#we are not SUPPOSED to like blanche

[biscuitpenguin]

something so crazy about reading a streetcar named desire for english class and being like... woah. did any of you take in the text? like. at all?

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader requested by multiple: doctor visit

The pediatrician's office is very bright.

Bright walls, bright furniture, bright toys. The hallway is painted a bright blue, dotted with wispy, spongey clouds, spiraling in patterns from floor to ceiling.

The exam room is not much better. It's yellow. Supposed to be soothing, you tell him. It's anything but.

The bright colors unsettle him, but he shoves it down. Swallows the gnawing anxiety brewing in the back of his mind, forces away the spiral attempting to swallow him whole. He falls back on what gives him comfort, what allows him to sleep at night, what makes him feel whole. The only one who doesn't make him feel torn to shreds. The one who can touch his bare skin without making him shake. You.

You're nervous too. It started when you got the baby undressed, and has only gone downhill from there. He can see it in the way you pace back and forth in the room, holding Ry to your chest, bouncing him, rubbing his back. There's dread scrawled into your expression, grim unease radiating from your bones.

"C'mere mama." He reaches, pulling your forearm and tugging you close, resting his chin on top of your head. You relax, but barely. "Everything's going to be alright."

"He hates shots."

"He's a baby, course he does. Can't blame 'im. Huh bub?" He strokes Orion's chubby and round cheek, tilting his head to press a kiss to your temple.

Someone knocks on the door, and it creaks open.

"Hi!" A young woman in a white coat smiles at them, giving Simon an odd look before stepping forward. He swallows the acid burning the back of his throat.

"Hey, Dr. Marsh." You greet weakly, face pinched. She says hello, and washes her hands, keeping a stream of chatter until she's seated on a rolling stool with an iPad in her hand.

"How's our big man?"

"Still big." You quip drily, and she laughs, glancing up at Simon. You look at him too, and then your mouth drops into a little o. "Sorry, this is Simon. Orion's dad." She stands, extends her hand. He takes it, careful to not squeeze too tight before letting go and hanging his own rigidly by his side, tense, like he's priming for a fight of some kind.

"I guess we know where he gets his size from." Fingers tap across the screen, and then she sets it on the examination table. "So, how is it going?"

"Fine, good, I think. He's still feeding every three hours. I feel like he's gained ten pounds since our last visit." She nods. "I've been trying to pump as much as I can but... there's just... not as much."

"That can happen. If you're still happy with breastfeeding, I don't have any concerns. Of course, if you want to stop, that's more than okay. As long as he's getting what he needs, there's no wrong way to feed him." You nod, rubbing his back. Dr. Marsh asks about any other concerns, and after you say you have none, she reaches for him. "Let's see if our guy is still a ninety nine percenter, huh?" Simon frowns.

"Ninety nine percenter?"

"He's uh, in the ninety nine percentile. Very big."

"Very big, and very tall." Dr. Marsh says from over her shoulder, where she's now got Orion on the baby scale. "Born at what mum, four and a half kilograms?" Simon blanches. Bloody hell. You haven't really told him too much about the birth, and he hasn't pushed you on it. Maybe this is why. You don't have a c-section scar, and he winces thinking about you giving birth, naturally. He should have been there. Should have held your hand, told you how amazing you were. How strong. The familiar feeling of regret resurfaces, and he gives you an apologetic look. You shrug with a little smile.

"He looked like a giant in the nursery, next to all the... regular sized babies." Dr. Marsh laughs, but Simon grimaces. Guilt settles in his stomach like a rock.

"Sorry, mama." He apologizes sheepishly, squeezing your hand, and you rub your thumb over his knuckles.

"It's okay, I kinda," your eyes sweep over him from head to toe, "expected it."

"Alright, so," Dr. Marsh brings Ry back over, handing him to you, but Simon intervenes, pulling him into his arms. He worries about your back. She smiles again, types something into the tablet, and then clears her throat, "growth is slowing down."

"Is that bad?" You sound alarmed, and she shakes her head.

"Not bad, considering he's been outperforming in height and weight since he was born. This happens, it's normal, there's nothing to worry about. However, he's still in the nineties. Just shy of eight kilograms."

"What's normal?" He's curious now, wondering how big his son is really, compared to others. He'd even feel proud, if he wasn't worried about the trauma having him may have caused you.

"Fiftieth percentile is around six. Now," she rests her hands on her thighs, and levels a serious look at you. "How are you? Sleep getting any better? Are you keeping up on hydration?" Simon peeks down at you, lips tugged into a firm line.

"He still feeds every three hours, and I'm the source so... not really."

"Any more dizzy spells?" What? His head snaps your direction. Orion gurgles, and he pats his back absentmindedly. Dizzy spells? Why haven't you said anything?

"Uh, not really. Maybe a few."

"Breastfeeding can take a lot out of you. It uses a lot of metabolic energy, so try to make sure you're eating enough and drinking a lot of water. It's normal to feel exhausted or fatigued, but taking care of your nutritional needs will go a long way. I know I sound like a broken record but, I think it will help. You might also try talking to your OB, since you know... I'm only a little human doctor." You swallow.

"Okay." She gives you a serious look, and you nod.

"Alright then, let's move on to everyone's favorite part."

He holds Orion for the entirety of the rest of the visit. He squirms and screams as he gets his shots, crying at the top of his lungs, and Simon closes his eyes at one point to take a deep breath. He's okay. He's safe. They're both safe. They're here.

You take him afterward, lips to the top of his head, eyes closed as you whisper. "Shhh, I know baby, I know. It's over now. All done. You were so brave." Simon's heart aches. It hurts to know you're struggling, that you see yourself as a failure, when it's so blatant that you're anything but. He's going to fix that.

You stop at the reception desk, lingering until the girl behind it gets off the phone. "Um, can we update Orion's emergency contact list? I want his dad to be on there, too." Simon looks down at you, momentarily dumbstruck. Sweet, sweet girl. Sweet little kitten. The receptionist smiles brightly, taking the information he provides, phone number, back up phone number (work cell) and his name.

The two of you head towards the elevator, and you give him a hesitant look as you step inside. "You don't mind right? I didn't want to overstep but... you're his parent too, I thought you might want to be-" You don't get to finish before he's swooping down with a hand at the small of your back and another on the baby's head, slamming his lips to yours so fiercely your breath hitches.

"Mama," he kisses your forehead, and then cups your chin. "You and Orion are my family now. You're it for me, and I'm chuffed you'd think to put me down as an emergency contact." You jerk back at his words, eyes wide. Too much? Too soon? Too strong? He doesn't care. He needs to start easing you into it, getting you used to the new reality, before he's moving you and the baby out of your flat and giving you a new last name.

"Simon." You whisper, but he shakes his head.

"I told you. I wanted you the night we made him, and I still do. You're everything. You're mine. You and our boy." You don't say anything, and the silence kills him until you reach for his hand, interlacing your fingers with his. "An' we're going to have a talk about you getting dizzy and not saying anything to me. Alright?" You gulp.

"Alright."

[dyeher]

“She did what?!” Sakusa’s eyes widen minutely, his hands stilling their massaging of your calf. “I- and you- you just- you just let her?!” He sounds incredulous.

“What was I supposed to do Omi! Fight her in the fucking parking lot?” you frown, nudging his hand with your shin until he resumes his massage.

“What do you me- yes! Yes! Knock her ass out, baby, that’s what you should have done!”

You blink at him, astonished at how genuinely upset he seems. “I could’ve ended up in a cell Kiyoomi,” you point out, calmly.

“And I would have happily bailed you out,” he sounds exasperated and that makes his reaction even more concerning.

You’re not sure what to reply to something like that. Mostly because you’ve never seen Kiyoomi so…incensed. You lock eyes for a brief moment, as you carefully bring your spoon to your lips and suck the ice cream off.

Sakusa scowls at you. “This is why I always go shopping with you. Trouble only ever finds you when you’re alone.”

You frown. “That’s mean Omi.”

“It’s true,” he vetoes. “If I were around it would have never happened.”

“I think it was an accident,” you pout, determined to give the woman the benefit of the doubt.

Sakusa cocks his head at you. “You think this woman accidentally ran into your cart with her car after you beat her to getting the last tub of cookie dough ice cream?”

You open your mouth to respond but he beats you to it.

“Nevermind,” he sighs defeatedly. “It doesn’t matter it’s in the past.”

“Uhm- I- we- we’ll have to cover the damage to her car…” you trail off when Sakusa turns to you slowly, his eyebrows furrowed menacingly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I mean- she- the cart-“

“She ran into you! Fucking Christ,” Sakusa stands, throwing his hands into the air dramatically. “Let me guess, you apologized.”

You look away.

“Oh, come on!”

“I don’t like the way you’re acting right now,” you sniff, sullenly stuffing a spoon of ice cream into your mouth.

“Baby,” he takes a steadying breath. “Sweetheart, light of my fucking life,” he stresses, fists planted on his hips. “You have to see that this was not your fault!”

“But my cart—”

“Was the only thing protecting you from getting hit by a fucking car!”

You blanch, finally understanding why he’s so angry. “Oh.”

“Oh? Oh?”

Sakusa’s left eye twitches.

“I didn’t think of that.”

His eyes slip shut. “Of course not,” he chuckles dryly. “Of course you didn’t think about what would happen if that cart wasn’t there. Of course.”

“Omi—”

“You are never going shopping without me again.”

“Kiyoomi–”

“Don’t argue with me about this. You will not win.”

“But—”

“Never again.”

[ellecdc]

i need more chef!sirius and mixologist!reader

I BEG

i love them so much i wanna cry they are so precious

I love them so much too!!

chef!sirius x mixologist!reader who meets Harry [792 words]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

CW: Sirius' reputation does precede him, but it apparently doesn't work

“Please, Uncle Pads!” You hear someone beg as you let the door to the restaurant fall closed behind you. “Yeah! Please?” Another voice echoed. 

“Absolutely not.” The unmistakably gruff voice of your favourite chef responded. 

“Dad said you used to be cool, Padfoot, whatever happened to that?” The first voice - one that apparently belonged to a messy haired kid with round glasses as he smirked up at Sirius - accused, and you couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped you at the threatening glare Sirius levelled the kid with effectively alerting your presence to the three individuals leaning against your bar. 

“Whoever said he was cool is a liar, we all know he’s actually a giant swat.” You taunted as you breezed past the trio, gently allowing your elbow to brush against Sirius’ arm as you dumped your belongings onto the shelf below the bar. 

“I’ve not heard that one before…” The lanky red-headed kid mused as he narrowed his eyes in thought. “I have heard rumours of him being a giant arseho-”

“That’s quite enough out of you, Weasley.” Sirius barked. 

“Weasley? Like-”

“Yes, like Charlie. Christ, there’s so many of them.” Sirius muttered as he rubbed harshly at his eyes. 

“What exactly are the two of you begging for?” You asked with a chuckle, forcing Sirius to lift his elbow off the bar so you could wipe it down. “Because in my experience, referring to someone as an arsehole doesn’t usually get me what I want.” 

The red-head - a Weasley - seemed to blanche at the realisation before turning his petrified face back to Sirius. “I- I didn’t call you an arsehole! I, well, you see, I was only saying-”

“Relax, mate; you’re turning green.” The messy haired kid laughed as he pat his friend roughly on the back. “We’ve only heard on good authority that you are a giant arsehole.”

“And yet you’re still here asking me for a job?” Sirius deadpanned. 

“Right.” The messy haired kid agreed with a goofy smile on his face. “The names Harry,” he continued, moving his attention to you and offering you his hand, “this is my best mate, Ron; who also happens to be Charlie’s brother.” 

You laughed as you let Harry’s hand drop, accepting a nervous smile and wave from Ron. “How old are you kids?”

“Fifteen!” They chorused proudly, causing Sirius to grumble. 

“It hardly counts, Haz; you only turned fifteen like 72 hours ago.”

“Oh! Happy belated birthday!” You offered, causing Sirius to groan again. 

“Well I had asked for a job 71 hours ago as my birthday present, but my godfather left me rather disappointed.” Harry lamented, offering you what you were certain was his best kicked puppy expression. 

You scoffed in disbelief as you levelled Sirius with a good natured glare. “Have you no heart, Padfoot?” 

“Yeah, Padfoot?” The boys chorused comically. 

“That’s chef.” Sirius barked, turning back to you in exasperation when you corrected yourself.

“Not you.” He corrected.

“What am I supposed to call you then?” You asked with faux innocence. 

“Oh you’ll be calling me something when I get my hands on you later tonight.” He grumbled under his breath, only loud enough for you to hear as Harry considered the two of you.  

“You know, Pads, I’ve heard romantic interests find it very attractive when you’re nice to your godson.”

Sirius simply raised an unimpressed eyebrow at his godson in response.

“What? It’s true!” Harry insisted.

“Is it?” Sirius drawled. “You know a lot about getting your romantic interests attention, do you? ‘Cause I’m quite sure Malfoy’s not spared you a glance all year.”

You watched as Harry scowled at Sirius and Ron let out a bark of laughter at his friends expense. 

“What’s the harm? I thought you were looking for more busboys?” You asked Sirius quietly then, feeling your stomach flip as his face softened as he turned to consider you.

“But they’re so annoying.” He whimpered, almost pathetic enough to believe that he didn’t actually love that about them.

“Perfect; that’s two more people to help you send Jeffery into an early retirement.” You whispered back, nudging him with your shoulder as he let out a desperate sound from the back of his throat.

“Fine.” Sirius said, though you could hardly hear it on account of the celebratory cheer from Harry and Ron.

“But,” Sirius continued severely, “you’ll both be reporting to Charlie.”

“What!?” Ron whined as Harry’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “But he’s such a wanker!”

“Tough.” Sirius gruffed, standing from the stool he’d been leaning against and disappearing into the kitchen, though not before he gave your wrist an affectionate squeeze. 

“Blimey, he really is a giant arsehole.” Ron muttered.

That time you couldn’t hold in your laughter.

[forlix]

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 !・h.h.

— you’re just trying to do your job; your client has other ideas.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・1.3k 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・idol!hyunjin x gn!makeup artist!reader 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・very suggestive so mdni, reader implied to be shorter than hyunjin 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・fluff, flirting, humor, big fwb vibes

𝐚/𝐧・this took me less than half an hour to write i am actually the biggest sucker for this trope. also, we hit another milestone recently!! i appreciate all of you immensely; look forward to more ♡

[!]・hi hey hello as of one month later a full-length fic based on this au has been posted!! here it is; you can read the two in any order. ok bye much love

“Five ‘til!” A crew member calls into a walkie-talkie, and you’re so surprised by this information that you stumble right over him, your heel ungracefully ramming into the poor man’s toes. 

You apologize hurriedly, bowing yourself out of the awkward situation—and then you check your watch. 7:55 P.M. A quiet "shit" leaves your lips as it dawns on you that you'd completely lost track of time.

Briefly, you contemplate your predicament, drumming the palette of makeup you’re holding in your right hand against the palm of your left: do I have to? Is it really necessary? But you know your answer even as you’re asking yourself the questions. You’re damn meticulous—sometimes to a fault, but always to your own satisfaction.

You had a vision, and you’re going to see it through.

With impeccable timing, your coworker appears out of nowhere, and you fasten a hand around her arm. “Hey, where are the members again?”

“Stage left.” Then she registers your question in full, and snaps her eyes to your face; stylists were supposed to have finished up with their respective members nearly an hour ago. “Hang on, are you out of your mind—”

“I won’t be a minute!” You call, scurrying away.

“You won’t be employed!” She returns, but you’ve already disappeared into the curtains’ dense shadows.

You jog a short distance, turn a few corners, and finally spot the eight members clad in outfits of varying amounts of silver and black, every inch of them so sparkly that they’re reflective, even with how little light reaches this part of the stage.

You’re looking for one man in particular, though, and you single him out right away: long, black locks falling into his eyes as he adjusts his microphone, broad shoulders and tall frame flattered perfectly by an obsidian suit, looking like he fell off a Paris Fashion Week runway and into a wormhole that teleported him to Osaka.

All your doing, by the way.

“Hwang Hyunjin!” You shout, and he (along with several of the other members) whips around at the sound. And Hyunjin furrows a perfect brow when his stylist materializes before him, four minutes to curtain up, wielding a palette of makeup like it’s a baseball bat.

“Are you out of your mind?” He calls.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” You lift a pointer finger into the air and curl it twice. “Come here. Hurry."

Hyunjin gives the others an apologetic glance before hurrying over, and you are met with a blast of Byredo Blanche when he arrives in front of you, the expression on his face equal parts amused and confused.

“Down,” you say, flicking open the eyeshadow palette with one hand.

And then Hyunjin understands. A loud, uninhibited laugh leaves his lips, a sound you’ve become so accustomed to by now that you’re completely oblivious to the fact that only you bring it out of him.

“You really are something,” he says, spreading his feet apart until he’s brought himself to your eye level.

With that, you get to work, one hand gathering some eyeshadow on the pads of your fingers, the other moving to hold his shoulder. Brushes are luxuries you can’t afford right now.

“Close your eyes,” you direct, your voice softer now that your face is only inches away from his, and Hyunjin heeds your words obediently. You begin to dab the crimson powder against the curve of his lids, careful to avoid messing up the rest of his eye makeup. His lashes flutter involuntarily at your gentle touch.

“A shadow to match the lip,” you murmur absently. “I pictured it and knew it had to happen."

Hyunjin makes a sound of approval, and then there is that smirk on his face, the one you’ve learned only means trouble. “You’ve been thinking about my face the whole night, then?”

“No. I’ve been thinking about whether vegetables can feel pain,” you deadpan. “Yes, I've been thinking about your face. It’s my job.”

“Is that all?”

“Sure is.” You blow gently on his finished eye and move on to the other. “Now save your voice for the stage.”

He obliges, but that dreadful, self-assured expression remains on his face, and you're immeasurably grateful that he can’t see the blush that you’re well aware paints your cheeks.

“Done,” you say a minute later, straightening with a confident flourish. And you think you could squeal when Hyunjin opens his eyes, and you see that the exact effect you’d hoped for has been realized: a splash of maroon that is both subtle and seductive, sleek and suave; that not only accentuates the shape of his eyes but pulls attention to his lips, which are dyed a similar hue. Damn, you’re good at your job.

“I don’t have a mirror,” you say, looking around. “I can use my phone if you want to—”

“It’s fine,” he says. “I trust you.”

You grin at this. “Good. Because you look sexy as hell."

Upon hearing your words, he straightens to his full height. You don’t think much of this at first, too busy re-examining the masterpiece you’ve created on his eyelids, but in the blink of an eye you’re suddenly aware that Hyunjin is standing conspicuously and intentionally close to you. You instinctively move away, but you’re too late; he’s already guiding your back to the wall behind you, his body enclosing yours against the smooth surface.

You send a panicked look over Hyunjin’s shoulder, only to realize that the two of you are completely out of anyone’s line of vision. That doesn’t stop the sharp hiss that leaves your lips: “Hyunjin, are you cr—”

But then there is a familiar gust of breath against your skin, a thumb over your cheekbone.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself when you get like this; all bossy and concentrated, an ambitious glint in your eyes, an air of confidence in your gait. He always thinks it’s ironic that your job is to make him look good when all he’s ever done is admire your beauty, so effortless and profuse that it feels timeless, like freshly bloomed forget-me-nots.

He knows he shouldn’t—but that makes him want to more.

When your lips meet, they move together with an ease and familiarity that reveal how many times you’ve done this before. He brings a hand to the small of your back, and you tangle your stained fingers in his luscious hair, the delicious pressure of his mouth upon yours rendering your reluctance (and the eyeshadow palette, which clatters noisily to the floor) momentarily forgotten.

As the kiss deepens, the bridges of your noses slide together; your every sense becomes overwhelmed by the slippery plush of his full lips and the warm caress of his large hands; you drink in the rosy musk of his cologne like your cells need it to live as opposed to oxygen. The tip of Hyunjin’s tongue teases the seam of your lips, as if requesting access, and you grant it to him with a light moan that is both blissful and thoroughly exasperated. When he hears the gorgeous sound, he has half a mind to scoop you up and leave the venue then and there.

Then, a voice bellows from not too far away: “One minute, everyone! Places, places!”

You’re so startled that you not only break away from him but jump a meter into the air, giving Hyunjin’s bicep a hearty slap on your way down. But he is entirely unbothered, dipping his head to press a trail of light kisses along your jaw instead.

“You’ll be watching the performance, yes?” He murmurs against the sensitive skin.

“Of course, what else—”

“—don’t take your eyes off me.”

And the words throw your heart against your ribs like uncooked French fries in a vat of oil.

He is just about to walk away when you realize how decidedly disheveled you’ve left him, and you yank him back to you with a fresh wave of panic. You wipe at his smudged lipstick with the cuffs of your sleeves; nitpick his hair until every strand is back in its proper place. Only when you’ve gotten rid of all the incriminating evidence do you permit him to leave.

“Thank you very much,” he says, bending into a gracious bow, the perfect image of professionalism. The facade is given away only by the upturned corner of his still-flushed lips.

“Break a leg,” you return drily.

The last thing you hear is that stupid, bright laugh before Hyunjin rejoins his members, and they step into the strobe lights together.

Even when the concert begins and the stadium is drowned in fanatical screams, the heartbeat in your ears remains the loudest sound of all—and you bury your burning face in your hands.

Hwang Hyunjin will be the death of you.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

[antiquarianfics]

Accidental pt. 4

What happens when you accidentally kidnap the exact man you were looking for?

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

warning(s): canon level violence, kidnapping, profanity

a/n: it’s my birthday, so let’s celebrate with their date 🤭

You do not have permission to copy, translate, or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

part 3

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

"Oh, and one more thing," you say, catching the man's attention before he gets back into the SUV. He raises an eyebrow, you smirk. "Tell James he better damn well bring flowers."

—

You sigh as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, smoothing out your blouse. You turn to the side to see the back of your outfit and straighten back out again.

“You’re wearing pants to a fancy date with a crime lord?” Ellie asks, judgement lacing her question. You turn and raise an eyebrow at her, crossing the room to find the loafers you planned to wear.

“Yeah. Problem?” You ask, not really caring about Ellie’s opinion of your date attire. After all, it’s really more of a business transaction than a date.

“Yes! He’s probably expecting a dress, heels! Something low cut! You’re supposed to look sexy! You,” she pauses, gesturing to your body with an exasperated hand motion, “look like a JCPenney commercial.”

You scoff, a smirk teasing your lips. “Ellie, I don’t care. First of all, I can run a hell of a lot easier in loafers than heels, in slacks than a dress. Second of all,” you pick up your handgun where it lie on your dresser and check the safety, “I can’t hide this as easily in a dress.” Once you’re satisfied the safety is on, you tuck the gun away in the back of your pants, pulling your blouse back down over it. You look in the mirror again and fiddle with the tucking.

“Should I French tuck this?”

“Yes,” Ellie says distractedly before continuing. “But, Y/N, this guy is dangerous. You should play it safe. It’s just a date, so be who he obviously wants you to be.”

You sigh, turning back around to look your sister in the eyes.

“Ellie,” you say, tone dead serious. “Why are you so afraid of him? What did he do to you?”

Ellie blanches and doesn’t say anything. You sigh again turning back around to the mirror to fiddle with your hair, making sure it’s out of your face.

“I never saw him,” Ellie says suddenly. You watch her through the mirror where she sits on your bed staring at her hands. “I never saw him,” she starts again, “but I don’t think I was important enough for him to spare me his attention.

“I was at home making dinner when his men came for me. There was knock on the door, and when I answered, they stuck a bag over my head. Next thing I knew, I was in a dank, small room. There was a mattress on the floor for me to sleep, a toilet. Nothing else. I was there for maybe two days before someone came for me. I was taken to a conference room. There was a man there. I forget his name, but he was tall. Blond. He asked if I knew why I was there, I said I did, and he asked if I had any way to repay what I owed.”

“What did you owe?”

“750,000 dollars.”

“Ellie! How do you—? What? How?” You’re shocked, unable to comprehend how your baby sister could owe anyone so much.

“I… I met this guy, Zemo. We were just friends, but he started taking me around his friends. His friends hung out in these speakeasy type clubs. They played poker and stuff. I don’t know. I usually just watched, but after a few times, they talked me into it. Told me it was easy money, and, Y/N, I needed the money! So, I played, and I was doing really well. So I kept playing long after Zemo and his buddies left. I made so much down there, but I got too cocky and I lost an all-or-nothing. I played again to try and win it back, but it was like I’d lost my mojo, like I’d been playing on beginner’s luck.”

“Ellie,” you say sympathetically.

“I was $750,000 in debt and I couldn’t pay it, but the man I’d lost to—I think he felt bad—he said I could have 72 hours to get him his money. If I didn’t get him the money in time…” She trails off and you realize you’re clenching your jaw. You consciously unclench it. Ellie takes in a deep breath and exhales slowly. “He said if I didn’t get the money to him in 72 hours he would just have to find another way for me to pay him back. I don’t really know what he meant by that.

Anyway, the blond man asked if I could repay the money. I said no. He looked… sympathetic? He told me I’d have to go back to the cell until they could find use for me. I was there until they brought me home.”

You sit next to her on the bed, circling your arm around her. “Elle, I’m so sorry. I wish you’d come to me for help. I would’ve helped.”

“You don’t have that money, either. Plus, you are helping.”

“I guess.”

“What time is it?”

“6:30.”

“Are you nervous?” Ellie asks.

“I accidentally kidnapped the most powerful man in the city and threatened his life, sis. I’m not nervous at all,” you say sarcastically.

Ellie opens her mouth to respond but is cut off by the ringing of your doorbell and a knock on the door. The two of you exchange a surprised look and you double check your watch: 6:34.

“He’s early,” you say, standing as you take a deep breath and try to swallow your nerves.

“Hey, you’ve got this. I know it,” Ellie reassures you, but she makes no move to follow you as you leave the room and go to make good on your end of yours and James’ bargain. You’re settling her debt and she makes no further move to support you.

You sigh as you reach the front door, swallowing your nerves and the tiny bit of resentment for your sister forming. Swinging the door open, you come face to face with the same man you had kidnapped and assaulted the day before: James Barnes.

James is looking around him when you open the door, but his attention is immediately on you as the door opens. His striking blue eyes meet yours, take in your person, and meet your eyes again. He grins.

“You look beautiful, Doll,” he says. He sounds breathless, completely blown away. You give him a questioning look, still so unsure of his motives.

“Thank you. You clean up nice. Not being tied up to a chair suits you,” you say. Your words come out funny. The ‘thank you’ sounds somewhat genuine but the compliment comes out somewhat strained, like you’re not sure you should be saying it.

James ignores your tone and lets his grin widen. He then takes a hand out from behind his back—you hadn’t even noticed his hand was behind his back—and hands you a bouquet of blue hyacinths. You just stare at them for a while as your brain attempts to catch up with your eyes.

“You actually brought flowers.”

“You threatened me again,” he teases.

“James, I…” You trail off, speechless. You wonder how you keep getting away with threatening him. Most people would be, at best, locked away, at worst, dead.

“Bucky.”

“What?”

“My name,” he says, “is Bucky.”

You let your eyes trail from the hyacinths up to his eyes (you can’t help but notice they’re the same color), and you think that he looks shy—timid. James—Bucky—looks like he is nervous to ask you to call him by this other name.

“Bucky?” You ask, and, against your better judgment, as you ask it, you pull back your front door and step aside, inviting him into your home. He looks equally surprised you’d do such a thing, but he enters, taking a few steps into the corridor before pausing to look around and to wait on you. You close the door behind you and lead him to the kitchen where you pull out a vase for the flowers.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s—erm—a nickname. It’s what my friends call me.”

“We’re friends?” You ask skeptically.

“Well, no, but we’re going on a date. ‘James’ is just a little formal,” he says, wrinkling his nose at his own name.

You offer him a friendly smile (which surprises you). “Well, Bucky, you’re lucky I’m ready because you’re, like, half an hour early.”

Bucky has the decency to look embarrassed, but he ignores the accusation. “Well,” he says instead, “shall we go?”

You nod and follow him out to his car. Once you make it to the vehicle, Bucky opens the car door for you, carefully shutting it behind you. He takes his spot in the driver’s seat a moment later.

You let out a breathy laugh and he side eyes you as he starts the car.

“What?”

“Nothing! I just sort of expected you to have a driver. You’re just… surprising.”

He smiles at your admission. “Careful, Doll. Someone might think you like me.”

“Doubtful.”

It’s not a long drive to what is certainly a high class establishment—an establishment nicer than any you’ve been to before. Bucky gets out of the car, rushing to let you out. As you get out of the car, he offers his keys to the valet and his arm to you. You glance briefly at his arm and give him an annoyed look as you loop your arm through his.

Bucky escorts you to the double glass doors that lead to the restaurant where a doorman waits to open the door for you. You say “thank you” as you pass and Bucky gives you an unreadable look. Then, once inside the restaurant, Bucky whispers something to the host who nods and leads you towards the back and up some stairs that lead to a glass enclosed landing where two guards stand on either side of the door leading to the rooftop seating. Bucky lets go of your arm and steps forward as the male security guard mirrors him. The guard pats Bucky down, finds a handgun tucked away in a holster at his waist, takes it, and then allows him to step to the side so that you may take your turn.

Your breathing picks up ever so slightly as you watch Bucky get frisked, especially once you realize they’re going to frisk you, too. You start to worry when you realize they’re going to find a weapon on you—how is that going to play out? Will Bucky go back on his word? Will he kill you? Then, when they take away Bucky’s weapon, you remind yourself to breathe normally and regain some confidence. He brought a gun, too: he doesn’t trust you and you don’t trust him.

You step forward, making eye contact with Bucky the whole time. You hold your arms out ever so slightly as the female guard steps forward to frisk you. You raise an eyebrow—maybe you’re challenging him to do something—when the guard finds your gun and pulls it out of your waistband. She holds it up and offers you a “seriously?” look, which you see in your peripheral. You shrug at her, eyes still on Bucky. He’s smirking.

The two of you are then led by the host through the guarded door to a single table that sits on the balcony. The balcony has been well decorated with myriad plants and string lights. There’s soft music playing in the background. Bucky pulls out a chair for you and you sit, watching as he takes the seat across from you. The two of you just watch each other as the host offers you menus and promises a waiter will be with you soon. Once the host is gone, the two of you sit, watching, waiting.

“Lovely weather we’re having,” you finally say, picking up the menu. If he isn’t going to say anything, you decide, you’re going to play coy.

Bucky raises his eyebrows, letting out a laugh and looking away before returning is gaze to you.

“You brought a gun to our date,” he says.

“So did you,” you reply, still looking at the menu. “Is the chicken alfredo any good here?”

“What for?” He asks, ignoring the alfredo question.

You sigh, setting down the menu. “Why did you?”

“You held me at gunpoint the last time we met. How was I to know you wouldn’t try to finish the job?”

“I held you at gunpoint the last time we met, but I had you tied up. How was I to know you wouldn’t take the shot now that your hands aren’t tied?”

“We’re here because I already shot my shot.”

“Clever.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I’ve given you every reason to.”

He laughs humorlessly. “If I wanted to hurt you, don’t you think I would have done it already?”

“Why am I here, James? Why don’t you want to hurt me? Aren’t you supposed to be some big, scary crime lord? Because you’re not living up to your name.”

Bucky clenches his jaw and looks away. You think you’ve maybe finally struck a nerve, finally gone too far.

“Have you ever once considered, Y/N, that maybe—just maybe—I’m a person, too? Did you ever think you were capable of threatening someone’s life until necessity made you?” You flinch. He notices. “I have a shitty job. I do shitty things. I do even shittier things to even shittier people. But it’s the job I was given, the job I have, and the job I do. Maybe I’m a monster, a freak, an emotionless robot, but maybe that’s just what I have to be so I don’t go crazy. At the end of the day, I’m just a man who wants to live his life, so forgive me for wanting to do that.”

Bucky is breathing erratically. He’s worked up. You stare, mouth slightly agape, surprised. You have a feeling he’s felt this way a while and never had the chance to voice it, but you also realize that your existence in his life might be more to him than just some girl who wants her sister back, some girl who extorted him.

“You actually like me,” you say, genuinely surprised.

He looks at you, eyes softening and looking a little embarrassed.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve got terrible taste.”

He laughs. “That so?”

“I never even introduced myself. You clearly only know my name because you know who my sister is and put two and two together. I’ve been terrible to you. I mean, I have my totally logical and understandable reasons, but I’ve been terrible.”

“That’s true, but I was holding your sister hostage. Not the best conditions. I’m sure she’s thrilled about all this.” He gestures to the table in front of you, the two of you.

“She recognizes I’m cleaning up her mess.”

Bucky looks at you, expression sad.

“Cleaning up her mess,” he repeats quietly. “You don’t have to do this,” he says, louder, more confident.

“What?”

“This date. You don’t want to be here. You’re not interested. I get it. You’re cleaning up your sister’s mess. You can just go,” he says, looking far off onto the horizon. “Don’t worry about Ellie. Her debt’s forgotten.”

You don’t move. You sit, you stare, you chew your lip, and you consider the man in front of you. You consider the handsome, powerful, sad man in front of you who—to your surprise—is genuinely interested in you. You make a decision.

You hear your chair scrape against the floor as you stand up and start to walk back towards the door. You take a few steps past Bucky, turn around, and walk back to the table. You stop right beside Bucky and hold out your hand. Bucky looks at your hand outstretched to him and trails his eyes up to you, and you watch as he carefully searches your face.

“Hi,” you say, smiling. “I’m Y/N. Mind if I join you for dinner?”

Bucky’s face breaks out into a grin as he takes your hand, grasping it firmly as he shakes it. “Bucky,” he greets, playing along. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

@cjand10 @vicmc624 @mostlymarvelgirl @livingoutsidethetardis @onceithough @thedonswife13 @kaithesimps-blog @buckitostan @julvrs @unaxv @searchn0tfound @10ava01

[stillmonsterz]

all i gotta do

for this anon!

pairing: jake x reader

genre: fluff (?), humor (???), smut

summary: it's your first day at work and you're nervous. however, your trainer is going to show you why you were nervous for the wrong reasons. one week with jake sim will either make you quit the job or never leave.

contains: unprotected sex, exhibitionism, swearing, incest mention, PTSD mention, i try to be "funny" and make "jokes"

word count: 4.4k (unproofread)

---

DAY ONE

You stepped inside of your new workplace apprehensively; you hadn’t felt so nervous since your first day of university. Wiping your palms on your pants, you made eye contact with the receptionist and smiled wanly. 

“Hello,” you said, resting your fingertips on the counter. “I’m the new hire. I was wondering where I could find…Jake Sim? He’s supposed to be my…” The term that had been used in the introductory email the company had sent to you eluded you.

“Your buddy,” the receptionist said flatly. “Your Park Corp buddy.”

“Yes. That.”

“Jake Sim is on the fifth floor. I take it you’ll be working in data analysis as well?”

You nodded. “Yes, exactly.”

The receptionist smiled at you, but it belied a certain cold humor. “Good luck.”

“Yeah, you too.” As you walked away, you realized your blunder and squeezed your eyes shut. 

–

The fifth floor of the office building had all of the markings of a corporation attempting to reel in more younger workers. There was a vending machine as soon as you walked in, the cubicles were arranged as part of an open concept floor plan, and the walls were plastered with positive, empty aphorisms. You scanned the area, wondering which of the people hunched over their computers was Jake.

Footsteps echoed behind you, and when you turned around you saw a slight, enthusiastic-looking young man with a shock of shaggy brown hair approaching you. In his hands he held two coffee cups. 

“Hey, newbie,” he said with some affection. “Got you a coffee.”

You took the cup, surprised by his vivacity. “Thank you…”

“Jake,” he finished, holding his hand out. “Jake Sim.”

You shook his hand as firmly as you could and introduced yourself.

“I know,” he said cheerfully. “Don’t worry, I like to do a little stalking before we meet a new hire. Although…” his face grew serious. “You really shouldn’t post such…provocative pictures on your Insta. Someone could get ideas.”

Your face blanched and your fingers gripped the coffee cup. “What?”

Jake’s face broke out into a smile. “Just fuckin’ with you. Sorry, I like to razz all the new hires. Makes me feel big.”

His grin was so wide, you felt compelled to smile too. He nudged you and jerked his thumb in the direction of the cubicles. “Let me show you around, PCB.”

You blinked, then it dawned on you. “Park Corp buddy…?”

“So observant,” Jake said, amused. “Come on.”

You followed him around as he explained where everything was: the copy room, the coffee machine, the water dispenser, the popcorn machine, your cubicle (situated in the middle of the room, to your chagrin), his cubicle (tucked neatly in the corner).

Then he taught you how to use the software. Thanks to your university courses, it wasn’t difficult to learn. Jake’s playful personality also gave way to a maturity that you hadn’t expected. He carefully walked you through the program step by step.

“I’ll leave you these tasks to work on,” he said, pulling up a document he had pre-made. “If you get stuck, just come get me, okay? I’m right in the corner.”

You thanked him for his assistance and started working on the tasks he had given you. It wasn’t challenging, so much as it was tedious. Still, you persevered. 

At least, until you heard him approach you again.

“Hey,” Jake said, sitting beside you. His eyes darted around the room. “You were supposed to come get me.”

“You told me to do that if I needed you,” you replied, somewhat confused.

“Yeah,” Jake said slowly, “in case you feel the overwhelming urge to make Jakey’s day and let him help you with something so he can avoid doing his boring ass work. You don’t even understand the basics of being a PCB, do you?”

“You’re using me,” you said, waving an accusatory finger at him. 

“Can you blame me?” he retorted. “Sometimes I can…I can feel my soul leaking from my pores.”

You giggled, and he squinted at you in mock annoyance. “There’s no way you’re laughing at me,” he said, trying to fight a smile. “I’m dying, turning into a corpse, and you’re laughing.”

You shrugged. “At least you’ll die at the prime of your life.”

Jake’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Oh, you think I’m in my prime, huh?”

“That’s not what I me-,”

“You’re hitting on me,” Jake said, leaning in. He blinked at you like a puppy. 

You leaned away, your cheeks feeling warm. “I’m not.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you were,” he said softly.

You were about to say something else, something intelligent and witty, but one of your new coworkers approached the two of you. 

“Couldn’t wait a day before sexually harassing the newbie, could you?” He was tall, pale, and had a shit-eating grin that could rival Jake’s. Unlike Jake, who was dressed in a blue button-down and slacks, this person wore a suit with a silky black tie.

Jake leaned away from you, balking at the accusation. “I am not sexually harassing her,” Jake said, clutching his heart. “I wasn’t even normal harassing her.”

“He wasn’t,” you chimed in. 

“Don’t cover up for this louse,” Sunghoon said, shaking his head at Jake. “Look at you, corrupting one of our brightest already with your salacious comments. Weren’t you supposed to be writing up a report on the-,”

“You hear this jerkoff?” Jake said, interrupting. “He puts on a little suit and starts using words like ‘louse’ and ‘salacious’, like we’re not in data analysis.”

“I am a data architect,” Sunghoon said, playfully slamming his hand on your desk. “And I will be treated like one, damn it.”

“Quit it,” Jake said, putting his arms around you and hugging you close to him. “You’re scaring my PCB.” 

“Your PCB is going to get PTSD if you keep touching her,” Sunghoon replied drolly, crossing his arms.

Jake grinned. “My PCB is going to get PTSD if I do PDA with her?” 

Sunghoon said, “Good one,” and they laughed and high-fived. You stared at them incredulously, noting that Jake’s arm was still wrapped around your shoulder. 

“Sorry,” you said slowly, “but I’d like to do my work…”

Jake withdrew his arm and tsked under his breath, standing up. “Great going, Sunghoon,” he hissed. “Now she hates you.”

“She hates you, idiot,” Sunghoon retorted as they walked away.

You slumped down in your chair, already feeling exhausted. You worked straight through your lunch break, and as you commuted home you wondered how the rest of your training week would go.

–

DAY TWO 

The next day, you felt a little more equipped to navigate your new job. In your purse, you brought some items with which to decorate your desk.

You came into work early, noting that very few people show up at this time. Perfect. With careful precision, you arranged your new trinkets on your desk; a magnetic calendar for your cubicle wall, a little plush doll, a notebook, a nice mousepad, and a little jar of chocolates. 

As you’re turning your computer on, you heard three male voices approaching your desk. Two of which you recognize. 

“There she is,” you heard Jake say quietly, “isn’t she cute?”

You looked up and waved. There was Jake, wearing a button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Sunghoon, wearing another crisp suit. And a third person wearing an oversized collared shirt with dark blue jeans, looking you up and down. 

“You’re here early,” Jake said cheerfully. “Excited for work?”

“I just wanted to decorate my desk,” you explained, proudly displaying your newly decorated workplace.

The three men politely admired your table. Then Sunghoon nudged the third man in the ribs. He cleared his throat. 

“I’m Heeseung,” he said, awkwardly raising his hand. “Heeseung Lee.”

“Nice to meet you,” you replied, holding your hand out.

You shook hands with him, and Sunghoon snorted. “I didn’t get a handshake from you.”

“You also didn’t introduce yourself to me…”

Sunghoon looked away, the tips of his ears going red. “Right. I suppose that was my folly. Apologies.”

Jake leaned down and whispered, “Isn’t he such a pretentious dick?” in your ear. You suppressed another giggle as you stuck your hand out.

Sunghoon shook it firmly. “Park Sunghoon,” he said with a smile. “Data architect.”

“You told her that already,” Jake said. 

“And I told you to shut up several times, not that you ever listened,” Sunghoon retorted.

You glanced at Heeseung, and he just shrugged at you. “They can’t stop,” he said, glancing between the two of them. “It’s hard-coded into their DNA to be idiots in front of cute girls.”

Jake squinted at Heeseung. “Oh, you think she’s cute? Are you into her or something?”

Heeseung raised his hands in self-defense, backing up. “No, no, not at all.”

You sighed. “Could…could I go ahead and start my work?”

Jake shook his head and stalked away from your table. “She fucking hates you, you know that?” he said, lightly pushing Heeseung. 

Later that day, as you’re packing up to head home, you hear footsteps that were already becoming familiar.

“Hey,” Jake said quietly, “the guys and I were wondering if you wanted to eat with us at lunch tomorrow?”

You blinked up at him. “No kidding?”

“Yeah. We want you to feel welcome here,” he said, resting his hand on your shoulder. 

A smile spread across your face, and you nodded. “Sure. Sounds like it'll be a lot of fun.” Like seeing monkeys in the zoo.

Jake grinned, patting your shoulder. “Awesome! Awesome, awesome.” He paused then, placing his hand in his pocket. “One other thing,” he said slowly. 

“What’s that?” you tilted your head at him.

“Well, you know, you don’t have to dress so formally,” he said, gesturing at your outfit. “Unless you’re trying to be Sunghoon or something. You can dress business casual.”

You looked down at yourself; your outfit was pretty formal and rigid. “All right,” you said, “I’ll be nice and casual tomorrow.”

“Sounds great,” Jake said, biting his lip slightly. 

– 

DAY THREE

Work already felt much more comfortable. Besides the three coworkers you had already met, the rest of the employees ranged from amicable to ambivalent, so you never felt tense. Occasionally, Jake would come over to your desk and look at how you were coming along. Or, as you figured, he was just coming to ogle you. Not that you minded the extra attention. 

When you walked in this morning, dressed in your more casual outfit, his eyes had lingered on you for so long you thought it could be classed as a workplace violation.

“Very nice,” Jake had said approvingly. “Very…casual.”

“I try,” you had said drily, heading to your desk. 

“I’m serious,” he had said, walking with you. “You have, pardon me, a great figure.” 

“That’s not very PC,” Sunghoon had said as he passed by your desk. 

“So, what you’re saying,” Jake had started, and you were already rolling your eyes, “I’m not acting PC with my PCB?”

You had groaned. “Jake…”

“Great going, Sunghoon,” Jake had grumbled, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “You’re the worst, I swear…”

Now you were sitting with them in the break room, where they were locked in what you could only assume was a longstanding debate. 

“I’m saying that it wouldn’t be gay if it was on an island,” Jake protested, “so it wouldn’t even matter, Sunghoon.”

“Okay, but they’d eventually get rescued, so they’d have to live with that,” Sunghoon retorted, gesturing with his sandwich. 

“Yeah, but they don’t know that they’re getting rescued.”

You glanced at Heeseung, who was eating a microwavable meal. “What are they talking about?”

Heeseung leaned into you, whispering as so not to catch their attention. “It’s this stupid hypothetical they came up with,” Heeseung explained. “If there was an island, and a pair of adult siblings were on one end, and a pair of two straight men were on the other end, which pair would hook up first?”

You blinked. “Well, the siblings, right?”

A haunting silence overtook the break room. Heeseung, Jake, and Sunghoon all stared at you, and you got the impression that you had disrupted something sacred, something hallowed.

Sunghoon laughed and pointed at you. “See? See? Your little work wife doesn’t even agree with you. Those siblings would be smashing, right?”

“Well, I g-,”

“All over each other,” Sunghoon continued, making vulgar gestures with his hands. “It’d be like…five hours. Sweaty from the sun. They’d be rolling around, sand in their ass, it’d be carnal. Primal.”

Jake stared at you incredulously. “You really don’t think the straight guys would fuck?”

You shrugged helplessly. “Well, they’re straight, so I mean…”

Jake groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Okay. Look. If you were on an island with a sexy ass woman, and she had short nails and everything, and she was fully ready to finger your pussy, you wouldn’t let her smash? Because you were ‘straight’?”

“I mean…no.”

“Nah,” Jake said, waving a baby carrot in your face. “You’re either deluded or you aren’t thinking hard enough. You’d get desperate. You’d be munching so much carpet you’d look like…like…”

“Like a carpet factory,” Heeseung said sarcastically. 

“You’re so fucking unfunny,” Jake replied. “No, you’d look like…”

“Like she’s an interior designer?” Sunghoon offered. 

“Close enough,” Jake said, sighing. “Real dark day when Sunghoon is funnier than you. Do better, Heeseung.”

“Yeah, Heeseung,” you said, “do better.”

Heeseung scoffed. “I thought you were my friend.”

You shrugged. “I wanted to join in.”

Jake clapped you on your back and laughed. “Look at you. Blending in already!”

– 

After lunch you excused yourself and went to the bathroom. When you emerged, Jake was leaning against the wall, playing with his fingers. 

“Hey,” he said, straightening up. “Had a random hypothetical for you.”

“Sure,” you said, crossing your arms. 

“So,” Jake began, his eyes darting around your face, “if you were stuck on a deserted island…”

You groaned. 

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait.” Jake put one hand on your shoulder. “If you were stuck on a deserted island, which of us would you want with you? Me, Sunghoon, or Heeseung?”

You frowned. “Well, you, obviously.”

Jake smiled at you widely, running his fingers through his hair. “Ha, for real?”

“Well, yeah. I know you the best.”

His smile faltered. “Is that really the only reason?”

You frowned, unsure of what to say. “I me-,”

Jake clapped you on the back and snorted. “I was just messing with you,” he said before striding back to his corner cubicle.

–

DAY FOUR 

You consulted your list of tasks. Your last, and most important task, was to type up a data analysis report based off of the information you had been gathering for the past week. Jake said that he would look over it for you later.

After spending the better part of your morning working on the report, you leaned back and stretched. Your eyes were starting to hurt from staring at a screen for so long, and you rubbed them.

Jake was next to you before you could react. “Hey,” he said, “how’s the report going?”

“It’s going,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Let me see,” Jake said, leaning over you and scrolling through your document. Your breath hitched; he was so close, you could smell his cologne. If you glanced to your right, you would be able to see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. 

Jake silently pored over the document, his chest pressed against your back. His hand rested on your shoulder, and you couldn’t tell if he was rubbing it as a subconscious habit or not.

“Looking good so far,” he whispered, and when his hand slid down your arm, you knew it was intentional.

“Anything I need to fix?” you asked, attempting to maintain a semblance of professionalism.

“Hm…” Jake leaned in to you evermore, until he was flush against you. “Nothing I can see. You’re a good worker, aren’t you?”

“I try,” you said quietly. 

“A good little worker bee,” Jake said softly, his lips almost brushing your ear. “Just what I like.”

You dared to turn your head slightly to catch Jake’s gaze, and he smiled at you, that easy-going, smile that hid a wealth of sobriety and determination. He patted your shoulder again and leaned upwards. The loss of his scent and touch bothered you, but you didn’t say a word. 

“I’ll leave you to it now,” Jake said, stretching his wrists out. “Come early tomorrow, okay?”

“Huh? Why?” 

“So I can look over your report one last time before you submit it,” Jake said plainly. “What were you thinking, you naughty little bee?”

“I wasn’t thinking of anything like th-,”

Jake laughed. “I was kidding. You’re so cute when you’re all flustered, though.”

When Jake left, you realized that you had been squeezing your plush doll. You released it and sighed. Then, you continued working on the report. 

–

DAY FIVE 

You strode into the office early. Jake had emailed you through the company’s email, requesting that you arrive on the fifth floor at 7:30 am. Work started at 9:00, so he would have ample time to go over the report with you.

When you entered the floor, you first noted that there were a few workers already there, hunched over their desks. Just a few overachievers…or underachievers, you guessed. 

Jake was waving you over to his cubicle, his hair flopping in his face as he enthusiastically beckoned you. You walked towards him. 

“Come on,” he said, smiling at you playfully despite the early time. “Come sit.”

You went to pull over another chair, but Jake grabbed your wrist. “No, no,” he said with a shake of his hair. “Just sit next to me.” He scooted over in his chair, leaving you with a sliver of space. 

You were already growing accustomed to Jake’s “jokes”, so you sat next to him. Your left leg hung over the side of the chair, the other smushed against Jake’s. 

He smiled at you, then opened your report on his computer. You had sent it to him that night, your heart fluttering even though it was just an email. Just five days at this office was making you as pathetic as Jake and his friends. 

As he scrolled through the document, he kept glancing at you. Eventually, Jake said, “You can’t be comfortable sitting on the chair like that.”

“You’re right,” you said with a sigh. “I’m not.”

“Why not just…sit on my lap?” Jake asked nonchalantly, his lower lip jutting out in a slight pout.

You sighed. “I see the game you’re playing here, Sim.”

“Will you play, my little worker bee?”

A shift of your ass from the small slice of chair to Jake’s lap was your answer to him, and when you leaned against him he smiled. Jake’s hands reached down to encircle your hips. 

“You really are such a good bee,” he said, massaging your hips. 

“I can be even better if you let me,” you replied, your gaze flickering to his plush lips. 

Jake leaned his head against the mesh backing of his swivel chair. Your back was pressed against his chest, and your hands reached behind you to stroke his face. “I’d like to test that theory,” Jake said softly.

You leaned in and kissed him, reveling in the taste of his lips. He followed suit, kissing you enthusiastically. Jake’s hands remained on our hips, but they soon slid to your thighs, squeezing and groping at the soft flesh. Jake swiped his tongue along your bottom lip a few times, and you widened your mouth. His tongue probed past your lips, licking your own tongue.

“So good,” he whispered, briefly breaking the kiss. “You’d never let fuckass Sunghoon do this, right?”

“Jake…”

“Sorry, baby,” Jake said apologetically. “I get territorial. I’m like a wolf.”

“Jake, come on.”

“Awoo,” he said playfully before kissing you again. Your tongues pressed together, swirling around each other. As the kiss deepened, you bit his lower lip before licking the mark. Jake groaned into your mouth.

“Little bee,” he said, pulling away once again. He rested his forehead against yours. “If you’re going to do stuff like that, you’re gonna have to commit to it.”

“I want to commit to it,” you said, leaving wet kisses along his neck. 

Jake groaned and grabbed one of your legs. He brought it over his lap and dragged your hips closer to his crotch. “Now, you’re going to have to be quiet. Can you do that for me?”

“I can be quiet,” you said, resting your hands on his shoulders. 

“Promise? This isn’t a big office,” he said, his voice low and hoarse. “It’d be a shame if someone heard us and you got in trouble. You wouldn’t want that, right?”

“No,” you whispered. As you stared at him, Jake started to unbuckle his belt. When he noticed your gaze, he frowned. 

“Come on, bee,” he said, gesturing at your skirt. “Can’t do everything for you, can I?”

You zipped your skirt down in the back and shifted so you could wriggle yourself out of it. Jake gave you an exasperated glance, so you shimmied your panties down to your thighs.

“And?” he asked impatiently.

“And…what?”

Jake sighed. “Take your tits out, come on.”

The phrase was so vulgar it shocked you, but somehow it was sexy when uttered from Jake’s mouth. The contrast between his disgusting mind and his boyish good looks thrilled you, so you did as he asked. You un-buttoned your shirt down and tugged your bra straps down, revealing your chest. 

Immediately, Jake groped your tits, sighing in pleasure. “Feeling up a pretty girl’s tits early in the morning,” he said, almost reverently. “This is amazing.”

The sensation cause you to moan, and Jake immediately sent you a harsh look. He squeezed one of your breasts, and you suppressed a gasp. “I told you to be quiet, little bee,” he whispered. “You said you could do it.”

“I can,” you murmured. 

“Then show me you can,” Jake replied, still fondling your breasts. He pinched your nipples, squeezed your tits, pushed them together then apart. After a while, he took one of your hands and placed it on his crotch. 

First, you rubbed his hard-on through his slacks, and he bit his lip to avoid moaning. Then you unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. You were surprised by its girth, as well as the fact that he was already leaking precum. Spitting into your hand, you gathered up some of that precum and used it to stroke his shaft. Jake shuddered and gritted his teeth together. 

“Nice and slow,” he said, his breathing already labored. “Slowly, baby.”

You heeded his order and stroked his cock while he played with your breasts. He hadn’t tired of them; on the contrary, he was transfixed by them. Jake leaned forward and bit one of your breasts hard, sucking at the spot immediately after. “Look at this and think of me,” he whispered before leaving another hickey on your other breast. 

Jake suddenly seemed to remember that he didn’t have much time with you. He took his mouth off of your breast and swatted your hands from his cock. Then he covered your lips with his hand and slowly, painstakingly, guided his cockhead into your dripping, wet pussy. 

You were glad you were being muffled by his hand, because you would not have been able to contain your shivering moans. He shallowly fucked into you, allowing you to get used to his length. When he felt that you were ready, he lifted his hips upwards and slid inside of you completely, letting out a heavy breath.

“Now bounce on it,” Jake whispered into your ear. One hand freely groped your breast, the other was clamped onto your hip. You guessed that he trusted you not to moan now. 

You had never ridden dick before, but you had a general idea of how to do it. You lifted yourself up and down, your pussy enveloping his shaft. The feeling was incredible, and you bit his hand as you worked yourself on his cock. As you did, the swivel chair squeaked due to the movement.

Jake shunted his hips upwards, matching your movements. His hand moved down to your waist, gripping it tightly. “Faster,” he hissed. “Faster, baby.”

Now that you had gotten used to him, you bounced on him faster. Your ass slapped against his strong, muscular thighs, and you knew that there was no way you were being conspicuous. Your pussy made smacking noises as you rode him, and the swivel chair squeaked like it was going to break.

Still, Jake urged you on. “Come on, come on, fucking put that slutty pussy to work,” he said, taking your tits into his mouth. Both of his hands were gripping your hips, pushing him onto his length. “Keep going. Don’t you dare…stop.”

You were reaching your limit, exhaustion seeping into your limbs. Jake lightly pinched your side, and you gasped. “I told you to keep going, baby.”

So you kept going. You swore you could feel him in your womb, that was how far he was pushing you. “Pussy’s gonna be shaped like this dick,” Jake hissed, leaving sloppy kisses all over your chest. “My masterpiece.”

Warmth filled you, all the way to your core, and you knew you were about to burst. “Cover my mouth,” you whispered and Jake immediately placed his hand over your mouth, rutting into you even faster.

“Gonna cum,” Jake grunted, his thrusts growing slower and sloppier. “Gonna fill this sweet pussy up.” With a growl that didn’t dare leave his throat, he fucked his cum into you, his hand still gripping your hip. Slowly, painstakingly, he pulled out of you, and you could see his cum dripping out of you.

He kissed your forehead and uncovered your mouth. “That was so good,” you whispered.

“It’ll be better next time,” Jake said slyly. 

“Oh, yeah?” You started to put your clothes back on, tugging your bra down and buttoning your shirt again. “What makes you so sure?”

Jake leaned into your ear again. “Next time, I’ll get to hear you scream my name.”

You pulled away from him, your eyes widening. 

Jake smiled at you. “Just kidding.”

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Y’all are the absolute funniest most of the tags/comments on part 2 were either “oh shit Nancy????” Like we as a collective Steddie hivemind genuinely forgot Steve and Nancy were a Thing for a minute and I think that’s so sexy of us. OR y’all went “OH THANK FUCK ROBIN REMEMBERS” which. Y’all. Y’all don’t understand how little control I actually have over this fic 😂 like genuinely I’m not creating anything, it’s writing itself, I’m just writing the words down. It’s fantastic. 😂 also keep in mind I have a tentative posting schedule of every 4 days so expect something on/around the 16th! ❤️

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Eddie runs.

He’s terrified and a coward but it’s kept him alive this long so he runs, books it back to his van, ignores Harrington calling out for him, only realizes when he’s most of the way home that he’s still got the ring clenched in his hand.

He stares at it long enough at a stoplight that someone honks at him when it turns green. “What the fuck,” he whispers again, placing it on his desk when he gets home. “What the fuck.”

Wayne knocks on his door then immediately pokes his head in, which completely defeats the purpose of the knock, but Eddie’s door was open anyways. “Eds?”

“Yeah?”

“Y’alright, kiddo?”

“I think I hallucinated.”

Wayne’s silent for a few long moments. “Did you take somethin’? Or are you bein’ dramatic?”

“I didn’t take anything.”

Wayne sighs. “Wanna tell me what you think you hallucinated?”

He’s about to, it’s on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t quite say it. Like there’s a dam at the front of his mouth, and the words can’t break through. He lets out a desperate chuckle and shakes his head, flopping backwards onto his bed. “I don’t even know.”

Wayne raises a brow, but before he can respond, there’s a knock on the trailer door.

Knock is a polite term for it. It’s more like someone’s trying to break down the door with their fist. “Munson!” Someone yells. “Open this door, dammit, or I will drag you out by your ears!”

“Boy,” Wayne says, looking at him. “What the fuck did you get yourself into?”

Eddie groans, grabs his pillow, and screams into it.

When he surfaces for air, Wayne’s gone, talking to the person at the front door. Eddie vaguely recognizes the voice. Female, young, probably someone he has a class with.

Wayne, the traitor, lets her in, and Eddie’s suddenly faced with a furious Robin Buckley. He blinks. “Buckley?”

He tries to think back, but he hadn’t sold her anything recently—or ever, for that matter—so he has no idea why she’s here, looking like she’s about to murder him. “You said you’d listen.”

He blinks again. Sits up to face her. “What?”

“Steve. He told you.”

“Steve- Harrington? Oh, come on, Buckley, are you delusional too?”

Blue eyes narrow at him. “You’ve got a little stick-n-poke on your thigh. It’s an upside down star. It’s crappy ‘cause you did it yourself, but that’s why you love it. He already said your favorite song, so I won’t repeat it. You’ve had a frankly ridiculous crush on him practically since the moment you laid eyes on him. You call your guitar your sweetheart because that’s what your mom called you, and she’s the one who taught you to play.” She crosses her arms. “I can keep going.”

“I suppose you’re from the future, then, too?” Her words catch up to him and he suddenly blanches. “I, uh, I’m not sure about your second point.”

She softens some, which is rather unexpected, but he’s grateful. “Oh, Eddie.” She sits on the edge of his bed. “Me too. It’s alright. I’m sorry, I got upset because you ran, after you told Steve you’d listen, and…” she sighs, looking around his room, before standing when she catches sight of the ring on his desk. She picks it up and studies it. “This is practically all we have left,” she says softly, and Eddie feels like throwing up.

“Because I die?”

She looks at him like she’s seeing a ghost. “Yeah.”

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @local-writers-corner @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

@paperbackribs @ninjapirateunicorns @bisexualdisastersworld @hiscrimsonangel @lolawonsstuff @xo-r4e @thedragonsaunt @l0st-strawberry

Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @little-gae-shit

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 9

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: you and Felix go on an excursion and tensions are high while you wait for time to pass

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

You wake up in an entanglement of limbs. 

You feel it before you can see it, really. The warmth of Felix’s body on yours. Legs intertwined with legs, you currently lay with your head on his chest and his arms around your waist. Cracking your eyes open, you're met with a sleeping Felix, breathing slow and heavy, his breath warm on the top of your head. He looks so serene, almost like a child with the expressionless look on his face. 

Your heart flutters. You wish it didn't. 

You pry yourself out of the warmth of his embrace, not breathing as you wiggle out between his limbs in an attempt to not wake him. God forbid he wakes up and sees the position you’re in. What would he say? How would he react? Would it be awkward? You don’t want to find out. 

You make it to the bathroom, splashing water onto your face. You comb your fingers through your hair, doing your best to detangle it with what you've got. You take a deep breath, rolling your shoulders back. 

Last night, Yang Jungwon died right before your eyes. 

Where do you go from here? You can't go on pretending like things are normal anymore. They haven't been normal for a very long time, not since before you started dating Jungwon. You also know that running away isn’t exactly an option anymore… evident by the scars on your back inflicted by Chan that you had almost forgotten about. They accompany the many other bruises and scratches on your body now, so they aren’t quite out of place yet they serve as a not-so-gentle reminder of what to expect should you defy Chan. 

What now? You suppose you can lay low until you finally find an ample opportunity to escape, one that does not risk endangering you or your sister. Better would probably be to stay quiet and gather as much information as you can, to try to bargain your way out of the situation with Chan. Perhaps if you can one day find a way to leave on his terms you might be able to get what you want. You remember the night before, how Woojin implied that Chan could be in love with you… you feel the greasy diner food from the night before sit uneasily in your stomach, threatening to come back up. 

Sighing, you find yourself at a loss. When you crack open the bathroom door, you’re surprised to see Felix awake and sitting up in the bed. 

“Oh hey, you're up,” you say. You sit down next to him, hugging your knees to your chest. Felix yawns and rubs sleep from his eyes. “What time are we going back to the house?” You question.

“About that…” you blanch at his words, his voice deep and groggy from sleep. 

“You're kidding,” you say. “We're not going back?” 

“From my understanding, we have to wait for Lee Know to wake up,” he says, looking at his phone. “He’s in stable condition, so they expect it to be sometime today, but we still need the okay from Chris.” You sigh at the revelation. 

“So… what now?” 

“Breakfast?” He suggests. You purse your lips together, as if in thought. You still feel a little nauseous but food isn’t such a bad idea. Plus, you’re tired of feeling cooped up–getting out might not be the worst idea. 

You’re reminded of Felix telling you that Heeseung has plans to come after you next. You grimace. “Is it… okay to leave the motel? If the house isn’t safe, are you sure it’s okay to leave?” 

“You’ll be with me. You’ll be fine.” His words provide comfort, you suppose. And so, at eleven in the morning, you and Felix walk across the street to the diner. It’s where you assume he got your dinner last night and it’s bustling with life from the early morning lunch rush. In your matching pajamas, the two of you slide into the red and cream colored booth. You probably look comical but it feels… normal, almost. 

When the waitress comes up to your table she smells of cigarettes and sugar. She’s an older woman, curly blonde hair permed and framed around her face. Her makeup is a little bright, shades of periwinkle dabbled on her eyelids and lipstick blood red. Her name tag reads ‘Pam,’ and she reminds you of an old grandma, someone that might provide blunt comfort and real advice in a time of need.

“What can I get for the lovely couple?” She questions as she pulls out a notepad, voice deep and raspy with a southern drawl. 

“Oh we’re not–” 

“Can I get chocolate chip pancakes with a side of bacon?” Felix says, smiling sweetly at the waitress. “And a coffee, black.” 

“Of course. And for the lady?” 

You look at the menu. “Um, a waffle and orange juice. Thanks.” Felix takes your menu and hands it to the waitress. She smiles saccharine sweet and goes to the kitchen, leaving you and Felix alone. 

Neither of you speak. 

You fiddle with the silverware instead, staring out the window. 

The waitress arrives with your drinks. You take the opportunity to immediately start drinking it. Is this awkward? Why is it awkward? Is it because she implied you were a couple? Is it you making this awkward, or him? God, you hate your stupid brain and its stupid thoughts. 

You snap out of it when Felix takes a big sip of his drink and then makes a face as if he were disgusted. He takes another sip immediately which makes you laugh. 

“What?” 

“If it’s bad, why are you drinking it?” You ask with a smile. He brushes his hair back with his fingers, looking away. 

“It’s coffee. It’s not going to taste good.” 

“It’s supposed to,” you laugh. “It’s because you got a black coffee. Why won’t you add sugar or cream to it? That’ll help.”

“It still tastes bad. I don’t know. Nothing I’ve tried has ever helped.” He drinks his coffee again, following it up with that same face. You find it endearing. 

Breakfast goes by fairly normally after that. Felix laughs at you for drowning your waffles in maple syrup, ‘effectively ruining it,’ according to him. He shares some of his bacon with you, telling you that you need the protein if you want to bulk up. You laugh when he drops a piece of his pancake on the floor. It feels domestic. 

It distracts you. 

It distracts you from every horrible thing that has happened the past few days, and you delude yourself by thinking that maybe this is what life could be like from now on. What if Felix wasn’t in the mafia? What if things were different? Could this maybe, in some other reality, be a date? One where you didn’t have to worry about being a target, one where Lee Heeseung didn’t have an overwhelming grudge to have you dead or alive? You wish that it was over. Yang Jungwon is dead yet he still has a deadly grasp around your throat. You swallow thickly and decide you want to change the subject. 

“I want to see my sister,” you say. Felix nods at you solemnly, not in agreement but more in pity. He feels bad for you. 

“I’m sorry,” he says finally. You sigh. 

“Can’t you take me to her? Let me talk to her? Let her know that I’m safe?” 

“I can’t do that,” he replies softly. 

“Why?” 

“It’s not safe. I’m sure Jungwon knew where your sister lives? What if Heeseung is keeping an eye on her now? Contacting her could be a risk,” he explains. “It’s against Chris’ orders.” 

“Do you just blindly follow his orders? Do you know how to think for yourself?” you ask before you can help yourself. You clench your fists and unclench them, exhaling to keep the irritation at bay. “You don’t have to tell Chan,” you reason with him. “You can just take me. I won’t tell him.” 

He tongues the inside of his cheek. “It’s like you’re not even listening to me. I’m not blindly following his orders, but there’s a reason why we do things. There’s protocol to follow. Heeseung probably has careful eyes on her, and contacting her could put you both in danger.” 

“That’s more of a reason for me to talk to her!” you say. “She could be in danger. What if Heeseung–”

“She's fine,” he interrupts. 

“How do you know? There's no way.” 

“Listen, we’re keeping a careful eye on her–” 

“Then I don't understand why I shouldn't be allowed to talk to her–” 

“Because I'm not going to put you in danger again!” He takes a deep breath, calming himself. 

“What?” 

“The gala was my fault, I should've made sure you were by my side. It was… you were hurt because of me. I’m not going to let you get hurt again. End of discussion.” 

Felix pays the bill. You don’t say anything. You don’t know what you would say, even. On the walk back to the motel, he talks again. 

“I’m sorry about your sister. I really am.” 

“S’fine.” You don’t look at him. “I don’t blame you for the gala, by the way.” 

“You should.” 

“I don’t.” Finally, you smile at him. He gives you a weak smile back. 

It’s past noon once you get back to your room. You slump in your bed, unsure of what else to do. Closing your eyes, you let yourself stretch lazily, basking in the sunlight that shines through your window not unlike that of a cat. After a few minutes, you hear grunting. Cracking open your eyes, you investigate. 

Felix is sitting on the floor near the end of the bed doing sit-ups. You look at him, incredulous. 

“Are you seriously working out right now?” You ask. It does seem a little bit ridiculous, after all. 

“Just because we’re not at a gym doesn’t mean that we can’t train,” he says with uneven breath. “Your enemy isn’t going to wait for you just because you’re in hiding.” He moves fast without breaking a sweat, and it’s a sight to behold. You could watch him do this all day. You realize you’ve been staring and so you clear your throat. 

“Can you help me too? Can we spar?” You ask. You decide that he is right, and there is no time like the present to become stronger. 

And so, for about thirty minutes you muck about the hotel room. Felix shows you how to properly form a fist, cautious of your still-injured hand. He teaches you some self-defense techniques, going into a lecture about the weakest areas of the body to target if in a bad situation. You listen intently and practice with your full-attention, really taking his words to heart. You’re a good student, he says. You feel satisfied by the end of your session now that you’ve finally practiced real techniques and not just focused on strength or cardio, and you’re both sweaty and out of breath before you know it. 

“You can shower first this time,” you say. “I had first dibs last night.” He nods his head and heads to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You try not to think about how good he looked with sweat dripping down his face and wonder if that’s what he would look like when he–

Shaking your head, you flop onto the bed, lazily flipping through the television channels. Nothing really peaks your interest. Until you see something on the table that gleams in the light and makes your heart beat right out of your chest. 

Felix’s phone. 

He left it right there on the table while he was gone. Easily accessible. 

You jump to your feet before you can think, snatching the device and holding it in your hands. You could do it while he’s in the shower; call your sister. If he finds out after the fact, whatever, you think. It’ll be worth it to get the confirmation that she’s safe. 

You slide the phone up. Of course, it’s password protected. You could have guessed that. You double-click the power button two times, allowing yourself to dial an emergency number. Taking a deep breath, you start to dial her number when the shower stops.

Shit. 

Shit. 

Your heart starts beating rapidly, looking to the door. Can you make it out in time? Felix is definitely faster and he would catch you. That would be bad. You need to hide the phone, and quick. Bolting, you lift up the mattress and stick the phone in between the mattress and bedframe. As the door opens, you jump onto the bed, looking at Felix and smiling. 

“Why do you look like a deer caught in headlights?” He laughs. You laugh with him, standing up. 

“No reason, LOL.” You just said LOL out loud. Calm down, Y/N. “I’m going to take a shower now!” You start to walk past him to the bathroom door when you feel a tug at your wrist, flipping you around to face him. Your eyes go wide when you see the serious look on Felix’s face. 

“Tell me where it is.” 

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you chuckle, deciding that maybe playing dumb is the best option. You both know how stupid you’re being right now, though. 

“I’ll give you one chance to stop acting dumb and tell me where it is, Y/N. Seriously,” he says. “I was gone for five minutes. Don’t act like you don’t know where my phone is.” 

“I… I don’t know. Seriously, let me go,” you say. You sound a little less persuasive this time. He’s slowly chipping away at your façade and it’s apparent. 

Gulping, you yank yourself out of his grasp and start walking to the bathroom again. In an instant, he pushes you up against the wall, arms pinned above your head. You let out a small gasp at the action, now completely at his disposal. You think about the self-defense techniques that he just taught you, but you know that you couldn’t bring yourself to poke him in the eyes or knee him in the groin… and you wouldn’t need to, either way. You’re not in any danger. 

“Please,” he says. His voice is soft, head tilted downward, unable to look you in the eye. You gulp. 

You’re at a stalemate. You both know that you won’t give him the phone, your only point of communication with your sister, and you both know that he won’t do anything to hurt you. 

“Felix,” you say, your voice just a whisper. When he releases your hands from above your head, they make their way to his shoulders and stay there. He finally looks up at you, and you feel like you can’t breathe. 

“Please,” he says again. This time you’re unsure what he’s asking for. Not when your body is finding itself impossibly closer to his, not when his eyes are on your lips and your heart is beating out of your chest. 

“We shouldn’t,” you say, because it’s true. 

“We absolutely shouldn’t,” he agrees. You feel his warm breath on yours. His hand cups the back of your head and your lips part. You barely feel the ghost of his lips on yours… 

Then the phone rings. 

You aren’t sure who moves faster. Your heart is beating faster than maybe ever as you duck under his outstretched arm, completely evading his attempt to grab you. You dive for the mattress, successful in getting the phone. 

An outstretched leg trips you, but you don’t fall. You make it to the door, in fact. You even touch the handle. 

It’s over sooner than it started. 

Your arm twists behind your back, the one holding the phone, though you don’t let it go. It’s almost embarrassing how easily he maneuvers you so that your chest is pressed up against the mattress, one hand on your back pushing you down. Neither of you miss the small whimper that comes out of your mouth. Neither of you miss the hardening bulge against your ass. 

When Felix plucks the phone from your hand, you almost expect him to let you go immediately. He doesn’t. He picks up the phone instead and you crane your neck to try to see his face, though you are unsuccessful. 

“Hyunjin,” he greets. 

You wish you could hear the muffled voice on the other end of the phone. You only hear bits and pieces. You try to wriggle from his strong single-handed grasp but you only feel his fingers tighten around your skin, not in an attempt to harm you but in an attempt to warn. You’re sick of doing what you’re told, though, so you grind your hips back against his cock purposefully. 

“Don’t be a brat,” he whispers to you, shoving the receiver of the phone into his chest so Hyunjin won’t hear him on the other end. You do it once more and he lets you–when you both know he could easily still your movements. You don’t miss the shaky breath he lets out at your actions, but suddenly Felix says something in affirmation to Hyunjin and hangs up the phone. 

He finally releases his grasp on your arms and you sit up, making eye contact with him. He still looks completely composed, but a slight blush has dusted over his features. 

You smile at him. 

“Cute,” he says, poking the inside of his cheek with tongue. “You think you’re very cute.” 

You say nothing. 

“We… gotta go. We gotta go back to the house now. Minho has woken up. It’s uh… it’s safe now.” 

You do let out a sigh of relief at that. 

We almost kissed, you want to say. I feel something towards you that I probably shouldn’t, and I know you feel something towards me. 

The two of you stare for a moment, letting the silence punctuate the room. Your heart pounds heavily against your ribcage. 

“Let’s get going, shall we?” you say. 

Neither of you speak on the ride back to the house but the silence is welcomed. You stare dreamily out the window and for some reason, the future doesn’t seem as bleak as it did earlier. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

taglist: @shuporanporang ; @purp13st4r ; @eurydiceofterabithia ; @heartsbyandra ; @thicccurls ;

@rylea08 ; @the-sweetest-rose ; @oddracha ; @kapelover ; @goldenmellow ;

@zerefdragn33l ; @uhh-awkward-rightt ; @astudyoftimeywimeystuff ; @kaleigh-2002 ; @thatonexcgirl ;

@mindfreecreator ; @linoalwaysknows ; @velvetmoonlght ; @minahaeyo ; @crystalchuuu ;

@hash2013 ; @skzswife ; @b0bbl3s ; @thecutiepieme ; @bear8585 ;

@moss-the-man ; @softkisshyunjin ; @sylveonitesworld ; @m00njinnie ; @nicoleparadas ;

@starsofasteria ; @klopez01 ; @luvlinos ; @hyunjinnnnnnnnnnnnnn ; @skz-akira ;

@boi-bi-ahaha ; @l33bang24 ; @hermione640 ; @gal82 ; @b-chansbbygirl ;

@kayleefriedchicken ; @notsojourni ; @hogwartslife64 ; @stilltrynafuckingtumble ; @ellelabelle ;

@melleus ; @hyun-bun ; @luminouskalopsia ; @leftovercigarettes ; @sabrina-gal-kpop

@ghostedgameplays ; @wealwayskeepfighting ; @meloncremesoda ; @Lovelino23 ; @honeyybbuubblleess ;

@blossominghunnie ; @sunlitangel777 ; @kkamismom12 ; @slaykanejvetsi ; @eastleighsblog ;

@skzskzskzskzskzskzskzzzz ; @k-keya ; @moonlight-sunrise-channie ; @estella-novella

[marvelfilth]

Wisdom teeth

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x f!reader

Warnings: ooc! Wednesday, mention of blood

Summary: "I've been successful at keeping this piece of information to myself for the past two months and twelve days, but now it seems that I can't hold back the words from escaping my treacherous mouth. It's almost as if I have no control of what is going through my brain at the moment. I feel like an adolescent cliché."

Masterlist

She doesn't say anything when you help her to the passenger seat of your car, her eyes stay rooted on the spot above your shoulder, dark and unblinking. She sits dutifully and doesn't complain when you bend to fasten her seatbelt, your warm fingers barely grazing her clothed thigh on accident. You think you heard a slightest hitch of her throat, but that might have been your wishful thinking.

Ever since the brooding brunette first stepped foot on Nevermore grounds you were irrevocably pulled in her orbit, always close enough to be seen by her, but never close enough to reach out and touch, not that you'll ever try, you do need all of your fingers intact. Her menacing aura and Machiavellian tendencies never stopped you from trying to reach out and form some sort of connection, even if it was just making eye contact in dark hallways or receiving nearly unperceivable eye rolls whenever Enid dragged you to their room. Not even once in the months you've known her did she grace you with more than a few words and barely noticeable nods, opting to focus on her novel or, in extreme cases, leaving the room to continue her endless investigations.

So when Enid cornered you in the morning and practically begged you to take Wednesday to the dentist's office, you were torn between crushing Enid in a hug and fleeing to the woods to hide out.

In the end, you couldn't miss the chance to get to know the gothic girl a little bit better.

Wednesday pointedly clears her throat and you jump up, bumping your head against the roof of your car, close the door and make your way to the driver's seat.

You suppose her impatience to get back to school makes sense with how overstuffed her mouth seems at the moment, and once you're finally behind the wheel you reach over the console to gently swab away droplets of blood on her lips.

She stops breathing altogether.

"Are you alright, Wednesday?" You can't help, but ask, your hand awkwardly hovering over the console.

She takes a moment to think and you have to pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming when you practically see gears turning in her head as she struggles to formulate a response, her brows crinkled and lips slightly pursed.

"Your archive. Are we going there now?" She asks.

And there's that.

She refused anesthesia, looking eager to go through all the pain, her eyes shining brighter than you've ever seen. The doctor blanched, stuttering while he tried to reason with her, mentioning how agonizing the pain will be and how he'll probably get fired if he agreed to do it.

It made your skin crawl.

You pulled her away before she could threaten the poor man, promising her anything she wanted if listened to the doctor and agreed to anesthesia.

Her eyes flickered to your hand on her shoulder before she looked back at the sweating man, her eyes narrowing slightly.

You held your breath, looking at her with wide eyes, already regretting your offer, but all she asked for was unlimited access to your family archive.

You suppose her request made sense, given your family's history and her unwavering interest in all things unknown, but it still made your heart clench with an unbidden feeling you'd never name out loud.

"No, we're going back to school. I told you I'll take you there over summer, remember?" You patiently reply, subtly eyeing the grumpy brunette.

She huffs, wincing when it causes her pain and turns to look out the window, her eyes slightly hazy.

You take a deep breath and finally pull out from the parking lot, driving in silence and keeping your eyes firmly on the road until you can no longer pretend like you don't feel her heavy gaze on you.

"What is it, Wednesday?"

"Your face."

You blanch, offended. "What about it?"

You don't think you'll be able to withstand her making fun of your looks. She doesn't seem like the type to do that, but you can't be too sure - she is acting rather out of character.

"It's distracting. Turn around." She demands, furrowing her brows.

Your jaw falls open. "Wednesday, I'm driving."

She huffs and crosses her arms. After a minute of contemplation she starts rummaging through your glove compartment.

"Don't," you groan. You won't let her tear you apart for the mess she'll undoubtedly find there, so you reach for your phone. "Why don't you play a game? Or, I don't know, find something to blackmail me with?" You unlock it and toss it on her lap, your hand falling back on the wheel, clutching it in a tight grip.

Your phone lays untouched for a long moment and you have to restrain yourself from looking over at the ravenette. It's the longest you've spent in her company and she most certainly said more words in the past ten minutes than she did in all the time you've known her, and Enid didn't prepare you for conversations.

Your palms start to sweat a little.

She looks down at her lap and picks up your phone with two fingers only to throw it on the backseat. "I'm allergic to technology," she deadpans.

She stays silent for the next few minutes and you relax, thanking every divine being for making this trip somewhat easy for you.

And that's when she turns to look back at you, her expression sour and displeased, like you just said something really dumb. You decide to ignore her for as long as you can, checking your blind spots and fiddling with the radio to seem busy.

She pointedly clears her throat, pulling your attention. You sigh and look at her.

"What now?"

She frowns. "I feel compelled to reveal something you might find… unwelcome." Her mumble comes out distorted and she winces slightly, her hand coming up to cradle her swollen cheek and you swiftly slap it away, sheepishly looking away at her affronted look.

"Don't want you to hurt yourself."

"Usually, slapping ones hand causes them pain," she retorts, fully turning in her seat to face you. "You slapped my hand. That hurt. Not that I didn't enjoy it, but I prefer to inflict pain, not receive it."

You snort, shaking your head at the smaller girl and she pouts. Wednesday Addams, the girl who'd rather jump off a cliff in a river full of piranhas than show an ounce of human emotion, pouts.

But maybe it's not so strange, considering the circumstances.

You adjust in your seat, your right hand landing on your thigh to subtly fiddle with the rough fabric of your jeans. They're light blue, with flowers all over their back pockets and Wednesday absolutely hates them, which is why, you guess, she's currently staring down at your legs like they're her mortal enemies.

The tips of her ears turn red.

"Must you do that?" She hisses, gesturing to your hand on your thigh.

You blink and place it back on the wheel, noting the way her eyes snap up to glare at the road.

"Are you feeling okay?" You ask, because she's starting to look restless. Her fingers clench and unclench on her lap and she keeps glancing at your hand every couple of seconds.

"No." Her eyes snap up to look at the roof of your car, her face a picture of impatience. "Hold my hand."

You gulp, breath catching in your throat and turn to look at the smaller girl just in time to catch her boring holes into your hand and probe lightly at her cheeks. Your mouth opens to stutter a response, but her scathing look makes you shut up.

"This gauze in my mouth feels terrible, I can't possibly endure it a moment longer. Holding your hand will make the feeling bearable." She looks at you expectantly, turning over her hand on her lap, waiting.

You hesitantly reach out and take her hand. She laces your fingers, letting out a quiet sigh as she sags against the weathered leather, turning to look out the window.

You can't believe this is happening.

This Wednesday is not something you're equipped to deal with. Hell, you can barely manage her regular self, which still comes hard at times, especially when you intrude on her writing time. It's not like you mean to do that, but a certain blonde always chooses that exact hour to invite you over, always wearing a mischievous smirk when Wednesday tenses up upon your arrival.

This feels like walking on thin ice at gunpoint with a ticking bomb in your hands.

"How-"

Her nails dig into your skin hard enough to make you yelp, but you don't pull away, eyeing the stewing girl. She's breathing heavily, her lips opening and closing as she seemingly tries to keep herself from blurting something out.

It's so bizarre you have an urge to pinch yourself, but you don't need that with her nails still digging into your skin.

You focus on the road, afraid to stir the dragon.

Her next words make you jolt so hard the car wavers on the road.

"Every time my eyes land on you my heart skips a beat," she says, like she's complaining about a mystery she couldn't solve.

You grip the steering wheel tighter. "What?"

"One does not typically pay attention to such mundane thing, but I do. Whenever you're in my vicinity I can't help, but be aware of each skipped beat of my heart. The feeling is revolting, and I've had the urge to confess this ever since I woke up." She frowns, and it's quiet for a few minutes as she seemingly gathers her thoughts.

The moment you had in your art shed suddenly comes to mind. You went there after a long day of studying in the library, ready to decompress and finish your latest painting. You didn't expect anyone to be there, which is why you shrieked like a maniac when you flicked the lights on, basking Wednesday's rigid form in warm yellow glow. She stood over your painting, her features stony and unreadable as her fingers traced the outline of a shipwreck on the canvas, the still wet paint smudging her fingers and messing up your precise strokes.

It made the painting even more beautiful.

You dug around your backpack, looking for tissues, taking a step closer when you finally found some. With great hesitance, you reached for her hand, your fingers closing around her delicate wrist. Her lips parted as she inhaled, her pulse erratic under your thumb. She took one look at you, turned on her heel and left, her perfume lingering in the air.

You gulp, when her grip on your hand turns painful. "I've been successful at keeping this piece of information to myself for the past two months and twelve days, but now it seems that I can't hold back the words from escaping my treacherous mouth. It's almost as if I have no control of what is going through my brain at the moment. I feel like an adolescent cliché," she complains through gritted teeth, irritated.

Your face burns the same shade as the red light you've come to stop at. You don't know if you should feel ecstatic or fear for your life, because no matter what happens next, you're sure Wednesday will have your head for witnessing a rare moment of weakness. But your heart always had more power than your head, so you're left with trembling hands and sweaty palms, choking on your breath as you struggle to think of something to say.

"Wednesday, I'm going to have a heart attack," you mumble.

"You're not showing any signs of an impending heart attack, if anything, your symptoms correlate with something Enid usually calls having a crush." She's back to staring intently at you, catching every twitch of the muscles on your face as you try your best to keep your blush at bay. Her hand slides up, enclosing your wrist.

Your heart burns in your chest and you feel the need to correct her, to tell her that what you feel for her is more than some stupid crush. You need to tell her about the way your dark wings tingle when she brushes past you, begging to be released from the confinement of your spine. You need to tell her about the way your heart beats out a special rhythm, hammering against your ribs like a caged animal, desperately leading its owner to the girl who successfully stole it.

You need to tell her how easy it was to fall for her and how hard it got when you realized the extent of your feelings.

You need to tell her something, anything.

You need to tell her everything.

A loud honk jostles you and you look back at the road to keep driving, trying your best to hide your face when a car passes by you, the driver giving you a finger.

"Imbecile," Wednesday mumbles.

"Yeah, what an asshole."

"I meant you. The gesture was entirely appropriate seeing as you failed to pay attention to your surroundings."

"Huh?" You gape. "You're insulting me now?"

"Your observation skills never cease to amaze me," she frowns in thought, "just like your remarkable ability to make my existence less bothersome." The haze in her eyes is gone, replaced by reserve and a hint of fondness.

Your brain short circuits.

You pull over and let your forehead fall against the wheel, still holding it in a death grip.

You would never admit it to anyone, not even on your deathbed, but you swear you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach at her quiet confession.

Your smile is so wide it hurts your cheeks, but you don't care as long as Wednesday keeps looking at you like that, like she's trying her best at keeping away the warmth in her eyes. They flicker to your lips when you lick them, and this time she can't keep her emotions in check, her eyes alight with fiery passion.

You can't help voicing your concern. "I thought you didn't like me that much. I mean, you barely speak to me when Enid drags me to your dorm."

She looks at you for a long moment. Her thumb circles your knuckle. "Enid has a surprisingly perceptive eye. She noticed a certain change in my behavior long before I did and decided to act on it. I simply wasn't prepared."

"Are you prepared now?" You breathe out.

"Are you?"

You let out a relieved laugh, and pull her hand up to your lips, placing a soft kiss on her ice cold knuckle. "Wednesday, I've been pining over you since the day we met."

She lets out a barely noticeable breath and you suddenly realize she's been nervous all this time too, you just failed to pay attention in your anxiety riddled state.

"Good." The corners of her mouth fly up.

Your eyes widen. She has dimples.

She turns away nonchalantly and places your intertwined hands on her lap, looking like she just solved the biggest mystery known to mankind.

[mtchee]

An Honour to be in a Harem!? - [Genshin Impact SAGAU] | MDNI | GN AFAB 18+

blurb:

The concept of all these gorgeous people bowing before you is hard to grasp, but it's even worse to think that they'd actually offer themselves to you as a love interest. So obviously, you brush them off and decline, retorting that just because you're their supposed Creator doesn't mean they should feel as though they had to subject themselves to your unwanted affection. After all, who were you really, to compare to them? Unfortunately (or fortunately, actually) they seem quite boggled at your output. Ah! It all makes sense now! Their dearly Beloved is the shy type! Worry not, your Grace! Your dearest acolytes are more than happy to bask in any sort of attention you decide to share! Rest assured, they'll take care of all your needs~

cw: not edited, second-person-pov, kind of a sequel?, afab bodied, you are dearly beloved and longed for <3, realistically if this happened i would rather die of a heart attack, lots of love and affection!!, mdni, spicy content, swearing, smut, overstim, manhandling, voyeurism, squirting, fingering, cunnilingus, sub [name], use of terms cunny cunt pussy tit breasts, help i'm embarassed i wrote this omfg who am i, would u believe me if i said this is my first smut

| masterlist | genshin impact collection |

< prev. - amab! ver. - next. > [afab] [amab]

[3.0k]

What is this bullshit.

You can't help but just blink at the Archon knelt at your feet, his head bowed low. When you emit a shocked squeak he looks up at you, amber eyes latching onto your flustered expression.

Your gaze darts around the few others surrounding your throne--you only really sit in it when the people of teyvat line up for personal prayers and blessings, or when someone tells you to. Otherwise, you avoid sitting in it.

Venti, Ei, Al-haitham, Ayato, Ningguang, Jean, Furina, Neuvillette, and Tartaglia stand past Zhongli who is knelt before you.

You force a polite smile and let out a nervous laugh, "Aha, um... d-dont.. you don't have to do that. Really."

"Do not misunderstand, Beloved," The geo Archon stands to his full height, and you feel small despite the grandness of your seat, "it truly would be my--our, utmost honour." He places a hand over his heart and bows lowly by the waist. The others follow in tandem, and you panic.

"No! Really," Although all your fanfic dreams were coming true, knowing that these are now very much real people and not just characters put you on edge. They all have their own lives to live, their own goals and ambitions, likes and dislikes, preferences and attractions that you certainly didn't and never would attain.

At first, the idea is flustering and the offer makes you feel giddy, but looking into it, you feel bad. They see you as their All-Maker, who are you to make them miserable?

"You don't need to do that. I-I know there's that rumour going around, but really, I'm fine by myself."

"Your Grace," Ei steps forwards with a tiny furrow in her thin brows, "please, it would be our honour--"

"You know what would really be an honour," Your heart stings slightly, but you straighten up on your throne and give your audience a reassuring smile, "is if you went out on your own to seek who you actually love, to find a partner you'll be happy to spend your time with--to love on your own accord. That, would be an honour, I'd say."

You're not oblivious to how everyone reels back at your words, a mixture of shock, fear, and disbelief covering their features sported by prominent frowns.

Al-haitham is the one to break the tense silence that freezes the room.

"Beloved," His eyes flicker over you, thought and theories wiring around his ever working mind, "are we unsatisfactory?"

You blanch, "Gah! No! Oh my--it's nothing like that!" You can't help but feel flushed under the intensity of their eyes.

"It's just, you need to not see me as a duty."

You address them calmly, forcing your fluttering feelings down to school your face passively.

"You need to focus on yourselves, and your own lives. I'm not here to come between that."

Their silent stares are unnerving, and Venti and Furina share a look with hidden smiles while Jean steps forward with a respecful bow.

"Of course, your Grace."

"F-Fuck..!"

Embarassed tears sting your eyeline while you hold your breath, desperately trying to get ahold of yourself.

Plap! Plap! Plap!

Your pretty eyes roll to the back of your head and a loud moan is forced out of you each time Ayato's fat cock plunges in and out of your sloppy cunt.

He sits leant against the finest silken pillows with your naked back pressed against his bare, toned chest, an arm wrapped securely around your waist while the other sweetly fondles with one of your spit laden breasts.

Thoma lay stomach down on the soft doona, face buried dutifully between your quivering thighs which he holds apart with surprising strength. He tongues at your swollen clit fervently, and you cry out in humiliation when your slick gushes from your slit and onto the expensive fabric below.

"G-nngh!" You clench your eyes shut at the embarassingly loud noise of skin slapping against skin and the lewd sucks of Thoma's mouth and the squelching of your pussy, "a-ah..! Ah! Ah!"

The Kamisato Commisioner lets out a low moan by your ear, feeling your hot and gummy walls squeeze down on his cock deliciously.

"Remember-- hng! R-Remember to breathe, my beloved."

He gently squishes the enticing softness of your tit, bucking up into you abruptly when you let out a squeal as he pinches your nipple.

"M-Mm~ my dearest," Thoma moans onto your slickened pearl, and you just about explode at the burst of electric pleasure that shoots up your spine, "you taste.. divine..~!"

Your heart thrums at the messy sight of him, his lips, chin and cheeks covered in your honey thick slick with half lidded eyes locked onto your expressions. You let out a needy moan when you notice him desperately grinding his naked hips into the bedding for release.

A now all too familiar searing pleasure suddenly coils in the utmost depth of your body, and you scream at the sheer ferocity of it.

"C-Can't! I can't!"

You buck your hips away from Ayato's throbbing length and bump into Thoma's chin, but they only follow you--the commisioner's arm moving from your waist to your hips, locking you in place while Thoma's grip moves from your thighs to the underside of your knees, opening you up and forcibly holding you still.

You dig your nails into Ayato's arm, your other hand fruitlessly shoving at the housekeeper's head to push him away.

The pleasure becomes piercing, and you choke on a sob as your gushing cunny just goes squelch, squelch, squelch with every thrust you have to take. His cock feels so dangerously good, and you fear your clit might bleed from its continuous onslaught of pleasure.

Thoma's tongue licks at the opening of your slit and the base of his lord's cock, and Ayato curses lowly, his grip tightening.

You feel something thick and heavy and hot spurt inside you, though the pounding doesn't let up and the near painful coil violently pops inside you, and you shriek in tandem with the burst of watery clear fluid that squirts from your throbbing cunny.

Your face burns hot with humiliation, and you can only muffle your embarassed moans into the fabric of the couch.

Naked and vulnerable, you're bent ass up and face down over Al-haitham's lap with his dominant hand knuckle deep in your wet pussy.

Maybe, just maybe you might've been able to handle this amicably, but not with Kaveh walking in and berating the Akademia Scribe turned Grand Sage on his pleasure skills.

With your ass held high and knees spread, your leaking cunt is on display for the genius architect while his roommate fingers you ruthlessly, constantly prodding and rubbing that special squishy spot inside you that renders you immobile.

"H-Hah.. mmngh! Ah..."

You can do nothing but take it and drool on the couch while they squabble above you as though you're not there.

"--Y-You brute! That's our beloved and you're treating them like that!?"

"I'd say our Creator quite likes it."

You stifle a screech when Al-haitham takes his other hand and spreads your ass open to prove his argument to Kaveh.

"See?" He takes out his fingers and spreads them apart, watching your hot slick string apart, "and here too." You sob loudly as he gently prods your pussy lips apart to stare down your red, throbbing clit.

Kaveh's face flushes at the lewd display, and he gulps while setting his suitcase down off to the side before approaching.

"A-And?"

"[name] has cum thrice already."

Kaveh's brow twitches, "Were you not going to clean them up?!"

Al-haitham huffs indifferently despite the miniscule tint of pink arousal across his cheeks, "I'll leave that to you."

The blond hmphs at him before cooing at you softly, praising you with your title and demeanour.

"Our beloved," He caresses your back, and you shiver pleasantly at the tingle it stimulates, "you've been so good, haven't you? Done so well..."

He hushes you gently as he moves closer behind you, kneeling at the couch's edge, face level with your puffy cunny. Al-haitham remains quiet this time around, his non-slick covered hand patting your head lovingly.

"It's okay~ I'll take good care of you now, I'll clean you up all nice, alright?"

You only whine when he sinks his tongue into your pussy, lapping up your spilled juices and nipping at your reddened bud. Your body trembles with an absentminded moan when he sucks on your sore little clit, and he emits a noise of suprise as a new abundance of syrup leaks from your opening.

Al-haitham quirks up a brow, "Four times, now."

"Mercy! M-Mercy..!" You cry out.

"Oh," Lisa tuts demeaningly, "no, no, no dear one~ You see, you didn't quite seem to believe our intentions true when we offered ourselves to you. So it only seems right that we prove it, yes?"

You can't squirm away from Eula's mouth, her strength baffling as she keeps you stood still against the Grand Master's desk with ease. Amber mouths at the mounds of your breasts, obessed with how soft the fat of them are.

You whimper loudly when Eula curls her two fingers into your front wall, clenching down on her and nearly screaming when she thrusts them into you punishingly.

Jean can't help but watch in stunned silence of you, your voice and body ethereal. She can't wait to get a taste of her own as you shudder and gasp.

It was bad enough when Venti had his way with you earlier under Vanessa's tree, simultaneously teasing you and giving you everything you wanted.

He ran his mouth with words that were both endearingly sweet and pure debauchery, controlling the winds to graze at your hardened nipples with ghost like touches that left you spasming and breathless.

He'd shown you his choice of belonging to you through the intimate thrusts of his hips and sloppy, loving kisses across your body--he'd then guided you back to the gates of Mondstadt with the help of the wind to keep you balanced.

You cry when a thin zap of purple shocks your pulsing clit, cumming instantly while Eula's tongue soothes over it with the help of her cryo ability. Your lewd honey drips down your leg and onto the floor, and the blue haired girl sneers at the waste of it.

A whimper escapes you when Amber nips at your soft tit a little too harshly, and she murmurs a timid apology, looking up at you reverently before continuing.

"P-Please..!" You hate how they've all been able to make you cry with pleasure, as though they always knew just what they were doing to you, "it..-it hurts now..! A-Aaahhh..."

You let out a long, breathy whine as you cum again, tears steaming down your cheeks as the gentle wave of bliss washes over you. You almost miss Acting Grand Master Jean calling for someone to enter after a knock on the door.

Humiliation of your state causes you to flush and shut your teary eyes as Kaeya walks in, gaze latching onto you immediately.

He closes the door behind him, humming lowly at the sight.

His eye glints in dirty interest, a grin creeping up his lips at the sound of your whimpers and sloppy cunt.

"Oh? It's our turn already?"

"Kaeya! You're just in time," Lisa grins mischieviously, "I believe our dearly beloved is ready for something... thicker, now." She smiles as though her filthy implication were a casual statement of time.

You hate being the centre of attention, but fuck does it feel good. You hate feeling so vulnerable, but good god do they take care of you.

Maybe, just maybe you could allow yourself to indulge in their affections...

Nope.

Hate. You hate, hate, hate, hate hate it.

You whimper quietly, head bowed to hide your face from the prying eyes of the others seated around you.

You're back in the lands of Inazuma, in the very same place you were last time the picnic was set up. It was much more lavish this time around, based in the early evening with a gorgeous ocean view, lights strung up in the trees and scattered atop a few stable rocks.

The blankets laid down were much thicker this time, and the pillows larger and fluffier. The sunset paints the horizon gold and pink which fades into a rich purple and, eventually, the glimmering darkness of night.

You sit in Zhongli's lap, a spare blanket covering your bare lower half as you squirm on his throbbing cock. You could feel his other drooling pre-cum against your lower back.

The others had been coaxing you to eat your share of the platter, Navia and Wriothesly feeding you small portions since you were too shy to do so yourself.

Though ashamed and bashful, you can't help but clench and throb, and you fluster when Zhongli lets out a small groan from behind you.

Navia places a comforting hand on your covered knee.

"Beloved Creator, are you alright?" Her voice is soft, loving.

You swallow sharply, shoulders hunched and tense nervously from those watching.

"Your Grace?" You glance over at Diluc who huffs with a small blush of his own, "we'll take care of you."

Your cunt throbs, and Zhongli thrusts into you.

You yelp at the sudden motion, straightening up instinctively to balance yourself only for your most devoted to thrust into you again, and again, and again. His arm wraps around your waist to keep you seated, and the blanket slowly slips from your lap from the movement.

"A-Ah! Zhon--aahhh!"

Squelch, plap, slap, his fat cock hits the textured roof of your squishy insides and sends an overwhelming shock of pleasure through you. Throwing your head back with a lewd moan, both your embarassment and arousal increase tenfold at the sight of your most shameless worshippers touching themselves at the sight of you.

Others swallow roughly, barely holding themselves back with a single thread of dignity. Those of them watch with eyes that burn your body into memory, and the intensity both frightens and arouses you.

The better of them murmur and coo praises at you, causing your stomach to flutter and your pussy to gush.

You pant loudly when Ayato softly intructs you to breathe, and you squeal when Tartaglia reachs out to play with your pretty clit while rubbing his neglected cock.

"Pl..ease..! Hah..!"

You feel a pair of lips on your neck and whine, whimpering shamefully when Neuvillette starts whispering sweet praise into your ear, sucking on your skin softly. You white knuckle the thick blanket by your forcefully opened legs and clench your eyes shut in humiliation.

Your cunny starts to tingle with sparks of pleasure that strike your overstimulated bundle of nerves, and you flush at the feeling of your sex juices trailing from your slit to your ass, soiling Zhongli's clothed lap and the pillows and fabric below.

"Hng! Cumming! AH!" You shriek, thrashing in their hold, "c-cumming! H-Help, 'm cumming-- oohhh~ Ohh~"

That weird prickly feeling coils in your tummy again, and you let out a lewd and bratty whine when they don't let up on their touching.

"S-Slow! PLEASE! F-Fuck! Feels funn-y~!"

When you slap at Childe's hand, your own are quickly restrained by Kazuha who simply smiles with red cheeks and mutters to you flowery reassurances.

The sound of your pussy is loud, it's noisy, and filthy. You emit a desperate, pleading wail, not knowing if your subconscious is trying to beg them to stop or to stay.

Saliva pools in your mouth then begins to hang open as your starry eyes roll into the back of your head, chest heaving.

Your thighs tremble and your fingers twitch--Kazuha intertwines them with his own, and you lock onto the comforting hold.

"G-Good!" You can't stop yourself from babbling, "m-makes me feel soOo goood~!"

"Oh, sweet one~" Yae Miko giggles.

"You understand that we choose you now, yes?" Ningguang hums with a teasing quip. Her eyes torn between your adorably lewd features and your swollen, glistening cunt.

"Relax, beloved. It's only us, your most faithful~"

"Mm, don't hold back, dearest."

"Can you moan for us, beloved? You sound just delicious when you moan!"

"Are you gonna cum for us?"

"It's not fair how they got a taste of you first~!"

"Hng..! A-ah, hah!"

"Oh-oh! Beloved, calm down, you're alright. Just let it happen.."

"Do you feel good, your Grace?"

"--c-cumming- cumming! Cumming..!"

A white hot blaze of heat crashes over you, and your ears ring as your body trembles in utter bliss. Your slick pussy squeezes and gushes with your lewd honey, and as your abused little pearl sears with an almost painful pleasure, your body squirts out your most powerful orgasm that soaks the blankets and the people surrounding.

Pleasure caused tears leave hot stains on your face, and your head lulls to the side tiredly. Your chest heaves for breath as you come down from your high, and it takes a few moments before the ringing finally stops and you can hear again.

Doting whispers and coos are the first thing you process, followed by something thick and hot leaking out of your stretched and now empty hole.

A hand caresses your head as many others touch on you innocently, checking in on you and taking care of you.

Someone holds a glass to your lips, and someone else helps you lean forwards to sip.

You startle at the feeling of a soft mouth coming to gingerly lick and suck at your sore pussy, and you let out a delirious whine.

Another acolyte hushes you gently, kissing you softly before another joins in peppering kisses all over your tired face to distract you from the one cleaning you up between your legs.

You still feel light headed from the embarassment of it all, but you've latched onto the pleasant tingling you feel when they look at you so adoringly--more lovingly than just in reverence.

No, actually.

You don't hate this at all.

[thedarlingdearestdead]

Understanding

Ok I have a new hyper-fixation...

Summary: You are betrothed to Coriolanus Snow, rather against your will. At your engagement party you bitterly protest the attachment and so Coryo has to bring you around...

Warnings: Uh yeah, full on smut. R18. Dub!con/non!con. Bad Coriolanus.

Word count: 2,041

Part 2 on its way!

The marriage with Coriolanus happened so fast, it was completely out of your control. Your parents had, of course, been thrilled when they were proposed with the offer, the Snows were once again on top of the world, with Coriolanus joining the increasingly prestigious group of Gamemakers for the 13th annual Hunger Games. 

Now moving into his twenties, it was expected that the man found a suitable wife, and as the newly 18 year old heiress of one of the most wealthy old families still functioning, you supposed you must have been at the top of his list. 

You had not known Coriolanus in school, him being a few significant years older than you, but you had heard of him. His name had been everywhere even then. The handsome and reclusive Snow, with top grades in everything and not even a single scandal to be whispered down the gossip line. Until Lucy Grey. Until the games. Until those months when he disappeared from all sight before coming back with a splash. New heir to the Plinth money, apprenticeship under head gamemaker Dr Gaul, and on the unmistakable path to power and presidency. 

You didn’t much care for all that. You only cared that he had barely spoken to you, and yet your engagement party loomed, and you were set to move in with him that night. 

Your mother hung a dress above your closet for the occasion, a patriotic Capital red, you blanched slightly at the neckline and the dangerous slit on the side. Surely this would not be appropriate. “Mama, are you certain you have collected the right dress?” You asked entreatingly. 

“Yes dear, Coriolanus sent it himself, what a gentleman!”

Your heart plummeted, what a joke. 

By the time you were ready your car was already waiting outside, you had a feeling you had left slightly late, if the frowns of your parents were anything to go by. No matter. You doubted you would be much missed. You hadn’t been allowed a look into the arrangements or the guest list, you guessed it was just another opportunity for your ‘fiance’ to socialize with the upper classes, with his colleagues.  

But contrary to your growing feelings of insignificance, as you pulled up you saw the figure of a familiar young man. Coriolanus wore a fitted three-piece black suit with a bright red rose at his lapel. His blonde hair had been wrangled into respectable curls and his blue eyes glinted in the moonlight. But what truly took your breath away was the expression on his face. It was so tight.

As your car slowed to a stop, he moved for the door, first giving his aid to your mother and guiding her out, exchanging pleasantries and suffering her excited chatter, before moving to reach you. His hand was soft but gripped yours so hard as he all but pulled you out of the vehicle.

“Is it your habit, Y/N, to arrive so… fashionably late?” 

It sounded like a reprimand and made your heart beat into attention. The glamorous suit and charming smile that he wore on his face to your parents had such a threatening glint under the surface. You wondered at how they didn’t notice, chuckling softly, saying that yes, yes you had always been somewhat ignorant of keeping time. 

You saw the way his jaw clenched and you felt his firm grip on your arm now. “Well, let’s not keep your guests waiting. Shall we?” How dare he pose it as a question! He was already dragging you into the fold. 

It began in a blur of names, shaking hands and congratulations, all of which flew right over your head. Instead of paying attention to your audience you had instead attempted to track down some posca, soon nursing your glass in one hand, and letting yourself be led with the other. 

“And what a beautiful dress Y/N, perfect for such an occasion!” A couple from Coriolanus’ work had cornered the two of you by one of the tables and engaged you in conversation. Coriolanus smiled his twisted and charming smile, he, of course, remembered their names, asked after their children, her mother. 

It sickened you the way he played people, the way he played your parents. “Really?” You said in reply to the man’s compliment, “I wasn’t sure, it’s a bit bright and not entirely my style.” 

The man blinked at your dismissal of him. And Coriolanus went still. So you wanted something darker, he thought? He could certainly give you that. 

“What she means to say is that she wanted to try something new and special for this party, to begin this marriage as she means to continue it.”

By wearing his selection of dresses? By letting him control your every move? You flinched as he kissed your cheek. 

“Isn’t that right, dear?”

“Whatever you say.” You laugh and take a swig of your drink. His face stays mostly calm, but only you, in such close proximity to him, notice the twitch in his eye. 

From then he keeps a much stronger grasp on you, his hand never straying from your lower back as he trails you through the hoards of people, his trophy to show off. 

Walking past a buffet table, you lean over to grab one of the many sweet snacks, it was one of your favorites, a puffy red cube covered in icing sugar. Coriolanus was watching you, and he grabbed your wrist before you could place it in your mouth. 

“You’ll ruin your lipstick, you’ll be a mess.” He grimaced, a look of disgust crossed his face at the mere thought. You relished in it. You moved your hand back to the table, as if to put it back, causing him to release your arm. Just as he turned away to converse once again with some colleague, you snatch the treat back up to your mouth and revel in the tart rosy taste of it, feeling your lips coat with the white powder. 

His eyes caught the action and followed it as your tongue licked away the powder, his cheeks flush red in stark contrast to his growing frown. It brings a most dangerous light to his face, one that makes your body shudder as you clock eyes. 

He squeezes your waist threateningly. “Excuse us, please.” He says to the men he’d been talking with. He dragged you away through the crowd, not stopping for anyone else, only flashing that smile, faking an incident or rendezvous with his fiancee. He takes you down the side of the building, and stops, pushing you against the wall.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He hisses at you, face inches from your own. 

His closeness sent you spiraling, and his strength began to make you panic. He truly had you trapped there, hsi to interrogate. 

“I… I don’t know.” You gasped, his forearm against your throat, cutting off air.

“Are you so determined to sabotage me?”

“Why shouldn’t I be? You’ve given me no reason to support you.”

“No reason?” He says quietly, “No reason?” His voice increases in volume, “You are my wife, that is your only reason, your only job.”

“I am not your wife yet.” You almost spit it into his face. 

“Oh really? That’s not what the paperwork says.”

You shook your head desperately, “I haven’t signed anything.”

“Why would it need your signature?” He sounded genuinely confused, as if the thought had never entered his mind. A contract, your life had been given away on a contract. “The wedding is but a formality. You need to come to terms with this or I’ll…”

“You’ll what?”

His furious eyes blaze into your own, so full of righteousness, of power. It terrified you. You were so certain that he would act now, hit you, or scream at you, that you didn;t expect what happened next. You didn’t expect his lips to be on yours. 

He kissed you harshly, banging your head into the brick wall behind you, making stars swirl in your head, behind your eyes. It hurt as he dug his fingers into your waist, as he searched for the slit in your dress, and yanked it up your body. It hurt as he grabbed your thighs, picking you up effortlessly and holding you up completely. And then it didn’t. And then nothing did, and your body filled instead with an intense wave of unrelenting pleasure. 

“You’re unbelievable,” you gasp.

He barely let you breathe as his mouth attacked yours and his fingers ravaged your clit through your panties. It felt so good. Despite everything it felt so good. You whispered as much and moaned whenever a break in the kisses occurred. 

He didn't stop, didn’t slow until your body relaxed, until your forehead fell against his in a silent unwilling gasp. 

“Don’t you see it could be good?” He whispered right next to your ear. He kissed the soft skin underneath it, “It could be so good.”

And then he dropped you, and as your legs were weak from your orgasm, they failed to catch you, and you fell onto the ground. You looked up at him, your hooded eyes full of confusion and lust and desperation. There was a smirk on his face and desire was still lighting his eyes. 

“If you let me do whatever I want to you, y/n. If you accept that you belong to me.” He said it so simply, so matter of fact. He offered his hand to you, clearly ready for you to be compliant. So you swat it away, and stand up by yourself, ignoring the slickness between your thighs and the shaking of your body. 

It was clearly the wrong move. Fury burned in his eyes once again and he grabbed you by the waist. Twisting you around and turning you to face the wall. Your hands snatched out to stop your collision with it as he once again worked at your skirts. His breath was hot on your neck and you couldn't help the way your body was already reacting to this change. You could hear his every move, your heart raced as you heard him undo his belt. 

Working down your underwear, he kissed your neck lightly, surprisingly gentle when he eased himself inside you from behind. It was too much, it felt much too good. One of your arms reached back to try and touch him, and he responded by grabbing your hand in his before placing them both against the wall as he started to thrust inside of you.

“Are you going to be good for me?”

All you could do was moan as he settled himself deep inside of you, hitting all the right spots with a relentless precision. His grip tightened on your hand at your sounds which only got louder as he pounded into you. Tears leaked from your eyes, from pain or pleasure you couldn’t decipher. 

“Shut up. Shut up, or do you want them to see you like this?” He slowed his movements, returning his mouth to your neck. “Do you want them to see me using you? It’s not like they don’t know it already. You seem to be the last one to catch on” 

He released your hand and moved both of his to your waist, he pulled you backwards, making you bend even more obscenely against the wall. From this angle he was hitting you deeper, and it took all your effort not to let out a guttural scream. 

He seemed to enjoy this angle too, speeding up and becoming harder by the second, you could feel it. You felt all of him with his every movement and it was intoxicating. It became all too overwhelming when he came inside of you, it was blindingly hot, you felt all too full as you clenched around him in response. You scrambled for purchase against the wall but he pulled you back up to him, embracing you from behind to catch his breath. When he stepped back to pull out of you, he did so slowly, to watch his cum slide out of you onto the floor, to watch it trail down your legs. 

“Do you understand now?”

[honeybeefae]

Potions (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

Eris Week Day Two: Heir

Summary// A recent concoction has hit the fae market that is said to bring about your primal instincts to help fertility. When Eris first suggests it you laugh, thinking it is just another herb or supplement that will fail, until you both drink and realize just how primal it turns you.

(This is hot, filthy, dirty, just primal smut. I’m talking about knotting, A/B/O, breeding, fucking. If that’s not your vibe then you have been warned and if it is, well, we should definitely be friends. Enjoy!)

@erisweek2023

WARNINGS: SMUT, Knotting, Primal Play, Aphrodisiacs, Breeding, A/B/O Dynamics, Slight Cum Inflation?,  I don’t want to spoil anything else but it is dirty. 

With how hard fae pregnancies are to come by it is a wonder that something like this hadn’t been made sooner. Eris had had it delivered to him by one of his healers and advisors, their eyes sparkling at the idea of an heir being conceived with the special potion made by the healer himself. 

At first, Eris hadn’t even wanted to bring it to you, knowing how difficult it was for you month after month of not becoming pregnant, but as he saw you grow sadder each week he finally caved.

 This is how the two of you came to be sitting in the quiet of your secluded cabin, away from the court’s gossip and stares, with the heart-shaped bottle resting on the table between the two of you. 

“So what is this supposed to do exactly?” You ask quietly, gingerly picking it up and watching as the dark red liquid swirled from the movement of your shaky hands. “And how is this any different from the other herbs and medicines the healer has already been giving me?”

“It is said to call upon our basic, primal instincts to help with the conceiving part,” Eris explained again, blowing air out of his mouth. “I’m not sure exactly how it works or what it does but that is how it was explained to me.”

“And do you think it will work?”

“I think there is only one way to find out.”

You frown, contemplating, before twisting open the top and popping the cork. Eris stands and grabs two small glasses which you pour into. The smell is sickly sweet, almost like cherry medicine, and you try your best not to wince as you bring it up to your mouth. 

“Can we agree before we drink this that if it does not work…we just try not to worry about it? Conceiving, I mean.” Eris says softly, watching you with concern. “I know how much this has been bothering you and I do not want you to feel pressured or think that I am angry with you. These things take time and this drink, at most, is probably just going to be a fun night of sex for us. Nothing more.”

“I know I’ve been struggling I just,” You sigh, your eyes looking down. “I’m so ready to have a child and I know your advisors, the court, and even your mother have been pressing me for when I will finally have one. I just feel like I’m letting everyone down.”

He reaches out for you and grabs your free hand, squeezing it as he says, “You could never let anyone down, Y/N. I cannot say I know the pressures of being a woman in this circumstance but I can imagine them. Just please know that no matter what happens, whether it works or not, I love you and I do not care if I have to wait forever or even if it never happens. All I want is your happiness.”

You give him a sincere smile, tightening your fingers around his as you hold your glass out for him to clink. “Cheers then…to at least a long night of fucking each other.”

“Cheers, little fox.” Eris grins, giving you a flirty wink before downing the potion as you follow his lead. “It certainly tastes…interesting.”

“Nasty,” You blanch, your nose scrunching in disgust. “It tastes nasty.”

“Well the healer is probably more attuned at creating medicines than he is flavorful potions I would assume.” He shrugs, lounging back on the couch and patting his lap. “Why don’t you come over here and sit with me while we wait and see what this does?”

You don’t need to be asked twice as you shimmy over the table and crawl onto him, nuzzling your face into his neck as he kisses your temple and runs his fingers through your hair. It is sweet, domestic, and you savor it as you kiss his neck. 

“I do wonder what it means about becoming primal…” Eris muses. “Do you think it will make us mindless beasts? Just rutting into each other?”

A giggle escapes your lips as you raise your head to look at him, rolling your eyes as he smirks. “I think it will do the same as the other medicines have and slightly, slightly, raise our libido. Though I do not think we need help with that.”

He grins wolfishly and cups the back of your head, bringing your lips to his as he kisses you slowly. His lips never fail to take your breath away as they move against your own, molding perfectly together as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. Pleasant tingles are going from your scalp to your toes as you swipe your tongue against his.

“Mmmm,” Eris growls, his hands grasping your hips while you teasingly grind down onto him. You were surprised at how wet you were already becoming, feeling the wet spot growing in your underwear. “It’s not nice to tease, little fox.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, my lord.” You smile against his mouth, your skin starting to feel clammy as you pull back for a moment. “Are you hot? Like sweaty?”

“I’m a little warm…” He trails off, looking down in surprise to see his white shirt almost completely soaked through. “What the hell?”

“Is it the potion? Is it like an allergic reaction?” You stand, touching the back of your neck which is slick with sweat. “Stars I’m the same way-what is that smell?”

You sniff at the air, trying to find the intoxicating smell that was starting to drive you insane. It was like you were one of his hounds are you bent down over Eris who was still looking down at his shirt, finding the source right at the pulse point of his neck. “Fuck Eris, you smell so good.”

Another warm gush of wetness coated your outer lips and thighs as you licked him from the hollow of his throat to the base of his ear, tasting the mix of pheromones and sweat while he abruptly pushed you off and stood. You felt like you were in a daze as you looked up at him, hurt and confused before you saw what had him freaking out. 

Eris’s hair was growing thicker, and coarser, while his body seemed to swell slightly in the muscles and planes of his chest. He raises his hands as you watch his nails become sharper and pointer, almost like claws, as he whispers, “I don’t know what’s happening to me…”

Your eyes trail up as he starts to lick his lips and his teeth, curling his top lip to show off his canines as they also become sharp. His amber eyes turn to gold as he stumbles back, tearing at his clothes until they were scraps on the floor, and unleashing the full change to your view. 

“Eris, what’s wrong? What’s happening?” Your tone is full of worry before your mouth drops open at the sight of his bare body, seeing the hair that has grown on his chest, forearms, and thighs, as your gaze finally falls to his cock.

It was already long and thick before but now, with whatever the medicine was doing, it had become even bigger. You could see the veins throbbing as he became hard under your eyes, the head an angry read as it hit just under his belly button. However, that isn’t the most concerning thing as you see a knot form just underneath his dick. 

A large, throbbing knot.

“Oh my gods.” You breathe, eyes wide, as you look back into his eyes. The man before you was no longer your Eris, no longer the High Lord of Autumn. No, this was a beast. A red, hungry beast who was watching you like a fox would its prey.

“I’ve never felt like this before…” He growls, even his voice an octave lower and gravelly while he licks his lips and stares at you. 

“Like what?” You question breathlessly.

“Like I want to fuck you until you’re overflowing with my cum, your womb stuffed as I drain every last drop into that pretty fucking cunt.”

Before you could fully react to it Eris had stomped over to you and ripped off your clothes, letting them fall to the floor it tatters as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked. You whined loudly, looking up at him as he fisted his cock and slapped it against your cheek roughly. “Suck it, pup. Take this hot, thick dick down your throat like a good girl.”

You opened for him without hesitation, gagging as he rutted into your face until the tip of his cock was hitting the back of your throat. Normally Eris would check in on you before being rough, making sure you were okay, but this wasn’t Eris. He had no qualms about your comfort as he threw his head back and groaned loudly.

And as you took it, as you slobbered all over him, you realized you liked it. 

The way he was treating you, the way he smelled, the knot, everything was driving you fucking wild. You were sure you were dripping onto the couch as he used your mouth for his pleasure. It was so hot and you could feel your mind going blank as you lost yourself in the experience.

“That’s it, that’s it, FUCK!” He roared as you played with his knot, moaning around him. “Swallow it so fucking deep, pet. Oh, fuck.”

He was throbbing inside your mouth as you ran your tongue over the veins and the underside of his dick, tasting the salty musk of him before he unexpectedly pulled himself out of your mouth. “Hands and knees, slut. Now.”

Eris stroked himself as you quickly clambered into position on the small couch, wiggling your ass in the air to entice him as he took position behind you. He landed a rough smack on your ass before he started thrusting swiftly, his cock desperately trying to find your hole as you shoved a hand down to try and guide him.

It only took a few seconds before he found his mark and you cried out in pain and pleasure as he speared you down on his member, fucking you like an animal. You tried your best to stay upright but Eris shoved a large hand between your shoulders, forcing your face into the pillows as he grabbed your hips and fucked.

“Such a good little breeding whore,” He praised, the sound of his hips smacking against your ass echoing across the cabin. “Such a perfect cock slut for me to use. That’s all you’re good for, right? All for me?”

“Fuck yeah-” You choke out, turning to look back at him which only spurred him on further. “Just for you, Eris. Only you.”

His claws dug into your skin and you swore you could feel him piercing your skin but you couldn’t care, didn’t care, as he fucked you dumb. Both of your juices were making the wettest, sloppiest noise as it dripped out of you and onto the couch. 

You started to rub furiously at your swollen clit, the shockwaves of pleasure overtaking your body as Eris found that spot deep inside of you that had your vision filling with white spots. Moan after moan spilled from your mouth as he chased his release, growling at the feeling of you clenching around him so tightly.

“Cum. Cum for me.” He ordered roughly, dominantly. “Fucking cum all over my cock.”

His words unlocked the gates as you whimpered and cried out his name, your entire body shaking while you hit the best orgasm of your life. You could feel your cum creaming out of you as you buried your face into the pillow, biting down, while he smacked your ass once, twice, and then a third before he stilled inside of you.

The knot was trying to bury itself in your cunt but you were too tight for it to fit which caused massive frustration for Eris as his cum started leaking out of your hole. You winced when he pulled out, yelping when he turned you over to your back and loomed above you.

“You’re wasting it pet,” He tsked, hooking your legs over his shoulders as he came face-to-face with your still-sensitive mound. “Let me fix that for you.”

Your back arched as he took his tongue and started tongue-fucking your abused hole, groaning at the taste of both of your cums mixed together as he desperately tried to fuck it back into you. Both of your hands flew to his head, gripping on for dear life as he moved up to your clit.

He flicked it back and forth with the tip of his tongue, his nails digging into your thighs as you tried to squirm away. “Nuh uh, little fox. You’re staying here until I’m fucking finished breeding you.” Eris growled, pushing two of his fingers into your needy pussy as he started to stretch you out. “I’m going to make sure you’re nice and stretched out for me, ready to take this knot like a good fucking slut.”

“Eris, please,” You whine, your hips rutting up as your sensitivity turns to pleasure again. “Please, I need more.”

“You need more, pet? Need more of this cock?” Eris taunted, pulling away after slurping more of your juices up. “Open your mouth for me.”

You did so quickly, sticking your tongue out as he appeared above your head and spat into your mouth. It was dirty and disgusting but it made you tighten around his fingers, the vulgarity of it only turning you on even more as he smirked. His fangs poked out from his lips as he said, “Dirty whore, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Enjoying being treated like a breeding bitch?”

Your head bobs up and down but it isn’t enough for him as he thrusts deeper, harder, and grabs your face painfully. He squeezes, pushing your lips together as his upper lip curls back in a snarl. “Fucking say it.”

“Y-yes I enjoy it!” You admit in a high-pitched voice, groaning when he added a third and fourth finger. “I enjoy being your little breeding bitch, it’s all I want, all I need.”

“Is it what you need, pet? Are you ready to take this knot in this tiny little cunt? Ready for me to fuck you until you’re a drooling, cum-filled cocksleeve?” He stares into your eyes, pupils dilated so big you could hardly see the gold anymore as you whine your agreement. “Then turn back around.”

Eris pulls his fingers out and sucks on them while you get back on all fours, waiting for him to mount you. He watches you, contemplating, before he sits down and yanks you backward roughly. You gasp when he holds you up by your hips with ease, lining up his cock with your pussy before sliding you all the way down.

Both of you moan and close your eyes, the angle making him feel ten times deeper as he orders you to ride him. You place your hands on his shoulders, holding onto them for dear life as you roll your hips. It feels otherworldly and with each thrust down, the head of his dick hits your g-spot with a marksman-like accuracy.

“Ooooh fuck, Eris, you’re so deep,” You cry, biting down on your bottom lip as you throw your head back in pleasure. He growls and jerks your chin back down, your eyes flying open as he kisses you passionately.

“Eyes on me, pet. Don’t you dare fucking look away.” He commands, shifting between your fucked out face and the way your cunt swallows him whole. “Such a pretty pussy taking my cock so well, ready to be bred until your stomach is swollen and your tits are leaking.”

The imagery makes you whine while Eris emphasizes his point by bending down to suck on your tits, your nipples extra sensitive as he nips at them with those long canines. You grip the back of his head, feeling the coarse hair between your fingertips as you continue to bounce up and down on his cock. 

Already you feel as if you are getting close and he can tell, can feel your walls fluttering around him. What little control he had snaps and he grabs your ass roughly, leaning back on the couch as he starts fucking up into you. The only sound in the room being his animalistic growls and wet fucking.

Pain blossoms in your uterus as he goes deeper than ever, hitting your cervix, but you could care less as you wrap your arms around his neck and hold onto him. You can smell his scent again, feeling his racing pulse, and you sink your teeth into it just as your orgasm starts to come to a crescendo.

The tangy taste of blood in your mouth doesn’t deter you as you scream his name loudly, feeling him bite down on the junction of your shoulder as he roars and buries himself knot deep. It slips in with ease this time, locking you together as his hips keep rutting deep into you.

His cum is as hot as fire as it coats your inside, filling you up until you could see your lower stomach start to bulge out from just how much he was pumping inside you. Eris pulled his teeth out of your skin, blood staining his teeth and chin just as yours was, and pressed your foreheads together.

Both of you were panting like dogs as his thrusts finally slowed until he was completely still, though you could still feel his cock throbbing. He brushed the hair away from your neck gently, whispering your name into your ear while you sagged into him exhaustedly. 

“So good, pet, you did so well,” He praised, kissing your temple as you gave him a small smile. “I’m so proud of you for taking it all.”

“Thanks, love.” You whisper while running your fingers down his back lazily. “That was…”

“Amazing?” Eris finished for you, cupping your face gently as you nodded and gazed up at him with half-lidded eyes. “I agree. I guess it was different than everything else we’ve tried.”

“I wouldn’t mind trying it again sometime.” You tease, kissing him for a moment until he pulls back with a knowing smile. “What?”

“Did you think that was it, pet? That I am done with you already?” He tilts his head, running his thumb over your cheek. “No, no, no, no, no. This was just the beginning. I meant what I said about fucking you until the very last drop…and that was just the first pour.”

You gulp, eyes widening, as you feel his knot slowly shrink until it comes out with a wet squelch. Eris smirked as he nuzzled into your neck, taking a deep inhale of your scent, before whispering, “Time to fill you up again, pet.”

[lokiprompts]

Burning Words - Loki X Reader

Summary: Loki is terrified to tell you that he loves you, but a whispered confession in the dark throws him for a loop.

Warnings: Pining. Some self deprecating thoughts. Otherwise pure fluff.

Words: 3.2k Exactly!

Joining in on the 14 Days of Valentines Event hosted by @muddyorbsblr!! This was supposed to be more crack, but after a rough week, we got ourselves a comforting Loki fic <3

Those three precious and meaningful words burned in Loki’s throat. Every day for months they threatened to bubble up from his chest and burst forth like a tidal wave he was happy to drown in. To scream his undying and relentless affection for you from the highest rooftops; to openly profess that you laid claim to his heart as much as he had yours.

I love you

Every little thing you did threatened to have the god bursting out declarations and weaving endless sonnets of adoration. From the way your hands were always dwarfed by his yet fit so perfectly together. How you always knew to give him that reassuring squeeze when his insecurities started to creep into his chest. And how you looked at him like he hung the sun, the moon, and the stars as if he didn’t commit gross atrocities to your home planet. But it was your endless patience, unconditional understanding, and constant reassurance that he was worthy that made his heart tumble from like to love.

Yet, as each day passed, those three words died on his tongue as soon as he gathered a fraction of nerve to confess. As soon as you looked at him with your wide eyes, filled with a reverence for him he could never begin to truly understand, all his resolve would falter. Every insecurity that ever flitted through his mind would instantly dissolve his confidence like salt in water, leaving him parched for your acceptance and praise. And each time you would quench his need like the oasis you were. Endlessly filling his cup and building up a king who would never receive a crown.

It tormented him every night.

And this night was no different. You laid nestled in his arms, holding him as if he was the one true anchor of your life. It was a fact that you always insisted on, one of many that Loki would playfully debate with you. But there was always an underlying subtext of self-doubt in his banter that would make you hold him that much tighter. Like your embrace could scare away his insecurities and doubts and each time, Loki would soak up your affection like a dry sponge.

Loki’s arms held you close, the steadiness of his heart beating in your ear easily lulling you to sleep. This part of the night was always the god’s favorite. Due to his…biology, he didn’t need as much sleep as you, his precious mortal. It was the perfect time to greedily bask in your warmth and press lingering kisses into your hair, whispering promises that tomorrow would be the day he finally tells you his heart’s secret. And every once and awhile, Loki would find himself in the peaceful place of almost slumber. A semi restful place devoid of nightmares and only the feeling of you.

I love you…

The words were spoken so softly, so quietly that at first, he thought that he might have dreamed it, but it was enough for Loki to shoot his eyes open. He looked down at you, and you seemed to still be sleeping. Is it possible? Loki wondered, Could you have said…?

“Darling…?” Loki carefully whispered, testing your wakefulness, “Did you say something?”

A shudder traveled through your body as his velvety voice caressed your ear, a reminder of the effect he had on you that had Loki smirking. Yet, your eyes remained closed.

            The idea of fishing through your mind to see if it was a dream of you confessing your love to him or to your beloved cheesecake – or worse to a romantic interest that wasn’t him- was the god of mischief’s second approach. You had given him carte blanche to access your mind; a gift that still astonishes him to this day.

            I trust you, Loki. I know you will only use it if you absolutely must. Sweet girl, you trusted him so much. More than what he deserved. And for a fleeting moment, there was a twinge of guilt as his hand glowing emerald with dancing seidr hovered above the crown of your head. But the need to know ultimately placed his hand on your skull. Years of magic threaded through the fibers of your brain and pulled at your recent memories. Loki stifled a groan when he did not find anything there. No dreams that remained and no clues about those sweet words that escaped your lips.

            Perhaps I dreamed it, Loki thought to himself, but just as that thought passed through his mind, he steeled his resolved. Curiosity burned through him and drove him to give your shoulders a little shake.

            “Darling?” He not so carefully whispered this time. The endearment coming out more like a hushed yell. Your jostling made you shuffle a bit, but you only snuggled in closer and let out a content sigh as your nose brushed against the pale skin of his chiseled chest. The little gesture made Loki’s heart swell, and he almost reconsidered his next move. Almost.

He shook you more forcefully this time, jolting you awake.

            “Huh? What’s going on?” You looked around the still dark bedroom, bleary eyes finally focusing on Loki, “Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?”

            Guilt instantly washed over him. “No, sweet girl, I am perfectly fine…” Heat flooded his face, praying to the Norns that you couldn’t see the blush you constantly teased him about, “You, uh, had said something. I was wondering….”

            Loki chewed his lip as he looked down at you; the perfect being who patiently waited to hear the reason why you were woken from your sweet slumber without a hint of anger or resentment.

            “I was wondering if you – if you – if you would care to repeat it?” Loki hated how small he sounded, but he needed to know.

            You scrunched your nose in confusion, and Loki resisted the urge to bend down and kiss it, “Huh? I am sorry, Loki, but I don’t remember saying anything. Was I talking in my sleep?”

            The sight of you sleepily letting out a little yawn and apologizing to him, even though he was the one that woke you, had those three words laying heavy on his tongue. Every bit of his heart screamed to simply speak the words to you, and he yearned even more for you to echo those words back to him.

            “No,” Loki sighed, stroking your hair, “I must have been mistaken. Go back to sleep, Darling.” You smiled at him and leaned up, kissing the corner of his mouth as if you knew what he longed to say. Like you could simply survive off the taste of the words on his lips until he felt ready to utter them.

            Soon enough, you fell back asleep, and Loki was left alone to stew in his regret and confusion. If only he could hear you say those words again, he would know if they were truly for him…

            The smell of fresh breakfast wafting into your shared bedroom had your nose twitching in anticipation, enough to draw you out of a restful sleep. Stretching out on the large bed, you only felt the softness of your sheets and not the firmness of your god. Your prince. Your love. A gleeful smile easily grew on your face as you realized he must have made you breakfast. The best meal of the day.

            As if on cue, Loki burst into the bedroom with a beaming smile that mirrored your own, holding a tray with all your favorite breakfast goodies. When you saw the food, you immediately perked up, sitting up in bed, and your enthusiasm made Loki’s chest puff with pride. You always appreciated all the things he did for you, no matter how big or small, and he lived for the thrill of your joy.

            “What have you brought me, my prince?” You chirped. The way you always called him ‘yours’ made his heart flutter endlessly.

            “Breakfast in bed for, my princess.” Loki grinned back, placing the tray in your awaiting lap, “I recall that it is your favorite. I tried to include all of the things you enjoy….pancakes, eggs, fruit… a little bit of everything for you, Darling.”

            “Oh!” Your cheeks flushed an adorable rosy color, making those three words ignite in his throat yet again, “This is wonderful, Loki! These are all my favorites! Thank you!”

            Excitedly, you started to gobble down the delicious meal in front of you. Loki looked on with equal parts happiness and hesitance on his face.

            “Do you like it?” He started, trying to choose his words carefully. You nodded your head eagerly, wiping a bit of syrup from the corner of your mouth making the god laugh.

            “Yes, I like it! It’s amazing!” You quickly speared a piece of cantaloupe on your fork and popped it into your mouth as if to prove your point.

            Loki looked down at his lap where his fingers played with a piece of lint that was on his loose hanging sweatpants, “But you don’t love it?”  The crystal blue orbs that you adored so much did everything to avoid your eyes, but even without seeing you knew insecurity swam in them. A gentle hand covered his, the softness of your skin against his warrior calluses always serving as a stark reminder of how innocent you were and how monstrous.

            “Oh, Loki, I love it.”  As soon as the word left your honeyed lips, Loki’s eyes shot to yours. All he saw reflected at him was warmth and tenderness, a sense of home that he felt every time he looked at you. The way you spoke the word sounded familiar, like it could have been what you spoke in the night, yet it still wasn’t quite right. There was something….missing that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

            He leaned forward and kissed your lips, delighting how you immediately wrapped an arm around his neck and tangling your fingers in his hair. With a playful tug of his tresses, you deepened the kiss. He groaned as he tasted the syrup that remained on your tongue- your taste, your essence, making it that much sweeter. Slowly, he pulled away, make sure to savor every drop of you.

            “The sweetest treat there is.” He grinned.

            The rest of the morning and afternoon was restoring. A perfect, lazy day entangled in each other’s arms. Your back was pressed against Loki’s chest and each of you held your individual books. The words flowed easily off the page as your eyes darted back and forth, but Loki found himself simply turning his pages for show while he quietly observed you. The little movements of your mouth as you silently spoke choice phrases, the gasps as you read something shocking, and the blood that rushed to your ears when you came upon a particularly erotic scene – all made Loki more entranced by you and more hopelessly in love.

            “Darling?” He started carefully, much like this morning and the night before. You only hummed in response, still caught up in the story of your book.

            “How long as it been since you spoke to your friend? The one you grew up with?”

            That made you drop your book and look up at Loki in confusion, “It’s been a while. Why do you ask?”

            You felt him shrug behind you before pretending to peek back at his book, “I just recall you enjoy speaking with them. Perhaps you should catch up sometime.” The comment was innocent, but it was enough to plant a seed in your mind. Sure enough, later in the day, you had picked up the phone to call your dear friend.

            Loki stayed perched on the sofa, still pretending to read while you paced the room with your phone in hand and pressed to your ear. Fervently, you spoke to your longtime friend. The joy spilling from your lips making Loki’s mouth twitch at the corners. Every detail of your lives was shared, and laughter echoed all around the room. Loki would never tire of the sound of your laugh. Eventually, you said your goodbyes and turned to your lover with a content smile.

            “I am so glad you reminded me to call them, Loki! It was great catching up.” But your smile faded as soon as you saw your prince’s frown. Quickly, you sat next to him on the couch and cupped his face with your hand.

            “What’s wrong, Loki?”

            Loki swallowed thickly, the sweet smell perfume bringing a fresh wave of butterflies to his stomach, “It is quite silly, really.”

            You smiled so sweetly at him, it made his heart clench, “Try me.”

            He avoided your eyes for the second time today, “You didn’t say you loved them when you said goodbye on your communication device. You always have before when you spoke to them. Is that…do you not care for your friend, anymore?”

            You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your throat, but you pulled Loki in close for a reassuring hug, “Oh, of course I love them! It must have slipped my mind.” You pulled away just enough, so you could press your forehead against his. The comfort from the closeness of your body and your mere presence brought him was already threatening to rip those three words straight from his chest once more.

            “I’ll call them right now to tell them…” You tilted your head and left a lingering kiss on his forehead. The new agonizing ache in his heart lingering along with it.

            Just as you said, you picked up your cell phone and called back your friend who immediately answered, as evident by your wide smile.

            “Hey, I just forgot to tell you that I love you!” You smiled a bit wider as Loki guessed your friend repeated the sentiment back to you. The god tried to ignore the burning jealousy that started to well up within him when he heard you say those three words he so desperately wanted to say, so easily and to another no less. The only thing that gave him solace was the fact that much like this morning, this ‘I love you’ wasn’t the same he supposedly heard last night. Something was off about it. A missing puzzle piece he couldn’t quite solve.

            The jealousy that coursed through his body and took a violent hold of his heart and his mind told him that you must have been dreaming of someone else. A person you pined for in secret when you were alone in your shared bed, awaiting Loki to join you in the late-night hours. Someone you desperately desired. Someone who was worthy of that desire.

            “Loki, you have to tell me what’s wrong.” Loki hadn’t noticed that you hung up with your friend, only to join him back on the couch. The look of sincere concern almost had him cracking, but being stubborn as ever, he held fast.

            “I am quite alright, Darling, I assure you.” He flashed you a tight-lipped smile that definitely didn’t reach his eyes. You gripped his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, reminding him of how you always knew when to comfort him. The ache in his heart grew tenfold, and he kept his eyes trained on his lap. Anything to avoid looking you in the eyes and facing the fact that you didn’t love him back.

            “Loki…” The brokenness of your voice was the only reason why he lifted his head. Tears welled in the corner of your eyes and still, you gripped his hand like it was your lifeline, “You have been avoiding looking at me all afternoon. I know something is wrong. You tell me everything, Loki.”

            You cupped Loki’s cheek with your free hand, and he leaned into the comfort of your palm, “Why won’t you tell me?”

            Loki desperately wanted to tell you why he was acting so strangely. That he may have heard you whisper the words ‘I love you’ in the dark, and now it plagued his mind, and it was all he could think about. How he regretted not being able to confess his love for you every day for months on end due to his own cowardice and his own insecurities.

The tears in your eyes threatened to spill over when Loki didn’t answer you. The silence between you two was deafening and so different from the affectionate god you grew to love. Loki saw the wetness of your eyelashes, evidence of sorrow that should never be there, let alone placed there by him. Every day he vowed to be a source of happiness and comfort for you. A place of peace within the chaos like, you were to him. To be your home.

As soon as your first tear fell, the words tumbled from Loki’s mouth before he could stop them.

            “I love you.”

            Even though they were rushed from his mouth, each syllable conveyed endless promises of devotion and reverence.  The promise that you were the treasure of his heart and something so precious that he would burn worlds to ensure your happiness.

            A flurry of emotions swept across your face. At first, there was a look of confusion, then disbelief, and then pure joy.

            “You, uh, what?”

            Loki had imagined this moment for months, and the one thing he did not expect was to feel instant regret. The need to run away was overwhelming, and his heart hammered in his chest. He swallowed hard, looking away from you yet again.

            “Please, don’t make me say it again.” The god that towered over many, the god who made the world kneel was only the frail fragment of an unsure boy.

            Your hand never left his cheek, and your thumb rubbed the sharp edges of his cheekbones with soothing strokes. Tenderly, you coaxed his head to turn and for him to look at you once again.

            “Please, Loki.” You leaned closer until your breath caressed his face with your pleading whispers, “Say it again.”

            Tears began to brim his eyes as his ripped out his tortured heart and presented it to you. An offering to his goddess.

            “I love you, Y/N.” The words were surer this time, but still breathless with the anxiety of your reply. A happy watery laugh bubbled up from your chest and your other hand was quick to now cup both sides of his face, ensuring that he wouldn’t turn away from you and hide.

            “I love you too, Loki.”

            It instantly was familiar. The tone. Each syllable. It was exactly like the sweet words that he thought were spoken last night. Loki quickly mirrored your happiness and was just as quick to capture your lips in a desperate kiss. Every movement of his mouth, every caress carried all the confessions of love that died on his lips and haunted him. The words flowed just as freely from you, as they did from him, and it was in that moment he realized why all of your other ‘I love you’s’ were not the same. Why the one spoken in the middle of the night, in his sweet embrace was so different.

            That one was just for him.

------------------------------

Unicorns 🦄: @ozymdias , @lovely-maryj, @multifandom-worlds

@buttercupcookies-blog @fictive-sl0th. @meowmeow-motherfucker @tallseaweed @ladymischief11

[danikamariewrites]

Meant to Be

Mob!Azriel x reader AU

A/n: I’m so excited to start this little series! I hope you all enjoy this and thank you for being patient with me. I know I’ve been all over the place lately lol. Also I might change the pov I use in the next fics but we’ll see.

Warnings: none

Series Masterlist

As I’m just about to shut the front desk computer down, the glass door to the gallery swings open. Holding back rolling my eyes, I lift my head ready to tell whoever it is that we're closing. I stop, my lips partially open as my eyes meet the most gorgeous, soft hazel ones. On a beautifully sculpted face with a sharp jawline and soft raven hair. The words died in my throat. Changing to, “How can I help you?”

Gods I need to stop staring. If Feyre was still here she would be making fun of me for ogling the poor male while using my stupid customer service voice. He gives me a bright smile before speaking. “I’m looking for a new piece for my office. The walls are feeling a little bare.” Mother above he sounds like an angel.

I froze again. I’m technically not supposed to be selling paintings to clients, especially walk-ins and new ones. But my boss left me in charge for the rest of the day. It’s Gavin’s own fault he blew off work for a spa day. And I had to help Gavin list all the paintings, so I can absolutely sell one of these bad boys. I was amazed by how much Gavin didn’t know when these paintings came in. And he has the audacity to call himself an art collector.

“Absolutely. Are you looking for anything specific or I can show you a few of my favorite pieces if you’d like.”

As I stand I look around the room to see if anyone else is in the gallery. Two males with similar tan skin and dark hair stand by the door. The more muscular one slightly smirks at me before staring ahead again. I look back at the male in front of me, taking in his suit, the expensive watch, and the thick silver signet ring on his index finger gleaming in the light. Staring at the ring closely I can make out a family crest engraved on the flat surface. Morwood.

The male standing in front of me is notorious mob boss Azriel Morwood. Recovering quickly I smile up at Azriel, burying any kind of fear that was working its way up my spine. He isn’t here to hurt me. He’s here to buy art. Harmless.

Relaxing, I walk around the desk, gesturing to the left of the gallery. “This way then.” Azriel holds out his arm for me to take, that bright smile never once leaving his lips. Although it might not be the most professional thing to do, I loop my arm through his.

As we go from painting to painting Azriel seems to relax as well. We fall into easy conversation. At times it feels like we were childhood friends catching up. His flirtatious comments made me blush and fumble over my words. At the risk of being unprofessional again, I flirt back. There’s no denying the male is beautiful. I’m sure he’s kind under all of those dangerous layers. I can’t help the pull I feel toward him, to know more about Azriel. I should feel ashamed of this attraction. Azriel has done awful things but that feeling isn’t taking over.

“And that’s it for this collection. Is there anything else that’s caught your eye?” I ask, regretfully pulling away from Azriel as I snap back into my customer service voice. A stark contrast to the normal flirty tone I was just using. He seemed to take his time thinking. Azriel’s hazel eyes seem to twinkle as he looks at me. “That Blanch piece, I loved the two you showed me.” “Of course.” I lead him to the middle of the section where the two paintings hang side by side.

He looks at the two trying to decide between the two. “Which is your favorite?” I look at him, taken aback by Azriel Morwood asking for my opinion. “Well…I can’t choose between the two. Truthfully, I believe Blanch created these pieces to complement each other. They’re from two different collections but you can tell by the edge of the scenery they are meant to be together.” Azriel let out a thoughtful hum as he crossed his arms.

I try not to stare at him too blatantly but I just can’t help myself. His thinking face is cute. I can tell he’s concentrating. “I’ll take both.” My eyes widened. I'm so shocked I took half a step back. “I’m sorry?” I realize that it came out harsher than expected. “Sorry, I just - really? You want to buy both?” A half smile tugs at the corner of his lips as Azriel turns to face me. “If they are meant to be together it would be a crime to separate them.” There was something insinuating in that seductive tone of his. The hopeful look in his eyes gave it away. Something told me Azriel rarely let something like that slip. I give him a genuine half smile of my own. “Of course.”

Fifteen minutes and one giant check later Azriel had bought his paintings with the promise to come pick them up after they were framed tomorrow. Finally closing the gallery I went home and dreamed of him that night.

——

Walking down the sunny streets of Velaris I’m lost in thought about Azriel. How I want to run my fingers to see if those raven locks are truly as soft as they look. Those hazel eyes and how I never want them to lose sight of me.

My phone incessantly buzzing in my bag pulls me from my thoughts. I groan as I search for it in the clutter of stuff I threw in this morning. Fifteen texts from Feyre and more incoming light up the lock screen.

Girl get here soon

Gavin is piissseeddd

What did u do lmao

He won’t tell me, plz tell me so I know before him. I wanna taunt him with this secret info

Oh boy. He must not be pleased about the new client. I quickly type out a text telling her I’d be there soon. Shoving my phone back in my bag, my pounding heart seems as loud as my footsteps. I’m practically jogging by the time I enter the gallery.

Feyre looks up at me from the desk. A wild and confused look is on her face like she was just handed the winning lottery ticket. “He’s been on the phone with Benny all morning. I could hear him screaming, what did you do?” A nervous laugh sounds on the last word.

As I open my mouth to answer the door to Gavin’s office flings open, hitting the wall inside with a violent thud. “You!” He seethes. “Why didn’t you call me about the client last night?!” He screeches as he stomps over to the desk like a child. “What was I supposed to do? Say, sorry, come back later? It was Azriel Morwood.” Feyre lets out a dramatic gasp leaning back in the spinny chair. Her eyes bounce between us, waiting to see what wild statement her ears will be blessed with next.

“I know damn well who the client was, and you’re not supposed to make sales! Remember? Or has your sense of self importance around here made it hard for you to remember that you're a fucking intern! And you have no right —” a throat clearing makes Gavin stop his berating. His face went pale as his eyes landed on Azriel and the two males flanking him.

Azriel raises a brow giving Gavin a quizzical look. Gavin puts on a fake smile striding to greet our guests. “Hello Mr. Morwood! How can I help you today? Is there a problem with your purchase that I can fix?” He shoots me a glare that I don’t notice. All I notice is Azriel. It feels like the whole world has melted away and it’s just us.

“No.” His tone cruel and cold. “I would like to talk to y/n. Alone.” He emphasizes the last word by pinning Gavin with a look that would send anyone running. The shock on Gavin’s face is fucking priceless as he backs away murmuring an apology.

I slowly approach Azriel trying to suppress my grin. He watches me with a gentle gaze. That charming smile pulling on his lips again. “Hi,” Mother above that deep, gravelly voice gives me chills. “Hi.” I whisper back. “Your paintings should be ready soon. I saw the framer when I came in.” Azriel slowly shakes his head. “No, not that. Well, yes, I’m here for the paintings. But I wanted to ask you something.” I blink up at him curiously tilting my head. What could he possibly want from me?

“Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?”

[mailka]

The thing about Aemond this season is that the show can't make me care about him or his motivation. And it's not because I think the ideas the show presents are bad it's because the execution of these ideas is atrocious.

Why does the show (and the fandom) need to coddle Aemond? His actions caused the death of two of his nephews (directly or indirectly)*, he committed kinslaying which is one of the worst crimes you can ever commit in Westeros, which fucked TG cause much more than the execution of a dozen nobodies ever could and it made any sort of peace talks impossible.

But the show refuses to hold him accountable. The only one that voices their displeasure is Alicent and even that happens in passing. Otto gives that stupid speech about how Aegon is the one that fucked up but outright tells Aemond "I understand", Aegon (or Helaena) is not allowed to snap at Aemond about B&C (instead the brothel scene presents it as "Aegon bad, poor Aemond uwu") and we hear no-one beside TB care about Lucerys murder.

And instead we have Aemond presented as that "poor little meow meow" and will have him commit fratricide because Aegon bad. Why? Why not have Aemond, who is established in s1 to believe himself to be better than his brother (or anyone else for that matter), to struggle with the idea that he fucked up and fucked up bad? Why not have him to go out of his way to blame everyone around him and try to justify his actions (like Daemon)? Why not have him have a fallout with Aegon because of B&C? Why not have his actions be the reason why so many houses (in the Reach in particular) side with Rhaenyra or remain neutral? Why not have Otto blame him for why Aegon's support (which Otto spent 20 years on gathering) is diminishing?

IMO, his Rooks Rest action should be about him trying to prove himself to still be better than his brother and when Aegon shows up that makes Aemond angry and make stupid decisions like use dragonfire on both Meleys and Sunfyre, not because he deliberately wants to kill his brother but because he doesn't care if Aegon is hurt or not because it was supposed to be about him and him only.

And then they go back to KL and it's not a victory like he wanted it to be but also yet another fuck up, because TG now has only one useful dragon and Aegon is almost dead and the succession and stability are messed up and people are talking about him being kinslayer and even kingslayer and that makes him spiral even more.

But we don't have that, he has like 6 minutes of screentime that are spent in the brothel and minimum amount of time is spent on establishing his relationship with his family. And I honestly don't care about his struggles. Maybe the second part of the season makes me change my stance but so far he's pretty disappointing.

*yes, B&C is the fault of Daemon/Mysarya and B&C themselves but Aemond basically gave him carte blanche.