to linger around her for longer after she'd been sick, of course not, it wasn't because he'd missed her, no of course not- he just...wanted to make sure she could still keep up.

None of that meant she was at all different or special to him. ...Right? Right.

B O O K 4

Artemisia decided to also stay at NRC over Winter Break It's not like she can really go 'home' to the royal palace, and she just knows if she, a human, went with Lilia, Malleus, Silver and Sebek to Briar Valley, the far there would make a big deal about it. And there is literally nothing Artemisia wants less than to be gawked at

So she stays behind. She meets up with Jamil in the kitchen He asks if she's doing alright alone, and she says yes, especially since she can cook for herself now. She thanks him for that, for teaching her He tells her not to mention it She says she won't if he doesn't want her to, but it did mean a lot to her He blushes a bit and focuses back on cooking

And then Tomoe, Irina and Grim arrive!

Someone mentions that perhaps Artemisia can also come with Jamil— knowing he does NOT want to get Artemisia, the one person who's been shown to really care about him, want to genuinely get to know him and treated him like an actual person and not just a servant, involved in this— tries to persuade her otherwise, by bringing up the sunlight, and how she had to transfer dorms because she couldn't handle it.

This would also be how the player/Tomoe, Irina and Grim first learn that Artemisia used to be in Scarabia for a little while.

Artemisia is l weighting the pros and cons to herself…before eventually, she decides she wants to. She might never get a chance like this again! A chance to spend time with Jamil not needing to be parted by classes!

When asked why, she just says it's a secret.

Artemisia being there would also add to the stakes, I think?

During the first day when Kalim is giving out those insane orders, Jamil tries his best to let Artemisia be in the most shaded sections of the dorm, and always in someone's shadow on their march to the oasis. But Kalim sees this and says she can't be 'slacking off' like that. Tomoe sees the panic on Jamil's face and how he tries to stand up for Artemisia but is overruled, and then for a brief moment gets an almost guilty look on his face. And later that night, having been run so absolutely ragged by Kalim, Artemisia faints. Only Tomoe and Jamil are around to see this, since Irina and Grim had already gone back to their shared room.

But the next day, Kalim goes softer on Artemisia. Tomoe finds this strange. He goes softer SPECIFICALLY on Artemisia, but no one else. He didn't see her faint the day prior. And he's still just as hard on the others. The change seems almost arbitrary. She does consider the possibility of Jamil having somehow convinced Kalim to do so. But she thinks that could only happen if Jamil told Kalim what happened. When they'd all gotten to the oasis the day prior, he made rain for Grim as soon as he said he was thirsty.

But…Kalim is too nice for the incidents of the day prior to happen in the first place. And if he's so fickle as to be swayed by that, but not by any of the other people suffering… Something was just VERY fishy. That's when she concludes someone HAS to be messing with his mind somehow.

And in that case, for Kalim to suddenly go easier on Artemisia, it would have to be someone who knew she fainted. …Leaving only herself and Jamil. And as she has no magic and knows she herself didn't do anything, there's no way it could be anyone but Jamil, with the way he is the only one allowed to see Kalim early in the morning and late at night.

All this coupled with the strange thing that happened with Jamil getting her, Grim and Irina to get to Scarabia in the first place erases any doubt in her mind that it could be ANYONE else.

And when he Overblots and throws the rest of them out into the edge of the deser, not only does he keep Irina there— knowing she just has a very subservient personality, she herself wasn't trying to stop him, and they're kinda friends by this point due to hanging out sometimes in the NRC kitchen outside of class when they're both cooking for their respective dorms— but he also keeps Artemisia there.

Listen I am only including Artemisis in book 4 in the first place because LISTEN TO ME. ARTEMISIA AND JAMIL AS JASMINE AND JAFAR IN THAT ONE SCENE. But less weird and creepy and coerced. Because when Jamil tells her to begin to list all the great things about him, she does so, and she genuinely means every single word. Irina was gonna try to like, ask her to play along in pretending to be subservient until the others could get back, but she didn't really even need to try. Him having made her next to him, tilting her chin up with his fingers to look at him— making eye-contact with him always makes her INCREDIBLY flustered— and smiling and telling her to sing his praises, she is just GONE. Does not need to be told twice.

“Y-your hair is…so beautiful…and so soft, like silk. You are so intelligent, and knowledgeable…I struggle to believe there could be anything which would not be possible for you. You are so resourceful, too, and a good planner. And your skin is so beautiful… Your smile is captivating, and your voice is smooth, and mesmerizing, even without your Spell…” Her face is bright red. What she's telling him now isn't even just to distract him anymore. She's really just started telling him her honest opinion of him.

This is where Tomoe, Grim, Kalim, Azul, Jade, Floyd and Junia come in and pretend to be Scarabia students, chiming in and agreeing with her.

Jamil smirked again.

“Good answer.” He said, and nudged Artemisia's face a little closer— only for him to abruptly stop, drop his hand from her face and shift his gaze to where the others were standing.

Then the battle ensues, Jamil is defeated, you know how this goes.

Afterwards, Artemisia really, really hopes he didn't catch onto how genuine her words were.

Jamil remembers exactly what she said, and since Artemisia isn't exactly a hard person to read, even through the black fog his memories of his Overblot are blanketed by, he could tell she meant every single word. And this brings him one small step closer to finally admitting his feelings to himself.

Taking him out of Bargaining, and into Depression

Bargaining -> Depression

B O O K 5

Depression

Artemisa is still processing the fact that she finally got the courage to tell Jamil how she felt, only to have no idea if he even remembered it or not. If he did, was him not saying anything about it because he didn't like her back? It was an incredibly annoying limbo to be stuck in.

As for Jamil, he just tried to focus super extra hard on the SDC to distract himself from the...everything.

Him being so busy lead to them not being able to spend as much time together, and it made the both of them miss each other a lot.

B O O K 6 Depression -> Acceptance

And he finally accepts it.

He wasn't going to let himself sit around and feel bad about things that could never happen, the way Idia did. So he finally not only admits to himself that he's in love with her, but also resolves to actually do something about it. Who knows, maybe they could make it work. Or no, not even 'maybe'. He will make it work, somehow.

In-between Books 6 & 7 I've decided that in my personal timeline, GloMas happens in-between Book 6 and 7. Partly because it's so funny to imagine Rollo being like I TOLD YOU SO when Malleus Overblots RIGHT AFTER the stuff that went down at Noble Bell.

When they really 'get together' is during Glorious Masquerade No one who could rat him out to Kalim— and by extension his and Kalim's families— would see the two of them as long as he's a bit sneaky about it and avoids people like Sebek, Deuce and Lisle who could definitely end up blabbing about it to him.

So he takes Artemisia with him to go exploring Noble Bell— Artemisia wants to see the library But at some point they just stop in a hallway, and he asks her:

"Those things you said that night during Winter Break. Did you mean them? Were those your honest feelings?"

Artemisia's face flushed and her heart did a twist into her stomach and began to race. "I did. They were. I— I had assumed you had forgotten…" — "I cannot decide whether to be upset or relieved that you did remember." — "Relieved because…being able to tell you felt so freeing… Though, upset, because it would spare me the embarrassment of having confessed my feelings to someone who did not return them… I suppose that perhaps, in that way, I am a coward. Though now that you do remember, I will not be a coward. I did sincerely mean every word spoken that night, and more. Even if you do not feel the same way toward me, I—"

He cuts her off with an "I do."

Later during the same event, after the Rollo fiasco, actually during the ball, the two have snuck out to go explore more of the city together. And while dancing to some music playing from a nearby celebration, they end up sharing their first kiss.

Artemisia gets so worked up her heart problems act up and she literally faints. Que Jamil kinda panicking. But hey at least it was memorable?

Their relationship is kept secret. Of course. It has to be. She's a literal princess, his parents would metaphorically kill him if they found out.

Artemisia doesn't mind. She doesn't like people's attention on her in the first place, so PDA was NEVER something she wanted. The only thing she's a little sad about is she wishes they could spend more time together. But that wasn't new, and she understands why they can't. And it only makes her treasure the time they do have even more. And she's patient. She doesn't mind having to wait to see him; she does get to see him eventually, after all. And Kalim, ever since Book 4 has started trying to give Jamil a bit more time off— so they definitely have more time to spend together than before, at least.

Lilia does end up catching on; like I said, Artemisia is easy to read, and a bad liar. It's actually a bit of a miracle no one figured it out before. Probably mostly because she like never talks to anyone who isn't Jamil, Idia or her Diasomnia family.

But Lilia agrees to help her keep it a secret! But he does tease her a little bit about it sometimes He's just so happy for her!

('Look at those crazy kids being so cute' energy)

ANYWAY THAT WAS IT HOPE YOU LIKED IT

Tagging: @another-random-paradise @thehollowwriter @faefum @cactus13-rolloflammesimp @beneathsakurashade

@nyx-of-night @theolivetree123 @babyghoul138 @skibidibabygirl @screamintoad

@scint1llat3 @buttholesparkles

#moony's ocs #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #🦢artemisia #artemil 🐍x🦢#jamil viper #jamil viper x oc #jamil twst #jamil twisted wonderland #twst x oc #Spotify

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princessnotfound · 2 years ago

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It Doesn’t Sound So Good To Me (It Never Sounded Good To Me!) // thread with @drcxmlcss & @tubbo-bo-underscore

George seems to be the least bothered about the situation. Rumours of the hospital caught his attention a couple days ago on the news, and they're a sucker for stupid ghost stories. Horror and thriller novels are one of their favourite things to read to pass the time, and apart from the blatant stupidity of the victims in horror movies, they can sit through those quite happily, too. They're almost entirely convinced that the whole idea of supernatural entities is fake and nothing more than the skeptics' interpretation of electromagnetic fields, but can they really be blamed for trying to believe that something in this world is minimally interesting? So obscure and unnatural that it shouldn't be real, but it is? Whether or not the beings from the beyond wish to claim their soul, they find it amusing to pretend that a little flickering light or gust of cold wind could be the presence of such a creature.

He was only particularly hesitant about such a foolish dare because of the horrid state the hospital is in. Just from the outside, it's clear how long this place has been left abandoned. Emptied of every living and breathing body, and now (supposedly) filled with the spirits of the dead. He can't quite understand why the undead would settle to reside in such a filthy place. Rust cakes the doors they enter through and George is already scowling, pulling silken gloves from the pocket of his trenchcoat and tentatively pulling them over his fingers. He'll be damned if anyone thinks he's touching anything in this gods forsaken place.

Similarly to Tubbo, he isn't exactly... dressed for the occasion, and silk white gloves certainly do not fit such an eerie atmosphere. But practicality isn't his biggest concern - looking flawless is. So what if he's marching headfirst into a ghost-hunt in denim, waist-high shorts and an airy blouse? His trenchcoat covers himself up pretty well, enough to keep him warm now that winter is coming to an end, and he's fairly certain that no entities from the afterlife will be trying to grasp at his rings and choker. He's sure ghosts have better things to do, like haunt the three idiots that are nonchalantly entering an abandoned building. With a flip-mirror in hand and his phone flashlight in the other, George is mindless following the pair of cousins while inspecting his makeup and huffing, "all this dust is getting on my nerves."

If he does happen to be walking into his death, he needs to look good for it, right? A smudged wing of eyeliner is perfected with his fingernail and his mirror is snapped shut, then tucked away into his pocket again. Eyebrows raised, George eyes Dream with a half-smile. "Don't be such a wuss, Dream," he snorts, following the scampering footsteps of Tubbo wandering further into the darkness. His phone light only illuminates so much. "If we're stuck here, we might as well explore. I'm not going out in the rain. Besides... Ghosts aren't real. Right?"

It Doesn’t Sound So Good To Me (It Never Sounded Good To Me!) // thread with @tubbo-bo-underscore & @princessnotfound

The air here is heavy with dust. Dream’s thankful for his little cloth mask; it makes breathing easier. Even then, he’s convinced they should leave. Cobwebs hang from the ceiling. Mildew stains the walls. Pipes leak god knows what. If that wasn’t reason enough to turn around, they passed by a broken mirror a few rooms back, rusty red staining the edges.

Why are they out here, again?

Eyes narrow at the people beside him. Tubbo. George. This wasn’t how he wanted to spend tonight. He would’ve preferred to roast marshmallows or play video games. But no. That wasn’t fun enough. It wasn’t exciting enough. Why not hunt some ghosts instead? What could possibly go wrong?

Everything, Dream decided. Everything could go wrong. The news had run a special on this hospital days ago. Sitting just at the edge of the city’s borders, it hadn’t been touched in years, let alone to house patients. Ghosts, however, were supposedly plentiful. The team even caught ‘paranormal activity’ on camera: flickering lights.

He’s sure there’s a logical explanation for it. That doesn’t, however, mean he’s interested in finding it.

“There’s nothing here,” he concludes, shining his flashlight at one of the room’s corners. Something small and fuzzy scurries away. Gross. “We should just—” He’s stopped by the sudden sound of thunder. Every muscle in his body tenses up and he almost drops his flashlight. Quickly, he spins to the nearest window. It’s foggy, but he can still see outside. And…

Rain. Heavy droplets run down the glass. It intensifies way too quickly to be a normal storm. Nervously, Dream checks his phone, tapping open a weather alert. “It’s a cloudburst,” he says with a sigh. “There might be mudslides, too.” They need to stay indoors until the rain moves on, but… Dream looks up from his phone. Is it really safer in this place than it is outside?

#•─── opus #•─── it doesnt sound so good to me #•─── dream #•─── tubbo

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st-juliet · 3 years ago

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Wild Violets

Fandom: Henry Cavill as Sherlock in Enola Holmes

Summary: Sherlock indulges in some naughtiness whilst out on a picnic with his beloved wife, the Reader. Just a quick little one-shot because there’s a gorgeous field of violets right next to the stage where I work, and all I can think of is how romantic it would be to be ravished amongst the flowers!

Content: 18+ for suggestive language and smut, specifically: enthusiastically consensual unprotected sex—private and uninterrupted, but outside in nature—with a bit of spanking and mild period-typical gender-role reinforcement.

Notes: I prefer giving a name to the Reader rather than using Y/N, but I hope you will make the appropriate substitutes in your imagination.

On the first day that truly feels like spring, you are delighted to see that Sherlock more relaxed than he has been in months, having just resolved a particularly grueling case. It takes little coaxing to convince him to join you for a picnic, out on a far-flung field of the grounds that is no longer particularly attended, but rather left to grow wild and free. Dressed in light summer clothes—your husband completely tantalizing in his rolled-up shirtsleeves and suspenders—you relish how your hands entwine as you walk some fifteen minutes from the house, with your basket and blanket ready to make a perfect morning of it.

“The violets are blooming!” you sing out rapturously, stooping to examine the swath of purple blossoms that have sprouted up in a patch of sunshine.

“How appropriate,” Sherlock smiles, drawing you back up for a light, sweet kiss, and together you lay out the old quilt beside the violets, careful not to crush any of the flowers. Sherlock lights his pipe and gazes out across the verdant fields contentedly, and you retrieve your sketchbook and pencils; the estate’s wildflowers and other flora are your pet subject for drawings and watercolors, and it is no secret point of pride for you that your husband keeps a folio of his favorites in his desk.

You lay on your stomach, propped up on your elbows, the better to observe the violets, beginning a light, large study of a singular bloom before you attempt a whole cluster. But it is not long before a distraction arrives in the form of a smirking Sherlock, who begins to toy with the hem of your lacy white dress, slipping his hand beneath your petticoats to stroke your legs through your stockings, unhurried and deliberate.

“What if someone sees—?” you protest, completely belying your objection by wriggling delightedly against his touch.

“This is my land. My estate. My wife.” he replies, moving to kneel behind you. He lifts your hips, setting you on hands and knees, then courteously, neatly folds your skirts up about your waist and runs a possessive hand across the swell of your backside, squeezing the sensitive flesh through the silken fabric of your drawers. “Everything for miles—this lovely, lush body included—belongs to me. And I may do with it all what I please.”

What he pleases, you are made to understand, is to tug the last of your clothes away, revealing deliciously soft, plump flesh and inciting a pleased, possessive chuckle from your husband. Casting a look over your shoulder, you meet his burning blue eyes just as he smacks his hand down firmly on the exposed skin.

“Stay as you are, Mrs. Holmes,” he instructs gruffly. “Just look at your pretty little flowers and leave me to do a man’s business.”

He levels another spank on the same spot, then shamelessly spreads you apart to gaze at your center, and you tremble, trying to focus your attentions as he bid you—a delightful game you both know you will lose, and so much the better for it.

“Here’s a flower to admire,” Sherlock hums, stroking your damp petals with a maddening gentleness, when all you wish is that he would thrust them inside you—ah, there, just like that. “Sweet and pink and perfect.”

You cannot help but push back against his fingers greedily, and he graciously allows you to direct the pace until you are gasping and trembling and at the edge of your peak, when he abruptly withdraws. The slightest hint of your head about to turn disobediently, ready to pout and plead, earns you a further spank, then a few more in quick succession for good measure.

“Quite enough of that, you nymph, or the sight alone will overtake me before I’ve the chance to enjoy you.”

You can hear the sound of his trousers coming unfastened, and make one final vain attempt to turn your head to see the glorious sight of your husband en dishabille, but his large hand immediately shoots out to catch your chin and turn your face away again. He covers your body fully with his, your back against his solid chest, his hardness pressed exquisitely against your slit, and his teasing lips at your ear.

“What did I say, wife?” he chides in a whisper, his rough touch turning into a caress even as he presses himself inside you, slow but unyielding.

“Look at the flowers…” you gasp out, fixing your eyes as instructed, but only for a moment, as the bliss of his cock hitting a particular spot deep inside you causes your lashes to flutter and close. He takes his time undoing you, and gratifying himself, completely—rocking into you with long, even strokes that draw sighs from you both, hearts racing in tandem until you both come together, the feel of him spilling deep inside you setting off an endless chorus of sparks through every nerve in your body, again and again. You almost collapse onto the blanket as Sherlock withdraws, but he catches you and takes it upon himself to finally turn you about. His gaze drinks you in from head to toe, purely captivated at the sight of you cradled in his arms, rumpled and flushed and positively, indecently beautiful…and all for him.

“Forgive me for interrupting your artistry,” he apologizes, not sounding sorry in the slightest bit.

“Oh, nonsense,” you laugh breathlessly. “Just think what superb memories you’ll conjure every time you look at this sketch!”

“God, how I love you,” he murmurs with a laugh of his own, kissing you fiercely and tenderly. “My perfect, wild Violet…”

Thank you for reading!

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #Sherlock Holmes x You #Sherlock Holmes x OFC #Sherlock Holmes fanfic #Henry Cavill!Sherlock #Henry Cavill Sherlock Holmes #Henry!Sherlock #Henry Cavill fanfic #Enola Holmes fanfic #Sherlock Holmes imagine #my writing

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years ago

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okay but imagine waking up next to soft!dom harry in the middle of the night and snuggling closer to him because you had a nightmare or you just couldn’t get to sleep well and he just kisses you, whispers sweet nothings and holds your hand as he helps you back to sleep

SCAREDY KITTEN Y/N, CLINGY AND MELTING OVER HARRY ALWAYS GONNA BE MY FAVE

Wednesday’s are most tiring for Harry. Shit tons of paperwork, shipping and unloading and then being a visible leader at the workplace to make sure the gang runs efficiently.

Weary and knotty in his muscles Harry dragged himself all the way to the threshold of his house to his room, his comfort space for many reasons— it smells incredibly sweet of his lovie, it’s cosy and the blankets are always toasty with her warmth and the room temperatures's the perfect chilly against your skin, akin to whole house.

“Hi Mushy,” He greets her coarsely, ducking down and a bit to the left of her gaze when she busily mumbles a ‘hi!’ Back with her head stuffed into her books, crossed legs on the chunky silken duvet and blankets.

“No kisses, pretty?” He asks, patting her head gently and she looks up at him. Equally tuckered out and bushed, she’s been trying to solve this stupid stupid algebra and it seems like algebra solved her and kicked her in arse telling her to do this nonsense with someone other.

“Sorry.” She sighs, scurrying to her knees and lifts her bum to plant a soft kiss to his lips instead ends up smashing a sloppy peck to his chin making both of them giggle.

She really thought she was about to get a good sleep, after having a tummy full dinner, doing her night routine with Harry and cleaning the little mess around her room because it keeps on irking her the whole night of otherwise --- she really hoped.

Her hopes were crushed brutally with a bulldozer when Harry knocked out the moment his floppy head hit the pillows, his embrace's homey and his breath melting into her skin makes her wants to learn the pattern mentally and sleep to it— she did.

She almost lulled herself into a light slumber when their whole house shook, the windows squeaked and their bedhead banged against the wall ever loudly from the force of her jolt due to the peal of unexpected thunder.

Y/N hates thunderstorms. It hyperventilates her badly and she’s never able to sleep during them, she might ends up crying or trying to make a clever run god knows where. She’s a science student still her silly and scared brain convinces her that the lightening will fall on them and burn them to ashes.

For a moment it didn’t happen again, replaced with calming patter patter of rain and she was glad she hasn’t woken Harry up. Who’s snoring softly into his pillow, his arms lax around her body and his facial features placid and soft.

There’s an ominous roar again in the sky and this time it fucks her up properly. She whimpers like a puppy shrinking into Harry’s side, eyes bolted shut as she feels her heart pumping in her ears – thumping eerily against Harry’s chest and she gasps, her knees knocking against Harry’s lower abdomen when there’s furious amount of non-stop thundering. Quite funnily he only mutters something incoherent and tucks her further into him.

Y/N’s sleepy, loggy and her scary surroundings doesn’t makes any sense to her and she doesn’t want to wake up Harry.

She’s feeling awfully, small and little and skimpy.

Terrified her eyes blows away when she sees the light-flashing outside scarily bright, “Daddy!” She cries out, latching her elbows around Harry’s neck and her thighs around his waist -- practically haggling the dude into a bendy doll.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy. . .” She mumbles unremittingly into his throat, her tears soaking the crew neck of his shirt -- tummy jolting against him and it stirs Harry, trying to take in his wear-bouts— knuckling the blurriness away from his eyes, he looks down at his lovie in haziness worried something bad happened because last he remembers she was good and about to drool over him. His warm palm gliding up her back, the fabric of her pyjama top bunching in his hold.

It doesn’t took him long to realize why his lovie’s so rucked up, clinging onto him like she depends on him for dear life when another wave of thunder-clapped and she was shoving herself into him with a frightened sob.

“Hey, hey . . Poppy. Daddy’s here. Not g'na let anything happen t’ya, sweet girl.” He whispers, cupping her face with both of his hands and tilts it up gently to look into her scared eyes, he sandwiches her shaky hands in-between his thighs and brings her impossibly closer to him – stroking his thumb over her wobbling wet bottom lip.

“We're gonna die!” She stutters a whiny sniffle hating that this awful thundering wouldn’t stop. Her outburst quirks Harry’s lips into a small smile, his heart oozing with overloaded infatuation for his love who’s just too innocent and cute for her own sake.

He gives her an eskimo kiss, pecking the corner of her salty lips then kissing her mouth tenderly and lovingly, “Said the same thing last time baby.” He calms her down. Rubbing her back, halting at the dip of her hip to massage the soft spot gently.

“Shh, shh, ‘s okay . . . I know it scares my darling so much, hate tha’, wouldn’t want my little’s poor heart to suffer this much would I?” He says groggily, tone coy and affectionate. He brushes the frays falling over her eyes out of shakiness, behind her ear and smooches a kiss to the side of her temple.

A surreal quietness blanketed them, her timid voice breaking through it and Harry smiles foppishly and lazily down at her hands still covering her ears. He tuts caringly when she blinks and glistening moisture collects under her eyebags.

“Sorry, didn’t wanna wake you,” She skootches impossibly closer into him, nuzzling her face in his strong healthy rising chest and he shakes his head petting her hair, “Would’ve been bummed if you didn’t,” He hugs her securely, and she relaxes taking a nourishing breather. Something so protective, safe and warm his huggies makes her feel.

Harry himself is the definition of tenderness, for her.

“Good?” He inquires, pressing his lips to where her neck and shoulder meet—- rubbing his hands up and down her arms smiling assuringly when Y/N hums in meekness.

His head perks up, brows shooting up nonchalantly when Y/N groans again upon all of it starting again and he coos, tightening his hug more compassionately screwing his mind too think of any idea to distract her.

“Would my baby like to keep me inside her, keep daddy warm?” He cuddles her chuckling softly when she buries her face in his neck, fisting the waistband of his joggers out of shyness and quick to bob her head timidly as Harry showers her in tiny sloppy wet fond kisses.

“Hmm. My soft little one.” He murmurs, hooking her panties away and spitting in his palm to squeeze it around his girth and gives himself few pumps before lubricating her with his own precum and eases carefully inside, not to hurt her.

Their temples falls against eachother, whimpers mingling as Harry bottoms out inside her. Balls snug against her bum, his eyes glassy as he nudges her playfully, “Now if we get stoned to death . . atleast it’d be with me cock inside ye',” His belly does a loopy loop upon earning a shy giggle from her (he takes pride in making his lovie laugh) and she moans breathily when he squishes her bum cheek grumbling disgruntled.

“Not letting them see yer bum thou,” She hiccups a giggle, feeling ticklish from all the raspberries he’s blowing at her skin and lapping the sensitive spot then, teasing it dry.

“You’re s’nice to me, I love you.”

“I love you too, my little one.”

Harry’s forever and always gonna be her comfort person.

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wri0thesley · 4 years ago

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Could I get some Gojo face sitting please 👉🏻👈🏻🥺 Maybe with a chubby reader?

fool for love - gojo x reader (2.25k)

gojo asks you to try something, and you can never say no to him.

(warnings: nsfw, afab reader, fem pronouns (pet names). explicitly chubby reader, mentions of worries about weight/body. cunnilingus/facesitting)

Sometimes you think it’s a good job that you and Satoru Gojo are a couple; you’re absolutely certain that nobody but you would put up with him. You’re totally convinced that you’re the only fool in the world who sees his arrogant smirk and the thrust of his chin and the cocky set of his shoulders, listens to him go on and on about himself and about his work and about his strength, and wants to kiss him instead of kill him.

You do kiss him, coincidentally. A lot. Partly because when he’s kissing you, he’s not running his mouth – partly because the taste of his lips on yours and the feel of his hands on your waist, pulling you in, is addictive. You can’t get enough of him – and luckily, it seems that he can’t get enough of you either.

So when Gojo had thrown out this suggestion, casually, as if he was asking you what you two were going to order for dinner that night (you’ve never seen Gojo make anything more complicated than a ramen cup), it had not taken you long to agree.

Faced with it, though – Gojo situated on the bed, arm stretched over his head, grin on his face – you begin to wonder if maybe it’s such a good idea.

“Don’t back out on me now,” he says, the cocky grin not leaving his face. “I’ve been dying to taste you for hours.”

You shift uncomfortably on the other side of the bed, suddenly horribly aware of the curves of your body. No matter how Gojo’s words send a thrill through you – you know from experience he’s good with his tongue – you can’t deny that you’re a little afraid.

It’s easy to forget the difference between the two of you when he’s got you pressed underneath him on the mattress, cock plunging in and out, mouth hungrily kissing every patch of skin he can get at. When Gojo looks at you with his hair falling in his face and his eyes like starlit galaxies, you feel beautiful – but you’re not sure if you’ll feel quite the same way straddling his face.

He sees the way you bite your lip, the anxiety beginning to show in your gaze – and Gojo softens. You see him like this rarely (he’s proud more than he’s caring), but he’s shown this side of him to you every so often, when something has made you draw in on yourself. One of his hands wraps around your bare shoulders, pulling you to face him.

“Hey, doll,” he says, pressing his nose against yours affectionately. “What’s got you pouting, huh?”

“I . . .” You swallow. You feel so embarrassed admitting it! Gojo has never said anything about your body beyond how much he loves having your hips to hold onto, how he loves your thighs wrapped around his waist, how soft and warm you are tangled up beside him in bed – but your insecurities always seem to flash back up at the most inopportune of moments. “I’m just . . .” You blink, biting your lip. Your voice comes out in a soft breath. “I’m worried I’ll be too heavy.”

Gojo’s eyebrows draw in. You must have seen him without anything shading his eyes a hundred times now, when the two of you are in the bedroom, but you are still knocked back by just how pretty he is – the constellations in his irises, the fan of his white eyelashes against perfect skin. The expression makes his mouth jut out, so kissable that it takes your breath away.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” he says, as if the very idea is laughable. “I could lift you over my head right now--”

He reaches for you as if he’s going to do it, arms locking about your waist – the tension breaks as he effortlessly pulls you back, your body landing on top his. He doesn’t so much as let out a ‘whumph’ of air at the sensation of your body hitting his.

“I’m the strongest, remember?” There’s more than a note of swagger in his voice; he is so very proud of that accomplishment. You suppose he has every right to be.

“I guess,” you breathe, and he makes a soft harrumphing sound before his fingers twist into your hair, pulling you close to him to kiss you.

“You guess?” He sounds mock offended against your lips. “I guess that means I’ll have to show you exactly what I mean, huh?”

A nip at your lower lip; his hands roaming your bare back, stroking the curve of your ass and hips. Everywhere Gojo’s long fingers touch leaves a trail of fire behind, like he’s branding you with the pressure of his fingertips. You imagine them leaving glowing trails behind the colour of his eyes – but the coil of heat that they’re helping stoke, low in your belly, is more red than anything else.

“How’re you gonna do that?” You breathe against the softness of his mouth. He tastes like sugar; he always does. You can’t get enough of him, dizzy and breathless. You would gorge yourself on him if you could.

“Take a seat on your throne, princess,” he grins, letting his head hit the pillows hard. His pale hair spreads out all around him like a halo as he moves a hand from your hip to tap his mouth with his fingers. “And find out.”

You guess it would shut him up. Gojo’s mouth can’t keep moving if he’s got you occupying it. And you also can’t deny that the thought of it – riding his face – is more than half of the reason your inner thighs are slick with your arousal. Still . . . what if you really are too heavy for him?

Gojo murmurs your name softly – you meet his eyes again, and you see softness and tenderness reflected in them, despite the fact that his mouth is still shaped into a cocky smirk. You know if you say no, he probably won’t push you. But . . . you don’t want to say no. You push yourself up from his chest.

He’s still wearing his underwear, and you wonder if he can sense how damp you are where you briefly straddle him – because you can certainly feel how stiff he is, the outline of his cock pressing against silken boxer shorts (yeah, of course he’s a silk underwear kind of man – you’ve seen them countless times, but just how Gojo that particular detail of him is never fails to make you smile).

“Okay,” you breathe. “I hope you’re comfy.”

Gojo’s face splits into a grin as you move yourself, your knees suddenly either side of his face, his cheeks pressing against the softness of your thighs.

“Babe,” he starts to say, “I’m absolutely the com—mmppf--”

His gloating is cut off by you sitting on his face. The whisper of his breath across your heated folds as he’d spoken had been too tempting, your sex feeling like it was pulsing in time with your heartbeat – and so, you’d given in. Using your hands as leverage on the headboard of the bed, you’d sunk fully onto your knees and muffled Gojo’s words.

Oh, God.

Your mind blanks out at first, as Gojo’s tongue goes at you hungrily. For his first hungry licks at your core, he’s voracious – he seems to want to drink you up like fine wine. Gojo does not drink – you know this very well – but if he could get drunk on your slick, you think he’d already be unable to stand up. One of the hands on the headboard goes to tangle in the fluffy strands of his pale hair instead, and he looks up at you for a moment, pausing with the flat of his tongue pressed against the throbbing bud of your clit.

The sight of his eyes between your thighs almost pushes you over the edge there and then – looking down at him feels like tumbling down a rabbit hole, like you’ll never be able to pull yourself out of their lovely depths. He makes a soft noise against your folds that has you practically vibrating, your toes curling – and you realise it’s a question.

Maybe he’s asking you what’s wrong, maybe he’s asking you if you want to stop, but your mind is all hazy from the feeling of his mouth on you. So all you do is tug at his hair and gasp, your hips rolling forward against him to try and coax his tongue into flickering across your clit like you’re longing for it to do.

“Satoru,” you whimper, voice all thin and reedy like a prayer, and Gojo does not need any more encouragement than that to return to his work.

Gojo’s hands rest on your hips and even you feel small for a second, the length of his fingers and size of his palm almost overwhelming. There’s so much power in the way he holds you – so much strength behind the casual clench of his fingers into your plush. He keeps you anchored there as he uses the flat swathe of his tongue to lap at you all at once, briefly teasing your entrance before he twirls his tongue around your clit like someone licking whipped cream off of a fancy dessert--

He’s caught you watching him do exactly that out of the corner of your eye many times before, and grinned at you widely with a hungry murmur that he’ll devour you in exactly the same way if you want him too.

Does he not need to breathe?

You lose track of how long you’ve been sat on his face for. You can’t think of anything else with the warm, wet muscle of Gojo’s tongue teasing you. He thrusts it in and out of your entrance, making your entire body jerk and your walls try and cling to him, constrict around him. He flicks his tongue so fast over the bud of your clit that you can’t understand how he does it, it can’t be human to move that fast--

All through it, the tension tight in your stomach is getting hotter and tighter and needier, like a instrument's string being tuned to its breaking point.

You can barely breathe. There’s nothing but Gojo’s insistent lapping at your core, the thrust of his tongue in and out of your channel (has Gojo’s tongue always been so long? It feels just as good inside of you as his fingers always do, but different--). Your hips are rocking and grinding against his face against your will, your fingers twisting into his hair. You’ve lost your senses completely in the chase of your release, hovering tantalisingly close--

Gojo gives your clit one final, soft lap, the barest hint of his teeth against the hood and you burst into bloom for him like a flower. The string snaps and heat floods your body, Gojo’s name escaping you in a wail. Fireworks burst into being behind your eyelids.

Gojo’s tongue follows through, coaxing you through the soft, gentle aftershocks of your orgasm even as your thighs are trembling and your grip on the headboard is beginning to loosen. If it weren’t for his hands on your hips, you would probably fall forward and hit your head on the wall, passing out – but Gojo’s assessment of his strength wasn’t for naught, and your spent body is being pulled down so your heated cheeks are pressed against Gojo’s firm chest. You blink up at him in your exhausted, pleasure-drunk state--

The entire lower half of his mouth is dripping wet, glinting with your arousal and his own drool from how hungrily his tongue was going at you. But his eyes are as sharp as ever, drinking you in like you’re the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen – as if he can’t believe that you’d ever doubt yourself.

Nobody would believe you if you told them how Gojo gets, sometimes – if you told them about the smile-softened eyes and the softer words, the way he holds you like a precious treasure that might break at any moment. He leans down and strokes some hair from your eyes, almost lazy.

“I told you I was the strongest,” he says, and even though it’s a boast, his voice and manner is so soft that you barely register it. You’re smiling up at him like a fool. Maybe it’s foolish to love him as much as you do – but if it is, you don’t want to be clever. You don’t want to be anything but his, here, in his bed, sprawled out across him, lazy and sated.

You kiss the bit of his chest directly beneath your lips lazily, needing to express your affection for this arrogant, gorgeous, irrepressible (perfect) man.

He sighs at the contact, shifting – and you’re reminded of what’s currently lying beneath his own underwear, hot and needy and thick. It’s a testament to Gojo’s willpower he hasn’t mentioned it yet.

You smile at him. One more minute of relaxing on his chest – of having your hair played with, of getting to look at him . . . and then, you’ll see to that.

Gojo’s eyes are just as gorgeous when you’re knelt between his thighs as they are when he’s trapped between yours, after all.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #not sfw #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #writing #jjk posting #afab reader #fem pronouns #jjk writing tag

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mrskurono · 3 years ago

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Ok but Kirishima would totally be the type to seek out praise, and just in general he loves making his s/o proud and does anything to make them happy.

And because he's such a good boy his s/o wants to reward him by dedicating a night to making him feel good

But he would be so unsure because hes used to listening and doing what his s/o tells him and making THEM feel good. ( and he may or may not be worried it'll make him bad to not contribute )

So his s/o is forced to tie him down ( probably with silk ribbons because this isn't a punishment its a reward ) and make him feel good and praise him because hes so sure he should be doing something, not just laying there.

service top!Kiri who is just- the picture perfect idea of "yeah he's on top but he sure as hell ain't dom" kinda man ok. His strength and size and body is 100% at your disposal and your pleasure. There's no breaking or training this man bc he chases the high that comes from you praising him between moans. Lewd slurs of his name leaving your lips as you tell him how good he makes you feel and what a good boy he is. Kiri drowns in those words day in and day out. It would only be kind of you to let him relax those hard muscles once in a while.

Red Riots beautiful muscles accented by a silken binding. That in all honesty isn't doing much. But he's so pussy whipped that he would break the thinnest string unless you told him to.

Wrapped up like a present in all his glory. A nervous Kiri trying to convince himself (more than you) that he can do it. That you can use him. That he's a good boy and you don't need to lift a finger.

Hushing him with his face to your breast. Sending shivers down his spine when you drag your fingertips through his mass of red hair. Pressing his face into your chest until he has no choice but to hungrily pepper it in kisses and wrap his lips around your nipple. Soothing him a bit as he's not the one doing things for you. But what really makes him puddy in your hands is when you start playing with his cock.

So sensitive for someone who's quirk is hardening. Holding his face to your chest while your light touch dances around the tip of his cock. Not entirely jerking him off. But enough to make him moan against your breast and wiggle against you. Precum leaking down his wonderfully delicious cock. Making you smack your lips and lick them.

It's the way he comes undone pleading to make you feel good that is so delightful. Lips wrapped around his cock as you savor his taste nice and slowly. Edging such a sensitive cock to one of the hardest pro heroes. Kiri choking on his moans and nodding along with everything you ask of him.

"Does that feel good baby?"

"Want mommy to suck you off?"

"Gonna cum that easily?"

By the end of it Kiri is a mess ready for your touch. Forgetting if he's physically bottoming or not. Because the sweet envelope of your cunt around him is all he needs to know his place is always answering to you.

#ugh i love kirishima #he was like the og crush on bnha #he has such good boy bottom vibes like you never have to lift a finger #but he'll read your mind and know exactly how you wanna be touched and where #he is best boi sorry there's no comparison #threethirst #bnha #bnha smut #mha #mha smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #kirishima eijirou #kirishima eijiro smut #kirishima smut #mha kirishima #bnha kirishima

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wlwreader · 3 years ago

Text

Dancing with the Devil

A/N: Just a little preamble before you start reading. This Natalia is pretty different in the way she treats reader in this fic compared to my other fic for a few reasons(Devil’s Advocate. Not a necessary read for this one, but if you enjoy this fic you’ll definitely enjoy that one) I had kind of come up with like I guess my own little world. So I considered the black box+collar from my other fic to be a marriage proposal of sorts. You’re pretty much her soulmate, in that you’re souls are bound in a way after you’ve put the collar on. Yes in my world succubi and incubi can only take one mate, so you’re her personal juice box for eternity and she’s allowed to feel some type of way

Summary: You’re back where you belong.

Warning: Somnophilia, Dacryphilia, Voyeurism if you like squint real hard, Overstimulation, Ruined Orgasm, Oral Fixation again if you squint but not as hard, Kitten/Pet and Mistress calling, oh and uh Tail Fucking

WC: 5.2K+

Pairing: Succubus!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Days pass in a blur after that night, Natalia having burrowed her way into your every thought, forcing you to continue your life on autopilot. Even in your dreams she haunts you, mind plagued with visions of gleaming red eyes and that devilish grin that always sends your pulse racing (for reasons you refuse to admit to yourself). You try desperately to convince yourself that there has to be a reason she won’t leave your mind, that she must’ve put some kind of hex on you or maybe it’s some lingering effect from being railed by a succubus, anything other than you wanting her. You can’t want her, not when the only way you’ll ever be able to see her again is becoming some sort of sex slave...forever. In any other context, being someone’s fuck toy for the rest of your life would be nice, might even be considered ideal, not having to worry about your financial state and the promise of good sex. But forever with an immortal being? There’s really only one way for you to interpret that and eternity is a terribly long time to be someone’s personal plaything...right?

You shouldn’t even have to try to convince yourself that it’s something you don’t want. No matter how sinfully good she is with her mouth or how she seems to know all the right angles to hit just the right spot that leaves your toes curling and your eyes rolling towards the back of your head or how-

You flop back onto your bed with a groan, trying to stop that train of thought from progressing any further before you’re doomed imagining all the things you want Natalia to do to you for the rest of the night. A sigh slips past your lips as you roll on your side, ready to force yourself to fall asleep, when your gaze lands on the small black box that still rests on your bedside table and all your dirty thoughts come rushing back to the forefront of your mind, followed by a faint throbbing between your legs.

A hand trails subconsciously down to the apex of your thighs, eyes falling shut when you find your slit, slick with want. Your mind wanders from scene to scene, each wildly different from the last, but all of them featuring Natalia. Your breath slips past your lips in soft pants as you circle your clit, free hand tracing a path up your abdomen to grope your breast for a moment before you’re tweaking your nipple, back arching with a quiet moan.

Your fingers dip down, sinking into your leaking hole, when you hear a shuffling noise followed by a soft click. Immediately, you freeze, eyes wide as you sit up and scan your dimly lit room. No one...not a person or creature in sight. The windows are closed and still looked to be locked after squinting through the darkness of your bedroom for a long second and your door doesn’t seem to have been opened. You look around your room again, hand reaching out in the dark for any kind of semi-heavy object you could use as a potential weapon, when it meets the now open top of the box sitting on your nightstand.

Was she here now? Watching you? Have you been on her mind just as much as she’s been on yours?

A shiver runs up your spine, a smile teasing the corners of your mouth at the thought as you sweep one last look around your quiet bedroom. You reach for the lamp on your bedside table, turning it on while you eye the lacy black collar proudly on display resting inside the box before gently scooping it out, the small bell attached to the front ringing and clinking against the name tag. Your fingers trace over the red stitching lining the top and bottom, then down to tug on the matching red bow and around the back to undo the small ribbon that ties the two ends together.

You pause for a brief moment, reconsidering, but the throbbing of your clit is far louder than that little voice of reason trying desperately to coax you back to thinking clearly and so without any further hesitation, you wrap the collar around your neck and secure it in place.

The silence of your bedroom is almost deafening as you wait...and wait…..and wait, til the ache that’s taken home between your legs expands, enveloping you whole.

The bell on your collar rings with your movements as you lay back, the sound muffled by the thrumming of your heart pounding in your ears. You ignore your hurt feelings (whatever feelings those may be) and focus on the wetness that’s gathered at the apex of your thighs, fingers fucking into yourself long into the night until you fall asleep, your hand tucked into your bottoms and the collar still resting around your throat.

Your dreams are more vivid than usual, almost as if replaying the memories and sensations of your night with Natalia. Images of her head buried between your legs, the vague feeling of hands gripping your hips, soft hair tickling the insides of your thighs and the warmth of a mouth teasing your slit has you squirming in your sleep.

The throbbing of your clit slowly lulls you awake, the feeling of fingers pushing into your heat pulling a shaky, high-pitched whine from your lips while your hands subconsciously reach down to tangle in soft waves (your fingers brushing against something famillarily ridged and curved has your heart fluttering happily) and pull that heavenly mouth back towards your clit.

A tittering laugh has you finally dragging your eyes open and you’re blessed with a view of a grinning Natalia, pointed teeth on display and her crimson eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Did you miss me, kitten?” The words come out low and muffled, Natalia not waiting for an answer as she presses her face back in towards your cunt and dragging one of her fangs gently across your clit.

Your back arches, bell on your collar jingling softly as you throw your head back into the pillows beneath you, an intense orgasm rushing through you without warning, your clit unexpectedly sensitive. Fuck...just how long has she been buried between your legs before you were dragged from your dreams?

Muscles relaxing, you land on the soft black silken sheets with a blissful sigh, her husky chuckle ringing pleasantly in your ears. Your hands fall away as Natalia trails burning kisses across the insides of your thighs, her breath cooling your slick and sweat covered skin when she speaks, “It’s about time you woke up, pet.”, her lips continue their path, bruises slowly blooming beneath her touch as she sucks and nips along your hips, up your stomach to trace the shape of your breasts before she mouths at the stiffened peaks, teeth capturing your nipple and tugging. Air hisses out past your lips as her fangs dig into your sensitive skin, your hands finding her fiery hair again. The onslaught of kisses continues up your throat until she pulls you into a heated kiss, her tongue slipping past your lips and you can’t help the whimper you let out when you taste yourself.

Natalia pulls back, air fanning across your face from her huff of quiet laughter as you chase her lips, eyes still closed. When you meet her gaze you’re almost shocked to see how vibrant the red of her irises are, as if they’re almost glowing, until your gaze sweeps up to admire her obsidian like horns, reminding yourself that she’s a succubus and she IS feeding off of your sexual energy. For the first time, you wonder what kind of power she holds.

She shifts to straddle you, the feeling of her hot, dripping cunt resting against your stomach pulling you out of your thoughts. Your hands reach out to grip her bare thighs, but a raise of her eyebrow has you dropping them uselessly at your sides as you’re reminded who’s in charge. She shifts again, hips subtly rolling with a breathy sigh falling from her mouth before speaking, “Although I can’t really complain about you sleeping so long. Not when you taste so…”, she pauses, tongue snaking out to drag across her plush lips, “Devine.” she practically purrs, eyes hooded while the corner of her mouth pulls up into that devilish smirk that has your pussy clenching.

Natalia’s hips rock down again, dragging her clit across your stomach before she leans back, hands braced above your knees as she starts grinding down in earnest, eyes falling shut. You’re enraptured by the sight, eyes flitting from her beautiful face, delicate features scrunched in pleasure; down to her heaving chest, perky breasts and pebbled nipples prominently on display. Slowly, your gaze falls further down along her body, taking in every inch of smooth flawless skin and soft curves, your mind consumed by thoughts of how utterly perfect she is, as if she were sculpted by god themself, before your eyes land on the trail of slick coating your stomach and Natalia’s puffy, leaking cunt while her hips continue to rock against you. You can practically feel your mouth water at the sight, an involuntary whine slipping past your lips as you realize just how much you crave to finally taste her, to please her.

Her breathy laugh has your eyes shooting back up to meet her vivid crimson stare, cocky smile on display when she teases you,

“What is it kitten? Are you not enjoying the view?”

You can’t stop the heat shooting to your face as you try to remember how to actually speak, mouth moving before your brain can form an actual sentence and tripping you up on your words. She laughs again at your stammering, clearly amused by her toy.

“I..I wanna-- c-can I taste you, Mistress?” desperation seeps through your voice as you lie underneath her, fists balled in the sheets trying hopelessly to fight the urge to reach out and touch her.

Natalia grins, pearly fangs catching the light and drawing your attention, just in time to watch her tongue flick out to wet her plush lips. The way her red gaze takes you in sends a shiver down your spine and you can’t help the way the blood rushes to your face or the way your heart stutters in your chest.

“Please…” the word leaves your mouth in a whimper and Natalia’s eyes soften just a tad, though her wicked smirk is still painted across her lips.

She hums, hands moving from the tops of your thighs to run up along the sides of your chest; lithe fingers dancing across your ribs to cup your breasts and tweak your nipples, pulling a whine from the back of your throat, “I suppose I could put that pretty little mouth of yours to work finally,” her hands continue their path, nails tracing up the column of your throat and toying with tag on your collar. She’s watching you intently, eyes soaking in your flushed and disheveled appearance, thumb dragging across your bottom lip. Your mouth parts and in a trance-like state, you nip the digit, tongue teasing the tip of her thumb before enveloping it in the warmth of your mouth. Natalia’s pupils seem to dilate further than before, the inky blackness slowly swallowing the red of her irises. You watch as she shakily exhales and the pride that swells in your chest has your tongue working her finger just that much more, eyes falling shut as you start to lose yourself in the motions. The squeeze of her strong thighs as she grinds her heated cunt harder against your stomach reminds you of the question you had just asked and you look up, your gaze meeting nothing but black as she stares back at you. “Would you like that, pet?”

The words leave her mouth in a breathy exhale and she hasn’t even finished speaking before you’re rapidly shaking your head yes, eyes trying their best to convey how much you ache to serve her. You watch hungrily as her soaked cunt nears your face, Natalia’s hands tangling in your hair and tugging your head to meet her wet folds.

“Then make that greedy mouth useful.”

You don't have to be told twice, not when you’ve been plagued with dreams and fantasies of her soaking your face in her cum, and eagerly your tongue flicks out to trail along her puffy lips a few strokes before parting them with deeper licks. She sinks down with a hum, pussy pushing further into your mouth as her nails scratch at your scalp. The taste and sensation of her cunt dragging along your tongue is almost enough to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You’ve never tasted someone so sweet and you can’t stop yourself from gripping her thighs and thrusting your tongue into her quivering hole with a greedy groan, trying to lap up as much of her wetness as you can.

The heady moan you’re rewarded with sends a pulsing heat straight to your clit. Her hands tighten their grip in your hair, hips slowly rolling along your mouth as you reverently devour her cunt, eyes closed in pure bliss while your tongue fucks her leaking hole.

You can hear Natalia’s heavy breathing above you as she uses you for her pleasure, the soft moans cascading from her parted lips are interrupted by a gasp when you finally manage to pull yourself away from the never ending slick dripping from her cunt to latch your mouth around her neglected clit. You suck, tongue lashing out to tease the swollen bud before she’s bearing down on you with a loud keening moan, powerful hands holding your head in place as she grinds her clit against your willing mouth.

“Fuuuck, that’s right kitten,” her rasping voice is shaky and your cunt throbs, knowing you’re the reason why, “eat my pussy like it’s your last supper.”

Her words pull a whine from the back of your throat, the vibrations shooting straight to her sensitive clit and the sound that leaves her mouth has you seeing stars as you cum; thighs squeezed together, pussy clenching around nothing as you shudder and moan under her.

Who knew demons could make such desperate pitiful noises?

Your orgasm doesn’t go unnoticed, if the tail teasing your twitching hole and the trembling laugh above you are anything to go by.

“Enjoying this, are we?” You don’t have to open your eyes to know she’s smirking, you can hear the smugness in her voice even as it wavers with every roll of her hips. “If I knew how ea-” she cuts herself off with a deep rumbling moan as you easily sink two fingers into her wet heat, digits immediately curling up to search along her walls for the spot you know will reduce her into a quivering, moaning mess.

Her tail pushes into your soaked slit as a dragged out yes hisses out past her teeth. The way Natalia’s hips buck against your fingers and mouth fucks her slick tail into just the right spot inside your fluttering cunt and soon your muffled moans join hers in a sinful symphony as she takes what she wants from you.

“Oh, you’re going to make me cum, pet.”

The words renew what little willpower you have left and with great effort, you stave off your impending orgasm to force your eyes open and focus on fucking your Mistress. You’re blessed with a sacred sight. Her back is arched beautifully, pushing her hungry cunt as far into your mouth and fingers as she can and putting her perky, full breasts on perfect display for your greedy eyes. Your free hand is reaching out without a thought and you watch as Natalia’s mouth falls open, freeing her bottom lip from between her fangs, while her brows furrow and her nose scrunches up in pleasure. You squeeze her tit, appreciating the softness under your palm and watch as her chest stutters, her breath faltering for a second before picking up again. Experimentally, you drag a nail against her pebbled nipple then take it between your fingers and pinch.

Her nails dig into your scalp as she smothers her pussy against your face til you can’t breathe and you’re sure you’re going to die, suffocating happily between her thighs when she freezes on top of you. You feel the tell tale signs of her upcoming orgasm when her walls flutter around your digits, desperately trying to pull them deeper and eagerly you drag your fingers from her quivering hole to join your other hand in their ministrations so that your tongue can once again taste the saccharine-like slick. The thighs encasing your head tighten as your tongue plunges and curls in her cunt until Natalia is gasping out a moan and her cum soaks your face.

If you thought her pussy tasted heavenly, you’re sure her cum is the nectar for the gods. Your eyes roll back as you lap at the mouth watering wetness leaking from her, your own cunt spasming as her tail frantically fucks into your sopping hole until you're sure she’s hitting your womb with every thrust.

Natalia has stopped shaking atop you, her hands and thighs loosening their hold around your head but she doesn’t make a move to get off you. In fact, her hips are rolling along your mouth again as you practically sob against her cunt from the intense pleasure between your own legs. Your hands grip desperately at her hips and thighs, eyes squeezed shut as you futilely try to chase your orgasm. You’re so close, god, you’re so close, but the edge stays just out of arm's reach and you can’t stop the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, nor can you stop them from falling, disappearing into your hairline and rolling down to join the mix of slick and cum coating your face as you cry and writhe pathetically under your her.

“You cry so cutely for me, kitten.” She purrs, “Let Mistress see those pretty, tearful eyes.”

The wild thrusting of her tail has died down to a slow crawl, dragging you away from the peak you were so pitifully chasing and so, with a whimpering sniffle, you dutifully open your eyes to meet Natalia’s pitch black gaze.

You can see the shiver of pleasure that runs through her body as you stare up at her with sad wet eyes, a shudder of your own wracking your body at her hum of “Good girl.” when you give her sensitive clit and cunt small kitten licks to clean up the rest of her cum. Her hands brush away any of your wayward hairs from your face before she drags a thumb along your temple, collecting your tears on the digit. You watch as she slowly brings her thumb to her mouth, gazes locked as her tongue slips past her lips to teasingly lick the salty liquid away with a quiet moan.

Your pussy clenches around her tail at the sight, her tail twitching inside you in response and briefly you wonder if she can actually feel pleasure fucking you with it before you’re completely pulled from your thoughts as her pace starts up again.

With a sigh, she drags her cunt away from your soaked mouth and immediately your loud moans fill the once quiet room. Her body slides pleasurably against yours as she moves to lie atop you, chests pressed together and legs tangled as her tail continues to pump into your soaked hole. The tip of her nose trails your collarbone then up along the column of your throat, breathing in the scent of sex. Your hands tangle in the soft fiery waves of Natalia’s hair as she kisses above the collar resting against your neck before sucking the unblemished skin between her lips to bite and mark and claim and fuck your pussy just gushes at the thought of being her’s.

You lick your lips, a whine pulling from deep within your chest at the taste of your Mistress still coating your face, bringing you just that much closer to the edge. The appendage fucking into you twists and writhes in ways you’ve only ever felt her tongue do, but the added thickness of her tail has you hurtling towards climax, head thrown back, collar jingling as you press your neck further into her greedy mouth.

Your eyes are screwed tightly shut and your pussy quivers painfully, walls sore from the constant fluttering, and just as you start to crest the peak, her tail slips itself from inside you and your hole clenches miserably around nothing while you cum. You’re already crying again when your body relaxes, sobs bubbling past your lips at the ache between your legs and the still pent up frustration your ruined orgasm failed to rid you of.

Natalia pulls away from your bruised neck to admire her work, mouth parted in quiet awe at the sight of her cum covered, sweat soaked, crying pet; and reverently, she kisses along your jaw and cheeks, tongue lapping at the mix of cum, slick, and tears that coat your face, whispers of how pretty you look when you cry gracing your ears.

She leans back when she finishes cleaning your face of her mess and your eyes finally open again when nothing happens after, tears still trailing slowly along your temples and disappearing into your hair as you sniffle, just to find her watching you keenly. Only when your gazes meet does her tail dip down between your legs to sink into your poor sensitive cunt once more. It’s gentle in its movements, but that doesn’t stop the fresh wave of tears from welling up in your eyes as the pain ever so slowly starts to outweigh the pleasure.

Your eyes squeeze shut, the tears that gathered there cascading in rivlets along your face, as the tail brushes along your walls, pressing into your g-spot. You can hear the click of Natalia’s tongue in disapproval as she tuts you.

“Keep your eyes open for me, kitten.”

Fuck her voice is so sultry and rasping and you can’t stop your cunt from tightening painfully around the thickness inside of you at the sound. Her tail thrusts a little harder, hitting something inside you and pulling a choked sob from the back of your throat.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” The words are growled into your ear and your eyes fly open. You can feel her tail twitch inside you again while she takes in your whimpering cries, tearful face, and sad desperate eyes. She plunges her tail deep within you again and you wail out in painful pleasure, eyes forced shut as your head tilted back into the bed.

There’s a low trembling groan from above you and before you have the chance to open your eyes once more, Natalia’s mouth is on yours, swallowing every whine and wail as her tail fucks into you deeply, twisting to hit every pleasurable, painful spot inside your pussy. Your hands tighten in her hair, holding her against you while you sob into her mouth, and your legs untangle from hers to wrap around her waist.

You’re close again, so painfully close and you don’t know whether you want her to finish you off or ruin your orgasm again, not when you know both options are going to hurt, but you don’t get to choose. You never had an option in the first place. Your Mistress knows just what she wants from you and she’ll take it, no matter what you say.

“I want you to cum for me.” She’s trembling, pressed against you, voice thick and shaky with pleasure and you nod frantically. She buries her face against your chest, mouth marking every available inch of skin within her reach. Your crying is louder without her tongue to muffle you and with every sniffle and sob, you can feel her tail jerk inside your trembling cunt. Natalia latches her mouth onto one of your nipples, pointed teeth burying into sensitive flesh and your fingers digging into the base of her horns as you cum with a keening wail.

You can feel more than hear her cum with you as her moans ring through your chest, her tail squirming in your aching hole. Your pussy bears down on it, nails scratching at her scalp and catching on the ridges of her horns trying desperately to stop the painful pleasure wracking your body. The thickness inside you thrashes when your fingers scramble along the ribbed protrusion on her head and your sluggish mind slowly puts the two together, hands dropping to clutch at the nape of her neck and drag her into a sloppy kiss.

The moment your hands leave Natalia’s horns, her tail stops writhing and you breathe a sigh of relief into her mouth. Your lips disconnect as she pulls back slightly and when you open your eyes finally, you’re met with the quite literally glowing red eyes of your Mistress. As gently as she can, her tail slides out of your aching pussy, watching as your face pinches in pain at the soreness and she kisses your furrowed brow, nose brushing along your forehead and temple as she trails her lips down to press more kisses along the apples of your cheek and your scrunched up nose.

It’s all so unexpectedly soft and distracts you enough from the burning stretch of the bulging end of her tail when she pulls the last few inches out that you don’t even cry out, though she’s quick to kiss away any silent tears that escape because of the pain.

“Are you okay?” Natalia breathes out. She’s watching you closely, intently, and when you nod yes, you’re blessed with your first genuine smile. No cocky devilish smirks or seductive, hooded eyed smiles. Just the smallest of quirks play on the corners of her lips, but it’s enough to have you staring up at her in silent reverence.

“Good.” She whispers and then, “Can you talk?”

“Y-yes.” The words come out quiet, hoarse, and trembling, your throat raw from all your crying.

You clear your throat and try it again, “Yes Mistress.” it’s just as rough as your first try, but at least the shakiness is gone.

“Good girl.” She’s still whispering, voice soft while she takes you in before she finally rolls off of you to sit up against the headboard of the bed. She’s patting the open spot between her legs, an invitation or a silent command, you’re not sure but you move your tired body to rest against her’s anyway. Your back is pressed against her front, your head rests against her pillowy breasts while her’s rests atop your own, chin pressed to the crown of your head and her left arm wrapping around to secure you against her. Her free hand stretches out in front of both of you and you watch in amazement as a fresh, cool glass of water appears right before your eyes in her outstretched hand, complete with a red striped straw.

She’s bringing it up to your mouth urging you to take the cup from her, her voice gentle against your ear, “Drink this for me, kitten.”

You nod and do as you’re told, taking the refreshingly cold water from Natalia to start sipping and watching while two, what you think are, rags appear in her once again outstretched hand.

“Hold this.” She’s handing you one and you grab it with your free hand, feeling the warm damp cloth between your fingers and you think you can feel your heart melt when you realize what she’s doing. Slowly, she guides your legs open, not one word said while she dutifully and carefully drags the warm rag across the insides of your thighs, cleaning the drying slick from your skin. She trails the fabric closer to your sore center, just barely brushing your outer lips as she cleans the apex of your thighs, before running it along your overly sensitive slit as softly as she can, hushing you quietly when you whine and squirm.

You can feel her press a kiss to the top of your head as she finishes, then she’s leaning back, left hand under your chin tilting your head, your bell twinkling softly, to look up at her while her right is taking the second rag from you. Her eyes follow her hand as she slowly sweeps the cooling rag across your lower face, wiping away any remaining remnants of cum coating your cheeks and chin. When she finishes, she gives you another kiss, this one lingering on your forehead.

The used rags vanish and she hums as she brushes stray hair from your face and you can’t help but to stare up at her with big doe eyes, melting under her gentle touch. You can feel the chuckle build in her chest before it flows richly from her full lips and you can hear the amusement that tints her voice when she speaks again, “Finish your water, kitten.”

Despite everything that’s just happened, you still feel your cheeks heat in embarrassment as you quickly go back to drinking your water. It only takes you a few more seconds before you finish your glass.

“Would you like more?” You shake your head no and the glass disappears from your hand. “Do you need anything else, pet?” Her hands are softly stroking along your sides, stomach, and thighs, fingers massaging into any sore muscles they find.

“No, Mistress.” You’re quiet as you speak though your thoughts are loud, overcome with questions that soon fall into the recesses of your mind when she starts to shift lower onto the bed.

Natalia pulls you over her while she settles onto her back, tucking you into her side and wrapping her arm around your waist, pulling you flush against her. You don’t hesitate to bury your face against her neck, your collar ringing with the movement and her chin resting against your head once more. Your leg and arm are thrown across her and you snuggle as close as you can with a content, sleepy sigh. She’s humming some soft unknown tune quietly, hands tracing patterns into your back and vaguely, you register the slithering sensation of her tail wrapping itself along your leg.

Briefly, your mind flashes back to the Natalia that left you in your bed all those nights ago with her cum leaking from between your legs and you can’t help the words that fly from your mouth.

“I didn’t know demons were into aftercare.”

She huffs a laugh, the air hitting the top of your head, and you hide your smile against her skin when she replies, “I’m a succubus, kitten, not evil.”

She must feel your mouth open against her, because before any sound can escape your parted lips, she’s shushing you.

“I know you must have lots of questions, pet.” You hum a yes when she pauses waiting for your reply, then continues on, “I thought so. But now is the time for sleep.” One of her hands leaves the expanse of your back to run through your hair, nails dragging pleasantly along your scalp and you feel as she leans down, lips brushing across your forehead as she whispers. “I promise I’ll answer all your questions in the morning.” A kiss, then “Now, go to sleep kitten.”

You do, a small smile stuck to your lips.

#LOL like 2 years later right?#anyway really wanna thank everyone who's still here despite me being gone for forever #like whaaaaa???? why are you here?? i come back from the land of the dead to complain and leave and youre still patiently (probably not)#waiting for a fic?? really?? bless you #<3 #anyways i learned a lot about myself un personally while writing this and i hope you guys enjoy and or learn a few new things about yourself #;)#ive been reading a lot of lady d fics and i think they kind of translated over to this fic sorry #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff smut #smut #avengers x fem!reader #avengers x reader #avengers smut #boo.fic

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heliads · 3 years ago

Text

A Glance Across the Street

Based on this request: “a race oneshot where he realized he’s in love with the reader. she’s doing something (singing, playing with kids, whatever) and he’s awestruck and the boys are teasing him after”

masterlist

Race is mid-conversation with his friends, mid-way through his bag of papers still left unsold. He should be focusing on talking to Albert and Jojo, and he should definitely be trying to get the last few of his papes sold before the night grows too old and he’s out of customers to swindle. He knows all of this, yet his gaze keeps slipping from his fellow newsies or passing bankers to rest on one girl down the block.

Y/N is selling papes too, her grin contagious as she manages to talk even the most persnickety of passersby into purchasing the daily newspaper. Her newsie cap is slightly askew, and Race’s hand twitches by his side as if he longs to fix it, to look down and see her flash him a grateful smile. Honestly, Race is starting to think that he has a problem when it comes to Y/N L/N.

As it turns out, Race is not the only one to notice this: although he attempts to quickly jerk his attention back to the conversation at hand, Albert and Jojo notice the fact that he isn’t quite responding on time and try to figure out what’s got his focus hooked. Albert follows Race’s line of sight and a vicious grin appears on his face. Race tries to look away hurriedly, pretending he was just following the path of a potential customer, but it’s too late- they’ve both seen.

Jojo loops an arm around Race’s shoulders, clasping the other hand firmly over his heart. “Well, if my eyes don’t deceive me, I think Racer here has a little crush.” Race scoffs, pulling away from the boy. “As if. I’m just trying to sell my last papes.” Albert rolls his eyes. “Is that why you haven’t sold one in half an hour? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’se trying to lose money.”

This is a fierce accusation for a newsboy who prides himself on his ability to make any deal to even the most unlikely of customers, and Albert knows it. So, when Race snatches his cap from his mess of blond curls, ready to swat it most brutally into Albert’s head, the red-haired boy is able to easily dart away in time to avoid the killing blow. Race tries one last time, but his attacks fall short when he hears a voice from behind him.

“What’s going on here? Why are you trying to murder Albert?” Race’s eyes widen in spite of himself, and he straightens up hurriedly, slapping his hat back on his head as if he’d just been stretching. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re just having a, uh, friendly conversation.” Albert looks positively gleeful over this, but he doesn’t say a word. Y/N raises her eyebrows. “I don’t know about that. I’d swear there was going to be bloodshed.”

Albert may be willing to save him from the fires this once, but Jojo is not so generous. Instead, he casually leans on Y/N’s shoulder, practically savoring the way Race’s shoulders stiffen. Race does his best to ignore this, forcing a casual smile. “Well, maybe Albert deserved it. You know him.” Y/N tilts her head to the side, considering this. “I do know him. What’s he done now?” Albert and Jojo look between Race and Y/N like they’re watching a sports match, curious as to what explanation Race can manage without telling her the true reason for the near beatdown.

Race mentally stumbles for a moment, then comes up with a scrap of something. “He insulted my brand of cigars. I couldn’t have that, could I?” Y/N’s eyes glint with barely contained amusement, and Race thanks everything holy that his excuse held up. “Oh, I get it now. I’m sorry to interrupt the carnage.” Race grabs Y/N’s hand, pulling her away from Albert, Jojo, and their twin mocking expressions to continue walking down the street.

“That’s alright. Now, come on- I think I saw a few tourists. Think we can scam ‘em?” Y/N laughs as she follows him down the block. “Without a doubt. Is that them?” She jerks her chin towards a cluster of families pausing by a florist, all of them in the newest fashions. They practically reek of wealth, which makes them the perfect targets for newsies in desperate need of unloading some papes. Race nods, and Y/N’s grin widens. “Oh, this is going to be fun. Race you there, Racer!”

She takes off down the street, spinning past cobblestones. The sound of her laugh, lighter than a summer breeze, lingers by Race’s side for a moment longer. Although Race knows he should follow her and at least try to sell some of his papes before all of the tourists are gone, he feels stuck in place, unable to do anything except watch her go. There’s a smile tugging at his lips before he realizes it. He tries to stow this a second later, except it’s a little hard to be serious when there’s a girl like Y/N right next to him.

He manages it in the end, as he always seems to do. Race isn’t sure what happened to make him turn into this stumbling mess whenever Y/N’s with him, but the habit keeps seeming to stick. He hasn’t always been like this, it’s only a recent incident, but no matter what he tries Race can’t go back to seeing Y/N as a friend and a friend alone. Sometimes, he wants to knock himself upside the head, hoping that a brief concussion might restore his thoughts, although Race is fairly certain that even this hit might make him even more of a grinning idiot where a certain newsgirl is concerned.

Later that week, Race is hit by that same bout of hopeless staring, although this time it’s even worse than before. It comes over him like a wave, threatening to pull him under entirely. He had been turning the street, walking from one block to another in the hopes of finding some idiot with a purse full of coins who’d be willing to shell out a little more than usual to a newsboy on the street. Maybe this is why his crush hits him so hard- he’d had no time to prepare, nothing to center himself around except this sudden sight of the girl before him.

All of a sudden, there she was, talking to a group of kids she’d met on the street. They stare at her with the same sort of loopy smile Race wears now, like they’d follow her anywhere so long as she gave the word. Honestly, Race may get a little jittery around the Brooklyn boys or the cops when there are too many of them, but the hold Y/N has on him scares him even more than that. He’d do anything she asked of him, no matter what or how. He can’t run from that kind of influence, just go along with it and hope he didn’t get worse.

Y/N crouches down now, the edges of her skirts rustling lightly over the uneven cobblestones. She reaches out a hand to a nearby girl, one who would barely come up to her ribs unless Y/N was kneeling as she is now. The little girl presses a careful coin into the awaiting hand, and Y/N hands her a newspaper in return. Race can see her pointing out the different pictures on the front, explaining them with that same slow voice she gets when the night is late and drowsiness slips through every syllable. This time, though, she’s not tired, just speaking in a way that kids who barely know anything can understand. Maybe that’s all Race is, too, a kid with half a brain and some stupid lovesick gaze he can’t seem to shake.

Y/N stands up, stretching, as the little girl leaves. A few more kids linger by her knees, and she talks to each of them in turn, patience coming eternal even by the point when Race would have started getting a little restless had it been him there instead of her. One of the kids hands her a flower he managed to find from somewhere, and Y/N tucks it behind her ear, smiling as if it’s a jeweled tiara instead of a little sprig of a plant that’s more leaf than petal.

She turns now, as if she can sense someone watching her, and finds Race from where he’s hidden by the crowd. She smiles at him, the simple expression almost enough to knock him over. There’s a soft slight in her face, as if she’s a little self-conscious to be caught talking so eagerly with the kids, but Race could never make fun of her for a second. Instead, he lets his own smile widen in return, and Y/N looks almost relieved. She mouths something about catching up to him in a second, then turns back to the kids when one of them tugs at her hand.

Now that he’s been caught, Race should probably keep moving down the block, at least doing something to keep up the pretense that he’s just selling papes instead of simply staring with that same jump in his heart. However, he can’t quite convince his feet to move, like his body is perfectly fine with just watching her there. It’s just the way the light washes golden over her hair, the sunbeam force of her smile, the twist of her hand and head as she speaks. Race has seen the way the rich neighbours stare at artworks, entranced by mere brushstrokes. If that’s what it looks like to fall in love with a mere painting, then Y/N might be an entire museum full of masterpieces.

That describes it, doesn’t it? He’s in love. Stupidly, crazily, whole-heartedly in love. There’s no way to describe it. Race has had crushes before, on rich girls with silken bows and laughing girls who talk to him as they leave the factories after work. None of those seem even remotely close to the hold Y/N has on him now, like all those kisses and offered flowers were just practice for this.

Maybe he’s too lost in his own thoughts, or the way Y/N seems to call an entire city to her like the star of a show, but Race doesn’t hear Albert and Jojo appearing behind him until it’s too late and they’re already upon him. Albert is crowing at him, face wrought over with victory. “It’s official. You’re completely hopeless for Y/N.” Race moves to deny this, but it’s too late- they have enough evidence to tease him for the rest of his life.

Jojo looks almost incredulous. “Wasn’t it just yesterday that you was telling me about how you’d never spend too much of your time trippin’ over some goil? Look at you now! Albert, he’s practically thinking about marriage.” Albert pretends to be severely affected by this thought. “I can see it in his eyes. He might already be picking out the rings.”

Race rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what you’se talking about. Y/N’s a friend.” Albert and Jojo actually burst out laughing, and Race wants to hit them. “She’s a friend? Race, if you look at your friends like that I’m getting locks on the doors. You’se in love, and it’s hilarious.” Race fishes around for some excuse or retort, finds nothing, and resorts to the time-honored classic of trying to hit them. “Some friends you are. No wonder I like Y/N- she doesn’t do this to me.”

Jojo hoots with laughter. “He admits it! Truth at last!” Albert sighs dramatically. “Did you hear his voice? He’s overcome with emotion.” Race lets scorn drip into his every word. “Overcome with emotion? Where’d you pick that up- off a pape?” Albert scoffs. “No, I read it off the cover of a book in a shop window, like somebody respectable.”

A voice comes from behind them once more, and Race wonders silently why he has to keep finding himself in this exact situation. “Somebody respectable? Albert, no offense, but I have never once seen anyone do that.” Albert’s expression grows worryingly bright, as if he’s just had a terrible idea, and he turns to face a newly arrived Y/N with a grin. “I’d usually argue on that, but I want to make time for someone else. Racer here was just saying something about how he needed to talk to you.”

Jojo’s eyes glint, like he’s caught on to Albert’s plan. “Yeah, actually, he was. Said it was something very important.” Albert nods solemnly. “Very, very important. We’d better leave now, so he can say it.” The two boys exchange looks, then practically jog off, although Jojo makes sure to give Race a very obvious thumbs up before they go. Race is about to seriously consider murder, but then a hand lands on his arm and he’s brought back to reality once more.

Y/N considers him, one eyebrow raised. “Well, I do have to admit that I’m a little worried by how excited they looked about that, but I am a little curious. What do you have to talk about?” Race knows what he should say, what Jojo and Albert no doubt want him to do, but the words stick a little in his throat. He remains silent for a little too long, and Y/N crosses her arms across her chest. “Well? I’m waiting.”

Race searches desperately for something to say, anything, but he has no idea how to start. Y/N’s look of curiosity is starting to bleed away into boredom, and Race is gripped by the sudden terror that she’ll leave before he can say anything at all, despite how terrifying it is to even think about telling her how he feels. So, he leans forward and kisses her before he can talk himself out of anything else.

Now Y/N doesn’t speak, not at all, and Race can’t think about anything except the fact that he might have ruined everything, once and for all. Then her face splits into this incredible grin, and Race feels like the ground has broken up beneath him and he’s falling, falling, until he can’t feel anything at all. “That’s what you wanted to talk about?” Race doesn’t know what to say. Again. “Uh, yes.”

She laughs, and Race thinks that he could have gladly listened to that sound every morning. Let the sound of her laugh replace the church bells, and he would have happily attended every sermon. “You’re an idiot.” Race nods. “Yes.” He’s not sure that he’s supposed to be agreeing to this, but she’s got him caught in her gaze again and he feels as if he can’t move a muscle. “Kiss me again, and I might just forgive you for waiting this long.”

Race grins, his confidence finally starting to return to him again. “Well, I like the sound of that.” He’s not about to refuse her this time, so he reaches forward, gently guiding her face back to his once more.

#race #race imagines #race x reader #race oneshot #newsies #newsies imagines #newsies x reader #newsies oneshot #newsies live #newsies live imagines #newsies live oneshot #racetrack #racetrack imagines #racetrack x reader #racetrack oneshot #race higgins #race higgins imagines #race higgins x reader #race higgins oneshot

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alvfr · 3 years ago

Text

Bittersweet Hotch

Gif by the lovely @dudeitiskarev

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x F!Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+, minors DNI Words: 3.9K (look at me writing something shorter than 15k, huh?) Warning: Semi-public sex. Anal play (fem receiving). Love. Description: A short version of Hotch's POV from Chapter 1 of Bittersweet ("Accidents" Part 5). Link to the full series in my masterlist - will probably make most sense if you’ve read those first 💕

(Warning: Very NSFW below the cut! 18+)

Bittersweet Hotch

There were a lot of reasons why Aaron loved you.

The bigger things, of course, such as your intelligence, your sharp humor, and your heart. Your unbridled compassion for the whole world, however undeserving at times, where Aaron occasionally filed himself in the latter category. Just occasionally though, not all the time anymore. Not after you had made it so blatantly clear how good you thought he was and he found himself striving to live up to those expectations. Surprisingly, it worked.

So yes, the bigger things were almost self-explanatory for why he loved you. Why anyone would love you, really, if they got the chance. Then there were all the little things. Small drops accumulating all the time, like water on a mountainside patiently eroding the seemingly impenetrable rock. One drop after the other until the dam broke and Aaron finally realized he loved you, even if he had done it for some time already. How you hummed to yourself if you thought no one was around, how you always stretched right after waking up, and how you lit up at the sight of him without noticing it yourself.

It was subtle, of course, especially when you were at work. But after Morgan had deftly pointed it out to Aaron — who had asked how the infamous bet started — it was impossible to ignore. He could see how other people on the team had picked up on it. It sometimes made it unbearable to maintain the rigid professionalism you had agreed on at work because now Aaron noticed it all the time. Whenever you walked into a room, you would seek him out first. A small glance, maybe a split second at most, but always there. At home, in more relaxed surroundings, you dropped your guard down further and he could see how your pupils dilated when you caught his eye. And lately, you got that small smile on your lips too, a smile that had Aaron convinced he would do absolutely anything for you.

It was that smile of yours that had made him bold enough to say those three words for the first time back at his kitchen. After that unsub clocked you with a two-by-four and Aaron had to physically restrain himself from beating up a local SWAT officer. Your reaction to those three words had not been as he hoped for, at least not at first, but it had improved quickly. He had come to realize that although you were — like him — keenly intelligent and —also like him — profiled people for a living, you were just as stupid as he was when it came to love. Just as human and vulnerable. There was something incredibly reassuring about that and in all honesty, it just made him love you more.

It meant he had to work harder though, to make you realize how serious he was about this. About this relationship, about you. This promotion they offered you, the one that forced him to squash down his selfish desires to keep you close at all times, was a good thing. It was good for you, and where he had let Haley play the second fiddle in favor of his career and his goals, he was not going to subject you to the same. He could be supportive — he wanted to be supportive — and if that meant sacrifices on his part, so be it. Hopefully, you’d realize he was serious about both this relationship, but also that he took you seriously. As a person, a partner, and a profiler.

The forced hierarchy from your jobs should not and would not seep into any other areas of your lives together.

All of these things had been clear in his mind when you stormed into his office earlier, kicking the door shut, and demanding answers. He loved that about you too. How brazen you could be and that you were comfortable enough around him now to be brazen, even here. Time had gone by quickly, but he could recall just like yesterday when he had held an impromptu performance review here in his office. When he had tried — in vain — to lay down some boundaries, but still found himself unable to say outright that this couldn’t happen. You and him? Impossible for so many reasons. The age difference, your jobs, his son — so many obstacles that had been swept away by those steady drops of water. Things he eventually forgot were obstacles at all unless someone pointed it out for him.

And as he watched you chew your bottom lip raw — so obviously conflicted about this offer and so obviously looking for some kind of permission from him to take it — he realized he would do anything for you. Maybe that was why it had happened? He certainly hadn’t planned it, but seeing your wet eyes after he asked you to move in — again, not the reaction he planned for — he had acted on instinct. Anything to turn that confusion into something simpler.

It started as a kiss. Just a simple gesture of affection and a physical distraction. And perhaps your boldness had rubbed off on him or all those whispered confessions how you fantasized about being bent over his desk played a part, but the next thing he knew, he had pushed his hand up the skirt of your dress. By then it was too late to back down. The way your breath hitched when his fingers brushed against the silken part of your inner thigh skipped through both ears and brain and lodged straight into his libido. And then that perfect mouth of yours had dropped open when he ran his finger against the thin material of your underwear. Using his trigger finger to carve out that well-defined slit marking the entrance to something downright holy — he couldn’t have stopped even if he wanted to, and despite your half-hearted pleas, you didn’t want him to stop either.

You hadn’t been wet to start with, but it took seconds before he felt the fabric dampen. Blood rushing to swell your lips and that tight bundle of nerves he loved to rub, suck, and bite when the occasion called for it. He thought he could tell the difference with each of your heartbeats and he’ll admit he got lost in the moment.

A calculated risk on many levels, but when you shuddered and tightened around his fingers — two of them pumping into you with sloppy wet sounds — he knew he would have come in his pants if he’d been twenty years younger. Sometimes he hated that he was noticeably older than you, other times he silently thought it gave him the opportunity to show you the sexual experiences you deserved. He had another kind of patience now than when he was young, another kind of appreciation for giving as well as receiving pleasure, and let’s face it, another kind of stamina. Not necessarily better, but different.

The sight of you fully dressed, knees knocking against his where he caged you in the chair, and with a glow to your cheeks would forever be burned into his retina. He’d never able to see anyone sit in that chair again without remembering this moment and he was unable to decide whether or not that was a good thing.

It was at least part of the reason why he stayed hard — rock hard, so uncomfortably strained against the stretchy materials of his boxers — even while driving to the city. Trying and wanting to make good on his offer for lunch. And he could smell the faintest wafts of your juices on his fingers and that didn’t help one bit. For a second he had been tempted to let you help him as you had offered — unzip and lean back as far as possible in the seat, pushing your head down and feeling the rasp of your teeth when he pushed too hard at one point. No. He had tried, he told himself, to make this about you. All about you.

There was still a limit to his willpower.

“Aaron,” you had said when the car was parked, the forest empty besides the two of you. As if nothing really existed outside the two of you. Your lips were swollen from his kiss where you leaned halfway over the console. Your eyes were heavy-lidded and focused on him, pinning him in place with your unbridled sincerity. “You just need to decide if you want me to suck your dick or not before you fuck me.”

It took less than a minute before he was shoving his dick into your wet and open cunt where you laid splayed over the passenger seat in the SUV. The door stood wide open to allow him access to you, with the chill of the Virginia forest whispering across the bare skin of his thighs and yours alike. Outdoors, in the middle of the day, when you both were supposed to be at work and not fucking like two teenagers at the end of a forest road. You with that fancy dress rucked up to your midriff, and him with his pants and boxers nestled around his ankles. He didn’t even bother stepping out of them, working with what he had and shoving himself into you through the car door.

The agent and the lawyer in him mumbled something vague about indecent exposure, but drowned out at the sight of you throwing your head back when he snapped his hips forward, your wet open lips pressed against and around him. You weren’t even worried. Another part he loved about you. Spontaneous, risk-taker, daredevil — call it whatever the hell you wanted, but he loved it. It. You. He loved you.

It always felt like the first time when he pushed into you, that heated way you almost sucked him in, squeezing around his dick like a tight fist. Pure velvet fire consuming his dick, and his fingers scrambled for hold, searching for those soft parts of your body that yielded to his grip. He could feel your insides tighten whenever he hit a particularly good point and he kept the pace brutal because you asked him to. At least he thought you did — you at least swore incessantly and it was hard to tell the fuck me’s from the ordinary fuck’s. You always swore like this when you didn’t have to be quiet — and sometimes even then — and it was all breathless and beautiful and he strived to give you everything you wanted. Everything he had.

He loved the way he could see your breasts bounce even under that tight dress he had all but tricked you into wearing today. And when you had to turn around, he loved the way your ass jiggled every time he thrust into you. He loved the way his fingers fit on your body, how pliant it was, somehow always making room for him — be it his fingers, his dick, or his tongue.

You made a spectacular sight and he didn’t know where to focus. On the faint reflection in the window on the other side where he could see your eyes tightly closed and mouth hanging open. On the curve of your waist, flaring up to your hips where his hands held you. On the ripple passing through your thighs and ass cheeks every time he went all in so his balls smacked against your undoubtedly swollen clit. Or on your puffy wet lips gripping around his dick in rhythm to his hips snapping forward, a clear mirror of how your other lips looked like when they locked around his cock.

His mind felt blank and he was aware he was saying something. Trying and failing to put his thoughts into words, mostly groaning your name and saying how beautiful you were over and over again. Because you were. Jesus Christ, you were. It was partially as a distraction for himself when he reached around to find your clit — two fingers, pulling the hood back a fraction so he could move better around it — because he wanted to fill you up now.

He wanted to pump you so full of his cum you’d feel it for the rest of the day. It was a little caveman-ish, but he was done trying to deny he loved seeing his white spend pool out of your hole. A claim, a mark, an undeniable sign of where he’d been. Of what you’d done together and how you’d let him use your pussy. The only thing that could compare was seeing it in your mouth, a small pearly shimmer of something that was his gliding over your tongue.

This distraction wasn’t working. Fuck. Aaron felt the drops of sweat run down his back — despite all his cardio, his dress shirts were tight and warm now with the brutal pace he’d set. God, you were exquisite. Knees spread wide on the seat, bottom of your ass resting on your ankles on either side of his thighs. Wide-open and fucking gorgeous. He wanted to make you come around his dick again. He needed to make you come around his dick again. To feel what only his fingers felt earlier, how you’d squeeze and pulsate and buck your hips to get deeper and more. Fuck.

His tie hung loosely over your back and occasionally censored you from his view. Breathing hard, Aaron flung it away and — acting on some kind of instinct or just pure debauchery — he pooled spit in his mouth and let it drop down so it hit that perfect little asshole of yours. You obviously felt it — he heard both a gasp and had to increase his grip so you wouldn’t fly right off his dick, but most of all he saw how you tightened and that little asshole became momentarily smaller. Fucking exquisite. He checked your reflection in the window, saw the full-on mask of pleasure, and more blood left his head to pump into his dick so he wondered if you would feel it thump inside of you.

He could debate how good of a distraction it was, but at least the sight of his spit running between your cheeks kept his focus from how his dick felt in your pussy. Aaron knew he was good at multi-tasking, but this was almost too much. Remembering to keep fingering your clit — aided by how you squirmed against his hand — and trying to keep a steady pace with his dick — again aided by how you also pushed back to meet his thrusts — and wetting his thumb thoroughly before gliding it over your asshole.

Worth it, he thought vaguely, based on those positively angelic sounds you made. Even with how you swore, it sounded like gospel. He barely remembered to ask if it was okay —if it was good, if this was accepted —so mesmerized at the sight. He had done this before — always carefully, always asking for permission — not really for any other reason that in some positions, it felt like your body offered it to him. And you liked it and where Aaron hadn’t had any particular fantasies about it before, it struck that caveman-gene in him again that this was another hole to fill with his cum. Another part of you to claim in the most depraved way possible.

Maybe down the line, but so far you had never gone further than what he did right now. Rubbing a slick finger around that tight little ring he couldn’t imagine fitting even his pinky inside. It took some willpower to let his hand follow the rhythm of your body — sometimes you pushed back against his dick so hard his finger would have poked into you whether you wanted it to or not — but he wanted this to be good for you. Needed this to be good for you.

But when you told him to fuck you, and rub your clit, and don’t stop, he wasn’t going to question it.

He groaned, mostly because of how you squeezed your pussy around his dick — again like a tight fist that you might as well have sucker-punched him with — as he pushed the very tip of his thumb into your ass. Tight. Hot. Only wet because of his spit, but based on your sounds, not exactly painful. He rubbed your clit harder, hoping to ease any discomfort there was or at least distract from it, and worked his thumb gently around. A vision of his thumb buried down to the hilt floated across his mind. Another way to grip you, using your ass as a balance hole to pull you back onto his dick, and he closed his eyes while involuntarily working your clit harder as if he could transfer some of his quickly approaching climax into you.

Another time, he reminded himself and tried to focus on your words. That didn’t help. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Aaron, please don’t stop. And in the same breath, you told him to come inside you — to fill you up — and that you were moving in with him and you wanted him to keep going and he couldn’t.

On your instructions, his thumb was inside to the first knuckle and he could feel himself now, could feel his dick where he was balls-deep inside of you. The further his thumb went in, the easier it got too, almost like you were sucking him in and he tried to remember to wiggle it around, loosening you up some, wanting this to feel good for you. But you were so tight and wet and you weren’t happy with how he’d slowed his pace on anything because you obviously wanted more.

He kept rubbing your wet little clit, almost on auto-pilot, but had to stop thrusting before he came before you. Did you have any idea of how good you felt? On his dick like this? Gushing wet and spread open and still so fucking tight? The slick sounds of his fingers on your clit drowned in your breathy pleas for him to keep going.

The words made it through the haze in Aaron’s mind, where all he could see was where the two of you were joined. Yes, he could do the fucking laundry. Yes, in his apartment. Yes, you were moving in. Yes, you were close to coming and you sounded so desperate he had to try. His wrist burned from circling your clit at the awkward angle, but he’d wear a wrist brace for the rest of the week if that meant feeling you lose yourself to a climax around him.

But he was so close. His balls tight and throbbing, bursting with cum he wanted to shoot inside of you. Wanted to watch it ooze out of your swollen glistening cunt afterward, use his fingers to push it back in, and then let you lick them clean. He wanted to do all of that. But not before you came first.

Almost holding his breath, he pulled his dick out with a lewd squelch, fighting to keep the rhythm on your clit even though you were squirming and swaying all over the place. Both of you were so close and you shoved your hips back to meet his next thrust, and your tight, tight asshole swallowed the rest of his thumb, and thank god that made you almost scream as you came because Aaron only lasted two — three — four more thrusts into your tight, tight pussy before he followed. He felt it in his whole body, the way the dam burst, and his nerve-endings exploded as he came.

The quiet forest engulfed his loud groan, the sound of your name in his chest, and your thin whimpers of unbridled pleasure. He desperately grabbed onto your hips to steady himself, keeping you from pulling away, wanting everything pumped into you. He halfway pulled back and buried himself all the way in again and grunted your name like he had traveled ten thousand years to the past and reduced to nothing but animal instincts. His balls pulsated, shooting string after string of cum into you, more than he would have expected. Hopefully enough. Filling you up to the brim, just like you’d fucking asked for, and enough to eventually run out of you to coat that expensive lace he’d bought today.

He clutched your hips like a lifeline — like you’d clutched that folder earlier today in his office — like your pussy clutched and milked his dick. He still twitched inside of you, still on the cusp of the orgasm, and he breathed hard to counteract the light-headedness. You were so perfect for him in every way, just so tight that he could feel his own cum coat around his dick in the limited space.

I love you, he thought and memorized every curve and line of your back, not enough breath in his lungs to say it just yet. Slowly coming down, he massaged your hips where he had left his marks yet again. Fingerprints dug into your skin in slight bruisings, ones you seemed to appreciate. You breathed equally hard as him, but looked at him over your shoulder, so flushed and gorgeous and deserving of the world.

I love you.

It was in your eyes, your smile, and often coming out your mouth too. Not right now as you only panted slightly, but you looked at him in a way that stole his breath away all over again.

I love you.

You had looked at him like that so many times before you said it for the first time, and Aaron knew you had held back. Patience. Trust. Understanding. It was in your every move and conversation with him. He didn’t know if he had earned it, but he hadn’t lied before of how grateful he was for it. Now it was his turn, he realized, to show you the same. To adapt to your schedule and your needs like you had done for him.

Like you were doing right now when the sound of his ring tone cut through the foggy aftermath of your orgasms. Not even hesitating, you reached out for his phone — Aaron swallowed a grunt when the movement pulled his dick from your gushing hole — and handed him both phone and some wet wipes. You had never tried to compete with either the job or Jack, and Aaron loved you for that too. Even if he deep-down knew he should have prioritized differently at times, you had made it so he didn’t have to. You had made everything so easy. Always, so easy, because apparently you felt he was worth it.

Try as he might, he couldn’t find anything but satisfaction in your eyes now either as you watched him try to listen to Garcia. If you kept this up, he might start to think he was worth it too.

He wanted to be worth it, he realized, watching the wicked glint in your eye when you sucked his fingers clean after the call ended. Wanted to have you and this and everything forever.

There were many reasons why Aaron loved you, but most of all because you had made him believe he could love again at all.

A/N: First time writing this "you"-style from Hotch's POV and looking for feedback. If it's confusing or if it’s unclear who’s POV it is. Also first time writing smut from a guy’s perspective and accepting feedback on that as well 🥰

As always, I strive to be inclusive of my reader-inserts, so please let me know if any descriptions or phrases needs changing.

Remember to reblog if you liked it! And that comments feed my creativity just as much as caffeine 💕

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #accidents #criminal minds fanfiction #tumblr exclusive

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animatedarchives · 4 years ago

Note

I’m not totally sure who you write for so I’m so so sorry for this 👉👈but I was wondering if you could write a little something for Bokuto, Sugawara, and a character of your choice for their marriage day. Like, what thoughts are going through their head when they see you for the first time and they feel when they say “I do”. You totally don’t have to do this but I just thought it would be cute 🥺🥰

author’s note: HI SWEETIE this was adorABLe oMG and i loved writing it so damn mUCH :”) i added oikawa because i feel like i understand his character the most! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT BB

THEIR WEDDING DAY

— 𝐁𝐎𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎, 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐊𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈, 𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐔

Bokuto Kotaro

Emotion swelled in Bokuto’s heart as the music started and you slowly entered the hall

His eyes glistened and shone with pride, watching as you walked gracefully down the aisle towards him

When you finally reached the altar and turned to face him, Bokuto couldn’t help but reach for your hand

He had to feel your touch; it was the only thing that could convince him that this wasn’t just a dream

You squeezed his hand affectionately, drawing out a smile from his lips

He lovingly ran his thumb over your knuckles and gazed at you with absolute adoration

The somberness was eventually replaced with excitement, and Bokuto waited impatiently as the officiant went through the formalities

When it was time to give his vows, Bokuto boldly declared his love for you to the audience, completely unafraid to show you off as his bride

“I DO!” his voice boomed throughout the hall with enthusiasm, the toothy grin never once leaving his face

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant declared, and Bokuto felt his heart dancing in his chest

He was practically bouncing on his toes now, as he anticipated the officiant’s next few words

“You may now kiss the bri—”

Bokuto didn’t even wait for him to finish, far to eager to kiss his new wife

Bokuto’s lips pressed hard against yours as you shared your first kiss as a new married couple

As soon as you parted, he scooped you up in his massive, strong srms

“I’M MARRIED TO THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IN THE WORLD!” he shouted, receiving hollers and whistles from the applauding audience

You laughed and Bokuto beamed, bounding down the aisle happily with you in his arms

He set you down at the end, grabbing your face in both of his large hands and kissing you again with nothing short of passion

He could hardly contain his love for you, evident when he picked you up and spun you around

Both of you smiled and laughed the day away, and Bokuto was certain that this was the happiest day of his life

Sugawara Koshi

A small gasp left Suga’s lips when you finally entered the hall in your beautiful wedding dress

He always thought you were gorgeous, whether you were in a long silken gown or an oversized t-shirt with grey sweatpants

But somehow today, you looked so much more ethereal, the light hitting you just right and your hair falling in all the right places

He stretched his hand out to you, guiding you to face him before helping you to adjust your skirt and the long trail that came with it

He took his place in front of you again, holding your hands in both of his while the officiant continued the ceremony

He listened to the officiant’s words solemnly but as always, most of his attention remained on you

He noticed the little twitch of nervousness by your eye and the slight tremble of your dainty manicured hands

Suga squeezed your hands reassuringly, and your eyes slowly rose to meet his

“Just breathe,” he mouthed, and you took a deep breath and exhaled shakily

A small smile formed on your lips as you relaxed, watching as he mouthed a reassuring ‘I love you’, to which you mouthed back an ‘I love you too’

Suga perfectly recited his vows, having memorised them weeks beforehand so he could give you the perfect wedding you’d always dreamed of

He looked into your eyes — the very same ones he’d fallen in love with — and his orbs glistened as he imagined the new life you would have together, one where he was finally able to call you his wife

Once the officiant gave him the ‘okay’, he smoothly stepped towards you, cupping your face in his hand that now wore a gold band on one of its fingers

Suga leaned in and kissed you softly yet passionately, leaving a slight tingle on your lips when he pulled away to look at you

“Mrs Sugawara. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” he smiled cheekily, before bringing his lips to yours again for another sweet kiss

Oikawa Tooru

When you entered the room, Oikawa was completely breathless

It was the first time he’d seen you in your beautiful wedding dress and you looked absolutely stunning

Tears began to blur his vision and he sucked in a breath, willing himself not to cry

Oikawa used his fingers to wipe the wetness from his eyes, desperately trying to control the emotions stirring up inside of him

You arrived at the altar and came to stand before him, your own eyes glassy from seeing him so emotional

“You look beautiful, Y/N,” he smiled, looking at you with so much adoration you couldn’t help but to smile back

The ceremony continued and throughout it all, Oikawa felt like he was floating on air

He just couldn’t believe this was real, that this was actually happening

That he was actually going to marry you, and that you were going to be his for the rest of your lives

Everything he’d ever wanted, everything he’d ever dreamed about… was finally coming true

His voice almost cracked saying his vows but he refused to shed a tear in front of an audience

Finally, the moment he’d been waiting for came: your first kiss as a husband and wife

The audience faded into the background, and it was like you were the only two people in the world

One of his hands cupped the side of your face while the other settled on your waist

He pulled you in and captured your lips in a slow kiss, gradually deepening it as his heart began to swell in his chest

He poured all his emotions into that kiss and you could feel every single one: joy, disbelief, and an overwhelming sense of thankfulness

“I love you,” Oikawa said, thumb gently stroking your cheek

“I love you too, Tooru,” you smiled, before pecking him on the lips once more

Your hand found his and you intertwined your fingers, both of you now wearing the rings you’d carry for the rest of your life

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dazaimency · 4 years ago

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Shigaraki x F!Reader - Silk (NSFW)

Prompt: “Hi! Can I please have some soft(but not a lot) Shiggyxf!reader? I keep thinking of this idea where they can never really get intimate because he’s scared of turning them into dust and always end up upset because he feels like he can’t give them all a relationship ‘supposedly’ should. So like, maybe the reader just proposes tying his wrists so he can’t use his hands or something? All consensual and nice and yay. Maybe? Pretty, please?Thanks!”

Tags: Bondage (Shiggy receiving), riding, sex guru Dabi strikes again

Word length: 1 624

Ao3: HERE - crossposted, you can find other works there

You paid no attention to the movie, instead choosing to focus on your boyfriend sitting next to you. Tomura had put away all his hands but his face was still covered by his pale blue hair. Suppressing the urge to tuck the stray hair behind his ear, you opt to rest your head on his shoulder, shifting closer to him.

Shigaraki tensed for a moment, before his guard went down with a soft exhale. Looking down at you, snuggled to his side, a small smile appeared on his scarred lips. Reaching behind you to put an arm around your shoulders, his breath and movement stop. The tension had settled back, down to his bones, and his face had stained with a grimace.

He was so close to feeling your skin, brushing circles on it. There were little things that he wanted more (besides his personal goals as the villain leader) and being denied it because of his own power left a bitter taste in his mouth. Clicking tongue, he settles his arm on the sofa backrest and turns his gaze to the screen, completely ignoring it.

It wasn’t the first time this had happened, no. You both have already lost count how many times his fingers were close enough to almost caress your skin, and how many times Tomura’s hands reached back, wrapped in a fist, nails digging into his skin. You longed for the touch and even tried semi-cropped gloves at the beginning of your relationship, but it was making his skin uncomfortable, while also putting him on edge. He didn’t like anything restricting the usage of his quirk, even if at the moment, decay was the last thing on his mind.

You noticed the tension radiating from him and suggested a solution of your own: “How about I tie you up?”

Tomura’s breath hitched, yet he managed to stutter out a response, mind blank. “What?”

After a while, you found yourselves in the bedroom, Shigaraki sitting on the bed, biting his lips, rubbing the silk between his fingers. He agreed during your short discussion, pros outweighing cons. Expecting that being tied up would feel different than wearing gloves, he went to Dabi for anything they could use, resulting in the silken rope in his hands.

You hadn’t been planning this for long, the thought came to you when you talked to Dabi and your conversation once again stirred into lewd topics. Letting it sit in your head, you wondered if you were one to tie someone else down, but the simple image of touching Tomura without worry on his side convinced you. You were doing this more for him than for you. Trusting him completely, it was him, who truly feared hurting you. Then, getting the rope itself was not a problem, as you were on good grounds with Dabi, and he was not one to shy away from sex talk and toys.

Sitting on Tomura’s lap, moving his hands away, you kiss him, freeing him from his doubts. Instead of touching you, his palms grab the sheets, gripping them like he wanted to grip your hips to rub your body against his.

His mouth opens, letting your tongue in. One of your hands wander in his hair, the other holding his shoulder, feeling his muscles move under his touch. Moaning out when you feel his hips buck against you, you break the kiss.

“Ready?” You ask, making sure. Shigaraki nods in affirmation and lays down, head between pillows, and arms joined at the headboard. He was anticipating your touch, beaming on the inside that you won’t crumble under his touch, instead, feeling only pleasure which he could not give you before fully due to the fog of worries that had permanently settled in his brain.

You lean over him, legs at his sides, and wrap the silk around his wrists, attaching it to the headboard. Tomura gives it a tug, trying out how firm they are, and indeed, his movement is limited, but the knot was just loose enough so it wouldn’t be uncomfortable. His breathing quickens, and you rub his cheek in affection, soothing his nerves.

“We can stop anytime,” you whisper against his lips, giving them a soft peck, before moving lower to cover his neck is soft kisses.

Shigaraki nods, anxiety already lowering because he cannot hurt you like this. He still felt slight remorse that he was unable to touch you, but he would prefer your safety anytime. Licking his chapped lips, he looks at you, spread out over his body.

A small moan escapes him when your teeth leave a mark on his collarbone. Your hands push his shirt higher, revealing his chest. You caress the pale skin, rubbing soft circles to make Shigaraki more comfortable.

Your hips brush over his clothed member, and you connect your lips in a deep kiss, swallowing his soft moans. His tongue dances with yours while he pushes his crotch up, sending a small shock of pleasure up your spine. Tomura keeps bucking and you feel your panties getting wetter by his every move.

Wanting to get closer to him, you sit up and take off your shirt and bra at the same time. Tomura licks his lips and tugs at the rope, hands gripping it tightly, but still careful not to decay the silk. In need of feeling your skin on his, he nudges you with his knee and pushes his hips up to bring you closer.

Smiling, you lean over him, noses almost touching. Your breath tickles on his lips and he shifts up to drag you into a kiss. With a smirk, you evade, and go tease his neck instead. Leaving licks and bites in your trail, you end up at his collarbone, marking it with a bruise. You detach with a pop, lips puffed from sucking and kissing.

“Fuck, (Y/N),” Tomura whines, needing to be inside you soon. The jeans he was wearing did not help, his cock pushing on the fabric with every move.

Your clit pulsates, your panties almost soaked by now. You hurry up to get rid of the rest of your clothes, and do the same for your boyfriend. His length on display, you sit on his lap, gripping it and guiding it to your soaked entrance.

Teasing him, you put the tip inside, circling and sliding along it, watching Tomura bury his head into the pillows with a groan. Just this small sensation fogged his sight and mind. His hands pulling at the silk, he wanted nothing more than to decay the rope, grab you, and roam your skin freely as he pounds into you.

“More, baby,” he manages to breathe out, red eyes glued to yours. His hips would be pushing up if it weren’t for your tight hold on them, keeping them down.

Having enough of teasing and feeling empty, you slide down his cock. Moaning out as he slightly brushes against your sensitive spot, you start to move. He pushes inside you in a perfect rhythm, forcing a groan out of you with each stroke.

“That’s it, Player Two… that’s it…” Tomura moans out, watching you impale yourself on his length, breasts bouncing.

You hum and increase the speed, adjusting the angle slightly so he hits deeper now. You yelp when he strokes your spot perfectly and move to feel the spark of sensation again. Your thighs start to feel the strain and begin to ache.

Shifting to be chest on chest with Shigaraki, you grab him by his nape, fingers digging into the soft hair and bring your lips to his. He instantly gives you sloppy, open mouthed kisses, moaning and breathing into your mouth, mirroring your own state.

This new angle enables him to push further into you, his heels dug into the sheets, knees bent, and hips hovering over the bed, he rams into you with an almost animalistic need. You can’t do anything but take it, each thrust making you groan, and you whimper his name into his lips.

“T-Touch yourself for me, won’t you?” Tomura mumbles, voice deeper, stained with pleasure. Your hand moves down on command, circling your clit swiftly, pressuring it to send you over the edge.

Shigaraki takes in the sight of you, red faced with darkened eyes. His view ends soon when you place your head in the crook of his shoulder, biting down at the skin. The pain urges him to slam harder, teeth clenched in pleasure. His thighs start to strain, only making him to keep the momentum, thrusting into your pussy, revelling in the way you clenched around him. The heat embracing him with every push only dazzled him and he came with a loud groan, spilling into you.

His orgasm ended with a long, deep thrust, sending you over the edge. You collapse on top him, eyes rolled back, breathing heavily. Tomura is in the same state, mind clouded and sweat making him feel sticky.

You lie there for a while, catching air, and you caress his arms. Remembering that he is tied up, you hurry up to get rid of the silk.

“Was it okay?” you ask, biting your lip as you lie down next to one another, your head resting on his shoulder. He rubs his wrists, stained with small red bruises that would disappear within a day.

“Yeah… I didn’t mind it at all,” Shigaraki smiles at you and you sigh in relief. A spark resides in his eyes, one that you don’t get to see often. He kept on grinning, happy that he could now make love to you without worrying. The cost of restrained arms was but a little bump. One that he could live with easily.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #bnha x you #bnha x reader #one shot request #bnha

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books-letstalkaboutem · 3 years ago

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The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue Quotes that I Loved

This is just a list of quotes or excerpts that I highlighted while reading the book- literally all of them and there are a lot. I’m going to go ahead and say spoilers below just because there are so many quotes and while I don’t think the quotes actually spoil anything, I don’t want to accidentally spoil something for someone.

Some of the quotes might seem a little weird out of context but these are quotes that hit close to home, made me say “Hell, yeah, Addie!!!", quotes that made me laugh, and then basically all of the other quotes that I loved while reading.

I know that I didn't completely fall in love with this book like so many other people did, but it was still so beautifully written and there were so many amazing quotes in this book.

And just a heads up, I read this on my kindle, just in case the page numbers I list don’t match with your copy of the book.

Spoilers Below:

Quotes that Hit Close to Home

“Three and twenty, a third of a life already buried.” Page 39

“The day passes like a sentence. The sun falls like a scythe.” Page 41

“[...] and when she dies it will be as though she never lived.” Page 42

“I am so tired of not having choices, so scared of the years rushing past beneath my feet. I do not want to die as I’ve lived, which is no life at all. I—” Page 46

“[...] she swears sometimes her memory runs forward as well as back, unspooling to show the roads she’ll never get to travel. But that way lies madness, and she has learned not to follow.” Page 61

“His parents meant well, of course, but they always told him things like Cheer up, or It will get better, or worse, It’s not that bad, which is easy to say when you’ve never had a day of rain.” Page 97

“But then a night would go long, and a day would start late, and now he feels like there’s no time at all. Like he is always late for something.” Page 119

““I see someone who cares,” she says slowly. “Perhaps too much. Who feels too much. I see someone lost, and hungry. The kind of person who feels like they’re wasting away in a world full of food, because they can’t decide what they want.”” Page 140

““Life is so brief, and every night in Rennes I’d go to bed, and lie awake, and think, there is another day behind me, and who knows how few ahead.”” Page 167

““I mean feeling like it’s surging by so fast, and you try to reach out and grab it, you try to hold on, but it just keeps rushing away. And every second, there’s a little less time, and a little less air, and sometimes when I’m sitting still, I start to think about it, and when I think about it, I can’t breathe. I have to get up. I have to move.”” Page 177

““Small places make for small lives. And some people are fine with that. They like knowing where to put their feet. But if you only walk in other people’s steps, you cannot make your own way. You cannot leave a mark.”” Page 179

“It was such a lovely jar she had kept them in. But the glass is cracking now. The water leaking through.” Page 215

“Moments of joy register as brief, but ecstatic. Moments of pain stretch long and unbearably loud.” Page 225

“[...] you’ve never felt called to any one thing. There is no violent push in one direction, but a softer nudge a hundred different ways, and now all of them feel out of reach. Page 226

“[...] in wanting to live, to learn, to find yourself, you’ve gotten lost.” Page 226

“He lets it ring, holds his breath until it stops. He tells himself that if they call again, he’ll answer. If they call again, he’ll tell them he is not okay. But the phone doesn’t ring a second time.” Page 229

“He misses the structure, misses the path, misses the purpose. And maybe it wasn’t a perfect fit, but nothing is.” Page 257

“That he’d blinked and somehow years had gone by, and everyone else had carved their trenches, paved their paths, and he was still standing in a field, uncertain where to dig.” Page 283

“And those first two years, he was happy. He had Bea, and Robbie, and all he had to do was learn. Build a foundation. It was the house, the one that he was supposed to build on top of that smooth surface, that was the problem. It was just so … permanent.” 283

“Choosing a class became choosing a discipline, and choosing a discipline became choosing a career, and choosing a career became choosing a life, and how was anyone supposed to do that, when you only had one?” Page 283

““The vexing thing about time,” he says, “is that it’s never enough. Perhaps a decade too short, perhaps a moment. But a life always ends too soon.”” Page 333

“He is all restless energy, and urgent need, and there isn’t enough time, and he knows of course that there will never be. That time always ends a second before you’re ready. That life is the minutes you want minus one.” Page 421

“The world is wide, and he’s seen so little of it with his own eyes. He wants to travel, to take photos, listen to other people’s stories, maybe make some of his own. After all, life seems very long sometimes, but he knows it will go so fast, and he doesn’t want to miss a moment.” Page 438

Quotes that Made Me Laugh

“Henry loves his sister, he does. But Muriel’s always been like strong perfume. Better in small doses. And at a distance.” Page 120

““Sorry, Book,” she mutters, lifting the cat gingerly onto the back of the old chair, where he does his best impression of an inconvenienced bread loaf.” Page 248

““It’s Halloween!” defends Robbie. “It’s the twenty-third,” says Henry, but Robbie treats holidays the way he treats birthdays, stretching them from days into weeks, and sometimes into seasons.” Page 274

Quotes that made me say “Hell, yeah, Addie!!!”

“If she must grow roots, she would rather be left to flourish wild instead of pruned, would rather stand alone, allowed to grow beneath the open sky. Better that than firewood, cut down just to burn in someone else’s hearth.” Page 31

“[...]from this moment forward, her life will be her own.” Page 48

“There is a defiance in being a dreamer.” Page 117

““It has only been two years,” she says. “Think of all the time I have, and all the things I’ll see.”” Page 132

“It will take time, but time is the one thing Addie has plenty of. So she opens her eyes, and starts again.” Page 192

“But then Addie straightens, lifts her chin, smiles with an almost defiant kind of joy. “But isn’t it wonderful,” she says, “to be an idea?”” Page 261

Quotes that I Love

“[...] never pray to the gods that answer after dark.” Page 7

“What is a person, if not the marks they leave behind?” Page 15

“The things that last, even when memories don’t.” Page 16

“As if you couldn’t like one place and want to see another.” Page 23

“Books, she has found, are a way to live a thousand lives—or to find strength in a very long one.” Page 35

“The kind of place where time slips and blurs, where a month, a year, a life can go missing.” Page 39

“[...] attraction can look an awful lot like recognition in the wrong light.” Page 56

“The rise isn’t worth the fall.” Page 56

“Being trapped, buried alive, these are the things that scare you when you cannot die.” Page 57

“Funny, how some people take an age to warm, and others simply walk into every room as if it’s home.” Page 58

“Déjà vu. Déjà su. Déjà vécu. Already seen. Already known. Already lived.” Page 66

“[...]a lifetime of knowing brushed away like a tear.” Page 73

“[...] and it is sad, of course, to forget. But it is a lonely thing, to be forgotten. To remember when no one else does.” Page 77

“[...] ideas are so much wilder than memories, that they long and look for ways of taking root.” Page 77

““These days, everyone’s looking down,” muses Sam. “It’s nice to see someone looking up.”” Page 101

“Being forgotten, she thinks, is a bit like going mad. You begin to wonder what is real, if you are real. After all, how can a thing be real if it cannot be remembered?” Page 103

“If a person cannot leave a mark, do they exist?” Page 103

“Dreamer is too soft a word. It conjures thoughts of silken sleep, of lazy days in fields of tall grass, of charcoal smudges on soft parchment.” Page 11

“She considers the cut of their clothes, the absence of bone stays or bustled skirts, and thinks, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, how much simpler it would be to be a man, how easily they move through the world, and at such little cost.” Page 129

““I remember you.”” Page 135

“The darkness claimed he’d given her freedom, but really, there is no such thing for a woman, not in a world where they are bound up inside their clothes, and sealed inside their homes, a world where only men are given leave to roam.” Page 163

“She watches these men and wonders anew at how open the world is to them, how easy the thresholds.” Page 165

““I think there are many ways to matter.”” Page 179

“But ideas are so much wilder than memories, so much faster to take root.”” Page 210

“He is full of roots, while she has only branches.” Page 212

“Easy to stay on the path when the road is straight and the steps are numbered.” Page 229

“Outside the window, the day just carries on as if nothing’s changed, but it feels like everything has, because Addie LaRue is immortal, and Henry Strauss is damned.” Page 235

“[...]I didn’t want to live forever. I just wanted to live.”” Page 236

““There’s this family photo,” he says, “not the one in the hall, this other one, from back when I was six or seven. That day was awful. Muriel put gum in David’s book and I had a cold, and my parents were fighting right up until the flash went off. And in the photo, we all look so … happy. I remember seeing that picture and realizing that photographs weren’t real. There’s no context, just the illusion that you’re showing a snapshot of a life, but life isn’t snapshots, it’s fluid. So photos are like fictions. I loved that about them. Everyone thinks photography is truth, but it’s just a very convincing lie.”” Page 239

“God, it feels good to be wanted.” Page 256

“[...] And ideas are wilder than memories. They’re like weeds, always finding their way up.”” Page 261

“Homesick—Henry knows that one is supposed to mean sick for home, not from it, but it still feels right.” Page 262

“Dressing up, he thinks, is just like watching cartoons, something you enjoyed as a kid, before it passes through the no man’s land of teen angst, the ironic age of early twenties. And then somehow, miraculously, it crosses back into the realm of the genuine, the nostalgic. A place reserved for wonder.” Page 274

“Bea always says returning to campus is like coming home. But it doesn’t feel that way to Henry. Then again, he never felt at home at home, only a vague sense of dread, the eggshell-laden walk of someone constantly in danger of disappointing.” 282

“He doesn’t know what he believes, hasn’t for a long time, but it’s hard to entirely discount the presence of a higher power when he recently sold his soul to a lower one.” Page 284

““You can’t make people love you, Hen. If it’s not a choice, it isn’t real.”” Page 290

“He has asked the wrong god for the wrong thing, and now he is enough because he is nothing. He is perfect, because he isn’t there.” Page 290

“A life reduced to a block of stone, a patch of grass.” Page 299

“The present folding on top of the past instead of erasing it, replacing it.” Page 306

“She knows the paint will fade, rinsed off by a puddle, or simply wiped away by time, but that’s how memories are supposed to work. There—and then, little by little, gone.” Page 307

“Without the bells, the organ, the bodies crowding in for services, the church feels abandoned. Less a house of worship and more a tomb.” Page 311

“God is so large, why build walls to hold Him in?” Page 311

“Once you know about a thing, you start to see it everywhere. Someone says the words purple elephant, and all of a sudden, you catch sight of them in shop windows and on T-shirts, stuffed animals and billboards, and you wonder how you never noticed.” Page 314

“There is a freedom, after all, in being forgotten.” 325

“Memories are stiff, but thoughts are freer things. They throw out roots, they spread and tangle, and come untethered from their source. They are clever, and stubborn, and perhaps—perhaps—they are in reach.” Page 327

“They’ve been lucky, so lucky, but the trouble with luck is that it always ends.” 329

““You said it yourself, Luc. Ideas are wilder than memories. And I can be wild. I can be stubborn as the weeds, and you will not root me out. And I think you are glad of it. I think that’s why you’ve come, because you are lonely, too.”” Page 332

“She closes her eyes, reminds herself there are many ways to leave a mark, reminds herself that pictures lie.” Page 337

“She may not feel the years weakening her bones, her body going brittle with age, but the weariness is a physical thing, like rot, inside her soul. There are days when she mourns the prospect of another year, another decade, another century. There are nights when she cannot sleep, moments when she lies awake and dreams of dying. But then she wakes, and sees the pink and orange dawn against the clouds, or hears the lament of a lone fiddle, the music and the melody, and remembers there is such beauty in the world. And she does not want to miss it— any of it.” Page 342

“Luc’s smile darkens. “Because time is cruel to all, and crueler still to artists. Because vision weakens, and voices wither, and talent fades.” He leans close, twists a lock of her hair around one finger. “Because happiness is brief, and history is lasting, and in the end,” he says, “everyone wants to be remembered.”” Page 351

“It is a sign, when even gods and devils dread a fight.” Page 367

“And this, he decides, is what a good-bye should be. Not a period, but an ellipsis, a statement trailing off, until someone is there to pick it up. It is a door left open. It is drifting off to sleep.” Page 419

#the invisible life of addie larue quotes #the invisible life of addie larue #the invisible life of addie larue by ve schwab #ve schwab #quotes #my favorite quotes #addie larue #henry strauss #luc #bookish quotes

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