#The Secret Of Steel City | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eupheme · 7 months

Text

— meet me in the woods

halsin x druid!reader/tav

rated e - 7.2k

tags: double druids, smut with feelings, aphrodisiac (in the form of a fertility solstice), mates/mating rituals, hinted at breeding kink, poly!halsin (but has a connection with you), pleasure dom!Halsin, canon-typical violence, masturbation, miscommunication, oral, PiV, size kink, multiple orgasms, cum play

Living in the city had muted your druidic powers, cut you off. That all had changed, in your journey across Faerûn. Something inside of you had cracked open - letting nature and instinct sink in.

And in spite of the feelings now burning inside you - you don’t know what it means to celebrate the Solstice. Luckily for you… Halsin is there to help you through your first.

The sky has started to slip from soft shades of blue to deep orange and purples. Your wrist aches from where you scrub at your hide armor, removing the layers of grime from the long days of travel.

Your eyes flick up, like they have three times already in the last ten minutes. Across the twist of smoke from the fire that Gale tends, a cauldron of stew that has begun to fill the camp with it's rich aroma.

To where he lounges. To where your eyes meet soft green.

You look away.

"Do you think he's looking at us?"

You don't mean to ask this question out loud. It's a thought that swirls in your mind - slipping between teeth and a tongue loosened from a warm afternoon under the sun and a flagon of crisp wine.

There's the cutting strike of shale against steel. Sharp eyes flicking across to where yours have slipped, once again.

A lip curling, with the click of a tongue.

"Chk. I've seen that look on a male before." Lae'zel's tone is knowing, the slightest hint of a smirk sent your way, as she sharpens the edge of her longsword, "A bear that wishes to devour."

You blink, glancing her way at the humor in her voice. Trying to ignore the fluttering flip in your stomach at the thought.

"Oh, I am not so sure he sees me that way." Your knuckles curl as they press into a stain, your eyes dropping in mock concentration.

A red eye cracks open near your hip, Astarion's head propped up on the wrap of your bedroll. Curled like a cat under the sun and with the wafting warmth of the fire - a hand coming up to shield the bright glare above.

If it had been anyone else lazing next to you, you might have asked them to lend you a hand with the basket of vegetables for the stew - the next in your long list of things to-do. But secretly, you were just pleased he chose to spend the afternoon near you.

"Gods - I took you for boring, darling. But I never took you for stupid." He sighs, with a stretch.

Well, you had been pleased.

He ignores your look of offense as he pushes himself up on an elegant elbow, chin propped in the cup of his hand, "I don't think he's stopped looking at you since he's joined us."

A wistful sigh, "It's enough to make me wish I had saved that child."

Before his nose wrinkles, as he reappraises that thought with displeasure.

"Appreciate that, friend." Your response to his earlier remark is flat, as he flops down again.

"Oh, don't be like that," He drawls, "You were the one who asked."

The misdirection is noted with a small huff of a laugh, as you turn back to work again. Flipping around their thoughts in your own mind.

How you wish that were true.

Your own feelings were no secret to yourself. There had been no pretending in your heart, after your first meeting. Even if you had not always known the strength of your powers, you had always known yourself.

There had been a near-instant attraction with your first meeting. A suspicion that there was something special about the bear trapped in the worg pens. That feeling blossoming with the fluttering in your stomach when he had changed - the depth of his thanks at your aid in protecting the Grove.

A seed had been planted then. A hope that perhaps, with time - with some tending - that there could be more. That feeling only grows since, flourishing, weaving its way between your ribs.

And lately, you think there has been something more. His laugh comes easier. An eagerness to join you when you left the camp. Never far from you, when you return.

You were the first one he turned to after the rage of battle.

“Are you well, teuivae?”

As if you could not mend your own wounds. The word that slipped from his tongue lost as his eyes searched - until he was satisfied that the blood splattered across your leather armor was not your own. Broad hands that cupped your face. Close enough to brush his own against yours, but instead he had hovered.

Waiting - but for what, you did not know.

It had you wondering. You suppose enough now that those thoughts have made their way out into the world. Not knowing what to do, with your friend’s confirmation.

That feeling only increases, the turn of the moon turning it into a surging weight in your chest. Something physical, that gnaws at you. Tipping past want and hurtling towards something that felt like need.

Your thoughts of desire running wild, until you can’t help but slip your fingers beneath the layers of your bedroll. Your teeth biting into the heavy fabric that muffles the quick circle of your fingers, the soft sigh of your relief.

It was hard not to. To see him that way, to want him.

He is kind. Almong the best Elves you have met. He could take care of you. Your mind tells you, now. Protect you.

A very instinctual thought, one that you’ve brushed aside. You don’t need protecting. How could one protect against the tadpole, better than you already are?

But the thought comes back.

He would keep you safe. You know that, as certain as the changing of the seasons.

How quick he already is to race to your side - all teeth and claws. Imagining the honor of sharing his bedroll, how he’d wrap around you…

Only now do you realize you’ve been staring - your damp rag hovering in your still hands. A small shake of your head as you concentrate on your work. Making a point not to look again, to push the thoughts from your mind.

You really needed to get a hold of yourself.

You’re still thinking about it later, as dusk settled. The sky now streaked with hues of purple and grey, the camp littered with small fires and torches. Bellies full of stew, content to wind down after the long day.

Under the stars, it's impossbile to ignore just how much things have changed.

In the city, everything had felt muted.

Even in the outskirts, the small towns you had flitted to. The desire to fit in cutting off your attunement with nature.

But, after the Nautiloid. After you had crashed down to the Wilderness. Met the others - truly embraced who and what you were - things had changed.

You felt more like yourself than ever.

Even when you thought your time left was marked by days. Hours.

The warmth of the sun against your face. Acres of trees, the bark rough beneath your fingers as you climbed.

It seeped into your skin. Invigorating you. That liminal space between beast and body melding as you changed freely, unrestrained by space or propriety.

It was freeing.

You didn't have a coven, in the city. A lone wolf - left to wander along.

Forgetting how it felt to channel the forces of nature, with the night air wrapping around you. A bond formed when you had met Halsin, your first prolonged contact with another Druid in years. Something had been planted, watered with admiration, carefully tended in the absence that had soon come.

An urge to stay at the Druid's Grove, once the fight was over. Something unlocking in you, a need for kinship.

It had been ignored - there had been no other option. But it was like part of you stayed cracked open. Inviting nature, the whims of Silvanus, to eddy inside you. Growing potent, under the wax and wane of the moon above.

Intimate feelings mixing their way in along the way. Undeterred by the quiet, shared murmurs. Of rumors and whispers of Halsin's many lovers - good natured ribbing about his scar.

You had often thought your heart was too large to belong to only one other. It had been a relief, when you heard Halsin speak the same, around the fire.

Not fearing a connection, but not limiting it. Like nature itself, he had said. His eyes had found yours - you had taken it as some sort of lesson, from the Archdruid.

Perhaps it had been an invitation, instead.

The thought is pleasing to you. Enough so that you think… you think it’s worth being brave for.

You can’t help but seek him out, once more. Thick arms cross over a broad chest as he talks, though you’re too far away to hear. But it doesn’t stop his gaze from finding yours over the top of Wyll’s head. The way his friendly smile softens, a look you suddenly feel certain is just for you.

One you return, as that thing inside your chest swells. Blooms.

You’ve trusted your gut so far.

You’re ready to trust it again.

There is a stirring. A rooting, something sprouting in his chest. A feeling that has flickered before, but never this strong.

It had been easy, for gratitude and respect to bleed into something more, after their first meeting. After seeing such a fierce little thing take down two goblins with the flash of sharp teeth, sharper claws. A worg following, almost bigger than themselves.

Few would have stood before him, after. A frown as ferocious as their bear-form as she had offered her own opinion on how to handle the Druid Kagha, though his sentence had already been bestowed.

It had been hard not to smile.

There had been more pressing matters that had kept him away, after. Denying the offer to join her - them - the Emerald Grove had needed him more.

But still, something had lingered.

A connection. Something invisible that ties them together, that has nothing to do with the being that squirms in her mind. It begins lower - beneath the cage of ribs and where, perhaps, something soft lies.

It has him feeling like a yearling again, in spite of his three hundred and fifty years amongst Faerûn.

As the moons have passed, he'd become too accustomed to the gleam of her fur, in the sunlight. Nearly blinding him. Eyes as sharp and a tongue as quick as his.

Her true form as pretty as a field of wildflowers, of the rainbow spray of colors against the mist of a waterfall.

Evenly matched, he has thought. More than once.

The sentiment settles in his bones, trapping him - a rabbit in a snare. Though he's not so desperate to be freed, as he might have thought. The idea of being tied down had never been appealing.

But there is no urge to leave. To walk amongst the forest again, to find his way back to the Druid's Grove, for Spring. To dance and join beneath the moon, like he had for so long.

A more singular focus taking over his thoughts, as the rite approaches. A deep-seated hope, his affections shown in the ways known by his people.

Many have begun their attachments in the span of evenings to follow. Perhaps they would take the same path, if is she was willing.

The thought is more than pleasing.

It has him seeking out the eyes that fall on him so often. Finding where they linger now, in the flickering of the fire. The look she gives him - one of consideration, one of seeing in a new light - is one he knows well.

The beast inside him can read the subtle looks like tracks in the mudbank. The glitter of lights in her eyes like runes - etching a message just for him.

Enough that when she turns from the fire, when she pushes herself so carefully up - slipping like a shadow, into the forest...

It's impossible not to follow.

You can feel him behind you, as you weave through the trees.

Anticipation, excitement, pricking up the hairs on the back of your neck. Guided by the stars that sift through the canopy of leaves above.

Your feet know the way, though your mind does not. Guided by something primal inside you, taking you to a small clearing.

Grass blankets the space, tucked away in the forest. Dotted with wildflowers, a break in the branches above to let down a shaft of moonlight.

The armor you once clung to left back at the camp. An innate knowledge that there was something special about this place - that you were safe here. Protected by your own abilities. Even more so, with him following.

There is much said, in the look that he gives you as you turn. The shift of his shoulders as he approaches, a slow nod of approval as his eyes sweep across the clearing.

“You’ve chosen this spot well. The Solstice, could you feel it?”

His words make you frown, suddenly unsure. The curve of his smile wanes at your silence, as he takes another step closer, “Is that not why you’ve come here?”

The hope you’ve carried sinks, settling low in your belly. So unlike the weight that was there before - one of hunger and desire.

“I must confess, I had been hoping.” He continues, with a cock to his head, “But it seems like we are on different paths.”

You have to answer him, you know this. It takes a second to gather your courage, this meeting quickly taking a much different turn that you have expected.

“I do not know anything of your Solstices. I came here because I hoped…” Your gaze drops, unable to look at him, “I had hoped that you would follow. That this night might be ours.”

A hand cups your jaw, tilting your head up. To your surprise he is smiling, his thumb stroking across your cheek, “Your answer relieves me. We are not so far apart. I thought I had been clear, but it seems you are still unsure of my intentions.”

Something flips in your stomach, melting the spray of ice that has coated your insides. A small flutter of hope, as your eyes search his green ones, “What do you mean?”

“I have become so accustomed to your presence, that I’ve forgotten that our ways are still unknown to you.” His voice softens, and you can’t help but lean into his touch - hanging on to each of his words, “I’ve been courting you for some time, now.”

Time freezes, for a moment. Your mind whirling past all the small moments you’ve collected - held so close to your chest. Reaching out to touch others that now made more sense.

Bringing you your share of dinner at the camp. A solving of the mystery of a fire that had been stoked during the night, an extra pelt placed over you for warmth. Caring for you.

You had mistaken them all for chivalry.

“-and I had thought you were accepting, tonight. With the beginning of the Solstice.”

“I must be dense.” You can’t help but smile, with a sensation of being able to breath again, “I had my own wishes, but I never knew-”

“I should have been more clear. Forgive me,” His hands touch his scars, his smile turning wry, “I thought it wise to let you set the pace of our journey.”

Hence his waiting for you to kiss him, after that battle. His following you, tonight.

Courage rises in you, once again.

“I want you to show me what it means to celebrate.”

He softens, for you. Hands dropping to entwine with yours, bending until your foreheads touch, “Then I am yours.”

The slightest tilt of his head, bringing your joined hands to point at the heavens.

“With the spring comes new beginnings. We lead the way, with the Solstice. Baring our flesh and joining beneath the moon, in an offering to the Oak Father.” His words are a low rumble, it’s impossible not to focus on his mouth, the way it quirks at his next words, “It is… rigorous.”

The heat that has simmered for weeks now flares to life, as his eyes darken.

Bu there's something small tickles at you, making you lean back. Your brow furrowing, needing the clarity.

"Is it just the Solstice that draws you to me?" Is it just duty that has ensnared his affections? Is this no more than fulfilling the desires of Silvanas?

He laughs, with a shake of his head, "If our first meeting had been in the Grove, your beauty would have been more than enough to enthrall me."

The knowledge is flattering. That he still would have wanted you, in another life, in another time. His next words are enough to cast the rest of your doubts aside.

"But make no mistake. For quite some time now, I have desired more. Deeper than the skin, down to the marrow." He brings your entwined fingers to his mouth, his lips pressing against your knuckles, "I fear you stole more than gold that day, in the Sanctum."

There is much that he reveals, with his words.

A sense that your feelings are more than reciprocated. A reminder that he does not mince words, like others you have known.

For as keen as your eyes are, you should have realized this sooner. The last curl of unease lifts, wafting up to stars above.

“How do we begin?”

“Eager. I like that.” Halsin grins - his eyes dragging over you, as his voice pitched low, “For starters… you are overdressed.”

With as large as his fingers are, they are dexterous as they tug at the tie of your tunic. A palm curling around your waist, tugging you close as your face tips up to his.

“And there is usually music.” He murmurs, dipping just enough to brush his mouth against yours, “But I am sure we can make our own.”

His name is a soft sound on your lips, before they press against his. Warm and solid and plush, a sigh in his throat as your hands reach up to grasp at broad shoulders. Slipping to tangle in his chestnut-colored strands, keeping him pulled close.

And you are reminded that he is strong. Abandoning your shirt when your tongue brushes his lip. Hands catching the underside of your thighs to haul you against him.

Your legs stretch wide around his waist. One of those hands moving to splay across the small of your back, a low growl rumbling as you nip at his lower lip.

Hunger gnaws at you, as he deepens the kiss. An ache to be closer, unable to get enough of the taste of him as he licks into your mouth.

Holding you against him as he sinks to his knees. Bringing you down against the blanket of grass, nestling you against it. A low chuckle at the way you still cling to him, entangling yourself around him like vines, as Halsin begins to tug at your clothes again.

Carefully, as if it's a gift to unwrap you.

"Come now, my love." He coos - another gentle tug, as you finally let go.

The air ghosts against your skin, warm with the changing of seasons. A low sound of approval with each layer that is stripped from you. The curl of a palm against your ankle, tugging off your boots. Heat pooling low, as fingertips brush up your thigh, settling at your belt.

"I long to see you bare beneath me."

He touches you as if he can't get enough. The sweep of his thumb over your thigh. Fingers joining yours as your hips lift, allowing him to peel your trousers down, and then off.

You think that perhaps it should feel strange, to be naked in the moonlight. But Halsin eclipses the brief fluttering of unease. The hunger in his expression captures yours, as he leans back to sit on his haunches.

So broad, so big. You think the desire must match in your own eyes, his sentiment so shared.

"Join me," You coax, a hand reaching for his thigh - feeling the muscles jump underneath.

His grin gleams in the moonlight, as he lets you start to do the same to him. Distracting you terribly as his hands skim from your waist to cup your breasts, teasing and pinching.

Only tearing the sleevless tunic from his shoulders before he's curling over you - his mouth pressing against your neck. Inhaling your scent with another low growl, his nose skimming over heated skin.

Those lips pressing against your throat, the threat of teeth as they part. You squirm beneath him, something inside you aching for him to bite down. To mark you.

You can feel his smile against your skin, his hands still teasing the tight peaks of your nipples. One drifting lower across sternum and belly, drifting across the curve of your mound.

It’s easy to arch into his touch, to urge his fingers lower. The sweep of his fingertips is so light, a summers breeze against your skin - a low hum of a laugh as your hips jerk again.

“I know it’s affected you.” There’s the slightest pressure - thick fingers split, tracing the crease where your thigh meets groin. Purposely avoiding where you need him, where you know you’re wet and wanting.

Another sharp intake of breath, before he’s pushing himself up to hover over you, “At camp. Your smell. It was difficult to hold myself back.”

He touches you, then. Twin moans as his fingers slip against slick flesh. Dripping, for him. Almost making you forget your words as the pad of his fingers circles your clit, as your hand brace against his biceps, nails biting skin.

“W-wasn’t the coming of Spring.” You protest - the rhythmic swipe of his fingers stealing your breath, “It was just you.”

The look he gives you then - it’s all soft edges, wrapped in a focus that’s so intense your eyes flutter shut. It’s too much, his gaze, his touch.

A low groan from his chest then, in recollection, “There were many nights lately where I wished to offer myself for your pleasure. Perhaps I should have.”

For your pleasure. Few would word it that way - conjuring images of him beneath you. His tongue tracing the same path of his fingers, your thighs pressing against the long points of his ears.

It makes you clench - the simmering fire in your belly sending up sparks, stoked by the way his head moves lower. Your fingers slipping to twist sharply in his hair, as his tongue peeks out to brush your breast.

“More, Halsin. I need you-” You pant, your free hand fitting under the bulk of his shoulder. Reaching to nudge his hand down lower, until his fingers are brushing your entrance.

He traces you, before he sinks into you, down to the first knuckle. His hands are so much bigger than yours, there’s already the slight stretching burn as he eases deeper.

The tilt of his head, chin pressing against your ribs. The fire burns in his own eyes, a heavy press of his hips against your thigh, letting you feel him.

“If we had been at the Grove, I would have hoped you would have chosen me as your mate for the duration of the three nights.” It’s a confession, the word mate ringing out - enthralling you, “Now, I do not know what tomorrow brings. I will give you all that I can, tonight.”

In a fluid motion, he moves. The ripple of muscles as he shifts between your thighs - their breadth stretching them too wide. Enough that you have to hook one over the curve his shoulder, before his head dips.

The heated swipe of his tongue hits you just as his finger presses deep and curls. You’re instantly thankful for his three hundred and fifty years, with the pointed exploration of his mouth.

A groan as he tastes you, those green eyes fixing on yours again. Fitting another finger into you as your heel digs into his shoulder, as your head tips back with a cry.

It’s too much. Pleasure skitters through your stomach, your hips moving on their own, matching the steady thrust of his fingers. How he drags them against a spot that makes you keen and squirm, before sliding them free to fit them between his lips.

Tasting the honey of your arousal, his lips already shining with you, before filling you again. Muscles clenching like the pull of a bow, waiting for the arrow to fire.

Halsin moans into your cunt like he’s feasting, like he truly means to devour you. His own hips pressing into the ground, easing his own need for friction.

Too practiced with the tight flicks of his tongue, the way his lips kiss and suck against the sensitive bud. The press of his fingers loud with how wet you are, matching your sharp, panting breath.

His name is a whimper before your muscles string even tighter. Going stiff as your breath catches, a pathetic whimper of a sound before you’re crying out.

The pleasure ignites, ripping through you as you come. As your thighs press around his ears, though he does not slow. Fucking you through it with his fingers, soft growls that buzz against your clit with each press of his tongue.

Leaving you breathless, boneless.

His mouth soft as kisses are pressed to your thighs, as you come back to yourself. It feels like you’re glowing, a soft haze settling over your limbs, down to the curl of your toes.

A broad hand smears your slick across his jaw, as he pushes himself up to kneel between your thighs. Where his cock strains against the leather of his leggings, tenting the soft fabric.

You ache to make him feel as good you feel. Something primal roars in your belly, as you follow him. Hands pressing against his chest, the flicker of shock turning warm as he lets himself be eased back.

Until it’s your thighs straddling his, moving up until your slick cunt is pressing against that heavy curve. His lips parting with a soft pant as you lean over him, your head dipping to kiss him.

He tastes like you, the sweet tang of your orgasm. Another shudder of pleasure coursing through you at the thought - as his hands find your hips, coaxing you to rock yourself against him.

Back home, you don’t know if you would have had the courage to climb this mountain of a man. But the images that flicker through your mind - the ones of him beneath you - are too strong, tugging at you. Beckoning your limbs to follow.

“I want to-,” You’re mumbling, between kisses, “Will you let me?”

“Follow your urges, my heart. Wherever they lead you, I am here.” His words sound strained, his hips flexing up, against you. More than content to be your guide, or to let you explore at your pace.

Your fingers drop to tug at his belt, with his consent. His hands coming to cover yours, lifting you with the rise of his hips. Freeing himself, his clothes joining yours on the forest floor.

It’s only here that you pause, as your thighs stretch across his waist. Where it becomes evident just how proportional he is - his cock full and flushed and heavy, curving up towards his stomach.

Unable to help touching him, his eyes fixed on the slight frown and then panic that flits across your features. A low rumble as your hand fits around him, your fingertips unable to touch.

“You-” You stammer, suddenly unsure, “Halsin, I don't know if I can-”

His eyes darken at your insinuation, his teeth flashing with his smile. Fingers curl around his base, tilting himself up. Pressing himself against your belly, the tip smearing a wet spot on your skin.

Measuring. Your grip tightens and he groans, his hips flexing into your touch.

His voice ragged, rough in the night air, “You can take me. Know you can, my love.”

You can’t pretend you’re not eager to try. Hands pressing against his chest, eyes flicking between his face and his cock, as you lift yourself up.

One leaving to hold him steady, taking a second to feel him slide against you. Muffling a sigh when he bumps against your clit, slicking him up with your release. Before you line him up, and start to sink down.

He splits you open. The pinch of his fingers against your hips hurts, as he tries to resist thrusting up into you. Even with your orgasm, your cunt slick with pleasure, he still stretches you wide.

Taking an inch, and then another. A tremble in your thighs as your knees press into the earth, a strangled whine as you make room for him.

His murmured encouragement catches in his chest, the moon and spring calling to him - only his experience keeping him from taking matters into his own hands.

A strong jaw ticking as you sink onto him, achingly slow - until your hips finally lie flush. Your hand flying to your belly, as if you could feel where he fits inside you.

His gaze is heavy, reverent. The press of fingertips against your skin as his grip eases, lips parting as you carefully begin to lift up - to rock back down.

The sensation flickers through you like faerie fire, the slow and sweet drag of him. Making you feel impossibly full, your head dipping down to hang between your shoulders. Hands curling into the hair covering his chest, as you figure out how to move.

It’s impossible to describe. A desire like you’ve never known bites at you, curling in your belly. You think perhaps you understand now - this need to bring forth the Spring and celebrate its arrival. It’s been something inside of you this whole time, waiting for guidance.

You have it, now.

“I-I did not think there was anything that could rival your touch,” Your words some out shaky - your thighs already twinging with the effort of moving. The steady rise and fall of your hips, the hitch in your breath when he sits flush within you, “I am happy to be wrong.”

The corner of his lip lifts in a snarl, but it’s one of pleasure. Just as gone as you are, with the drag of his eyes from your face, down to where you bounce on his cock. The thick peek of him each time your rise, shining with your slick.

It’s enough that his hands slip lower. Fingers slipping to rub at you again, each time you sink down.

“Use me, then.” He rasps, “Come on, sweet one. Take your pleasure.”

Your heart races, breath caught in your throat at his words, his touch. The slow pace increasing, as you try to do what he says.

Instincts flooding wisdom, drowning it out - tilting your hips until your thighs tremble, as he knocks against a sweet spot inside you.

Again, and then again. His eyes are fixed on you now, and the look he gives makes you clench - coveting his attention. Wanting him to only look at you, tonight.

To sear the feeling of you into his memory, as he has done to you. You think there is nothing that could make you forget tonight.

To forget this swirl of magic, as if you’re tethered to the ground, the sky, him - all at once. Utterly free at the same time, your body moving on its own without inhibition, encouraged by the sound of his moans.

The clench of teeth - the heavy press of hips that have begun to snap upward, no longer able to hold back.

“Oh gods-” You keen. Once, and then again - a grinding circle of your hips against his fingers, as that feeling inside you threatens to burst again.

Halsin chases the rock of your hips now with his own, with his fingers. His laugh rough, caught between his teeth.

“The gods may be listening, little one. But only I will answer.”

It makes you shudder, makes you beg.

“I’m so close. Please don’t stop.”

His fingers stay true. Pressing just a little harder, a jostle of his thighs as his feet plant against the ground. Fucking up into you now, as your pace falters. Too focused on the rushing white noise in your ears, the feeling that’s so big that it feels like you’ll choke on it.

“Let me feel you.” The words are muted, miles away. Digging into your skin to weave around your ribs, “Sweet one, come on-”

Your cry rips from your lungs, as you tip over the edge. He’s there to catch you, the steady pound of his hips as your own legs fail you. Fingers sweeping as the pulse of your cunt matches the heartbeat in your ears, clenching around him as you find your release.

Pushing himself up to meet you, as your arms wrap around him. Letting you chase the last waves of pleasure with the grind of your hips, your mouth panting into his neck.

A sweet sweat beading at the nape of your neck, across your skin. Your head turns just enough to meet his, his hand coming up to curl around the back of your neck.

To hold you to him, hovering over him, as he buries himself in you again. Again and again, until he is panting as you steal kisses. Tasting where you still linger in his tongue, another melding of your spirits.

“How do you want me?” His eyes are bright, hands slipping down to cup your ass, to help you ride him, “My heart, I fear I won’t last-”

You had made a pretty coin, brewing herbs and potions. Enough that you could do it in your sleep, your talents extending to camp. Teas of protection brewed openly and without shame.

The need for him to spill in you floods your senses, your own breath ragged at the thought.

“In me, my bear.” You beg, leaning back - the snap of your own hips sharp and loud, “I need you in me.”

The groan he makes is laced with relief. The feeling coursing through him as well - an innate need to spill himself into your cunt. To rut himself into you, until you’ve taken every drop.

Your name is ragged on his lips, as his thrusts turn shallow. As you take over, riding him until his hands grasp at your waist, as he goes stiff beneath you.

He throbs, a warmth flooding deep inside you. A pretty sight, his strong back arching into you - lips parted, hair streaming loose amongst the wildflowers. A snap of teeth as he grinds against you until you drip with him, too full of his cock to keep everything inside.

Fully joined, beneath the moonlight.

Afterwards, you melt against him. A hand smooths down your back as your fingers wander. Across the fur of his bare chest, the curve of his lip. The swirls of scarred and tattooed skin - your lips following.

He’s beautiful beneath you. Eyes content and half-lidded as an arm tucks beneath his head. A little inhale of breath - his broad chest rising as your lips move to his neck.

If you were Volo you think that, perhaps, you’d write a song about this. But that would mean that you would not be with him now, and the thought all but fills you with agony.

That hand on your waist tightening as you push the thought away - stretching up to reach the curve of his ear, a groan as your tongue traces the point.

It moves you against him. His cock slipping part-way out, only to sink deep again with your exploration.

He’s still hard, achingly so. You’re more sure whether it is a blessing of Silvanus or just him - this being so perfectly crafted in nature’s image.

Your teasing winds him up, even as his release leaks from you, shining against your thighs. A groan buzzes against your lips, where they still press against his throat.

A shifting beneath you, a pointed lift of his hips that nudges him against that sensitive place inside you.

“Let me take you, once more,” He husks, his face tipping up to yours. Knuckles brushing your cheek, tender in spite of the fire burning in his eyes, “Like the Oak Father intended.”

Desire still burns in you. An ache at the thought of having him another time, enough that you’re pushing yourself up to straddle him.

Nodding, your begging “please” making him smile, as he pushes himself up on an elbow. His eyes raking over your body, bathed in the glow of moonlight. Where he’s still buried deep, kept warm by you.

Before he’s moving. Hands gripping at your waist - a soft whine when he lifts you off him. His cock flushed and shining where it rests against his belly, as he rolls you beneath him.

“Hands and knees, my love.”

You’re eager to do so. The grass soft against your palms as your knees press into the ground. Arching your back - feeling the weight of his gaze as his thighs brush against yours.

The curve of his cock pressing against you, as he squeezes the flesh of your ass. His touch reverent and hungry, grinding himself against your core as he groans.

“If I could keep but one image in my mind, it would be this one.”

You moan at his praise, rocking back to meet his press of his hips. His hand dropping to wrap around his slick cock, notching it at your entrance.

Holding himself there as his chest presses against your back - warm, as his other arm wraps around your middle. It does something to you. The position, the feel of him overwhelming you.

“Halsin-” You pant, each second ticking by feeding into your desperation, “Why do you wait?”

“My impatient little she-bear,” He laughs, but the sound is strained with you beneath him, “Do not fear, I will give you what you want.”

And he does, the thick tip of him parting you. Sinking deep with a rough thrust of his hip, making you cry out as he fills you.

You had thought he was big before, when you rode him. But you had been in control - taking him at your own pace. Bouncing at your leisure, aided by the span of your hands against his muscular chest for balance.

Now, it feels like he’s in your throat, as he seats himself completely. As you make room for him, gripping him so tightly he chokes on a breath, fingers biting into your skin.

Yours wrap around his wrist, braced against the grass for balance. Nails biting into skin as he noses at your neck, his breath warm where it ghosts against your skin.

A kiss pressed there, so tender that you feel yourself relaxing. Rocking your hips back, whimpering at the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls.

“Take me,” You beg, wanting more, “Feels so good, I want you-”

He groans, and you can feel him throb inside you. There’s the sharp snap of his hips, starting shallow. Sliding out further each time, until pleasure is crackling against your skin.

The little clearing filled with the sounds of your joining. Panting breaths and the slick sound of you taking him. Fucking his own cum deeper into you, lewd with the way you cry out when his cock grinds against that spot. When the heft of his balls kiss your clit again and again, heavy with his arousal.

It feels right. Halsin’s body pressed against your back, bending you until your chest is flattened against the grass. Fingers finding purchase in the strands and flowers, giving you something to hold onto as his thighs crash against yours.

Each deep thrust pushed your breath from you with a soft whine, leaving you panting.

Trapped beneath him, until all you can do is take it.

Squirming against the cage of his chest and arms.

Fuck me. Take me. Fill me-

It comes from deep inside you. The want to be filled. An ache at knowing he’s already spent himself, that each thrust brings him closer to a second.

You must say the words out loud because he makes a noise that sounds wounded. A stutter of his hips, his words a jagged rasp, “Let go, my love. I've got you.”

So, you do. Releasing your hold on that last ounce of control. Leaving yourself in his hands, letting your sounds and cries flow freely. Embracing the mounting pleasure as it swirls through you.

You babble - half-formed words as he holds you against him. Shifting when he hears you sob, rutting himself against the spot that sends you up to the stars above. The broken “oh, oh, oh’s-” bleeding into “Gods, Halsin-”

His teeth press against your neck, pinching against your skin, “Give yourself to me.”

The arm curve around your waist moves. Fingers carefully wrap around your hair until it’s fisted in his grip. Pinning you further as he pants in your ear, soft grunts and growls that sound like music in the night air.

Not stopping until you’re shuddering beneath him. Until he feels the tight pulse of your cunt, his own release not far behind. As sweet as the taste of you, as your muscles jump under his touch, as you arch and claw at the grass below you.

It’s bliss. It feels like you’re channeling the forest itself. Feeding off the pleasure that radiates from him. The new beginning of the season, the pull of the moon above.

The Gods are pleased, you think dizzily, they must be, for I have never felt like this.

The slap of his hips is louder, as you soak him. An overwhelming instinct to claim you, as his teeth sink into the curve between neck and shoulder.

Holding you still against him as he growls. Eyes flashing gold as you cry out again - pleasure and pain melding as your orgasm flares out, beginning to ebb in sweet bursts. As the sensation drags him along to find his own end.

Spilling into you a second time with a shout. His hips moving on their own, shallow thrusts with each pulse of his cock. Your head twisting to meet his mouth, a press of teeth and tongue as you swallow his groans.

Until his strength is all but sapped from him.

Until he is more man that beast again, those eyes soft and green again - a field of clover on a bright spring day.

It’s an easy thing, to take you with him to the forest floor. To curl around you - blocking your smaller form from the midnight chill that’s begun to creep in.

Warm and strong - an arm wrapping around your hip, a large hand splaying across your belly. As if those thoughts still lingered.

Still pressed inside you, keeping you filled with him. You think you’d be content to stay like this all night. Longer, if there was not more work to be done, tomorrow. More paths to be taken.

It’s not long though, before you find yourself shifting. Dozing in his grip, a sleepy rock of your hips in an effort to feel him move in you again.

“Oak Father, preserve me.” Halsin stirs behind you, as he huffs into your hair, “Insatiable little thing. And to think I worried about you lasting through the solstice.”

Your teeth bite into your lip as you grin, as his arms wrap more tightly around you.

“I should have been concerned about myself. This old bear needs rest, little one.”

But even with his low rumbling, his hand drifts. The pad of a finger brushing against your clit, sending another shot of pleasure coursing through you.

Your thighs part, a knee bending to give him access. Another soft whine as his circles against skin that is slick with his release, as his hips slowly match the lazy rhythm.

“Do not worry, my love. I will not leave you wanting.” He rasps.

“And there are many left hours until dawn.”

omg I started playing recently and I am so in love with this game. this was so much fun, I hope you enjoyed! I love Druids so much (and am playing one) and thought they for sure would have a 👀festival👀 of some kind and wanted to explore that in the context of like, act ii/iii (I am still playing so please let me know if I got any lore wrong!!)

Teuivae – ‘Moonlight’

(tags: @samspenandsword, @amywritesthings)

#halsin x reader #halsin x you #halsin x tav #bg3 halsin #halsin bg3 #bg3 x reader

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truly-sincerely · 2 months

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Comprehensive Dead Three Timeline

Outdated! I've made a new timeline!

Obviously there's varying amounts of speculation here, but I believe this is as close to a reasonable order of events as can be achieved with current, in-game information

1460s

Enver Flymm sold to Raphael by his parents, renamed Gortash

Gortash learns about the Crown of Karsus while a prisoner of Raphael

1470s

Gortash escapes the House of Hope

Gortash gets involved with black market arms dealing

Durge begins their serial killing spree in Baldur’s Gate

The Emperor dominates Duke Stelmane

1480s

Gortash establishes a cult of Bane in Baldur’s Gate

Gortash approaches Durge about an alliance

Hall of Wonders test mission - Durge gets Bhaalist memorabilia - Gortash gets a bunch of Gondian designs - Durge & Gortash get companionship

Gortash trades Karlach to Zariel for infernal machinery & iron

Baldur’s Gate’s Beloved Ranger statue goes missing

Gortash recruits Franc Peartree to distribute infernal iron weapons

Gortash moves against the Zhentarim & Knights of the Shield

Wyll Ravengard enters pact with Mizora, leaves Baldur’s Gate

1490s

Dead Three made aware of the Crown of Karsus (most likely informed by Gortash) - Gortash becomes Bane’s Chosen - Durge becomes Bhaal’s chosen - Gortash & Durge are instructed to recruit Ketheric

Gortash tells Durge about the Crown of Karsus

They visit Ketheric and learn of the illithid colony under Moonrise

Gortash & Durge visit the House of Hope (for intel on Mephistar?)

Gortash & Durge raid Mephistar - They get the Crown of Karsus - They get the book on the accelerated grand design

Gortash captures the Emperor

Gortash & Durge return to Moonrise - Their identities are kept secret from Ketheric’s people - Durge impresses the Moonrise Gnolls, but not Steelclaw - Ketheric yells at Durge in the throne room for unknown reason

Durge proposes their plan to the Elder Brain who accepts

Raid on the illithid colony - Durge puts the Crown on the Elder Brain - Orin gets Durge alone during the raid & stabs them in the head - Orin tadpoles Durge, making them the first True Soul - Orin leaves Durge in an illithid pod - Orin tells the Chosen she now speaks for the Temple of Bhaal - Orin likely told Gortash, Ketheric, and Balthazar something vague about Durge’s disappearance being related to Durge’s religious crisis and let their imaginations do the rest

1492

Durge breaks out of their pod & is found by Kressa Bonedaughter

Gortash gets weird and intense with unethical experiments - Some futzing to get the tadpoles to consistently remain in stasis - This is when the name ‘True Souls’ gets coined - Extremely questionable fun with brains - Getting the Absolute’s voice sorted out - Tadpoling his parents - Poorly conceived experiments on children & their parents

Isobel is resurrected by the Dead Three

Minsc captured by Absolutists at recruitment rally in the Undercity

Minthara Baenre is recruited by Orin and Ketheric

Gortash has the Iron Throne converted to hold hostages

Gortash presents prototype Steel Watcher to the city council

Jaheira tracks cult to shadow-cursed land, meets Isobel

Elturel falls into Avernus

The brain sends the Chosen dreams about the Astral Prism

Gortash researches the Prism, finds out that Vlaakith has it

Gortash tells Ketheric to send a team to get the Prism - A nautiloid piloted by the Emperor and other illithid is sent - Kressa’s husband arranged for Durge to be on the nautiloid

Gortash deploys Steel Watch in Lower/Outer City

At this point Elturel is no longer in Avernus

Nautiloid picks up Shadowheart & the Prism from Astral Plane

Nautiloid picks up Lae’zel (?)

Nautiloid picks up Gale (?) & Astarion in Baldur's Gate

Nautiloid picks up Karlach & Wyll in Avernus

Nautiloid crashes, game begins

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florencemtrash · 3 months

Text

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twelve

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: None! Familiar faces return to Velaris and Y/n finally gets a chance to explore the city...

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

I’ve been dreaming again. Dreaming of him.

Thanatos. With his milky pale skin the color of bleached bones. Bold brush strokes of black ink mark his clothes and paint his hair and his marble eyes. I should feel unsettled when looking into the face of death. But I don’t. I’m the only one who gets to see him like this. The only one who gets to see his true face and I don’t know why. He doesn’t understand it either, and it frustrates him to no end.

He’s almost as curious as I am. Almost.

He came to the cabin again today, carrying that black lit candle between his spindly fingers like he believed in the Mother and was prepared to pray and sing to her like the rest of us. He says he likes to hear me during the service, tiny and informal as it is, but really I think he’s here because it irks me, and because I’m some tapestry he can’t seem to unravel.

He asked me again whether I’d call upon the Mother for him. He says he has a question that needs answering, and once he has his answer, he’ll be able to tell me how we can defeat Koschei. If it’s even possible.

But I don’t believe that male for a second. He’d sooner carve the world to bits and devour the scraps before helping us like the coyote he is.

Rest assured I will never agree to his bargain. It will take more than that to turn Bethsevah Mordeigh.

Although he said something strange that night, when the candles had dripped and left their waxy marks on the altar.

“You were made to ruin me, Beth,” he said, “And I will let you do it a thousand—a million—times over.”

He spoke in a dozen different voices, but I can’t deny I liked how the sounds came together and became his own.

You jerked awake with your hand still cradling the book against your chest.

Bethsevah Mordeigh.

You had a name.

You had a name!

You burst out of your room.

“Az! Az! I’ve got something.” You beat your fist against his bedroom door. “Az!” There was silence.

The kitchen was empty, dirty dishes scrubbing themselves clean in the sink. A glance at the clock above the oven told you you’d slept in a great deal.

You took the steps two at a time, sprinting down the hallway towards the west wing. The training arena took up most of the second floor stocked with enough weapons to outfit a small army. Wood and stone knobs stuck out from the wall at extreme angles as part of the climbing gym. The ceiling dipped up and down like draped fabric. On any other day you would have seen Valkyries with rippling arms and backs making their way up to the green flag pinned directly above the room’s center point, bodies straining against the pull of gravity. But not today.

Two of the three mats spaced across the room were occupied and you heard the beat of Illyrian wings before you even opened the double doors.

Feyre and Nesta stood against the side wall bracketed by racks of steel swords, glistening throwing knives, and an Illyrian bow as long as you were tall.

Feyre licked her lips, greedily tracing Rhysand’s powerful form as he went toe to toe with Azriel. You couldn’t help but stare as well as they leapt around the ring in a blur of wings and shadow. You’d never seen Azriel shirtless but… well… it was a sight you could get used to.

It was a dance — a dangerous, deadly dance — and although the language of violence wasn’t one you were familiar with, you could read the display well enough to know that Azriel would win this round.

Sweat glistened on his skin, slipping down the curves of his back where leathery black wings fused with his shoulder blades. Tattoos wrapped around his shoulders and across his chest, pulsing with a life of their own as Azriel cleanly side stepped one of Rhysand’s kicks. There was the faintest crease in the High Lord’s brow to let you know he was getting tired.

But Azriel was just getting started. And now that he knew you were watching? He wanted to make it worth your while.

Rhys gritted his teeth, launching out with a strike quicker than lightning. Someway, somehow, Azriel was faster. He dipped to the side, Rhys’s knuckle just kissing his cheekbones and came up for a counterstrike, slamming his fist so hard into his brother’s cheek that he staggered back.

That was unnecessary. Rhys snapped his jaw back into place.

Azriel grinned. Fatherhood suits you. But I can’t let you get soft.

There was a roll of violet eyes. Sure. That’s why you’re trying so hard right now.

Rhys snatched Azriel’s leg out of the air, rolling onto the ground in a move that sent the Shadowsinger twisting in a graceful arch that had your breath catching in your throat. He broke free of Rhysand’s hold, leaping onto his feet like gravity didn’t apply.

You met his eyes, heady and dark, and could have sworn he winked. But it may have just been a trick of the light.

You ducked your head, hurrying across the room towards Feyre and Nesta and hoping they wouldn’t comment on the flush creeping up your neck.

“Fey—” you began urgently.

The High Lady held up a hand and you fell silent. There was a sheen to her eyes that let you know she was honing in on Rhysand’s moves with more than just her eyes.

Nesta smirked at you as you blushed. You struggled to keep your gaze from drifting back to the powerful display, even as you caught glimpses of Azriel’s tan body out of the corner of your eye. Rippling, bold, strong.

“Don’t worry about staring,” Nesta said with a wicked glimmer. “The boys admire us. We admire them. It’s an even exchange.”

One mat over Cassian was sparing with a new female you’d never seen before. Illyrian, but there was something wrong with her wings. They were held strong and proud above the ground, but they dragged in places where Cassian had control over every minor movement. If you concentrated closely enough, you could make out the thin, shiny scars that had snipped the tendon closest to the apex of her wings, just by the arch of her claws.

Your stomach dropped with horror.

Her wings had been clipped.

She held her own against the Lord of Bloodshed. Cassian might have had the advantage of experience and his longer limbs, but she moved with a daring determination. She dodged every blow by the narrowest margin, conserving her energy so when she was able to slip close and find her opening, she slammed her elbow up and into his nose with a sickening crack that echoed throughout the room.

You winced, hands flying up to your face at the same time that Cassian’s did.

“FUCK!” He roared.

“Whooo! THAT’S MY WIFE!” A gorgeous, curvy blond hung off one of the ring posts, legs propped up on the tensioned ropes.

There was only one member of their family that had ever been described as sunlight incarnate. That had to be Mor. Which meant the striking female currently giving Cassian hell on the mat was Emerie.

Emerie blushed, stealing a heavy look for long enough for Cassian to snap his nose back into place. He ducked down and swept her legs out from beneath her, wrestling her to the ground in a tangle of leather and wings. But Nesta didn’t let him have the advantage for too long.

Cassian choked on the teasing words he’d prepared for Emerie when Nesta sent him a particularly candid image of herself in a strip of black fabric.

For later tonight. She whispered down the bond.

Damn it Nes.

Emerie smashed her forehead into his already swollen nose, then her knee surged up with enough strength to crack ribs. She braced her foot against his chest and flipped him over her head and onto his back, wrapping her powerful legs around his neck and pinning him to the ground with his arm forced back in his socket. Finally he tapped out.

“Poor Illyrian baby,” Nesta crooned as Emerie pulled Cassian to his feet. Despite the blood that dripped from his nose, he was glowing with pride at Emerie. “Better luck next time.”

Mor grasped Emerie by the front of her training gear and yanked her close for a long kiss that left the Illyrian stumbling back with red lipstick smeared over her lips and a dark blush across her caramel cheeks.

Nesta yelped when Cassian wrapped his arm around her waist, lifting her off the ground with one arm like she weighed nothing.

“We could try that move tonight. Your legs, my face? But this time I won’t tap out.” Cassian winked and Nesta leveled a sultry glare in his direction, eyes lingering on the sheen of his muscular chest with unabashed heat.

“Get a room,” Mor called out and Emerie threw a towel in his direction. It landed over his shoulder with comical perfection.

“Says the pair that had to disappear to another continent after their wedding ceremony.”

Mor flung an obscene gesture his way and Cassian returned it with equal fervor. “Says the pair that made Azriel run for the hills when he was left to chaperone.”

“Hey! That’s on Rhysand. He never should have left us with a chaperone at all.” Nesta cut in.

“You rang.” Rhysand appeared sweaty and spent behind Mor’s shoulder and slung his arm around her. The bruises on his cheeks were turning darker by the second.

Azriel hovered on the edges of the crowd, glancing at Mor and then at you. He was mildly disappointed that you’d been too busy watching Cass and Emerie to see him win at the end of the fight.

“Gross, get off of me.” Mor shoved her cousin away.

Rhysand’s shoulders shook with laughter. He smiled at you, eyes gleaming with happiness. It had been so long since he’d last seen his cousin.

“Mor.” He gestured to you, “Meet Y/n—” He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I think I just realized I don’t know your last name.”

“Halwynn.” You offered up your mother’s last name. Even though you technically didn’t have any right to it as a bastard, it’s the name you’d gone by your whole life.

“Meet Y/n Halwynn,” Rhysand finished.

“The resident intellect,” Mor said, caramel-brown eyes shining. “Well thank the Mother, you showed up when you did.” She looped her arm around yours easily and you caught a whiff of the perfume she’d dotted against her collarbones — amber and vanilla. A ruby the size of your thumb hung from a gold chain, following the dramatic dip in the front of her scarlet dress that left little to the imagination. You thought she might just be the most gorgeous female you’d ever seen.

“We’d be absolutely lost without you. I hope the Library is up to your standards, although let’s be honest, it probably isn’t.”

You agreed a little too quickly.

“Bethsevah Mordeigh.” Rhysand turned the name over in his mind, testing its familiarity and coming up empty. “Any takers?”

You all stood around Rhysand’s desk, the book propped open beside bottles of jet-black ink, eagle-feather pens, and neat stacks of parchment paper.

Everyone shook their heads.

“Fair enough.” He looked disappointed, but not surprised. “We’re only separated by a few thousand years, give or take.”

You paced in front of the windowsill, nervously picking at your fingernails until they were under threat of bleeding. Azriel noticed and one of his shadows gently wrapped around your wrists and pulled your hands apart. You looked at him gratefully and stuck your hands in your pockets.

“The oldest text I’ve seen dates back twelve-thousand years,” Feyre offered. “I’ve also asked Gwyn and Clotho to begin searching.”

“What about the Day Court?” Azriel looked at you.

“I can ask Helion to search the archives. But I’ll warn you, records dating back that far are few and far apart. And priestesses back then were less keen on recording the movements of their members. But we might get lucky with some of her descendants if they ever joined the order. Work our way backwards through history.”

Mor shot Rhysand a look. “Why ask me to come back here now? I could have been of better use searching for this information on the Continent.”

“Now is not the time for you to be traversing foreign lands. Not with Koschei at risk of being let loose.”

You shook your head. “And it wouldn’t matter. Bethsevah wouldn’t have been born on the Continent. If she ever went, it would have only been to trap Koschei. Our best bet is to search for information about her down south.”

The others stared at you in confusion. You blinked as if the answer was obvious. “Organized religion surrounding the Mother emerged in Southern Prythian and her priestesses didn’t spread out to Hybern or the Continent until the Insynthian Age.”

“Your point being?” Nesta folded her arms over her chest. When it came to the specifics of Prythian history, she and Feyre were about as useful as a glass rod in a lightning storm.

“The bit about the candles is a very, very old ceremony. People would write their prayers in blood and have a priestess burn them on a candle made with a strand of their hair woven into the wick. If Bethsevah was a priestess performing this ritual, she would have been an early member of the order. Before the Insynthian Age.”

“That would narrow things down significantly.” Rhysand nodded in approval. “I’ll reach out to Lucien, see if he’ll be able to find anything out for us.”

You pulled a sheef of paper out from your pockets and Helion’s pen. You scribbled down a note to him about what you’d discovered and within five minutes the words were racing south to the Day Court.

“How on earth do you know this?” Mor asked incredulously, looking at you with a mixture of awe and bewilderment.

“I’m a Librarian.” She looked unimpressed by that statement. “I had a religious phase.” You smoothed your thumb over your necklace, feeling for your mother’s seal — a flowering heather and fountain pen crossed over in an “x”.

“A religious phase?”

“Yes.”

She clicked her tongue, red lips turning up in a smirk. “You Day Court fae are certainly something.”

You blushed. “I’ll let you know if I learn anything else.” You went to grab the book, but Mor’s hand slapped down first, pinning it to the table and you with a stare.

“Nope. Work is for tomorrow,” Mor declared, eyes glittering with fondness. “Today, I want to see my city with my family.”

You tapped the book through your robes, counting the rhythmic swings against your hip like a metronome. One. Two. One. Two. One-

Cassian leaned down to whisper, “You’re doing great,” before waving to a male with ash-blonde hair standing beside an apple cart.

Pink ladies, honeycrisps, and ambrosias were piled high into luscious clouds. Two gestures and a flick of a coin through the air later and Cassian was shoving a small, flimsy basket in your hand. Roasted apples covered in burnt sugar and drizzled with caramel seeped into the wax paper.

One. Two. One. Two.

It was still too early for most of the Night Court, but the hustle and bustle in the Palace of Bone and Salt was unperturbed. Now was the time for the owners of small shops to haggle for prices without interfering with common business. The apple cart you just left had a new customer already — a wispy female with candy-floss hair lugging a basket on wheels capable of carrying three bushels for the bakery two streets over.

“Would you like some?” You held the food up to Azriel, but he only stumbled over a crack cobblestone street before shaking his head no.

He was being awfully quiet today. Quieter than usual.

Maybe he’s sick? You thought to yourself. He hadn’t eaten lunch either, but maybe that was just because he disliked the sandwiches you’d made. Or maybe it was because of a certain blond-haired female who kept giving him side glances with questions eating at her from the inside out.

“Come on,” you encouraged, nudging his shoulder. “You haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

Azriel looked at the apple slice you held out for him like it was a personal torture.

Cassian grinned and slung his arm over your shoulders, peeling you away from Azriel’s side to his relief. The weight was a comfort coming from him and you felt that thrill in your stomach whenever any member of the Inner Circle touched you.

“Azriel won’t starve. I promise, Y/n.”

Nyx thought he might starve. He was a growing boy, and had a stomach to match. He tapped your elbow and you wordlessly passed over the basket to him, but not before snatching a piece for yourself. The sugar crackled, then melted over your tongue, the sharpness from the apple cutting through caramel in a burst of tartness.

“How is Helion doing by the way?” Mor dropped the question casually. “Rhys says you know him well.”

You blinked at her. What did she care about Helion? “I’ve worked on a few projects for him before this one. And he’s doing as well as he can be, I suppose. Things aren’t exactly perfect in the Day Court right now.”

“Ah, Helion,” Mor breathed out, almost wistfully, “He was one of the few good males I ever slept with.”

You choked on your food, sputtering and coughing for long enough that Cassian started to slap your back. You felt your bones shake with each blow.

So… Mor had slept with your father… figures.

Feyre looked at you with concern. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” you said meekly. You shoved more food in your mouth before anyone could ask any further questions.

Azriel felt that familiar pool of jealousy bubble in his stomach at the mention of Helion. You kept rubbing that necklace of yours, Helion’s seal displayed prominently like he’d personally stamped you as his.

He allowed himself to get close enough to brush against your shoulder and a few of his shadows creeped onto your body, weaving themselves into your hair. You looked up at him and smiled.

“You’re in a good mood today.” Azriel’s hazel eyes were brighter in the morning light, flecks of green poking through the amber. “You’re smiling.”

And what didn’t you have to be smiling about? You were finally exploring Velaris. Mor, Cassian, and Nyx had touched you, albeit through the fabric of your robes, and you hadn’t been overwhelmed. And you’d finally been able to take knowledge from the book.

It had been a pinch of information as potent as saltwater. You had gotten a name, and names held power.

Azriel’s eyes glimmered with quiet delight.

“I’m just happy,” you said. “I think things are getting better, with—” You glanced down at where your arms swung side by side and you reached out a finger, allowing it to gently brush against the scars at the top of his left hand. You curled your fingers around his for the briefest moment before letting go. “And… you know.” You shrugged.

Azriel stopped walking abruptly and everyone turned to stare at him. The Shadowsinger was strung taughter than an Illyrian bow.

Mor raised her brow in open appraisal. There was a flash of something like shock in her eyes and then she was buried in Emerie’s hair, whispering something into the female’s rounded ears that had her dark carved eyebrows flying up to her hairline.

“Az?” Rhys asked cheekily, “Everything alright?”

Cassian chuckled and even Nesta smirked.

Last year he was giving Elain and Gwyn the bedroom eyes, and now he short-circuits because Y/n brushes her hand against his? I don’t believe what I’m seeing, Cass.

Some females like their males a little pathetic and lovesick.

You would know.

Cassian chuckled, looping his arm around her waist and burying his lips in her hair. He twirled the face framing pieces between his fingers like he always did, and Nesta tried not to think about how she’d first started leaving them out after meeting the Lord of Bloodshed. It would seem she had once been a pathetic and lovesick fool herself.

I love it when you tease, Nes.

Maybe she still was. Nesta couldn’t help but lean into his touch.

They do make a good couple. She admitted and Cassian was in agreement.

Feyre was thinking the same thing as you twisted towards him, hand still outstretched like there was a string tying your fingers to his. You couldn’t help but want to drift towards him as surely as gravity makes rain fall to the earth.

Does she know? Mor grasped Rhysand’s arm, eyes wide and staring. Does she know they’re mates?

Not yet.

Mor groaned. Are you fucking kidding me?

I wish I was.

Damn you, Azriel.

Azriel shook his head and forced his body to move forward. The world had stopped when you touched him, and it was only just starting to pick up again.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

Nyx munched on his apple slice, staring at you both curiously before following after his mother and father.

“Did you hear something?” You stayed by his side, no longer interested in the aromas fluttering in the air from the bakery, the soup shop with its stone vats bubbling in the back, the smokehouse with its slabs of bacon crackling on grease. “From your shadows?”

“No. Why did you think that?”

“You had a look in your eye, like you weren’t quite there for a second. My mother used to say that I looked like that sometimes when using my powers. Like for a moment I was untethered from the earth and at risk of floating away.”

Azriel saved that piece of information, storing it away in his mind next to the knowledge that you had always wanted a dustbear for a pet because they were such simple, mindless creatures and you never felt overcome in their presence.

“I do feel that way at times.” He waited until your little troupe passed by the spice shops. The particles in the air always made Cassian sneeze. “But not now.”

Everyone dipped into a paisley blue building, the bell ringing with a soft clang to announce their presence.

“Right now I feel… settled.”

You grinned at him brighter than the sun, moon, and stars combined. “Good.”

You followed after the others, and while your back was turned, Mor took her opportunity. She clawed the back of Azriel’s leathers, hauling him down the alleyway before anyone could notice.

Azriel’s eyes blew open in surprise when Mor shoved him up against the wall hard enough for a rain of petals to fall over their heads from the second floor balcony. It would have been romantic if it weren’t for the incredulous look in Mor’s eyes and the fact that Azriel was still caught up in your smile and the feeling of your skin against his. Gods he wished you were the one pressing him against this wall. He couldn’t stop thinking about that hug in Rhysand’s office. He wanted to feel the softness of your body against him once more.

“You idiot!” Mor slapped him across the face and it shocked him back to the present. “Why didn’t you tell me you found your mate?” She hissed.

Azriel looked frantically back to the street, half expecting you to be standing there with your inquisitive eyes. It was still a jolt to his system whenever anyone used that word: mate. Equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. It was such a fragile word, and the others tossed it around so dangerously.

“I didn’t—” Azriel stammered. Mor and Emerie’s arrival this morning had been unexpected for everyone except Rhysand and Feyre. “There wasn’t time.” “So?! You should’ve made time.” Mor stepped away, letting the Shadowsinger back down onto his feet. He had the good sense to look sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck while Mor tossed her waist length hair over her shoulder. Her cheeks were flushed pink, tanned and freckled from her time on the Continent.

Azriel felt that familiar coil of guilt building in his stomach and he tried to remember the apology he’d been preparing for this exact moment when he and Mor would be alone.

He cleared his throat and bowed his head to the ground in a picture of reverent apology. “Mor, about what I said—”

She crashed into him again, arms looping around his neck and squeezing him so tightly he felt his ribs crack. And she was… laughing?

“You have a mate!” She giggled through happy tears, bouncing on her feet. Her heels clicked against the granite tiles. “My best friend finally has a mate!”

She kept repeating it over and over again, like she couldn’t quite believe it herself.

“Mor, please. Keep it down.” They were attracting attention and Azriel wordlessly summoned his shadows to hide them from view.

Mor finally let him go, covering her mouth with her hands. “I’m sorry I just—” She squealed.

Azriel let out a long, heavy sigh. This was closer to the reaction he should have had when Mor and Emerie announced their engagement. Instead he’d gone cold and silent.

He should have known Mor preferred females, and maybe he had known all along that Mor could never love him the way he’d once loved her. But he’d done what he always did when it came to love and ran forward with a blindfold on, hoping his aim was true but never bothering to check.

Mor furrowed her brows. “Are you upset by this? Why do you look like that?”

“What?” Azriel hissed like the question physically hurt him. “No. No! I’m not upset, I’m—” He clenched his fists and said in a small voice, “I think I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” He took a deep breath and winced, “And I’m thinking that you must have felt similarly when you got together with Emerie, and that I royally fucked up by reacting the way that I did.”

He could picture it clear as day — Mor’s radiant smile slipping off her face, left hand dropping behind her back to hide the glittering ruby, the tears that gathered in her eyes when all Azriel did was remain stiff as stone before dropping off the balcony at her engagement party.

Mor hesitated then tucked her honey-gold waves behind her ears like she did whenever she was uncomfortable. “I should have told you sooner.” Azriel knew she was referring to more than just her relationship with Emerie. “I knew you loved me and I let you believe for so long that there might be a chance I could return those feelings. But I was scared because… because I wanted to know there would always be someone waiting for me if…” She pressed her hands over her stomach. The nails may have disappeared from her body without a trace, but they’d been hammered elsewhere in her soul and she hadn’t managed to take them out just yet. “It was wrong of me to use you like that. To keep you waiting for so long.”

Azriel rubbed her shoulders. “I think you gave me more than a few hints that it wouldn’t work out. Chief among them, Cassian.” Mor’s gaze dropped to her feet, but all Azriel did was press a gentle kiss to the crown of her forehead. “I still love you, Mor, and I always will. It’s just a different kind of love now. I’m happy for you and Emerie. Truly.”

“Yeah?” She looked up hopefully.

Azriel nodded. He pulled Mor close, wrapping his wings around her to block out the sounds of bartering happening in the square. They stayed like that for a long while, until the shadows on the wall had dropped another inch.

Mor sniffled and pushed him away. “Ok, enough of this now.” She carefully brushed away at the corner of her eyes, “You’re ruining my makeup.”

Azriel’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, and Mor noted how it seemed to come easier to him now.

The whole day you’d felt that something was amiss, but it wasn’t until a flustered artisan carrying bolts of spider silk fabric crashed into you that you realized what it was.

You stumbled into Azriel’s sturdy arms, feeling the strength and power beneath his leathers as he propped you up against his side.

“So sorry, miss. Please forgive me.” The artisan blubbered. His cat eyes glowed a pale orange as they flickered over you from head to toe, “Can’t see with this.” He lifted the bolt. There was something about his gaze that unsettled you, like he was searching for something. Like he was hungry. Or scared.

“It’s alright.” You adjusted your clothes, tucked the book behind your back so it was pressed up against Azriel’s hip.

That look in his eyes disappeared and he huffed in relief before continuing down the cobblestone streets, too much in a hurry to notice the Shadowsinger glaring at him.

“Are you ok?” He let you find your footing, keeping his hand at the small of your back.

You stared at the male’s retreating form. “He didn’t… he didn’t bow to you. To any of you.” You blinked at Feyre and Rhysand.

She wore no crown, no jewelry except the ring on her finger and the diamonds in her ears, but the male must have known he was in the presence of his High Lady. And there was no mistaking Rhysand and his brothers.

“Like Azriel said when you first arrived here, we take the casual approach.” Feyre said, and as if to make the point, Nyx shoved his hands in his pockets, tilting his head to the side in a manner so like Rhys that Azriel and Cassian burst out laughing. Rhys looked down fondly and brushed back his hair.

Feyre drifted to your side, watching with amusement as Nyx disappeared into the forest of color that was the Palace of Thread and Jewels. Every inch of fabric was too precious to be wasted, and so the weavers collected the scraps and tied them together, end to end, until they became one long chain. They hung from the entrances of shops, from the arches criss-crossing overhead, and from hand-painted signs. They wrapped around doorways and caught on the shoulders of passerbys, whispering of the time and effort spent crafting them.

Nyx weaved in and out of these strands, chased by Cassian and Azriel as they pretended to be tricked by the little boy’s lithe footsteps. You gasped as he turned invisible, then reappeared four inches to his left, jabbing at Azriel’s side before disappearing again.

“He can wrap light around himself as much as he can weave darkness,” Feyre explained, staying close to your side, “I think he might have gotten some remnant of the Day Court’s power from me. It made him an absolute nightmare for about three years when he couldn’t control it. Can you imagine having a toddler waddling around and wreaking havoc that you can’t even see?”

Nesta let out a sharp breath of laughter. “I think that’s an experience unique to you, Fey.”

You had to agree. You’d never turned invisible as a child, although you had to admit it would have been a very useful power to inherit from your father.

“Gotcha! You little rascal!” Cassian said triumphantly.

You heard Nyx shriek with laughter. Cassian and Azriel both had one arm raised above their heads and with a little shake the boy came back into view, dangling upside down from his ankles.

“Don’t break the boy, Cass.”

“I won’t break him, Rhys. Gotta let him grow old enough to beat all those bastards at Windhaven, don’t I?”

Rhys and Feyre’s smiles slipped ever so slightly.

Nyx was lowered to the ground. He kept his arms out and balanced on his hands for a brief moment before walking over onto his feet with a flourish.

“Gwyn taught me that last week. She’s part river nymph. Very flexible.” He brushed invisible dirt from his shirt and continued on, leading the way towards the Sidra like he owned the place — which in some respects he did.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

Just another little chapter with more slowburn antics between Y/n and Azriel! And! Mor and Emerie are here! I am slowly but surely collecting characters like pokemon cards because you know I want to have my favorites in Velaris when shit starts to go down...

#azriel x reader #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #the shadowsinger and the inkbird #acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel angst #azriel spymaster

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fahye · 2 months

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US cover reveal: SWORDCROSSED

are we readyyyyyyyyyyy

Illustration by Cynthia Sheppard, art direction by Christine Foltzer. Yes those are RED SPRAYED EDGES and yes this is a ROMANCE CLINCH.

High heat. Low stakes. Sharp steel.

Mattinesh Jay, dutiful heir to his struggling family business, needs to hire an experienced swordsman to serve as best man for his arranged marriage. Sword-challenge at the ceremony could destroy all hope of restoring his family’s wealth, something that Matti has been trying—and failing—to do for the past ten years. What he can afford, unfortunately, is part-time con artist and full-time charming menace Luca Piere. Luca, for his part, is trying to reinvent himself in a new city. All he wants to do is make some easy money and try to forget the crime he committed in his hometown. He didn’t plan on being blackmailed into giving sword lessons to a chronically responsible—and inconveniently handsome—wool merchant like Matti. However, neither Matti’s business troubles nor Luca himself are quite what they seem. As the days count down to Matti’s wedding, the two of them become entangled in the intrigue and sabotage that have brought Matti’s house to the brink of ruin. And when Luca’s secrets threaten to drive a blade through their growing alliance, both Matti and Luca will have to answer the question: how many lies are you prepared to strip away, when the truth could mean losing everything you want?

Preorder US (October 8th)

Preorder UK (October 10th)

Add on Goodreads

(UK/Commonwealth readers, there'll probably be a different cover for us, so watch this space! Or subscribe to the author newsletter to get all the essential updates.)

#swordcrossed #freya marske #it's so beautiful!!#will I ever get sick of marketing this #with YES THE SWORDS DO CROSS #while sniggering #signs point to no

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gurugirl · 4 months

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Can We Start Over? | Ch. 1 The Winter Ball

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers

A/N: This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).

Chapter 1. Summary: You meet Harry at your boss's retirement party and your night ends with a bang.

Word Count: 10k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, alcohol consumption, angst

Can We Start Over? masterlist

The winter ball was something Mr. Spector threw every year for his clients, colleagues, and other wealthy people he wanted to be seen with. This one was like the past three you’d attended, but unlike the others, this would be the last. Your boss, Mr. Spector was retiring, and he was moving to Italy. You were happy for him. Truly. He’d been good to you the past three and half years you spent working for him. You took on the duty of a personal assistant and friend. The friend part came naturally, of course. It wasn’t part of your job description but you honestly really liked Mr. Spector. He wasn’t nice to most people. But to you, he was kind of like the dad you never had. He was hard-nosed but he was fair and somehow you two just clicked.

You worked for one of the most elite household talent staffing companies out there. Your clients usually consisted of, not just wealthy people, but filthy rich and usually the kind that wanted to fly under the radar and needed the utmost discretion. In Mr. Spector’s case, he didn’t want his spiteful children to know how much he was really worth. Sure they were in the will, and they’d certainly do well upon his passing (that was all they seemed to care about), but they’d never see the real number of his assets until it was too late and everything was already doled out according to Mr. Spector’s wishes.

And so you helped him in any way you could to achieve this façade. You found a private accountant for him to move money about and helped him keep the appearance of not having the kind of money he actually did. You suggested, for example, that he not buy the Rolls Royce but that the Mercedes should be sufficient, and that rather than wearing a 31-million-dollar Patek Philippe, diamond-encrusted watch, he go with the more basic, 25-thousand-dollar stainless steel sports model Rolex instead. So he still maintained an air of wealth and prestige because there was no question to anyone that he was super rich. But you just helped him bring it down a notch.

And his winter ball was more like his retirement party this time around. He’d really gone all out. Despite your hesitation with some of his selections, you figured you’d give him this one. And you could admit that helping to plan his parties was one of your favorite tasks. You’d fly to venues all over the world seeking the best (once they’d been narrowed down of course) for him. Find the best chefs and mixologists, the perfect planners and decorators. You got to help select finishings, menus, and staff, right down to the types of linen and even the theme of the events.

And the theme of the night was A Secret Garden in the City. For this, you found a penthouse in Manhattan with full 360-degree views. The space was empty when you first arrived to look at it. You were told it wasn’t a place normally rented for parties but that the owner had intended to make it a fancy restaurant at some point. But it had been sitting for years, empty. And you found the place because Mr. Spector knew everyone. You had a number for a real estate agent to the wealthy in New York City and he gave you a bit of insider information. The penthouse space, he’d told you, could be negotiated by the owner to rent given the right price.

You had landscapers come in and make a garden of the space. Flowers, grass, trees, bushes, vines, even a lily pad pond… when everything was put together, it really did look like you were in a secret garden in the middle of Manhattan. Delicate string lights lit the space, the ceiling was painted a dark sky color so it felt as if you were outside. The table settings were like something out of a Hobbit’s Tale with knotty oak chairs with green silk cushions. The linens were of green satin silk with gold embroidery design and the napkins were gold satin. Centerpieces were potted leafy plants of all types, and moss was placed around the pots to give them that fairyland look. Tiny candles illuminated each table all around. Gold cutlery. Big golden lighted globes hung from the ceiling in various sizes between plants that cascaded down. It really was quite the spectacle.

You were proud of how it all turned out. And the 200 guests that Mr. Spector invited all appeared to be in awe of the space.

The stringed music playing for most of the event in the background was live. The musicians stood to the side of the room on a newly installed platform, trees lined the back of the stage. And now that the night was finally coming to an end, well, the main event had ended, it was time to drink and dance and let loose, the band was switched out for something rockier and more upbeat.

Mr. Spector kissed your cheek and gripped your arm, “My dear, you never cease to astonish me with your hard work. Thank you for this. I’ll see you in the morning okay?”

You tried to get him to stay and enjoy the after-party. And like every year before, he declined. He liked his private time. Liked reading and writing and the quiet. He preferred his guests to enjoy what he’d been able to give them. It was, after all, for them, he always said.

“Even though it’s your last event like this? You won’t get this again, sir. Are you sure?” You smiled at him and he nodded. You knew he’d decline to stay.

So, you ordered your second cocktail of the night once Mr. Spector left. Some type of green concoction with a blackberry-sized red flower floating atop. You didn’t know what was in it. All you knew was that it tasted delicious and it was going to get you into some trouble. But maybe that’s what you were looking for that evening. After all, this was your going away party as well. You’d be put back into the system as active again once you were officially out of Mr. Spector’s employ. It would be time to find your next role.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Many dancing, some sitting and chatting, others making their rounds to network and schmooze. You stayed at the edge of the dance area and let your body move to the rhythm. You kept your eyes on everyone. Even though you were trying to just enjoy yourself you still felt somewhat responsible for all the attendees. It was ingrained in you.

You definitely fit in with everyone, though. Your outfit was couture, high fashion like the rest of the guests. Mr. Spector had paid for everything for you, as always. You picked out a beautiful cowl neck, deep navy-blue velvet dress with a slit that went up to your mid-thigh. The back draped down tastefully but the drape at the front was dangerously low. Just like you wanted. You had red pumps with gold and ruby jewelry. It was always difficult finding things in your size that weren’t from a big box store but the hunt for the perfect dress and accessories was always worth it. And the dress? You felt absolutely sexy. From head to toe.

The song was swingy and fun. More people covered the dance floor and somehow you’d gotten pushed further in. You still had your drink in hand but now it was nearly empty so you were less worried about spilling any of the liquid on yourself.

A woman you recognized as a small IT business owner greeted you and you both chatted as you danced together. When the song changed Elsie pointed at your drink, “You’re low. So am I,” she lifted her glass to show you, “Should we grab more?”

The answer that night was yes. Yes to anything.

The bar that lined the wall opposite the band had people hovering, waiting for their drinks. You let Elsie take the lead in getting the attention of the bartender. She was a tall, slender blond with smooth shiny hair so you figured she’d do better at getting your drinks faster. And you were used to that. Being the fat one, you tended to get overlooked and ignored. When you were younger it hurt a lot more, but these days you learned to use it to your advantage.

It wasn’t that you thought you were ugly or unworthy. You just understood how most people perceived you, even if they were wrong. You were confident when it mattered and took good care of yourself. And you rarely ever mistook a man’s kindness for him flirting with you, which was nice in a way. You couldn’t ever wrap your mind around assuming every guy who was kind to you was flirting. A lot of your friends had that mentality. Any time a man would chat them up they’d automatically jump to thinking they were being sized up somehow. You couldn’t imagine feeling so confident that you thought a man having a conversation with you meant anything more.

So that’s why when the tall, gorgeous man with dark, soft curls, sharp green eyes, and an even sharper jawline leaned in and asked, “Are you having a good time?” You didn’t assume he was flirting with you.

“I definitely am. How about you?” You turned to look up at him. Deep pink lips, broad shoulders, a very expensive suit and shoes, cocky grin.

“Sure. But I had to fly out here to attend last minute. My assistant forgot to add the event to my calendar so I had to settle for this suit and here I am. I’ll deal with her later. Luckily Alfred always throws the biggest and best parties so it’s been worth it.”

You noted the tiny dig to his assistant in the back of your mind and nodded, “Yeah, Mr. Spector loves to go big. It’s turned out great I think.” You had planned on mentioning you were the man of the night’s assistant until Mr. Cocky complained about his own. So you’d keep that little detail to yourself.

He was drinking whisky, neat. And when Elsie finally returned to your spot at the edge of the bar she handed you your tasty green drink and you introduced her.

“Elsie, this is… uh… What was your name?”

“I’m Harry. Harry Styles,” he held his hand out, gaudy rings on most of his fingers toward the pretty blond and she nodded, “Elsie Powers. Nice to meet you.”

The pair got to talking the moment Elsie mentioned her company and so you decided to dip out. You didn’t need to stand around and watch them flirt, which is what you assumed was going on. They were both gorgeous so that seemed natural to you.

But before you could take even a step outside of the little bubble the three of you were in you felt Harry’s hand at your low back as he leaned down to speak into your ear, “Don’t go too far. I was hoping to ask you something.”

You looked down at his arm and back into his eyes, “Okay… I’ll be around. You can come find me.”

When his fingers slid off your back as you stepped away you still felt the heat of his skin where he’d touched you. You liked his touch, but you assumed it happened because you took up so much space. It was more likely, in your mind, that he hadn’t meant to touch you there at all.

After another cocktail and a bit more dancing by yourself, Harry did find you. You didn’t realize it was him at first. You felt a warm body dancing behind you, not touching, just near enough that the heat emanated from him to your back. But then you heard his voice, “Found you. Thought you left.”

You turned to look at him over your shoulder and spoke, “Was planning on staying til the end. Felt like I deserved to enjoy tonight.”

“And why’s that?” Harry’s hand brushed along your bare arm softly before he removed it. You felt the trail of where he’d touched your arm and it made you wonder if he’d done it on purpose.

“No reason. I just deserve it,” you kept swaying your hips and you felt Harry moving with you, standing over you. You could smell his cologne.

“You don’t mind me dancing with you, do you?” His voice was close to your neck as he spoke.

Shaking your head you turned your body to face him, swinging your hips softly, “Not at all.”

He grinned down at you and the dimple that appeared on his cheek had you taken aback. He was truly stunning.

“Good. Wanted to chat some with you. Find out more about you…” he took your hand in his and pulled you closer, shifting the mood a little as you both danced. You silently inhaled in surprise at his gesture.

“And what did you want to know, Mr. Styles?” You raised your brows and smirked at him. You weren’t sure at that point what he was doing. But he was certainly leading you to believe this was more than just a friendly chat.

“First, what’s your name?”

You laughed, “I’m Y/n. I guess I forgot to introduce myself.”

“Are you here alone, Y/n?” His free hand found a spot on your side over your hip.

“I am. What about you?” You weren’t used to receiving this kind of attention from anyone. Much less a wealthy handsome man.

“I’m here alone too,” he kept a cocky grin plastered to his face as he drew nearer and spoke lowly so only you could hear, “But was hoping I wouldn’t be leaving alone.”

It was at that moment you were truly surprised. Was he…? Couldn’t be. You’d surely misread this situation just in the way all your pretty girlfriends misread it every time a guy showed any friendliness. Maybe it was the three cocktails you’d drank and that had you wondering what was in them.

Harry's hand released yours and he brought his ringed fingers up to your shoulder where he brushed the side of your neck, drawing you in closer with his other hand at your hip, “What about you?”

You blinked your eyes and looked up at him in confusion, “What about me? What do you mean?”

Harry’s grin deepened as he looked down at your mouth and took a clear glance at your cleavage before responding, “Did you hope to leave with someone tonight?”

You scoffed and looked around the dance floor before looking back at him, still not quite believing the direction this conversation was headed, “I hadn’t imagined I would leave with anyone. Figured I’d just go back to my hotel room alone after.”

The ridiculously attractive man licked his lips and kept his gaze on yours, “Really? You don’t want someone to take you back to their room and help you out of this pretty dress tonight?”

You began to cough. You’d choked on your own saliva as you inhaled a sharp breath at the wrong moment. His words caught you off guard.

But now you were hacking and bent at the waist, red in the face like an idiot.

Harry patted your back and you heard him speak into your ear, “You okay, darling? Need some water?”

When you’d recovered you and Harry were standing at the edge of the dancefloor away from the crowd and he had a comforting hand on your back.

You laughed and shook your head, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened…” you wiped your face, which was moist from the tears you’d forced out from all the coughing.

Harry took your hand and led you to a free seat, pulling a chair out for you and then sitting next to you, his hand still on your back, “Do you feel better now?”

You nodded and smiled at him. You hadn’t forgotten what he said. But now you were sure whatever he was getting at was all but out the window after your little display.

“Come back with me to my room, Y/n.”

Well, that just blasted your little theory.

You sat up straight and your jaw dropped open wide, “Why?”

Harry laughed, “Because I don’t want to go back alone. Spend the night with me tonight.”

Were you in a dream? Had you drunk too much and were blacked out and hallucinating?

“I don’t… I’m not sure what you…” you were unable to put your thoughts together coherently. You hadn’t expected it. You assumed you weren’t his type. Too chunky for a man like him. Imagined he preferred a more modelesque figure on women he found attractive given his appearance.

“Look. I’ll just be very straightforward with you. I think you’re gorgeous and I’d like to have you in my bed tonight. Naked. How does that sound to you?”

You whispered the word naked back to him as if it were a word you’d never heard before. You took a deep breath and looked around the room.

“What are you drinking? I’ll go get us another so we can chat a bit before you make any decisions.”

Now this question was one you could actually answer, “The cocktail is one from the menu. Called the Grove.”

Harry got up and left you at the table by yourself. You sat back in the seat and sighed. What were you going to do? He was mouth-watering, which is why you choked on your spit in the first place. Your mouth was literally watering at his proximity on the dance floor. And now he was asking you to go back to his room to hook up. He couldn’t have made it clearer. There was no room for you to misinterpret what he meant.

And why should you say no? Why should you go back to your own room and sleep in that big bed all by yourself? Well, mostly because you were worried about getting attached. Sure you didn’t even know the guy but that’s just how you were. You weren’t built for casual hookups or one-night stands. And you were sure that’s all this would be. Could you handle it? Would you be able to have sex with someone and then move on from it?

When you saw Harry walking back toward you you’d made up your mind. You’d finish your drink and tell him your verdict. You needed one more drink, though. Just to really loosen up. If you were going to do this if you were going to take a risk and have sex with a stranger, one more drink would help you relax about the whole situation.

Harry handed you your cocktail and sat down with his whisky in hand. He brushed his fingers over your arm as he spoke about how he knew Mr. Spector, “His cousin was my boss years ago. Before I got started in my current line of business. And since then, Alfred’s been inviting me to his parties. I can’t usually go but I rarely miss the winter ball.”

“And what is your line of business?” You asked before taking another sip of your verdant drink.

Harry grinned and licked his lips, “Let’s not talk business.”

You frowned and looked down at your red-painted nails. It wasn’t always polite to ask people what they did for a living but you figured given the circumstances, those being that he’d just asked you to have sex with him, it was okay. Clearly, you’d misjudged.

Harry gripped your chin and pushed your head back up to look at him, “Don’t feel bad for asking. You were just curious. I think the less we know of one another the better. Besides, work talk is boring. Don’t you think?”

You blinked again, his intense gaze was really working its way under your skin.

“Okay. Sorry. You’re right.”

Harry shook his head, keeping his hand at your chin, “And don’t say you’re sorry. Wouldn’t you rather talk about anything but work right now?” He let go of your chin and sat back in his chair as he kept his eyes on yours.

“I guess. It’s just that everyone here is networking and I thought it was only natural.”

“You and I are not networking, Y/n.” Harry grinned.

By the time your drink was but a clear puddle of melted ice at the bottom of the glass, you could feel how hot your face was from the alcohol. Your neck and ears were burning and all of Harry’s soft touches were making you fuzzy. The way he was whispering in your ear…

“Okay. I’ll go with you to your room tonight,” you spat out quickly before you could change your mind.

Harry’s gaze lowered to your breasts again, his arrogant grin in place, “I know, darling. I was just waiting for you to admit it. You ready then?”

If he wasn’t so hot you’d have changed your mind at his cocky response. But god was he alluring. And somehow, his egotistical attitude was putting you at ease a bit. Because it would possibly be much easier to not get your feelings mixed up for a guy like him. It could just be a one-night stand. Like so many other people indulged in (which you always found absurd).

You both walked to the coat check to get your things before Harry led you, with his hand at your low back to the elevators.

You draped your wool coat over your shoulders and stood awkwardly in the elevator next to the man you were leaving with. You couldn’t believe yourself. You were 28 years old so it shouldn’t have felt like such a big deal but it was. You’d never done anything like it before.

“Are you nervous?”

You sighed and nodded as you looked up at the man, “A little. Haven’t ever done anything like this.”

Harry hummed and nodded, “I can tell. That’s okay. I’ll take the lead.”

There was a black car waiting for you at the curb as soon as you exited the building. A man who was standing near the car opened the back door and gestured for you to get in. You followed behind Harry and the door was shut, closing you off from the outside and loud noises of the city to the dark leather interior of the car. Harry’s hand slid up your exposed thigh the moment you’d settled into the seat, “We’re gonna have a lot of fun, me and you.”

You turned your head to look at him, “Are you always like this? So confident about everything?”

Harry laughed and squeezed at your thigh, “If I wasn’t confident I wouldn’t be as successful as I am.”

You guessed that made sense. You just found it so strange that he was so sure of himself even when he hardly knew you at all.

You felt Harry’s long, ringed fingers slide upward over your plushy thighs in search of your panties most likely. And when he leaned over you and took your jaw with his free hand and smushed his mouth against yours it felt like crystalized water beginning to melt and drip and pool onto the ground.

He pulled your hand onto his lap and pressed your palm over his crotch, to which you felt as he grew harder and harder as the seconds passed with your lips connected.

When he was satisfied that you would be keeping your hand in place as you pressed down harder he raised his hand to your breast, his palm placed over the soft velvet before he lowered his mouth to your neck causing you to lean back the slightest for his access.

The car ride ended before you even realized you’d been moving through the city streets when the door you were sitting next to opened and the driver looked in at you two all disheveled and mid-kiss with his hand out for you to take.

Harry walked you into the hotel, which happened to be the same one you had a room at (how convenient you thought). The elevator ride up to his room was not unlike the car ride where you’d lost track of time and space when his lips were on yours and his tongue softly swiped at your mouth. You’d never had a man act this way with you before. It almost felt like desperation. Like he couldn’t keep his hands off you.

Guiding you off the elevator and to his room, you felt buzzy and your heart was bouncing around in your chest wildly. His hand was at the back of your neck, his long fingers gently ghosting over your skin.

The moment you were pushed into his room Harry stood over you and began to loosen his tie, “Take your dress off. God, I need to see you.”

You were already worked up as you panted, keeping your eyes on his, slowly unzipping the back of your dress and stepping out. You had forgotten that you were wearing a nude shapewear slip that kept your tummy rolls in place and your breasts pert. The back of the slip was low cut to accommodate your dress. You looked down over yourself and stuck your fingers into the fabric to pull it down and as your breasts were revealed Harry groaned and leaned down to wrap his pink lips over your nipple. You watched his tongue drag over your plump flesh and his fingers dig into your heavy tits as he worked his way around both sides.

You were pressed against the wall as he pinned your arms back and kissed his way up your tits to your neck and then he found your lips.

Finally, he backed away, giving you space to finish the reveal of your body to him as he continued removing his own clothes.

You watched tattoos appear on his skin and the more buttons he undid the more you saw of him. He was strong and muscular. His pecs were impressive and he had a soft six-pack hidden under the fabric that you only saw once he tossed his shirt off. Tattoos on his arms scattered over his skin.

Tugging at your slip to get it off you knew Harry’s eyes were on your body. But you weren’t going to stop now. Even if you were slightly embarrassed. This was happening and you knew he wanted it. Sometimes you worried about the logistics of sex being as heavy as you were, especially when it came to being with a guy who was not at all. But Harry’s build was masculine and broad and he was clearly going to be able to handle you.

When his pants were off and he was down to his underwear you knew he was enjoying the view of all your bits based on the thick lump under the fabric. You were left standing in your silky black panties when he stood over you and smoothed his hands up your arms and palmed over your tits, “Jesus fucking Christ look at you. Get on the bed for me.”

You swallowed and stepped toward the area of the room where the bed was and sat at the edge, watching as he stalked after you. His eyes were dark as he crawled over you and nudged you with him into the middle of the perfectly made bed, soft and luxurious feeling under your skin.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he smoothed his lips against yours as he palmed over your skin down to your thigh, pinching at the fleshy insides as he pushed your legs open, putting his knees down into the mattress to keep you spread with his thighs.

He kept his lips working over yours, his tongue smearing against your tongue wetly as you felt his fingers dip down to your panties and then to the wet patch at your center. You could tell you were wet before he even touched you. He’d turned you on with ease. His voice, his body, his eyes, his confidence…

You felt him smile against your lips when he dredged his fingers up and down over your wet panties, right where your labia was. Soft strokes of his fingers pushed the fabric of your panties between your pussylips until he dragged a finger up and found your clit and you gasped. He circled over your clit, pressing the wet fabric into you.

When he lowered himself, using his lips and his tongue down your body as he went he looked up at your face after dotting kisses over your fleshy tummy, “You’re gorgeous and you smell so good. Such a dirty girl, though, aren’t you?” He dabbed more warm kisses down your stomach to just above your panties, “All wet for me like you’re desperate for cock,” he licked along the band of your panties and looked up at you again as he adjusted himself between your legs, “Are you desperate for cock, Y/n? Need me to take care of you tonight?”

You nodded, “Oh my god…” your words came out as a whisper, “Yes, Harry.”

When you felt his tongue glide up your crease over your wet panties your mouth dropped open wide. He was not holding back with the foreplay so far. You were usually disappointed in sex, the few times you’d had it. Foreplay was an afterthought. And only a handful of times did you ever receive any kind of mouth-to-pussy action, which you assumed was due to your size.

But Harry was having no trouble treating you like some kind of irresistible sex pot. He pushed your thighs harder and raked his tongue up and down over you until you’d bucked upward just a bit.

Harry’s fingers pulled at the waistband of your panties, “Taking these off because I need more.”

You felt your panties being moved down your legs then Harry returned with enthusiasm, his lips all over your cunt, sliding his tongue through your folds and his fingers pinching into your flesh before he poked the tip of his wet muscle to your clit and began to lick all around it, lapping you up and teasing you to the point you were shaking and whining, proving him right about how desperate you were.

When he finally stopped his teasing licks he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked. You gasped loudly and moaned, to which Harry moaned into your pussy.

His shoulders were against the back of your thighs as he masterfully licked you out and kissed your clit until you were reaching down with one hand to slide your fingers into his thick curls.

And that only seemed to stir something more ravenous in him. He growled when he felt you pulling at his roots and suddenly you felt his fingertips at your entrance before he pushed them in slowly, the metal of his rings being nudged in the slightest. You were in an alternate universe. Somewhere that only existed you and Harry and the bed you were on as you laid spread out for him to pleasure.

He was good with his tongue. He used it over your clit like he understood what you needed, putting pressure where it was vital and then slurping you into his mouth making your entire body quiver in ecstasy. His repeated movements, soft tonguing, pulling at your clit, the bump of his fingers through your walls and into your delicate warmth, the precipice of your orgasm was taunting you.

“Harry!” You yelped when he sucked your clit in especially roughly and his fingers dug in deep making your pussy squelch.

He smiled and lifted his mouth, speaking against your cunt, hot breath coating your labia and clit, “Feels good, Y/n? You gonna let me give you an orgasm?”

You moaned pitifully and nodded to yourself as you scrunched your face when he attached his wet lips back to your clit and curled his fingers just right, “Yes! Oh my god…”

You had never felt anything like it before. Like Harry. And maybe it wasn’t that he was all that good at cunnilingus (he was), but perhaps it was the way he was handling you. The way he was so eager to make you feel good. The way he wasn’t worried about his own throbbing cock between his legs, growing heavier by the minute as he sucked and licked and kissed your cunt.

His focus was on you completely and you felt that. You felt his attention and his devotion to your pleasure before his. And that was what did it for you. It was the care and thoughtfulness of it all. It wasn’t like anything you’d experienced with any man before and it pushed you over the edge.

Your orgasm rolled out of you in waves as you writhed under him and cried curses and nonsense into the room. He held you down with one hand as well as he could so he could lavish you with his mouth until you were done with your unraveling. His fingers stroked your insides as you pulsed around them and felt the tingle of your clit being overwhelmed by his lips. You gasped and laughed at the way he continued ravaging you well past what was necessary.

Releasing his hair you pushed yourself up by your elbows to see his face still between your legs, his eyes closed like he was enjoying it just as much as you had. It might have been the hottest thing you’d ever seen in your life. But that could have been all those feel-good chemicals being released in your brain post-orgasm.

You pushed at his forehead to indicate you were done, “Okay!” You tried closing your legs but Harry pulled his fingers from your pussy and pressed you down as he licked up and up and up. Until finally he opened his eyes and looked at you, lips still making out with your pussy as you laughed and tried pulling away.

“It’s too much!” You giggled and moved your hips under him.

Finally, he parted from your labia and pushed himself up over you, caging you in as he hovered, “Good?” He raised his brows.

You rolled your eyes, “Obviously.” You laughed as you spoke.

Harry grinned and you watched him move away from you, pulling his underwear down and exposing his weighty cock, thick and long. Yes. He’d be able to handle you just fine.

He grasped it in his hand and moved next to you. You sat up and reached out to feel him, velvety and warm under your palm before getting to your knees and looking up at him as you lowered your lips to his shaft. You wanted to feel it on your mouth and in your mouth.

Dragging your wetted lips down until you reached the base you gripped him and tongued your way up to his tip and heard a shallow gasp from his chest. Licking around his crown you pulled at his skin and wrapped your lips around just the very tip of his head before slipping your tongue around him and sucking softly.

A beautiful deep moan was music to your ears. He was enjoying it. So you indulgently lowered yourself down a bit more, feeling the width of him take up space inside your mouth and on your tongue. Gentle strokes of your lips over the top part of his shaft and over his swollen head felt good for you. You hadn’t given head in a long time. And you could tell Harry was into it.

He smelled good. Nice and clean and warm. You used your hand to pull at the base of his shaft up to your parted lips as you sucked on him and lapped around his skin.

When Harry’s moans turned into a rhythmic panting you felt his hand at your jaw, nudging you up until your lips were pulled away from his pretty cock, “You are desperate for cock. Sucking me like that? If I didn’t want fuck you so bad I’d let you finish me off with that gorgeous mouth.”

You shifted back as Harry leaned over you and pressed his mouth against yours, his hand at your neck pushing you down into the mattress. His mouth was wet and smelled like you as he smeared his lips on yours. You moaned when he parted from you and got off the bed.

You could hear the crinkling of the wrapper from the condom as he sorted himself out and then crawled back next to you, taking your hand, “How’s that sound, Y/n? Want my cock inside your soft pussy? Hmm?”

Looking down at his hard length, covered in a condom, and back into his eyes you nodded, “Yeah,” you were breathless.

The grin on Harry’s face as he moved between your legs, his eyes on yours was like someone who’d just gotten the best news they’d heard all day. He thread his fingers through yours, pressing the back of your hand down into the mattress near your head.

The front of his strong thighs pushed against the inside of yours as he positioned himself over you. His cock heavy on your belly before he moved back, letting go of your hand to grasp himself.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good. I want to hear how good it makes you feel, okay?” His tip dragged through your wet labia, up and down, “Just lie there like the pretty little thing you are, and let me fuck you deep.”

You nodded as you watched his eyes. He was looking down at where his cock was brushing over your wet and puffy pussylips, his lips parted as he bumped into your clit and then smacked his girth down over you.

The sound of his cock dragging through your arousal made you feel like a different person. No man had ever taken the time to indulge the way Harry was. It was clear by the look on his face that he liked everything he saw and even how soaked you were.

You felt the tip of his broad head nudge into your entrance as he looked at you with dark pupils. He pulled his brows together as he savored the feel of you and gently pushed through the ring of your wet muscle. Just knowing that you were making him feel like that had you moaning with your eyes locked on his.

“Feel that, Y/n?” He slowly dipped in and pulled back, wetting the condom as he went, pushing in deeper on each thrust forward.

“I feel it…” your words came out shaky as his length was forced through your slick walls, spreading your insides apart slowly.

Harry inhaled a breath and let out a deep moan when his cock reached as far as he could take it, “Taking my cock so good,” he pulled back and looked down at the scene between your legs. All wet and puffy, his cock coated in your creamy arousal. He loved the way your pussy gripped him and your labia stretched around his cock, “Gonna be dreaming of this,” he pressed his thumb over the space where his cock was moving into your entrance and then up to your clit to rub circles softly, wet and warm.

“Ohhh…” you whimpered when his thumb pressed into your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your entire body was boiling and buzzing as Harry rocked into you, his balls thwacking slowly into your ass.

“Yeah? Tell me how you like it, pretty girl.”

How could you answer this man with his dick lodged so deep in your tummy? How did he expect you to make a coherent sentence with the way his thumb was stroking your clit back and forth? How could your brain form any sort of response when his cock was dragging through your insides and pressing into all your bits, hitting your hidden spots like his shape was made just for you?

“I want it… Mmm… like that…” was all you could bear to squeak out when he smacked into you in one harsh thud.

“Harder? Softer?” His thumb never ceased the yummy caressing of your fleshy pearl.

“Fuck!” You gasped when he smacked into you again, causing your body to jolt upward from the force.

“Like that? Need it a little rougher, Y/n? Need my cock to split you in half?” Again, a harsh thrust into your guts that had you gurgling and falling apart too soon.

“Oh she wants it a little rough, I can tell. Your cute pussy likes a good pounding doesn’t she?”

You held your breath when you felt him angle over you and sink down into you until it hurt. Until his long cock was buried in so deep his balls were tucked against your ass as he ground himself in, “Pussy like this needs a lot of attention. Lots of care…” he moaned when you clenched around him, “Want me to take care of you? Want to feel what my cock can do to this pretty little pussy?”

“Yes, please, Harry!” You grasped onto his forearm as he rolled solidly into you, deep and slow, slushy and sopping between your thighs.

“Yeah? Gonna stuff myself so far into you that you can’t breathe. Gonna make you come so hard you’ll never want another cock again.”

You moaned and felt his crushing weight over you as he continued grinding his hips against yours but then suddenly he was pulling out and you felt a sting on your thigh when he smacked you, “Get on all fours.”

You were blurry and floaty as you rolled over and pushed yourself up to do as he asked. Your pussy puffy and begging for more of his cock.

His hands gripped the side of your hips tight and you smushed your face down to the mattress before you felt his cock rip into you in one punishing stroke. You cried out and he did it again. And again. His cock pummeled into you repeatedly, punching the air from your lungs and giving your pussy the best fucking of its life.

You did like it hard. A little rough. Nothing wild, just something that you could feel for a couple of days. Something that made you gasp and brace for more.

“Holy fuck…” Harry gritted as he fucked into you, watching his dick disappear repeatedly. Your pretty round bottom bouncing and wiggling at each plunge. He dug his fingers into your ample flesh and spread you out so he could watch as you gripped him exactly like he loved. The little noises you were making had him reeling.

It was his favorite. A beautiful woman with her ass in the air as he railed her deep. But especially when it was a nice big ass. He loved to be able to grip something in his hands. To squeeze and smack. It always felt so much better to have something to hold on to. Not that he didn’t love slender women. He certainly did. But there was nothing like the feminine physique of a woman with meat on her bones, wide hips, a big tummy, and extra bits to touch and run his fingers over. It was fucking sexy.

You could feel him as he worked you open. He buried in deep and then pulled back until his thick tip was being pushed through your entrance again and again. He was long and every inch of him pulled and pushed through your walls, sliding along all your bits and ridges making your skin heat up.

Then you felt his chest against your back and his cock was angled so far inside of you that your eyes nearly crossed, “Love your little gurgles and moans, Y/n. Feels good on my cock?” He rolled into you, keeping himself stuffed to the hilt.

“Yes! Fuck, Harry!” You turned your head to speak so he could hear you and then you felt his lips on your back as he kept rocking into you languidly, never pulling back, only dipping into you, swiveling his hips to ensure you could feel every part of his cock moving through you.

You felt a tear drip from your eye as he reached down for your hand and moved it toward your pussy, “Rub that wet clit, sweet girl. Want to see you quivering under me again.”

The moment your fingertips came into contact with your puffy nub you moaned and all you could feel was Harry’s warmth and his big cock and your clit being worked just how you liked.

He began to rut into you with unforgiving strength. Your body was being smacked into and your skin was beginning to burn where his hips were striking your ass. It felt incredible. It felt like a man who knew what he was doing.

“Yes! Yes!” You shakily cried out. Harry’s long shaft was gliding in and out and you could feel him every time your fingertips moved back the slightest. His heavy cock slipping into your pussy vigorously as you ran your fingers back and forth, up and down on your clit.

Harry put a hand on your low back and settled his thumb into the top of your crack as he watched your cunt swallow him on each thrust. He bit his lip at the gorgeous sight and lowered his other hand to your right cheek, pulling at your flesh to give himself a better look at how you were taking him. How perfect you were for his cock.

When he noticed your moans growing louder and more desperate and then saw your thighs shaking he pounded into you with deliberate, long strokes so you could really feel him inside of you.

And feel him you did. His length filled you up and pulled back, before pressing back in until your world began to spin and your pussy was powerless to your orgasm. You reared yourself back onto his cock and cried out pathetically as Harry breathed heavily and felt your cunt sucking him in and spasming around him.

“Oh, baby…” he moaned and watched more cream coat his cock from your pussy. You were coming hard, lips wide open as you cried out and gasped, and the way you were clenching around his cock felt like the best thing he’d ever experienced during sex. You were fucking sexy.

When your voice lowered and your body stopped quivering Harry halted his movements and ran his hands on your back gently and down to your bum, keeping his cock lodged inside of you, “Creamed all over my cock, Y/n,” swiped his thumb around the area where you two were connected and lifted it to his mouth to taste.

You panted and smiled into the blanket when he suddenly pulled out and popped your bottom with his palm, “On your back. Want to see that pretty face again.”

You were on the verge of being completely wiped out. You knew he hadn’t come yet, though, and you felt like he deserved it with how fucking good he was. Two orgasms already. That was unheard of for you.

Harry helped you situate and he fit himself between your thighs. You looked down at his cock and noted he was right about you creaming all over him. White gobs of your arousal at his shaft and in the thatch of dark, trimmed hair at his base. God his cock was good.

“You feel so good on my cock, Y/n. You know that?” He pressed his tip inside of you, making you drop your mouth open and he gasped. The way he stretched you apart was insane. It felt incredible.

“Fuck… your pussy needs my cock inside of her. Yeah? I could fuck this sweet cunt all day and never get tired of it. Fuck, baby…” he moaned his words as he thrust into you, his hips dragging against you and your clit being pushed into with each plunge.

You took your breasts in your palms and kneaded at them as you watched Harry’s face twist up in rapturous despair. Every roll of his hips was torture for him. His body wanted to come but he had planned on you having one more orgasm. Wanted to feel you squeezing and pulsing around him as he came with you. The decadence of being able to feel your pussy coming around him as he was pouring into you would be bliss.

The edge of his hairline was wet with sweat. You knew he was working hard to give you his cock the way you needed it. His arms were flexing as he held himself up over you, back and thighs clenching and stretching as his muscles exerted, loosening and tightening.

Now there was no slap of skin or the sound of thuds filling the room, it was only hot breaths and gasps and wet pussy being fucked. The occasional distant sound of people moving past his suite on their way to their own.

Deeper and deeper he stuffed himself as he kept his radiant green eyes locked on your face. Your insides were bowing and tensing and vibrating with delight. It was the best you’d ever gotten and his handsome face watching you had your head spinning and your body melting under him. He was too good. The way he was tugging his cock inside of you and stroking your walls and fitting himself deep into your guts like he was trying to reach up into your spine and your lungs under your ribcage… it was going to stick with you for a long time. And he was probably right. You’d be dreaming of his cock. You were sure of it.

His pacing was perfect; smooth, wet thrusts and a satisfying angle that had your whole body resonating with sex and electric crackles like you’d never felt. His undulating hips kissing your clit each time he ground into you.

“Look at your tits jiggling, Y/n. Fucking so hot…” he panted his words like he was out of breath, “Damn baby,” he moaned as he slowed his stride for a moment to collect himself. His balls were already tightening against his body, ready to release too soon.

He leaned over you and pressed his lips against yours and it made your skin and pores and nerves spark and convect. Little by little your pulse accelerated until you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. His tongue inside your mouth and his perfect cock inside of your tummy, the smell of him and of you and the soft bed beneath your back- it had you nearly going up in flames.

When he finally began to move again, when he’d steadied his composure so he could last a little longer you gasped into his mouth.

Now his long strokes were thick and stunted, his shaft inching in and in and in until you couldn’t breathe. His nose pressed into yours and his lips moved around your lips, smearing saliva over your warm, plush mouth with his tongue. It was filthy, the way he kissed. Wet, aching. Like he was fucking your lips with his tongue at the same time he was filling your pussy with his cock.

You felt his muscles begin to shake as he parted from your mouth and looked down at you. Blown-out pupils, pink parted lips, and a flushed face. He was about to come and you could see it on his face and in the way he was panting and getting louder with each jerk of his hips. It was delicious.

“You gonna come, baby? Gonna milk my cock with your cunt, squeeze around me, and drain me?”

Grabbing onto his forearms you nodded and feebly whimpered, “Yes… oh my god…”

Harry groaned as he canted his hips sloppily and his thrusts grew erratic as he held back to wait for you to come first.

You’d always heard of the mythical concept of a cock fitting together perfectly with the right pussy and how it could make women come from penetration alone when they’d never been able to before. You’d never experienced it and thought it was just a made-up fantasy. A wild fable.

But you were wrong. Harry’s cock proved you wrong. He was nudging into things inside of you that even your vibrator missed and as shocking as it was to know you were about to come, yet again, you were of no mind to think too much about that because your body was submitting to the way he was handling you and your pussy was already beginning to flutter around him and pulse as you gasped and dropped your mouth wide.

Yes, you were having one of those kinds of orgasms that you could feel from the inside out. That made your ears feel stuffy and your vision go white as you cried out loudly.

Harry choked out a gasp as soon as he felt your walls gripping him and you tossed your head back, moaning his name over and over again like you needed the room to know who was making you fall apart.

Your pussy wrapped around him so perfectly and he looked down from your perfect tits to your face and he lost it. His own cry of your name was loud as he threw his head back and throbbed, releasing into his condom, his come filling the tip full as you milked him with your pulsing orgasm.

Divine. Complete and utter perfection. He hadn’t come so hard in years and the way you responded to him only coaxed him deeper into his own ecstasy.

When his cock stopped pumping and twitching he opened his eyes and looked down at you looking all fucked out and satisfied. Exactly what he had hoped for when he brought you to his room. Better even.

When your gaze finally found his he smiled down at you. He figured it would be nice to have you again in the morning if you were up for it because he certainly didn’t want to have you leave. Not yet. Maybe he’d order room service and you two could talk some more. Maybe another round or perhaps you’d both just crash after that marathon. But he knew he’d want to give you a parting gift in the morning at the very least. One of those soft and lazy morning fucks before kissing you and sending you off so he could catch his flight the following afternoon.

Yeah. That sounded nice to him.

But the sudden sound of his phone buzzing had him turning to look at the nightstand. You’d barely recovered from your scorching orgasm when he rolled off of you and quickly picked up the phone, his back to you, “Hello?”

You inhaled deeply. You still couldn’t believe you’d just done that. With a stranger nonetheless.

“No, I’m okay. Just ran to grab the phone is all.” He was panting just enough that whoever was on the line had wondered what he’d been doing. You turned your head to look at him. His back was to you.

“Sure, babe. See you then.”

You sat up quickly. Babe?

Harry stood from the bed and picked up his pants, “I’m sure you can get your clothes on and be on your way quickly. Yeah?”

You instinctively covered your chest with your mouth dropped open, “What?!” Harry paused before putting his shirt on and looked at you with an unamused expression, “I said you need to leave.” He raised his voice a notch as if the reason you asked him what was because you hadn’t heard.

You shook your head and slid off the bed feeling dirty and shameful, reaching to the ground for your discarded dress, “I know what you said. I was surprised that you were… never mind.”

The sudden change in his attitude toward you was a shock. He’d been so attentive and affectionate and now he was cold. Inconsiderate. You struggled to keep up with the abrupt shift in his temperament.

Harry walked to the window as you shimmied into your dress and attempted zipping it up, “Fuck…” you mumbled under your dress. The last thing you wanted to do was ask this asshole to help you but really didn’t want to walk out of his room with your dress half unzipped and your ass crack hanging out.

“Can you please help?” You sighed and looked over at him. God, you hated how attractive he was, especially now that he was being so cold to you suddenly.

Harry silently shook his head to himself as he tucked his shirt in and walked toward you as if it were some terrible chore to help you.

“There. Now I really need you to go. Quickly.”

You hadn’t even had the chance to wipe up in the bathroom or pee. You were stunned at his behavior.

You gave him your dirtiest scowl, scooped up your underwear, and grabbed your small purse, stuffing your bra and panties inside. The slip you had to carry in your hands. As you pulled your shoes back on your feet one at a time, Harry was plucking the condom off the floor and looking around the room in a slight panic.

“Fuck you, Harry. This is rude. You didn’t have to treat me like garbage. Not like I was gonna fall for you or something you prick.” When your feet were securely in your shoes Harry walked across the room toward you as you tried to make your way to the door to leave.

“Y/n?”

You turned to look at him.

“Can you toss this in the garbage near the elevator for me? Thanks,” he pressed the used condom that was stuffed into a tissue into your hand and you nearly lost it. Nearly fucking karate chopped his ass to the ground and stomped on his face. But then you realized something. He was in a hurry to get you out of his room because he had someone coming up to see him. Someone he wanted to hide the condom from. A lover? Girlfriend? Wife?

Instead of responding verbally you flipped him off and slammed the door behind yourself. But before you walked away from the door you pulled the condom from the tissue and put it over his doorknob, nice and tight. The used rubber was still heavy with his come and you smiled as you dropped the tissue onto the floor and pulled out a cocktail napkin and pen from your purse, pressed your lips into it to leave it lightly stained with your leftover lipstick, and then wrote Thank you, Harry xx. You balanced the napkin right over the condom on the doorknob and then grinned to yourself as you walked down the hallway to the elevator. You sure were glad your room was in the same hotel. When the elevator doors opened a pretty blonde stepped off and rushed past you, headed in the direction of Harry’s room. She barely even glanced your way before you stepped onto the elevator and pressed 2 for your floor.

So maybe it wasn’t a terrible ending to the night after all.

Part 2

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kennedybaby · 11 months

Text

DO I WANNA KNOW ? ~ LEON S. KENNEDY.

Summary: Leon just had to take the chance.

Word count: 3.814k / Warnings: stepcest, dddne, mild dubcon at first.

Contents 18+: unprotected sex, missionary, he eats your pussy thru the damn panties, he got a big dick (canon), praising, clit-slap (?), creampie, risky sex.

Pairing: Stepbrother! Leon S. Kennedy X Fem! Reader.

Author note: writing got a little rusty.... but!!! i had fun writing this （＾ν＾）stepbro leon is 2 die 4. kudos to the anon who sent the idea of stepbro leon into my inbox. ilyyyyy 🩷

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🎬 MDNI. DARK CONTENT.

DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR MODIFY ANY OF MY WORKS. ©️ KENNEDYBABY

have you no idea that you’re in deep? i dreamt about you nearly every night this week. how many secrets can you keep?

You drive him insane. Literally. And it’s not even your fault, you were nothing but a sweetheart and Leon was nothing but a complete, degenerate mess when it comes to you.

You were the forbidden fruit that Leon desperately wanted to devour.

There’s a time when he’s left alone in his room after a long, exhausted day at work and all he could think about was you. It doesn’t help how he always had to come home late due to his late-night patrols around the city and all he can hear within the thin walls was your muffled moans and the sound of your fingers squelching and pushing into your cunt. You didn’t know about two things; One, Leon coming back home late because he always makes sure not to make too much noise when he’s downstairs. Two, Leon pressing his ear against the wall with his cock in his fist, furiously stroking up and down to the sound of your mewls. By the time you were done, all he can hear is the water running and splashing in the marbled sink of your bathroom as you washed your hands clean while he was reaching for tissues to wipe his semen off his sheets and abs.

It sort of become a daily routine for Leon. It’s wrong, he knows, you’re his stepsister and the thoughts he had for you in mind were nowhere near appropriate for someone who he should consider as his little sister. But he can’t just suppress the thoughts and feelings he had, the more he pushed aside, the more it grows and torments him, basically eating him alive. The fact that he lives under the same roof as you alone makes things harder for him, but he wasn’t complaining. Not one bit.

Leon gets to see you, a lot. He’d see you laying on your stomach with your shirt slightly ridden up on your back and your shorts hugging the curve of your ass, baby pink panties peeking thru its hem without you noticing it. And sometimes, his eyes would linger on you longer than he anticipated, his teeth biting the inside of his cheeks as his feet nervously tapped on the wooden flooring. You’d bend down in front of him to pick up the spoon on the floor and his breath would hitch seeing the outline of your pussy strained against your shorts. You were none the wiser, oblivious to the way his eyes flittered on your body and your lips but never directly on your eyes.

Because if Leon did look you in the eyes, he would feel guilty for thinking about bending you over the kitchen counter and fuck you stupid when you genuinely wanted to know how his day went at work.

“Leon?” You softly call out his voice, knuckles knocking on the door of his bedroom before Leon rushed to answer you. The sweat on his forehead was quickly wiped with the back of his hand, and his breathing ragged as he adjusted himself. “Yeah?” His voice was strained, exhausted from his work. “Can I come in?” Your fingers toyed with the steel doorknob, leaning your forehead lightly against his door. You heard the small ‘yeah’ before he opened it to you. Lips curling into a small smile, you looked up at him before you stepped inside his room. “Were you sleeping? I didn’t mean to bother.” You said to him, sitting on the edge of his bed before you crossed your legs. “No, no, I was just... Resting.” He replied, his eyes following your every move. Pushing the strands off your face, you tilt your head to the picture of you and him on his bedside.

“Aw, you still kept this?” You hold up the photo frame at him, your thumb glided on the glass surface gently as you gaze at it. “Why wouldn’t I?” He shrugged before he takes a sit next to you on his bed, purposely grazing his fingers against your thighs as he bite back the urge to let out a content sigh.

“I was so cute back then,” Your lips slightly puckered out, pouting at the sight of your younger version in the picture. A warm spread throughout your chest, it’s nice to know Leon keeps this photo of you and him— it makes you feel special. “You’re still so cute now.” His compliment brings heat to your cheeks, your elbow finding their way to playfully nudge his ribs before a soft chuckle left past your lips when he nudged you back. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” You rolled your eyes, placing back the picture frame on the table before you leaned back and lay on his bed with a small thud.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.” He grinned at you, laying back next to you before he take a deep breath. He’d glanced at you, once, just one look on your face before he quickly avert his eyes away from you and glued them back on the ceiling. Leon knows he would end up staring at you, it’s a bad habit. He can’t help it, just the way your eyes drowsily looked up to the ceiling, your lips slightly parted as your fingers cling to his pillow. He wondered if your fingers would cling to the meat of his thighs if he was fucking your throat, filling every corner of your mouth with his cock until hot tears streamed down your wet cheeks— “They didn’t even tell me they were out of town.” The sound of your voice cutting thru the silence pause his thoughts before Leon tilts his head at you. “Why? You wanna go out or something? They’re just out attending my— our dad’s work party somewhere out of town in a hotel.” He stated.

‘Yeah, right, our dad. As if I wasn’t just thinking about fucking my stepsister.’ Leon thought to himself. God, he’s a sick, sick man.

“I know, I’m just really bored. That’s why I came here.” You said to him, completely oblivious to the fact that his eyes practically gleamed at your w. Leon sits up on his bed, his fingers pushing back the strands of hair on his face before he turned to look at you, a small smirk dawns on his lips. “So you come to me to have fun?” A small giggle left past your lips, the faint blush on your cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed. “Please, you make that sounds weird.” You shake your head, only to quickly shut down the fit of giggles you had when you feel his fingers brush against your thighs. Heat courses to your cheeks before a low hum emitted out of you, “Weird? I don’t know what you’re implying.” Leon does, he does. Fuck, this was probably the most he could do to you, just stroking your thighs as his fingers grow higher and higher as the warmth of your cunt radiates against his skin. He swallowed thickly, his fingers lightly squeezing the fat of your thighs before he leaned down to you. “Maybe you’re the weird one.”

Your eyes slightly widened, fingers quickly latching on his wrist before you stopped him from going further. “Leon,” You made a pathetic attempt to sound stern when you called his name when in reality, your voice sounded more like a whine as if you wanted him to keep going. “We can’t.” You didn’t say no, you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t want this too. You lose count of how many nights you spent, staying up watching taboo porn under your blanket with your fingers desperately stuffing your cunt and trying to relieve the ache between your legs while having Leon at the back of your head. You lose count of how many times you muffled out his name into your pillow every time you climaxes around your fingers during the darkest hour. And now that, Leon’s hand is practically inches away from grazing against your pussy, all you could do is looked away from his piercing gaze as you clench your thighs around his wrist. “It’s wrong.”

But it doesn’t mean neither he nor you wanted it less. Leon probably wanted it the most, his mind practically going haywire from how close your body is pressed to his.

“I can stop if you want, just say the word.” His voice was soft and you can’t help but look back into his eyes, before you lay there, contemplating if you should just go for it. Either you do it now, where no one’s home or never do it with him and to be honest, you would pick the first option in a heartbeat. “Keep going,” As soon as you let those words out, Leon leaned in to kiss you, his tongue pushing past your lips as explored every inch of your mouth. His hand resting on your cheek while the other is rubbing your clit thru your shorts with his index and middle fingers until there’s a damp spot forming on the fabric. Pulling away from the kiss with a string of saliva connected on the tip of each other tongues. “You’re so wet already,” He grinned, his face diving between the crook of your neck before he gently nibs your skin and sucked the fresh hickey he gives you on your neck.

“You love getting your pussy played by big brother?” When did that innocent nickname you used to call him make you so flustered? The way it smoothly rolled off to the tip of his tongue and the way his voice slightly dropped an octave made it sound lewd. You hated how much it turns you on, your cunt dripping with your arousal just from his little teasing. “Leon, stop embarrassing me.” You huffed in slight annoyance at his teasing before you hide your heated face with his pillow which Leon was not too happy with. He quickly takes the pillow off your grasp and throws it behind him, “No hiding, princess. D’you know how long I waited to do this?” Leon whispered to you, his lips kissing your jawline. “Too damn long.” He grumbled, pulling away from you before he kneels on the floor. His hands easily dragged you to the edge of his bed before he parted your thighs. “All I can think about is fucking you stupid, do you know how much that tortures me knowing I can’t?” He groans, his fingers were quick to slip the shorts off your legs and let them fall to the carpeted floor.

Leon couldn’t be bothered to take off your panties, instantly latching his lips on your clit thru your panties as he vigorously sucks on it with sheer fervour. The suddenness illicit a sharp gasp past your lips, your elbows and heels digging into his mattress as you watched his mouth clung to the bundle of nerves like no tomorrow with your thighs clamping around his head. “Shit, Leon...” You curse under your breath, head thrown back as he slurped every drop of you thru the thin undergarment. A soft moan croaks out of you as Leon finally pushed aside your panties, his tongue flattened before he dragged a long line on your pussy. “Taste so fucking good,” He can feel his cock straining in his pants, causing some discomfort but that was the last thing he care about, not when he was nose-deep into his stepsister’s sweet cunt. He could care less about anything when his mind is fixated on the way you rolled your hips and rides his tongue, smothering him before he pulled away for air.

“You’re so needy, baby.” Leon littered kisses on your inner thighs, the tip of his tongue flicking your clit causing your hips to jerk forward. His forearms push your hips down to the bed before he lightly slapped your clit and chuckles when you wince from the slight pain. “Don’t do that.” You whine, biting your lower lip back as you let yourself relish back into the pleasure when he kisses your clit, giving it a little suck and pulling away with a small pop. “I know, baby. Just wants you to stay still.” He said to you softly, his eyes shifting up to lock eyes with you. He loves the way your eyes tear up, your cheeks growing hot as your fingers cling to the bedsheets. He loves prodding his tongue into your warm hole while his thumb rubs your sensitive clit until you throw your head back into the pillow with your back arching into his tongue. “I’ll stay still,” It’s surprising how you can still talk properly despite being so high from the pleasure he’s giving you. A dribble of spit already starts dripping at the corner of your mouth, your eyes rolled to the back of your head each time Leon flattened his tongue and dragged it slowly on your dripping cunt until your body shuddered in pleasure.

Your fingers interlocked with his brown hair, tugging and pulling him closer as you slowly reached your climaxes. He didn’t mind, he like the feeling of your nails slightly digging into his scalp while you desperately chases your high. God, Leon probably won’t even mind if his head is bleeding from how hard you're tugging onto him if it meant having the chance to get a taste of your pussy and your soft thighs wrapped around his head. A strained scream sputtered out of your throat when you finally come undone in his mouth, your hips stuttering into his lips as Leon licks every drop of your juices and drank it down with a content grin. His hand reached down to his pants as he palmed his throbbing cock thru his pants, his fingers rubbing up and down on the outline of his shaft before he stands up from his knees. Leon pulled down his shorts until they slipped off his legs leaving him in his black boxer. The bed shifted as his knees digs into the cushion of his mattress.

“Want your cock,” Your words were slurred but you manage to whisper the words into his ears when he gets on top of you. You bring your fingers crawled up and cupped his face before you pulled him into a sloppy kiss, letting his teeth clashes against yours without a care in the world as his hands grip your waist. “Yeah? Beg for it.” He pulled away from the kiss, his blue eyes back into yours as you tucked your bottom lip under your teeth. It’s clear he won’t give you what you wanted until you actually say it to his face. A heavy sigh left your swollen lips, “Please, I need you inside of me. Fuck..." You paused, nuzzling your face to hide your warm cheeks into his neck before you continues, “Fuck your stepsister.” Leon grinned at your words, his lips leaving a small kiss on your collarbone before he pulled away to push down his boxer. “You got it, baby.”

Your eyes watered up as you mumbled a low curse when you feel the tip of his cock pushed into your cunt. It brings immediate weight to your chest as your breathing grows ragged, a part of you still refuses to believe this was happening— you’re fucking your stepbrother, allowing his fingers to gently pinch your hardened nipples while he buries his cock inch by inch. Your fingers quickly pressed against his chest, stopping him immediately as Leon shoot you a concerned look, his hand coming up to rest on your cheek.

“You okay?” He whispered to you when you let out a small wince, eyebrows knitted together before you looked down to where the two of you were connected. “It won’t fit, Leon.” You croak out a small cry, he’s stretching you apart and he’s not even all the way in. “It will, princess, just... I’ll take it slow, okay? It’s going to be okay.” Leon smiled after you weakly nodded your head to his assurance, your arms trails up to wrap around his neck before he slowly pushed himself inside of you. A low moan guttered out of his throat once he finally sheathed himself fully inside of your tight, sopping cunt. Cold sweats run down his forehead and body as he takes in every little noise you made underneath him.

He stayed in your arms for a few seconds before he retracts to prop up the back of your knee with his hand. Leon stared down at the way his cock formed a small bump on your pelvis before he moved his hips slowly, the pad of his thumb rubs your skin in a circular motion. “You’re taking me so well, baby,” Leon said to you in a hushed tone, his head slightly thrown back before he gulped down to the feeling of your inner walls pulsating around his cock. Leon averted his eyes from the ceiling back to your body, staring at the way your shirt pushed up over your chest, your fingers keeping your panties aside as he pushes himself in and out of your cunt at a slow, consistent pace. “Fuck, you feel so good.” He moaned eyes shutter tight before he exhaled a sharp breath. “God, you’re clinging to me,” Leon let out a soft chuckle, his lips finding their way to peck on your swollen ones. “Can’t help it... You’re too big. S’all your fault.” You mumbled, eyes dazedly looking up to him as drops of his sweat drips down to your body.

“I know, baby. It’s all my fault.” He cooed to you, his lips coming in contact with your forehead as he leaves a kiss. You didn’t even realise he had picked up his pace, his hips rocking back and forth faster than before as his balls slaps on your ass, filling the room with nothing but the sound of skin slapping and your wanton moans. “You’re taking it so well though, you love getting fucked by your big brother?” You hummed to his question, “Mhm, love gettin’ fucked by you.” You breathed out. Leon can feel his cock throb inside of you, the grip at the back of your knee tightening as his knuckles gradually whitened. The bedframe rocked back and forth, scratching the blue paint off his wall into straight, white lines as it squeaks under the weight of the two of you. You tried so hard not to glance at the picture of Leon and you on his bedside, almost staring back at the both of you with nothing but utter shame.

The two of you had crossed the line you knew you can’t back out from. Not that Leon cared, every logic in his head was thrown out of the window the second you told him to keep going.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the way you digs your nails into his shoulders made his breath stagger. The friction between both yours and his body sends your mind into a frenzy that you almost, almost, made you miss the sound of the front door being unlocked and the sound of your parents happily chatting downstairs. “Fuck,” That was all Leon had to say to put a small pause on what he was doing, his forehead leaned against your shoulder as he bit his bottom lips back. He stayed silent for a few seconds before he rocks his hips back, taking you by surprise, “Leon, we should—" You parted your lips to speak only for his hand to go over your mouth, “Just be quiet. Be a good girl for me, yeah?" He says. You nodded, letting his hand press against your lips, your eyes shooting wide when his thrusts became more and more fervent as you wrapped your legs around his waist tightly.

Leaning your head back into his pillow, he took the advantage to leave marks all over your neck, nipping your soft skin until it turns into a slightly darker shade from your skin. Leon moves up to your face, giving you a small peck on the lips thru his hand before he let out a low chuckle. Removing his hand from the back of your knees to hold onto your waist while his other hand is over your lips, you can feel he’s getting faster and faster. Leon can feel it, he was getting so close and he can feel you were too with the way your inner walls tightened up around him, sucking him in deeper and deeper as the squelching sounds fills the room. “Can I cum in you, princess? Please, can I?” He begs, keeping his tone hushed as he whispered into your ear, sending the back of your hair stand up.

You frantically nodded, muffling out a small high-pitched ‘yeah’ to him before you glanced at the way his cock pushing in and out of you, glistening with your arousals under his bed lamp as Leon pushed his hips towards you, burying his cock deeper into a rougher pace. A choked scream left your lips when the orgasm comes washing over your body as you shut your eyes close, the grip around his shoulders tightening before your body falls limp under him. A sharp breath left his lips when he feels you finish around him before he quickly did the same, shooting his cum deep inside of you before he removed the hand over your mouth and pressed it against his bed to support himself. His muscles flexed as you watched his cock throb inside of you, spilling his warm seeds into your sensitive cunt before he pulls out from you with a groan. When he finally rides off his high, Leon looked down at the way your panties were scrunched up to the side as they pressed against your inner thigh— he was so eager to fuck you he didn’t even bother to take off your panties. Not that he’s complaining, it keeping his cum from spilling out of you.

“Fuck, baby..." Leon breathed out, a strained laugh falls past his lips before he leaned in to kiss you on the lips and pulled away afterwards. He stared back into your half-lidded stare, your chest heaved as you catches up with your breath. Your lips curled into a small smile when Leon brush the strand of hair off your face, “You should probably go back to your room, princess." He suggested, helping you sit up on his bed. His fingers played with the strap of your panties before he looked back at you, the corner of his lips curled into a playful smirk.

“Keep this on. I want you to go to bed with my cum inside of you. ”

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon s. kennedy #leon s. kennedy smut #resident evil smut #leon kennedy x female reader #tw. stepcest #stepbro!leon #stepbro! leon kennedy x reader #resident evil 4 x reader #resident evil 4 smut #stepbro leon smut #tw. dark content #tw. dubcon #leon s. kennedy fic #leon s. kennedy x you #leon kennedy x you

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sully-s · 2 months

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Batman Quest To Get A Birkin Bag

Ok so I have a very indulgent, SuperBats head fanfic that keeps me company on days that I forget to charge my earphones while walking my dog and to bore my wonderfully accommodating friends over dinner.

Long story short it’s a character study about Clark after his death. Doomsday kills him becuase we do not subscribe to Synder movies in this household.

Mostly its about Bruce grieving and reflecting on his ten+ year marriage with the man of steel with a large helping of the Justice League members bonding and finally getting to know Bruce and in turn Clark. (Kal never really got to say specifics about his life because Bruce wanted to keep his identity secret therefore a lot of Clark's life was private.)

For most of the fic Clark’s dead. But I'm one for angst with a happy ending so he comes back. How he comes back I have all kinds of versions but I just want to share this really silly one that I’m slightly obsessed with.

It’s about two years after Clark died. Currently, Bruce and Hal are off-world for a two-month mission. Shortly after they leave the League are battling some sorcerer who's in possession of a Jinn. During the battle two of the three wishes are used and at the end it's Flash who gets to use the last one.

He wishes for Clark to be revived back to life.

Jinn says he can't do that

Flash thinks of course just like in Aladdin you can't bring the dead back, make someone fall in love or wish for more wishes.

The Jinn is like how dare you think that's not within my power of course I can bring back the dead, I can't bring back Superman because Clark's not dead. he's just in his grave too weak to break out of his grave due to the lack of sunlight.

Flash hears this and immediately rushes over to dig up Kal.

The next month and a half are all about Clark adjusting to the changes over the last three years (Like having a new kid at the manor: Tim) Meeting new members (Green Arrow, Martian Man Hunter), and really bonding with his teammates ect.

While waiting for Bruce's return Clark asks Barry what he'd like.

Barry is confused

Clark clarifies that Barry was able to bring back one of Bruce's loved ones “to life.“ That’s never happened and for a man like Bruce who loves deeply for his family he going to be very grateful and he will not take “I’m just glad I could help” for an answer. So Barry needs to think of something or Batman will.

Barry doesn't know what to ask for but knows that Bruce is rich. He figures this would be a great time to get that designer bag that Iris always wanted but they could never justify ever buying. (Listen I don’t know if Iris is a designer girly but in this fic she really just likes this one bag.)

So Bruce and Hal get back and after the big celebration party, the JL held for Clark and Bruce's reunion. Bruce approaches Barry thanks him and asks if there’s anything he can do.

Thinking Barry is going to ask for a house, pull some strings with his Brucie persona so he can better his life at his job or status. Maybe ask for Bruce to fund or set up a wellness program for people in Central City.

But Barry is just like: Uh well Iris has always liked this bag.

And Bruce is thinking Really Barry You brought the love of my life back to life I’d move mountains (without Clark’s help) for you and you want some designer bag for your wife?

Bruce: Do you have a picture?

And as soon as Barry shows him the bag Bruce knows moving mountains would be so much easier.

The bag Barry wants to get is a Birkin Bag.

Now if you know anything about Birkin bags 1. they’re stupid expensive. 2. If you can afford one that doesn't mean you get to buy one. Hermes the company that makes them has this irate practice that you have to work up a good relationship with the store and the sales associates in said store to even get the privilege to buy a Birkin (usually by buying a ton of other Hermes products you don’t want.) Sometimes you buy half the store but if you’re not a high-profile client or they don't like your image they just brush you off and postpone your chance to ”buy” a Birkin. And if you do all of the above prerequisites You don't even get to pick the bag they "give" you one. Want a pink colorway? Sorry here's lime green you're welcome.

Now Barry has no knowledge of any of this and just thinks a Birkin is just some overpriced bag. The problem is Iris only likes this one colorway ( Size 35cm, Red Alligator Exterior, Gold hardware, Yellow Slik interior ect.)

This is going to be near impossible.

But In Bruce's mind, Flash did the impossible in bringing back Clark (Bruce thinks Clark was wished back to life because that's the story everyone is sticking to. Because the emotional trauma of letting Bruce know that Clark was alive the whole time rotting away in a grave for 2 years is not on anyone’s todo list.) So he will get this bag Even if it kills him. He's the goddamn Batman.

And all this lead up is to what I'm actually obsessed with

I just love the idea that Bruce is running around Brucie-ing it up to try to get in Hermes' good graces but his image of being a drunk playboy is activity stopping him from buying any bag.

He calls up the Daily Planet and starts setting up all these puff PR-boosting articles to up his image. Which starts rumors becuase Burce Wayne doesn’t do interviews so why now?

Gotham elite catches wind that Burcie Wayne wants a Birkin richest man in America can't get one. So they all start getting Birkins. They ware them to his galas, just to troll Burcie. The elite jump on the waitlist inflating the list to stupid long. Hermes starts to wear the exclusivity of Brucie Wayne as a sign of good taste and prestige. Bruce searches the second-hand market and can't find the colorway Iris's wants.

Bruce goes undercover as a worker for a local Hermes store to become his own sales associate just so he can get around the prejudices of Bruce Wayne image and start racking up a sales history. (He just selling and buying to himself lol.)

So Bruce is playing a luxury salesman using his background of old money and Alfred’s butlering to woo potential buyers. Working his first retail job ever. Having to suck up to management so he can plead his case about Bruce Wayne. Using his access to get informed on what bags are currently available, who’s on the waitlist, where they rank, and criteria on how and what moves you up the list ect.

After months and becoming the number one salesman, he makes his case to allow Brucie Wayne to buy a bag.

It’s declined.

So he switches tactics.

He just makes a new cover as a recently won lottery winner looking to burn cash and wants to burn it with Hermes. And starts a new sale history. Using all of his knowledge and intel about what gets you on the waiting list.

He gets stonewalled a few times by former co-workers that he gets around by blackmailing them with gossip and infractions he witnessed or was told In confidence when he was a fellow sales associate.

Finally, his lottery winner persona is put on a waitlist. The only problem is he’s at the very bottom.

So what does he do?

He suties up As Batman and starts intimidating all those who are higher on the list than his lottery winner cover rocketing him up the list.

He hits a roadblock when he tries to scrace a woman on the list who doesn’t believe he’s actually Batman becuase “Why would Batman even want with a Birkin?”

Which leads to an escalation that gets him an earful from Superman who’s called to the scene by said woman whos terrified after Batman strings her upside down over the edge of her high-rise penthouse.

Clark offers to buy the bag becuase who wouldn’t want that kinda of PR endorsement?

Which Bruce vittamently refuses becuase it would cheapen the gift.

Finally, after a week of terrorizing wait-listers, his lottery winner persona is “given“ the opportunity to buy a bag.

But disaster strikes when that lucky break he thought he got because he was next on the list was actually bad luck becuase the person was bumped off becuase they bought the bag that Bruce had painfully calculated to purchase which was the only bag that would be made in the next 3 years that has the colorway that Iris wanted.

So Bruce tracks down and comforts the buyer in the dead of night as Batman. The buyer freaks out and says they didn't even want this colorway and really wanted a Caranery yellow ostrich skin colorway and if he could get her that one she'd trade for it.

This leads Bruce to play matchmaker for a series of buyers that have Birken Bags they don't love and would trade for their dream bag. And after months of fetch questing and matching sad Birken owners around the world with their dream bags Bruce he pulls it off. He finally gets a Canary, yellow ostrich skin colorway Birkin bag trades it for Iris’s dream bag. Only to find out it was ruined in a car crash that was caused by an alien invasion 2 months before that the JL had a particularly nasty time with and it was Bruce’s Batmobile that was thrown into her parked car.

The bag is a mess the zipper borken, missing hardware, leather scratched. But Bruce so done with everything accepts the trade and takes it back to the cave. Where he proceeds to 3D scan the bag then composite a CAD model and starts to collect all the raw components of the bag himself.

Getting only the best materials (much better than what Hermes was using) Talking to Killer Corc on how to find the best alligator pelts. Flying to India to personally pick out the red dye for the color. Mining the gold for the hardware from an asteroid that was threatening the Watchtower.

After he has everything Bruce proceeds to by hand construct an exact replica of Iris's dream bag. Essentially making the most over-budgeted fake to exist. Where he finally gives it to Barry (who has no inkling of the time and effort Bruce has put into this side project that has taken the better part of a whole year) who jokes in saying “Oh wow takes 12 months to run to the store huh?”

#Shit I'm never going to write #Fic Idea rambling #Silly Ideas #Superbat #The Flash #Batman #Superman #Burcie Wayne #bruce wayne #Messing Around #DCAU #Stupidly long #I'm great at parties ;)

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sorryimananti-romantic · 7 months

Text

Feeling Like I Do

neighbour!yunho x reader

best friends to lovers au

word count: 5k (bulletpoint headcanons this time)

genres: fluff, absolute fluff, a little crack, a little angst, some suggestive jokes thrown around, just wholesomeness and yuyu

synopsis: you and yunho have been best friends since forever and neighbours for a while, and you find it harder with each passing day to hide your feelings for him.

manager-nim: @eightmakesonebraincell (this took way too long to finish considering the deep yunho brainrot we've been in)

special thanks to @hwaightme your guy.exe triggered this hehe

being best friends with jeong yunho was not as simple as it sounded

especially when he was your neighbour

like, right next door. the very next apartment

so you couldn’t avoid him even if you wanted to

honestly, you brought this upon yourself, if you think about it

ever since you were kids, you had been inseparable

from going to the same school and bonding over a similar sense of humour

from pranking the rest of your friends together to making fun of each other

to knowing each other’s deepest secrets

except for the one that really mattered- that you had the biggest, fattest crush on your best friend

honestly, you do not recall when exactly it happened

if you think back, you can’t pinpoint it to one moment

it is a number of moments, the years you spent together, the memories you shared that you are now a grown up and still hopelessly in love with him

though you would not admit it

never. ever. over your dead body.

you just have one fear that has stuck with you and it is that you do not want to ruin things between the two of you

he has known you since forever. he knows you inside out.

he’s too precious to lose over something as stupid as your feelings

because if he does not feel the same, you will never be whole again

but if by some small chance he does and you mess things up later? you would never recover

this is why you think having feelings for your best friend is so messed up

and this is the reason you always dismiss his flirty actions as jokes between two best friends who are super comfortable with each other

like when he casually enters your unlocked apartment and asks for a pinch of salt and spots you in the ugliest fit you’re wearing

he will go “wow you look beautiful”

and you will make a face, knowing he is joking, and ignore the butterflies in your stomach

and you respond with “you don’t look too bad yourself” when he himself looks like he nests a squirrel in his hair

his casual touches and occasionally flirty gazes do not bother you anymore

you’re made of steel now

so when he hugs you out of nowhere or swings you around just to hear you squeal, you know it’s just what friends do

or when he finds you too adorable and kisses your temple, you let it pass. you don’t read too much into it

though occasionally, you like to blur the lines too. he might know at this point

like what friend runs to their other friend only to jump in their arms and bury their face in the crook of the other’s neck?

what sort of friend casually zones out while staring at the other and wonders what they did to deserve them?

you

perhaps, this was a teenage crush that would have quelled with time- but that was if you had parted ways for college

by some evil play of the fates, you two ended up in the same city, quite close to each other

and as soon as you two had enough savings, you both decided to be neighbours

you just didn’t have it in you to be apart from each other

and funny thing was, no one batted an eye. it was so natural

though they did question why you weren’t housemates

you and yunho would always share a grin and respond with ‘to protect the last shred of privacy’

which was an inside joke now

so when you both started living together- because that’s exactly what it was

from going grocery shopping together

to knowing each other’s door locks

dropping in stuff for the other without their permission

privacy? ha. what privacy?

sure, you almost once walked in on him showering

and he almost walked in on you changing your clothes (your fault you didn’t shut the door, right?)

but that wasn’t a big deal at all

you would slide notes under each other’s doors- cute reminders to take an umbrella or a good morning/good night

or an ugly doodle or a ‘u stink’

you did not collect all those notes in a jar. you did not

he once bought 10 rubber duckies and hid them around your apartment and you would find them in the most odd places

like inside a pot you rarely use

one was even in your underwear drawer

whenever you’d find one, you would take it with you whenever you went to yunho’s and hide it somewhere there

and so the eternal game of hide and seek began

you have never talked about it out loud by the way

the more memorable things were just making yourself at home at the other’s place when one of you did not feel like being alone

which was most of the time, if you were very honest with yourself

you would watch tv together while you had dinner and have a heated discussion about whatever you were watching

or you would play games with him

or he would help you pick out your fit for the night

or you would style his hair

or you two would stay up all night talking about stuff

about anything and everything

emptying out your hearts

yet still you would always have more to talk about

it was never a boring moment with yunho

and you could go on about why you loved him forever

every day, you woke up glad that he was so close to you and still with you

he was the only person who did not judge you

you could say something nasty and he would still try to understand your perspective

which just made him 100000x more precious

but he would call you out when you did or said something wrong/bad but in a very gentle manner

which you appreciated so much

and the best thing was, he always stayed. he was always there

his arms were your eternal safe space

and he knew

it was like he knew the look in your eyes, whenever you needed a hug

and he would spread his arms and you would walk to him and wrap your arms around his waist while he embraced you

and tell you that it would be okay, no matter what was going on

he would always offer to hear you out or simply be there, physically

he was just… so easy to be with

he was your personal ray of sunshine, your little fluffy cloud, yours

he was yours- oh, how you wished he could be yours in all the ways

because whenever he talked about someone he noticed with you

or just looked at someone different and then find you staring at him

he’s respond with “i just like their outfit” or “i think their hair is nice”

and you would wonder if it’s really just that

you two do have an unspoken promise to tell each other whenever you start dating someone or fall in love

but that’s mostly because you both know your dynamic would have to change a bit

because you two wouldn’t be each other’s priority anymore- not like you are now anyway

and it hurts to just think about it

you asked him, “what would really change?”

and he responded with, “i would appreciate it if you do not connect your bluetooth to my speakers when i have someone over and play some unholy audio”

which turned into an argument because he has literally done the same to you and you had a friend over

you had to explain yourself and explain yunho and tell the traumatised friend that this was just him pulling a prank on you

but you responded with “you know what i will also appreciate if the person does not find a potato instead of a soap in the sink”

you two are always out for each other and after all these years… you two never know each other’s next move

but you both know your dynamics would change in more ways than that

you wouldn’t be able to stroll in his apartment so casually and make breakfast for the two of you because you ran out of ingredients

neither would he be able to come and take a shower in your apartment because “i ran out of hot water” or “i want to smell like strawberries today”

you wouldn’t be able to go and sleep on his couch or bed because you felt lonely

neither would he be able to do the same

and you both would have to tone down the physical affection because you two have heard enough about people mistaking you for a couple

honestly, sometimes you wonder if those people gaslit you into seeing him as something more

but… it was yunho. how could you not?

especially when he cared for you like no one else?

and maybe, maybe, just maybe

he thought of you like that sometimes too

it was probably wishful thinking but oh, how you wished he did anyway

because you couldn’t take it sometimes

you couldn’t take how he would zone out while listening to you talk and look absolutely adorable

you couldn’t take how when you’d hold hands while walking he’d caress them absently

and you couldn’t take how he’d play with your hands when you’d tell him about your day or some gossip

you couldn’t take it when he’d sneak up on you and wrap his arms around you in a back hug and make you feel so small and safe

or when he’d rest his head on yours as you hugged

you couldn’t take it when his gaze would linger on you a fraction of a second longer when you were too close

or when he would always search your eyes before he would plant a chaste kiss on your cheek or forehead

you really, really couldn’t take it anymore

perhaps you needed therapy now

you couldn’t afford slipping in front of yunho tho

or anyone of your mutual friends for that matter

because you knew if someone found out they would somehow let yunho know

and you weren’t ready for his answer

what if he distanced himself from you if he ever found out? you couldn’t have that

perhaps you should have physically distanced yourself from him

perhaps being neighbours made it worse

tho, could you call it worse when it was literally a blessing to have him so close to you?

you’re starting to question it tho

bc one night when you were out drinking late with your friends

you came back to your apartment complex, feeling so low

and when you were about to cross yunho’s door to get to your own, you paused

you paused and stood outside his door for the longest time

and then you sank down and rested your back against his door

wishing he wouldn’t find you

you just needed to cry a little and lighten the weight on your heart

except, another evil play of fates and yunho somehow just knew to look for you

he almost opened his door but heard the faint sound of your cries

at first he thought it was a lost kitten or something but then he opened his door a fraction and found your figure on the floor

and his heart broke

“y/n? can you please move a little so i can open the door?”

you froze

until he called your name again and you wished you could dig the ground and bury yourself under it

but you moved and not a few seconds later, he was next to you and rubbing your back

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you replied

except there was a lot

you just couldn’t tell him

just like the various times he found you crying alone and no matter how much he insisted, you wouldn’t tell him

he wondered who hurt you sometimes

he wondered who it was so he could punch that person or do anything, something, to make it all right

because he hated it so much when you cried

it made his chest feel tight and he’d always get confused about what he was feeling

a number of things is what it was- anger, longing, pain, confusion

but this time? he wasn’t going to let you go

because just how long had you been crying like this? why didn’t you just come inside? why didn’t you find him?

he asked you that

you couldn’t reply yet again

so he decided to bring you inside

he made you drink some water

he wiped your face with the sleeves of his black shirt

and you finally looked at him

oh goodness. he was wearing those black rimmed glasses again

the ones that made him look so, so good.

but he looked angry

“you’re going to tell me who made you cry. or else we’ll be sitting here just like this all night while i wait for your answer”

you bit your lips, looking away and cursing yourself internally

you should have cried in the shower or something

“can i rest? my head is spinning- i might have drank too much-”

“no.”

you locked eyes with him and he didn’t look away

“do you have any idea how much it hurts me to see you like this? and how much it hurts me that you stayed outside? why didn’t you come to me?”

you looked away again, wiping the fresh stream of tears

it was getting harder now, to not give in. to not answer his questions and put an end to this once and for all

especially with yunho so close to you and caressing your bare knees that you put between the two of you

“tell me”

“i can’t”

“why not?”

“because…” you sighed deeply. you looked at him

if you weren’t drunk, every cell in your brain would have screamed at you to shut up

but because you were, it was now your heart tugging that did it for you

“don’t look at me like that, yunho.”

yunho only cocked his head, refusing to look at you any other way

you snaked your hands up your knees to meet his hands, locking your fingers

“you can’t distract me this time-”

yunho’s words got caught in his mouth when you started to lean forward and he drew back reflexively, looking at you questioningly

but you weren’t going to stop

he wanted answers? he would have them

so you continued to lean forward until you were on your knees and almost in his lap

you looked down at him, meeting his very confused eyes

“do you ever think about why i don’t come to you at these times? do you really not know the answer?”

you watched his ears flush

he knew

he must know

he must have a hint, at least, of what you felt for him

“is it really me?” he whispered

you didn’t answer this time

you couldn’t

you simply dropped down with a sigh and pulled your hands from his

he was so confused- he had no way to navigate through this without your help

but you were drunk right now

he decided you should at least be sober when you talk

and perhaps, you decided that too

so you resorted to climbing in his lap and holding him in a hug

he didn’t waste any time wrapping his arms around you

and planting a kiss on your head

just like he had done a thousand times now

“i’m sorry for making you worried,” you mumbled, burying your face in his sweatshirt, hearing his heartbeat

“i’m sorry for sounding angry- i didn’t mean to.”

“i know,” you assured him. “can i sleep here?”

“of course-”

“right here?”

yunho wished you would say such things with a warning because his heart dropped dangerously and he couldn’t help but let out a flustered laugh

“am i that comfortable?”

“you’re literally my human pillow”

and just like that, you were both back to normal

but yunho made sure not to let you forget about this

in the morning when you woke up before him and noticed him sleeping in a painful position to accommodate you on the couch

you watched him for the longest time

and snuck out to go back to your apartment and really panic this time

because boi, did you mess up this time

and it was the weekend. yunho would be up and asking questions in no time

you had nowhere to hide

perhaps, you should stop hiding now

the doorbell rang and for a moment you wondered if it was someone else

but when you opened the door to yunho with a bowl of soup in his hands, you knew he rang the doorbell for a reason

he would be asking you questions today

so you let him in, wondering how he would initiate the conversation

“i bet you have the worst headache now,” he goes, grinning like everything is normal

you didn’t realise he was being normal so you would lower your defences while you ate and chatted like normal

until he finally asked, “are we going to talk about what happened last night?”

“what happened last night?” you ask back

it was perhaps the wrong thing to say

because you see yunho’s gaze darken

you immediately sigh to let him know that yes, you know exactly what he is talking about

you did not like to see him angry so you decided to face what was next

but… anxiety started to creep in your chest as you looked at him, waiting for him to say something

“can you please tell me why you were crying last night? why did you not come and find me?”

you sigh deeply again, pursing your lips as you look at him

because you could feel it

this was it

it would never be the same again

you spend a few minutes staring at him, opening your mouth to say something but stopping, and then looking away and recalling exactly where you fucked up

and he’s so patient. he keeps waiting

he’s not even fiddling with anything right now. he’s just… there and watching you and waiting

you finally lock eyes with him and say, “have you ever wanted something so bad that in order to gain it, you risk losing it completely?”

yunho thinks it’s really cryptic, what you just asked him

because… yes, he’s wanted something that bad too

he didn’t realise it until the first summer he did not spend with you a few years ago

and he felt so lost until he saw you and everything started to make sense

and everything has made sense since

he’s wanted to make you smile every moment you spend with him

he’s wanted to embrace you eternally every moment you find home in his arms

he’s wanted to make you laugh because of all the sounds in this world, your laugh was his favourite

even tho it sounded like windshield wipers

he’s wanted you so, so bad

but how could he ever admit it

suddenly, he understand you

and he finds himself nodding slowly, his heart beating with an urgency indicating the arrival of a change

it could make or break you both

so he says, “yes… yes i know exactly how that feels”

you both watch each other for a few moments, afraid to take the next step

but yunho won’t give in now- he doesn’t want to see you cry like that ever again

“is that why you were upset? you’ve been mulling over something like this?”

you’re hesitant but you nod

so he leans forward as if to hold your hands from across the table but he stops himself

and asks, “why have you been so afraid to tell me this?”

it’s silent. very silent

only the sounds of your breath in the room

and the sound of your heart in your ears

with a gulp, you manage to say, “because… because i’m afraid of being selfish and losing you in the process.”

for a few seconds, yunho is frowning in confusion as he tries to make sense of what you said

and you see exactly when realisation hits him

when his features relax and his gaze clears and his mouth parts as he look at you

you don’t look away. you’re waiting for him to say something, to respond, to hurt you with what he’ll say next, anything

but he looks away and lets out a flustered laugh and you can’t help but let out your own nervous laugh as well

you watch his ears flush and his lips curl downwards as he stifles a smile

and you finally cry out, “say something, you idiot.”

yunho puts a hand over his mouth as he stares at you

and suddenly, you feel hot all over. the embarrassment is catching up to you

“are you telling me, y/n, that you like me? that you… actually want me?”

you blush furiously and you’re almost sweating now but you manage to nod

and yunho is laughing in disbelief again and you’ve had enough

you get up, muttering about getting a drink but yunho is quick to catch your wrist and pull you towards him

and you’re suddenly too close

he’s searching your eyes

“you want me?”

you give him a pleading look and he understands

he brings an almost trembling hand to your face, tucking your hair behind your ear first

“i need you to say it, y/n. because i-”

“yes,” you nod, “yes, i want you. is it too much to ask for? have i ruined things?”

yunho shakes his head and lets go of your wrist only to cup your face and you try to decipher the look in his eyes

it is not the first time he has looked at you this way but this time it’s a bit different

“do you have any idea how much i’ve wanted you since forever?”

you think you’re hearing things

because there is no way

there is absolutely no way

that jeong yunho- your best friend- wants you

“you’re not joking, are you?” is your response and yunho laughs a bit before he leans in, watching your breath get caught in your throat when he gazes at you

and then his gaze is stuck on your lips and he’s waiting

and now your hands are moving out of their own accord, snaking up to his chest to fist his black sweatshirt

his nose brushing against yours undoes something in you

“yunho, please,” you manage to whisper

and then he finally pecks your lips

it’s cautious, it’s soft, and it’s nothing like you imagined it to be because you’re feeling a number of things

he scans your face briefly before he pecks your lips again, this time longer

and then he does it again and you’re finally moving your hands and tilting your face up so he can properly kiss you

and there’s no need for words anymore

the unspoken actions are enough

you open your mouth and he dives right in, kissing you eagerly

your knees were already weak so you struggle to stay upright but he’s quick to catch you

his arms are holding you to him and you’re the one cupping his face now as you kiss

it is years of longing and love poured into this kiss and none of you want to stop

but you eventually break apart for breath and then you realise exactly what position you both are in

and suddenly, you’re both laughing, too shy to look at each other and you hide your face in his chest

he’s caressing your back while you recover and when you look up, he’s got the most loving look in his eyes

“what took you so long to do that, y/n?”

“i could ask the same,” you respond. “i could cry right now.”

yunho laughs, planting a kiss on your forehead. “well. how do you feel?”

you hug him, taking deep breaths

“i think we should really talk,” you laugh

he steers you to the couch but he makes you sit in his lap so he can caress your face or play with your hair while you talk

and you can’t because he’s looking at you with the softest gaze ever

so you just ask him since when he started liking you- does he like you?

he tells you about how he, too, has been afraid to ruin things

and talks about how he thought you liked someone else

you ask him if he never got the hint

but you both know how wary you two have been, especially lately

never reading too much into things

perhaps one of you should have

“i’m sorry i made you suffer like that,” yunho finally says to let the weight off his shoulders. “i never realised you were hurting because of me.”

you tell him it’s not his fault and that if he did not like you back you would have been hurt, yes, but you would have dealt with it

except you are so lucky that he feels the same way about you

you can’t believe it, actually

you trace the curves of yunho’s face

it’s like you’re looking at each other for the first time now

“i’m yours,” he whispers when you finally look him in the eyes. “i’ve always been yours.”

you can’t help the tears now

they are tears of relief and sheer happiness

and yunho understands because he’s pretty sure he will cry soon too

he lets you pepper kisses on his face

and holds you when you hug him again

“good thing it’s the weekend, right? we can stay like this all day long.”

and you do

you have nothing you’d rather do

you stay in each other’s arms, talk about everything and anything, caress each other’s hands (mostly you bc you love his hands), makeout in between

and it’s so natural

nothing has changed- it’s just like before but better

you’re still joking around and teasing each other like before

he still passes a ‘ur ugly <3’ or a ‘what a mess’ note under your door

and you still respond with an explicit drawing

the suggestive jokes have levelled up tho

he always catches you off-guard with them and you either blush furiously or send something flying at him

a few things have changed tho

like when he finds you in the kitchen and gives you a back hug

this time he’s quick to sneak in a kiss and maybe nibble at your neck

sometimes it turns into a heated makeout session

other times you ask him to stop so you can focus on cooking but he keeps distracting you until you’re running after him with a wooden ladle

and you two can’t stay away from each other now- you couldn’t anyway but this time it’s different

this time when you crawl in his bed at night time, he is quick to spoon you

and now he does not hesitate to find you in your apartment too, at night

earlier he used to keep a distance for the sake of you both- you realise how now

now he doesn’t sleep in the corner of the bed with the excuse that he likes it

he has to hold you while sleeping

and he has to mutter dirty little things to rile you up too

when your friends find out, they’re not surprised at all

they’re disappointed it took you two this long

they call you both dumb and dumber and perhaps, they’re right

but perhaps… this was the right time

there is a time for everything, you realise

and it took you and yunho years of being together to realise that yes

you are meant for each other and no one else :’)

he’s your best friend, your other half, and your soulmate

he is yours <3

#jeong yunho #yunho #ateez x reader #yunho x reader #yunho fluff #yunho angst #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez au #ateez reactions #ateez headcanons #yunho ateez

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dreamwritesimagines · 3 months

Text

The Eye of the Hurricane [9] - Engagement

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: A marriage decision leads to an honest conversation about expectations.

Word Count: 2700

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, drinking. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

For a couple of seconds, he gawked at you in complete silence before he managed to pull himself together.

“You—you’re saying yes?”

“I’m saying yes.”

“Seriously?”

“Please don’t ask me again because I have this feeling that I’ll change my mind if I think about it longer than a second,” you stated and he nodded fervently.

“Right,” he said. “Sure, I…wow. Okay, we’re—we’re getting married then.”

“Don’t say that either, I am not ready to hear it out loud,” you said with a sigh but before he could answer, a soft voice reached you both.

“Bucky?”

He closed his eyes shut for a moment as he scrunched up his face and you turned your head to look at the top of the stairs where a pretty girl in an oversized shirt –his shirt, if you had to guess— was leaning to the steel handrail.

“Hi,” she said. “Um, who are you?”

“His fiancée,” you stated, trying your hardest to ignore the pang of jealousy in your stomach and her eyes widened.

“Oh I didn’t—I didn’t know—”

“Neither did I when I woke up today,” you said with a click of your tongue. “Can you leave us please?”

“Sure!” she said as she rushed back to what you could only assume was the bedroom and Bucky shot you an apologetic look.

“Charm I’m sorry, if I knew…”

You walked past him, looking around the huge living room. Even you had to admit it looked incredibly beautiful and sleek, and the clear view of the city that you could see from the floor-to-ceiling windows was absolutely breathtaking. It was exactly what you would come up with if someone asked you what Bucky's apartment would look like; luxurious yet dark.

It didn’t mean you would tell him that though.

“I’m not moving in here by the way, this place is a dump,” you forced yourself to say, “If I wanted industrial interior, I’d buy myself a factory.”

“Right, sure—”

“That could be a fun project though,” you muttered more to yourself as the girl appeared at the top of the stairs again, and rushed downstairs, grabbing her coat off the rack.

“Sorry again,” she said without looking you in the eye and walked out of the apartment, and you heaved a deep sigh.

“None of this will be happening from now on by the way,” Bucky said in a haste and you rolled your eyes, then turned around to look at him.

“I don’t care about you enough to have that conversation with you,” you said. “I don’t give a fuck who you fuck, but you’re not going to make me look like an idiot in front of other people so when it inevitably happens, you’ll keep it a secret.”

“You don’t have to worry about that at all,” he said, his voice firm and you crossed your arms.

“So then,” you said. “I feel like we should both talk about the conditions before taking it to the families and the lawyers and everything.”

“I’m good with your conditions,” he said and you shot him a glare.

“You don’t even know my conditions.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

You kept your eyes on him, a slight frown pulling your brows together before you took a deep breath and took off your coat to throw it over the couch.

“Either way, I think we should talk about it,” you insisted and leaned on your hip. “So do you have actual booze in here or are you going to pull out a homemade barrel or something?”

He smiled slightly.

“Take a seat sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll bring the wine.”

“And put a shirt on!” you said as you made your way to the table, ignoring the way your heart skipped a beat. “This is a business deal, honestly. There has to be a dress code.”

When Bucky came to the table, he did in fact have his shirt on and he was carrying a bottle of wine with two glasses. He filled one and handed it to you, then filled his own and sat down. You took a sip, pleasantly surprised at the taste and lowered your glass, leaning back.

“Alright,” he said. “Tell me your conditions.”

You swirled the wine in your glass, deep in thought.

“Well first of all, we need to have a time table,” you said. “I don’t want to stay married to you for the rest of my life, and I’m pretty sure you share the sentiment.”

A small smile twitched the corners of his lips but he didn’t comment on it.

“But we can’t get a divorce as soon as I take over because that will lead to a lot of questions and I won’t have the time for distractions, the taking over process is chaotic enough,” you said. “I can’t be making any mistakes, especially considering I already have a rival.”

“Calling Ian a rival makes him sound more important than he actually is,” Bucky commented. “But I agree. We already know some of the families can disagree with this idea.”

“Stark?” you asked and he nodded.

“At least,” he said. “We have Steve and Sam’s support, my family and your family of course, but the rest…”

“You think Romanoff would disagree?”

Bucky thought for a moment.

“Probably, but I can talk to Nat I think,” he said. “She’d hear me out.”

“Barton?”

“Barton is not going to do anything Nat disagrees with,” he said. “If we have Nat, we have Clint.”

“So that leaves us Stark,” you said, pursing your lips. “Who talks to him, you or me?”

He shot you an apologetic look.

“I mean we may try to sell it as love but at the end of the day, everyone will think about the business side of things,” he said. “It could be better if your father talked to him actually. He already dislikes me enough, and we’re changing the power balance in the city by doing this.”

“Alright,” you said. “My dad could do that.”

“Next?”

“I want your word that I will be included in everything,” you said. “None of the bullshit the earlier generation pulled. I will be in every meeting and I will be included in every single decision.”

He nodded. “Yeah, figured as much.”

“I mean it Bucky,” you said, looking him in the eye. “We will be equals completely.”

“We will be,” he assured you. “I swear on my honor.”

“And I’m not changing my surname.”

He threw his head back. “Charm…”

“Out of question.”

“Charm if I’m going to get you into those meetings, you need to have my surname,” he insisted. “You know the rules. We need to give them an actual reason if you can’t be there as an heir.”

You thought for a moment and cleared your throat.

“Hyphenated it is,” you said. “I’ll keep mine and add yours.”

“It’d be better if—”

“I can’t take over my father’s territory if my last name is Barnes,” you pointed out. “I’ll use both, it’s fine.”

Bucky thought for a moment, then licked his lips and shrugged his shoulders.

“Fine,” he grumbled even though his tone signaled it was anything but fine. You sipped your wine, leaning back.

“Goes without saying that we won’t have any children in the meantime so should we even talk about it?”

“I think we should,” Bucky said, a small smile curling his lips. “Just in case.”

“Just in case?” you repeated and he rolled his eyes.

“It’ll be on the prenup just like everything else,” he reminded you. “And our families will see those prenups, so it’d be better if we covered it beforehand.”

You huffed out and waved a dismissive hand.

“Fine,” you said. “The usual, right? The first born is the heir…”

“The second born is the spare, yeah,” Bucky said. “Although, if you’re keeping your surname…”

“Our children would as well,” you finished his sentence for him and let out a dry laugh. “So then, is the firstborn yours or mine?”

“Maybe it’ll be twins,” he joked and you shook your head.

“We’ll say that the firstborn rules both until the second born is ready, and then divide my territory and yours accordingly,” you said and Bucky raised his brows.

“But until then, both territories?” he asked. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on one person.”

“That person doesn’t exist and will not exist,” you reminded him. “It’s just gonna be a hypothetical article in the prenup, that’s it.”

“And if we want a divorce—”

“When we have a divorce,” you corrected him and Bucky hummed.

“Any specific reque—”

“The weekend house,” you cut him off and he let out a small laugh.

“How long have you had your eye on it?”

“Oh, so long,” you said with a grin. “It’s really pretty.”

Bucky held up his hands, gesturing surrender. “It’s yours then."

“I mean I know I can’t just get it without giving something in return so how about you? What do you want in the divorce?”

“Nothing.”

You blinked a couple of times, gawking at him.

“You want nothing?” you asked him. “Bullshit. Say your price.”

“I don’t need anything.”

“You’re going to get me in the business and help me take over and you want nothing?” you insisted. “No fucking way. What is your game here?”

“I don’t have any.”

“Why are you doing this then?” you asked with a frown. “Seriously. What’s in it for you?”

“My reasons are my own.”

“Bucky…”

“But I do have one request now that you mention it,” he said and you nodded your head.

“Yeah tell me. What is it?”

“Throughout the time we stay married,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. “No sleeping with other people.”

“…I’m not going to sleep with you,” you managed to say after a pause and he shrugged his shoulders.

“We’re going into war with an outsider while pushing you to the top,” he said. “Any kind of issue in our marriage, including a whisper of a rumor could work against that. We need to present a united front to all the other families and our people. Can’t fight a war on that many fronts, you know that.”

As much as you hated to admit, as it turned out, Bucky was actually smart when it came to how things worked in business. You nibbled on your lip, trying to put your thoughts in order before sticking your nose in the air.

“That’s a two-way street,” you told him. “If I’m behaving like the perfect wife, you’re going to behave like the perfect husband.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Bucky, I’m serious,” you said, looking him in the eye. “Don’t go behind my back and make me kill your mistresses.”

“Don’t go behind my back and make me kill your boyfriends,” he replied and you took a deep breath, then downed your wine and stretched out your hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” you said and he chuckled, then reached out to take your hand into his, sending a pleasant warmth from your hand to your whole body.

“Likewise,” he said, his voice soft. “Let’s make you the queen, princess.”

You and Bucky decided to tell your family about your decision that weekend at their favorite restaurant. It would at least give you some time to get your story straight and you figured it would play into the lie; that you and Bucky had something for each other all along and once you got together you didn’t want to lose any time to get married.

Of course your closest friends were going to know about it, it would be impossible to keep it from Becca, Sarah, Steve and Sam because they’d had the first row to every single fight whenever you were within each other’s sight not to mention heard about how much you two disliked each other for years now.

But as far as anyone else was concerned, it was the happy ending to a decade long crush on both parts.

That night, you decided to stay in a hotel until the weekend. Not only did you not want to talk to Ian or your father, but it would also work in your favor; it was Bucky’s favorite hotel, it was in his territory and he would make sure to stay with you in the honeymoon suit every night until the weekend so you were pretty sure the rumors would reach your families way before you told them.

Your bodyguards were still on your father’s payroll after all.

You sipped your champagne, your feet propped up on the small coffee table across from the couch you were sitting on, the fluffy bathrobe wrapped tight around your body as you changed the channel on the TV but the knock on the door made you turn your head. Heaving a sigh, you pushed yourself off the bed and went to the door, then put a bright smile on your face and swung open the door.

“Finally!” you exclaimed, then gasped at the huge bouquet of roses Bucky was holding. “Oh my God!”

“Hi beautiful,” Bucky said with a smirk and you stole a look at both your father’s and Bucky’s men in the hallway, then turned to him.

“You shouldn’t have!” you giggled as you grabbed his arm to pull him into the suit, and closed the door behind him.

“Flowers are a nice touch,” you commented, the lovesick smile disappearing from your lips even if your heart did a happy flip and Bucky winked at you.

“I’m glad you like them,” he said as you took them from him, then walked to the open kitchen to pour water into the empty wine decanter before putting the flowers into it.

He leaned back to the kitchen island. “Did you talk to Becca yet?”

“Tomorrow,” you said. “I slept the whole day away today, barely did anything. Must be the stress after yesterday.”

“Is she serious with that girl by the way?” Bucky asked you. “Leila?”

“I’m not going to tell you anything about Becca.”

He tilted his head. “You and I are going to get married—”

“And she’s my best friend so she’s still above you on my loyalty list,” you pointed out. “Marriage is one thing, friendship is another.”

“Should I at least threaten the girl so that she doesn’t break her heart?” Bucky asked and you rolled your eyes.

“No, Leila is a sweetheart,” you said as you walked past him, then threw yourself on the couch to grab the remote. He followed you and rested his hands on the back of the couch you were sitting on, the closeness of his body making your stomach do a pleasant flip for some reason.

“So what are we watching?”

“We are not watching anything,” you said, trying to focus on the screen. “I’m watching The Bachelor.”

He let out a groan. “Seriously?”

“There’s another TV upstairs, go watch whatever you want to watch there,” you said, grabbing your champagne glass again and tilted your head back so that you could look at him, and Bucky shot you a mischievous grin.

“Marriage requires quality time together, Charm.”

“Who told you that lie?” you asked, turning your glances to the TV and he chuckled.

“Steve sent me an article about it today when I told him the news.”

“Not Sam?”

“No, Sam sent me the address of a great psychiatrist,” he said. “For couples therapy and marriage counseling.”

“That’s much more useful than an article,” you pointed out and he squeezed at your shoulder making your heart skip a beat.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he said as he walked to the hanging stairs and someone knocked on the door, making you frown and look at Bucky over your shoulder.

“Room service,” Bucky answered before you could ask. “I already know your favorite so I ordered for both of us.”

“How do you know my favorite?”

“I pay attention,” he said as he started climbing the stairs, unbuttoning his shirt. “Don’t open the door yet though, will you? Wouldn’t want my men to think I last five minutes.”

“I’m sure that would be an improvement for you,” you said with a scoff and he tsk tsked.

“If you want to see just how wrong you are, all you gotta do is ask nicely princess.”

“That will never happen!” you called out and slipped a little on the couch when you heard him close the bathroom door, then heaved a sigh.

“Great,” you muttered to yourself as the water started running. “My honeymoon should be so much fun.”

Chapter 10

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #mob boss!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mafia bucky x reader #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob boss bucky barnes #mob!au #mob au

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bunnyreaper · 8 months

Text

welder!ghost au

After taking so many welding lessons from Simon and developing a crush, you decide to make him a little something to show your appreciation.

(f!reader, simon is a fucking weirdo, jealousy)

As soon as you'd set your mind to the idea, it wouldn't leave you.

Just like everything to do with Simon, it's buried its way into your brain and taken up residence there, gnawing away until you decide to do something about it.

How you're going to do it is something different, though. There's no way in hell you could get away with making something secret in Simon's workshop, right under his nose like that. That man is far too observant to let something like that slip by, and the surprise is part of the fun.

You want to show him everything you've learned from him, every moment that you've hung off of his every word and listened to everything he has to say, every time you've watched him work and absorbed his expertise.

You settle on a bracelet, braided stainless steel, each step made by your loving hands. Hopefully, he'll wear it, and hopefully, you can guess his wrist size properly--fucking massive isn't exactly a precise measurement.

It should take too long, not with everything he's taught you, and you can be back to working in his shop again instead of the one across the city with the guys he doesn't like. You wouldn't go there under any other circumstances, were the situation not desperate. And when you get there, you understand Simon's judgement completely, not that you ever doubted it to begin with. The guys are creepy, and they stare, as well as make comments that are misogynistic, flirtatious, or an outrageous mix of both.

You're on high alert almost the entire time you work, but you try to push it out of your mind in favour of making everything perfect for Simon. Each weld, each sand, each polish, has to be perfect for him because anything else would be doing his tutelage a disservice. You've seen the disappointed looks he's given some members of the classes when his mask is flipped up, but you'd never been on the receiving end--always so eager to please and impress. That won't change now. You won't allow it.

You braid the steel wire with a drill and a vice, cut the pieces you need, sand the ends and get to work on welding them together. It's delicate work, and your mind only slightly drifts to some of your lessons where Simon had lurked behind you, the heat of his body so close to yours as you worked.

You finish the edges and bend the metal to the desired shape, trying to imagine Simon's wrists as you work--which is surprisingly easy considering how much you've stared at that sleeve of his.

The second you finish, you bolt out of that horrid workshop, off in search of a nice box and some wrapping to finish off the gift. You had a session with Simon the following Monday, and it's then you'll present it to him--if you're feeling brave enough.

Monday rolls round, and the workshop is empty when you arrive, save for Simon working away in the corner. You can tell by the way his posture stiffens that he knows someone has entered, even over the noise of his work, because he's always so perceptive.

The box is in your hand, and your palms are starting to sweat as you call out to him. "Hey Si."

He finishes up what he's doing and makes his way over, setting his welding mask down and revealing his handsome features. "Just us tonight." His comment seems fairly inconsequential, but honestly, you preferred it that way, getting to be the sole focus of his attention.

You nod in response, knowing you should just get the gift giving out of the way so you can both get to work, but your stomach twists with worry. What if he hates it? What if he never wears it?

"What's that?" He asks, eyes flickering down and clocking the box and the source of your troubles immediately.

You thrust it at him, almost as if the box burns to touch. "A gift, for you, it's silly really, but I just wanted to say thank you for everything..."

For the lessons, for his attention, for never treating you as lesser.

He rips off his gloves before he gets to work on the wrapping paper, and peels open the jewellery box to see the steel band inside.

"If you hate it, it's fine. It's just a little token of my appreciation." You rush out your words--damage control.

His dark eyes flicker between you and the bracelet, his expression unreadable before he pulls it from the box and places it around his tattooed wrist. The fit is perfect, but his reaction isn't as his expression sours. "Where did you make this?"

"Huh?" You startle, as that wasn't what you expected to come from his mouth at all.

His eyes narrow, and you swear he takes a step closer. "You didn't make this in my shop. Where did you make it?"

Oh fuck, you think, realising you have to admit to stepping foot in that other shop. You avert your gaze as a sheepish expression overtakes your features. "Uh, PK's shop, I wanted to surprise you so, I went there..."

His hand grips your chin, forcing you to look him right in those stormy eyes. "You wanna make something for me? You make it in my shop, yeah? My student, my shop."

The possessive words make you shiver, make you want to fall for your knees, and beg for forgiveness for the unknowing betrayal.

"Yeah, okay, of course... I mean I hated it there, I swear, they gave me the absolute creeps." You try to laugh away the swirling guilt and discomfort you feel. "Left as soon as I was done, and even gave them a 1 star review. But, I'll never go back, I promise."

Your eyes shine up at Simon's, waiting for him to relax.

"That's my girl." Finally, his touch releases and he steps away, grabbing his gloves. "Let me finish up what I'm working on real quick, yeah?"

"Of course." You nod quietly, watching as he walks away as your stomach starts to sink. At least he didn't take it off. "Do you... like it?"

He stops still, checking out where it sits on his wrist. His expression doesn't change, but you can hear the sincerity in his words. "Love it."

And a week or two later, when Simon asks you to come by the shop one night outside of your sessions, you're not entirely sure what to expect.

He explains he's trying something new, and needs your help, and doesn't explain anything further. But it's Simon, so of course you comply, of course you trust him.

It's only when he brings out a micro welder and a small length of gold chain that you realise what's happening. The intense look in his eyes before he gets to work leaves no room for argument, and you silently accept your fate as he permanently attaches that little bracelet to your wrist--a dainty little 'S' charm hanging from the middle.

#simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty fanfic #a loose grasp on welding and workshops but i havent stepped foot in one in 8 years #forgive me for my crimes pls #written for noel ofc #my favourite welder !!!!!!#this is a mess im sorry

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starzshopoflove · 8 months

Text

Sweetness

(Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader)

Notes: fem reader! i hc ghost doesn't wear a mask when he's off duty, this is just whatever rot my mouse brain creates.

WC: 2.3k

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Ghost has been weird lately—really weird. He’s not yelling at recruits; he’s not entertaining Soap's stupid arguments; he doesn't get irritated as quickly; and more noticeably, he’s been far more brutal on the field.

Ghost never hesitated to use himself as a shield, letting himself take the pain he thought they didn't deserve. He still did, but now it was different; he was a wall of muscle, but now he pushed for them to get out of fire asap. He’d kill the enemy with more prejudice, like they had already killed his most cherished friends. The look in his eyes was more wild; the adrenaline in his blood was more like fire than it was chemical. Pumping around his big body, he chanted “Protect, Protect, Protect,” which he liked much more than when it used to say “Kill Kill Kill.”

They always loved Ghost as the no-nonsense in-and-out man on the field, the one who always puts others before himself during missions, a man who'd welcome death with open hands if it meant the rest of 141 would live. They loved Simon, the man on base without the skull of a man hiding him, the one who wore a less scary baklava, the man with scars and cuts on his face when they went to the pub, the man with horrible jokes, the man who'd make the base's shitty tea somewhat edible. Simon was different too. Simon ate faster, talked a little more, and rushed to get alone as soon as he could, locking his door and not letting anyone in past dark.

Price got tipped off when he saw the little line of white peeking out of one of his vest pockets on the chopper back to base after the whole Las Almas mission. Short square over his heart under the flag that he proudly wore on his vest. He couldn't see the photo, of course, but he could tell what it was.

A captain should know everything about his force—their past, present, and future. Price knew his past and possibly knew more about his present when they weren't on duty. He knew Simon had shifted flats, moving closer to the city center, when Simon told him to update his address on his off-base database file in order to get any checks or documents for future missions. Simon didn't tell him why. Price assumed probably better rent, or maybe he was sick of the shitty neighborhood he once resided in, or maybe he was sick of walking a half hour for groceries.

Price was getting an itch—an itch he didn't like. Price hated not knowing; of course everyone was entitled to a private life, but not when it put him off.

He felt dirty snooping in Simon's office, betraying his lieutenant's trust. He waited until Simon went back to his quarters, slipping in and shutting the door behind him. Nothing felt different, and nothing looked different either. The burning fluorescent lights flickered every now and then, but the air was still stale. No photos, no knicknacks on his desk, bare. Absolute bare, devoid of any personality, anything that would tell you about him, anything you could use against him had the enemy invaded the base.

Pacing around the room, Price checked under the desk and in the drawers twice. He winced at the squeak of the steel on the wheels and how loud it sounded. He snooped through documents, flicking through them quickly, only seeing the same pen and paper against the Manila folders. His eyes scanned the room again and again, only making him bubble and sigh in frustration, running his hand through his hair and gripping his hat in the other.

He stared at the metal closet, almost like it was staring back. Open me. Open me. I have what you want. As if it were beckoning him to spill every secret inside. Everyone had the same one. No one liked opening it; doing that meant leaving, meant war, and meant more time on the field. The field where you were going to get killed or killed, feeling less human every time you shoot. You welcome the gnawing, snarling, vapid ache that takes up all the space in your lungs when you try to breathe when you open that closet.

He hesitated at first, turning the little lock handle before opening the door gently, trying not to focus on the squeaking. Everything stared back, and Ghost stared back. The mask, once plain fabric, is now soaked in years of war; the blood of war dogs saturated it, and the skull of a man no one knew was tightly bound to it.

Grim, dirt, and filth

Guns that had killed more men than one could say, knives clean but still holding the smell of iron and sweat, boots with soles dirtied with soil and dust, and his vest Almost the same one wore the UK flag stitched neatly on with the same little rectangle shape pressed behind, right over the heart.

He wanted to shut the door, he wanted to leave, and he wanted to do everything that would allow him to pretend nothing happened and that he was never in here. He didn't, justifying in his mind that he was doing the right thing.

I'm not doing anything wrong

Unhooking the vest from the inside holding it in his hands, heavy.

I'm just worried

He set the vest flat on the desk, burning holes into it with his eyes.

I just want to know whats happening

His hands almost shook, sliding 2 fingers in the pocket, a soft grip on the polaroid, a feeling that confirmed everything he thought on the heli.

I'm doing this for you

The photo was small, almost choking him when he saw it. When he saw you, A big, bright smile pulled on a young woman's face—a toothy smile you only make when you're in love. Your eyes shut so tight, your hair is messy from the wind, framing your face so delicately, and the big bouquet in your hands is held so tightly that the stems may have bent. You were beautiful, no doubt, but his eyes lingered over to the man next to you before they glanced down at the writing in the ink pen.

Simon and I, 2.6. Manchester flower festival

Simon was staring at you in the photo, not even bothering to pay attention to the camera. Even if the photo wasn't high quality, anyone could see his eyes melting at the sight of you, how relaxed his shoulders were, and the crease next to his eyes from how he was smiling. Simon was smiling, not grinning or smirking like he does after everyone groans at his awful joke; he was smiling like he'd won the powerball.

Swallowing his pride and shame, he carefully tucked the photo back in and just as cautiously put it back. Backing out of the office, he could feel every question creeping up from the back of his brain.

“Who is she?" “What was her name?”

“How old was she?” “What does she do?”

“Does she know?"

He pushed his thoughts back down, shaming himself for suspecting anything about Simon, mentally noting to sneak him some better quality tea as a silent apology.

___

Simon isn't stupid. He can tell they're all being weird.

Is he going to ignore it? Absolutely.

They’re all cramped up in the corner of the shitty pub booth, drinking the shitty beer, and having a shitty night. Waiting for the night before leave starts is both exciting and irritating; each of them is counting down the seconds until they're home, be it alone or with family. Anything is better than a night on their cot in a cold, soulless room on base.

Simon was letting his skin breathe, finally taking off his plain balaclava when they were far enough off base to nurse his pint while the ball of his foot anxiously bounced his leg. He needed to be home, needed to be with you, needed to hold you; he just needed you. Inside his head, he was practically foaming at the mouth, snarling at himself, trying to make every second go by faster than it should so he could finally get his fix.

While he wasn't showing it, he couldn't hide the impatience basically seeping out of his pores, eyes hazed and uninterested in anything around him, his mind drowning out the sounds of the group's conversation with all the noise in the pub combining into a numbing chatter. He was so lost in his own head that he couldn't hear soap talking to him until he felt an elbow on his side.

“Awright? a'm talking tae ye?”

“Sorry. Say it again”

Bad choice. Soap had that stupid look on his face, a teeth-baring grin with his eyebrows slightly turned up, like he knew something he shouldn't. That alone made his eyes move on Gaz next to him, then Price. Gaz looked constipated, brows furrowed together, nostrils flared as he focused on his own pint, and suddenly Price was doing the same. Soaps eyes bored into Simons while the other 2 men had a new intense interest in their drinks.

“Said ye leek lik' yer thinking aboot yer bird”

“Don't know what your saying”

“Och c'moan dinnae lie tae us, a' body kin tell.”

Suddenly Simon also understood what was so interesting about his pint, bringing the drink back to his lips while his eyes gazed off at the wall next to him. He could feel his back itching and shifting in his seat, his shoulders tensing back up as he bottomed out with his drink, letting the glass sit back down on the table.

“Said, I don't know what youre talkin’ about.”

“Right, 'n' a'm king o' scotland.”

Soap was getting too close and cocky for comfort, too loudly sniffing about where he shouldn't, and poking the bear with a stick too short. Leaning back in his seat, he crossed his arms over his chest, letting the black fabric stretch as he puffed out his chest still with that fucking grin.

“Heard ye talking tae her.”

“No you didn't.”

Price's interest in his pint redirected to the tense conversation on his left; he knew he shouldn't know, but he didn't know Soap knew. The guilt from earlier that was frigid in his mind thawed a little at Simon's denial. If he was lying, that means he was right to search, right? You should never lie to your captain, after all.

“Really? Haven’t got a bird at home?”

“No.”

“Dinnae ye know lyin a’ sin”

A gutted groan left Soap as he folded over to hold his own knee from the sudden kick under the table. At this point, there was no use lying. If anyone was going to find out about you, it was better for them than anyone else. Mental gymnastics were set aside as he made a list.

On one hand, they could act as insurance; god forbid anything happens to him, you would be safer with them alone, never knowing what happens, and maybe now you would stop pestering him about meeting his friends (he doesn't have any but them). On the other hand, the possibility of you being compromised would finally exist; that thought alone could make him sick.

A long drag of stale air settled in his lungs, slamming his eyes shut as he let that same breath out. Straightening his back and resting his arms on the table, he let them flutter open and fall on Soap.

“You get one question each. One”

Giddy laughter bubbled up out of Johnny; he was just so happy he could finally open up Simon's brain and have a peek. Shooting down both Price and Johnny's question with a quick answer of your name and age only to result in Johnny giving him a wolf whistle that rewarded him with another kick to the shin. Gaz let his nervous shifting settle now that the cat was out of the bag, with his question filling the air with a new strain of tension.

“Can we see her?”

Hair. On. Ends.

What does he mean by can they see you? Do they want to meet you? Just a picture? Or will that put you in more danger than them now knowing you exist? Maybe it’ll be safer?

“One picture, than nothin else outta you lot for tonight”

Digging through his album of you in search of a simple photo was tougher than he thought; most were in your shop working, you asleep, some in a more compromising position than he’d like to share, but granted, he finally found one.

You were sitting on your shop counter with your hands settled on the wood supporting you while you had that same teeth-baring smile, eyes open this time, and hair not whipped by the wind. In all honesty, Simon thought you were perfect like this, makeup or not; he loved seeing you like this. You could wear neon-colored jumpsuits for the rest of your lives, and he’d still think you're gorgeous.

It was always you to him. Anytime he sees you, he thinks he could go limp. He was hopelessly devoted to you, ready to drop to his knees and confess all his sins if it meant he could drown in you. You invaded all his senses, unearthing parts of him he didn't know were still alive. You calmed that sick mess festering in him that used to wait until it was dark to sink its teeth into him, reminding him how disgusting he was. You dragged him out of that soulless apartment and breathed life into him. Every time you flood him with ambrosia and honey with the sound of your voice or the heat of your skin.

Well, now he had to let them meet you. A photo could never do you justice.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

can u tell i let this chapter get away from me a bit near the end

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