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#bare slate fic
rotisseries · 4 months
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THAT’S SO COOL????? I’m not into video games but GOD they reincarnate and are in love every time??? princess and knight??? also I’ve been wanting to say this for ages but link is sooooo gender. you get it
so. they are in love in the sense that nintendo is queerbaiting me. queerbaiting me with a "straight" couple (they are lesbians). they are not canon they kissed only in the second ever zelda game when there was only the barest story and they were nothing more than pixel sprites and they have not been canon since. and because every game is technically a different link and a different zelda, each individual game varies on how shippable they actually are? like, I'm not very far through twilight princess yet but I've heard they're pretty much just coworkers in that one. the three latest mainline games though, they're like. they're pretty much canon in all but name like you could say it's platonic but like at that point you are running on loads of denial. the three latest mainline games are skyward sword, which is the first link and zelda, the start of the cycle. the plot ENTIRELY revolves around how much link loves zelda. cause they're best friends, hyrule as a kingdom doesn't even exist yet (they live on an island in the sky) she falls to earth and is running around having to discover that she's a reincarnated goddess (that's a whole angst factor btw bc the goddess (hylia) had to fight demise and she won but knew it was temporary and knew demise would have to be defeated again, and that he would need to be defeated with the power of the triforce, which can only be wielded by humans, so she decided basically that she'd need a loyal human knight, and so she reincarnated into a human girl because a girl is loved in the way a goddess isn't and she knew someone would love a human girl enough to save her WHICH HAPPENS so basically zelda gets to have an identity crisis was she just dragging link towards this destiny the whole time? did she truly love him? did he truly love her? are they puppets in this grand plan? "I'm still your zelda" she says to him, but is she??? drives me nuts) and he, ever loyal, keeps running after her to save her again and again and again (link is so dog coded there's a great botw fic about this), and then they defeat demise and he curses them and link is just some guy who went through ALL THIS SHIT cause he LOVED zelda. what if you were in love with your best friend and it cursed you and your descendants for the rest of time this is so francesca by hozier I'd tell them put me back in it I'd go through it again if i could hold you for a minute. and then the next two mainline games are breath of the wild and tears of the kingdom and breath of the wild involves an amnesia plot so you basically watch link fall in love with zelda a second time and then in tears of the kingdom they are. common law married. they share a house. there's only one bed. do NOT get me FUCKING STARTED on the hateno house. and nintendo still plays FUCKING COY zelda's english va has to be like "they... have a really close bond...." this is how I know they're queer you wouldn't do this with straight people. and then people also ship ocarina of time (most popular and well known game of the series most praised for its story) zelink a lot but that's an older game I haven't played yet so I can't speak on them. zelda is so transmasc in that one though this I know. I talk about link being genderqueer a fair amount and everyone on this internet knows link is trans but trust. zelink is t4t
#also I love that you said “princess and knight” like it's another awesome factor about them cause yes so true#but so many people are like “UGH the princess and knight trope🙄” LIKE YOU DON'T GET IT!!! IT'S ABOUT DEVOTION!!!#tbf the zelda plot is always that you have to save zelda and nintendo won't break out of this winning formula#so I suppose for a lot of people it just feels sexist and tired and whatnot#but I've played only the latest games so I'm able to look past it cause zelda manages to still be a really good character from the sideline#also. they're literally in love. um. why do you hate true love and soulmates#anyway TECHNICALLY they're not in love every time. cause. as I said. twilight princess#(also there's some zelda games that don't follow the standard plot (such as link's awakening which I've played its SO GOOD btw)#so there isn't. a zelda and ganon. so obviously no zelink there)#but whether or not they're actually romantically involved I do think it's critical that they are SO SO SO SO IMPORTANT to each other#in which case if they are genuinely just coworkers in twilight princess I do think that's a failing of twilight princess#ask#witch-of-aiaia#hi aiaia!#also. fun detail here. link is a silent protag and they tend to make him a bit of a blank slate in the games#so when I say zelink is in love I am simultaneously working with the bare ass minimum in regards to link#and yet also so so so much cause of the everything he does for her#zelda being a reincarnated goddess/from the line of a reincarnated goddess is so crazy insane to me btw#she's links patron goddess he's her ever loyal servant they're UGHHHHHH#I could talk forever about them. evidently. they're so important to me. only couple I've written fic for
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riaki · 4 months
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ur highschool bully gojo was chefs kiss 💋 what do u think about them going to the same college and taking the same classes?? and the reader sitting next/talking to some other guy and satoru gets jealous?? arwahhhshdhshshs so many possibilities, i hope u continue writing it!!
hi nonnie !! thank you so much :) this is ur official part 2 ! i was struggling to think up some possibilities but this helped a lot :oo | read part 1 here ! -> cw: swearing, jealousy, i let it get fic length oops
(former) highschoolbully!gojo on the brain again… like. when you end up seeing him again however many months later, and you can tell that he’s changed. it’s not like its immediately obvious to anyone who doesn’t really know him like you (used to); but he’s a little softer-spoken and his smiles seem nine times more genuine. it’s not a hundred percent; the kind that really lights up his face instead of just barely falling short of his stark blue eyes, but it's something.
of course, you have nothing to base it off of, because when you do inevitably see him again it's the very definition of meet ugly.
college is a new frontier, but its also a clean slate. its your first time going into something so new without your old bestfriend at your side, but some faint flickering thought reminds you that it might be better that way. but the universe is against you from the very first day, when youre gettin yourself some coffee from the same chain you did the morning of that fateful presentation so many moons ago. you're too busy thinking to yourself what kind of strange parting ritual it is to relive your trauma to notice the lanky, white-haired boy who hits his head on the chiming bell over the doorway. people are giggling around you n sighing dreamily but youre too deep in the music pumping through your headphones to notice and your eyes are glued to the class schedule on your phone, trying to ensure you dont get lost on the first day when—
you blink and your ass is flat on the dirty floor of the coffee shop, and the first thing you register is that your stomach is soaked and burning. you'd spilled your coffee. it takes you a moment to realize, but when you do you're pissed. so you quickly get to your feet, trying to reign in what little of your ego you have left to give the offender who bumped into you a piece of your mind as you look up, then..
how unlucky do you have to be?
just like that, satoru's slid himself back into your life, after ramming through its locked gates. you forget that he always forgets the point of keys, both when it comes to his apartment (which you still have the spare key of in case of emergencies), and the door to your heart. to rub salt in the wound, the only thing that's stained with your coffee order are his shoes, which look like they cost three weeks of your old job salary, but it's all over your shirt. of course it is. because why not? make it look like you tripped and fell into a patch of mud on your way to the lecture hall and tack on an unwelcome reunion with your ex-bestfriend.
to you, it's like the cloud of gloom from your highschool youth has resettled over your head like a swarm of gnats on a dreary, hot summer day. the stars always seem to skew and misalign themselves for you. but for satoru, the stars have handed him one of those huge swirly lollipops that you only ever see being paraded about by toddlers. he recovers almost instantly, trading the burn on his feet and the way it sours your expression like he's just squirted pure citric acid into your throat for a pleasant burn of his own on his cheeks. but it's whatever. girls seem to like it when he blushes, for some reason. he won't question it, if it works on the only one he cares about.
he holds his hand out, ready to help you out like the good samaritan he's become— and it's like a real burn to his heart this time when you ignore it and stand up on your own, refusing to look up and meet his pleading gaze. might as well have taken an iron stoker right out of the fire and jabbed him with it. but he's gojo satoru! he won't be defeated by this one mere, maybe very significant reunion. he's got stamina.
so he offers to buy you a new drink, feels his heart sink when you shake your head (can't even spare a little 'no' in his direction), and talks enough for the both of you when you leave the dingy little store make your way down to campus and the lecture building. you clearly don't want to see him, but he ignores that in exchange to notice the way you shiver every so often. the previously searing-hot coffee that stains your shirt turns cold fast, and moisture n wind don't mix well. he wishes he could offer you some of his own warm coffee, no doubt sickeningly sweet, but he has some sensitivity now, apparently. so, in a brash moment, he decides to take his blazer off and drape it over your shoulders instead.
when you cross the threshold between city and campus, you expect him to yank it off your back and be on his merry way. but he keeps walking next to you, so you walk a little faster, and you absolutely loathe the cheeky little grin that curves the corners of his lips up to show a glint of teeth when he effortlessly keeps up. you curse his long legs when you find yourself winded, but at least you can lose him when you get there.
or, that's what you think. once again, your constellations break themselves to rebuild anew for satoru. you're about to call him a stalker when he follows you all the way to your classroom with that smirk that's growing exponentially until— oh, no.
your phone that's been on the schedule up until now desperately scrolls to the roster— and there it is. he's in your class. needless to say, not another word goes between you as you stomp in and take a seat. luckily for you, you've already corresponded with your roommate's brother (who's annoyingly cute, satoru notices) and agreed to sit next to each other. satoru takes the seat right above you and never stops kicking his freakishly long legs against the wood the entire time.
so yeah, it's obvious he's not a saint; he still has that undoable ego and he's cocky as fuck (as you have the misfortune of finding out when he quickly bullies your professor), but there's a certain familiarity in that no matter how ugly it might appear to others. and if you asked (which he really, really hopes you will someday), he doesn't hang around douchebags who use kids' foreheads for ashtrays and treat girls like they're candy from a glittery pez dispenser. and at least he's switched harassment targets. even though he has an overwhelming sense of superiority over others and never has his lips together for more than five seconds, and even though he has this hellish habit of clicking his pen whenever he's not talking (or when someone else is), it seems like he's changed.
and over time, you gradually find yourself warming up to him. the spunkiness that used to get on your nerves ceaselessly becomes an object of endearment, and you don't really mind the way he never seems to stop moving anymore. it's a nice sort of distraction in the lifeless still of the lecture hall, albeit the pen clicking still drives you near insanity. you notice he always does it obnoxiously and quickly when you're talking to your roommate's brother, but you ignore it.
and for satoru? he hates that he can kinda sorta really tell that you're the only one who can read him like he's a damn book, cus you slowly start to soften up in the nostalgia of his presence like cold playdough between warm fingers that tell you he may have finally caught you again after letting you slip the first time. and he notices it. this time, he's determined not to let you be the one that got away again. but youre really giving him a shit time outta it with the way you constantly entertain the guy who always has his breath in your face.
yeah, he's got a cute face that's sunkissed by freckles. yeah, his hair looks like he models for shampoo companies. and fuck, he has a nice voice. but what of it? satoru's the one with the mesmerizing blue irises and the cloudy white hair your professor wishes he had instead of sad little wisps of old age. still, as chilly days turn into frigid weeks, he gets the perfect backseat angle of the growing relationship between the two of you. the boy's kinda dumb so you copy off of satoru’s work when you need to (he has to hide the 1-0 scoreboard between him and the guy on a sticky note from you when you take his notes), but said guy’s always buying you stuff and lending you erasers and laughing when you flick the shavings at the annoying girl who never stops whispering in the front of the room.
satoru tries to act unbothered, and he almost convinces everyone. including himself. but the angry, burning knot in his chest that's entirely different from coffee stains suggests something more. that should be him at your side. him, making balls of paper with rude scribbles and silly doodles to throw at the people he knows you don't like. him, surprising you with little gifts and the cheap trinkets he knows you adore so much instead of all the luxury things he could afford. there's no way this punk could possibly measure up to him, right? but at least you and satoru are well on your way to becoming friends again. not as close as you used to be, but it's something. substantial. and he's learned to be patient in the time you've been gone.
but he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't tired of it. he’s endlessly plagued with thoughts of increasing intensity— first, it starts out with just you. only you. the way he likes it. the way he likes your face, and your pretty eyes and your gorgeous lips and your soft hair and your figure and the complimenting clothes you wear. but it takes a turn; thoughts turn into dreams that turn into fantasies and he's lying when he says he doesn't enjoy them when he accidentally lets it slip during a group study session— and it’s all fine— but then, that guy appears. the brat who seems to sit a centimeter closer to you with each coming day. not only does he haunt satoru in real life, he’s tormenting his dreams, too. tainting the image of beautiful you.
needless to say, satoru starts to wake up with his hands gripping his damp pillow like he's choking it, acutely aware of the sweat sliding down his neck and over his chest as he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the dorm's air conditioner run and thinking of what it'd be like for dreams (the ones where he replaces the boy) to become reality.
it's a buildup. and soon, he reaches the apex; it's like a rollercoaster, that stomach-twisting moment when you reach the top of the rail that points to the steep descent downward. but this time, he hopes it's a thrill he gets instead of the usual falling fright; the one he got when he realized he’d slipped between your fingers in highschool.
and satoru finally comes to a grinding halt at the top of the ride one breezy fall day when he decides he wants you back in his life after you smile brightly at him and wave goodbye for the day. he’s tired of you having one foot in and one foot out of his heart; he wants, needs more. he always has, he realizes.
so he’s thinking about you and how to approach the feelings he’s realized during those long lectures, and one morning he comes up with some semblance of a plan when he’s high on the sugar from the fruit tea you bought him that morning. and he hopes that, by the end of it, he'll leave your apartment with your hand in his currently empty one, chilled with the remnants of cold condensation from the bottle.
soon enough, satoru finds himself extinguishing his nerves and raising a tense fist to knock on the door with nothing but the clothes on his back and a flimsy plan to ask you out on a midterm study sesh and maybe even a date, but he stops when he realizes it’s slightly ajar. a brief thought of what look might be on your face when he surprises you crosses his mind, so he lets himself in quietly, because he knows every single floorboard that creaks like the back of his palm from his childhood. he’s hit with a wave of warmth and an achingly familiar scent that twists at his heart, and your apartment is cozy and safe and it screams you and he thinks he catches sight of his jacket slung across the back of the couch in your living room, but he’s not sure so he takes a step forward and—
he’s greeted with the sight of that stupid guy with the nice hair and the freckles, and it makes his heart drop. but even worse, he’s kissing you and his arms are winding around your waist but you’re kissing him back with a slight hesitation that’s blinded to satoru by his shock and the fingers he thought would end up in his own tonight card through the boy’s hair and your lips glisten with the strawberry-kiwi flavored gloss he watched the boy give you a few days back and his world is turning red and he feels like his throat is constricting and he can’t breathe—
and he doesn’t even realize you’ve parted lips and you’re calling his name through the newfound tightness of his chest and the painful ringing in his ears thats even louder than any silence of a lecture hall, or the void that should’ve been filled with your voice during the time you were apart. but now satoru realizes he’d take that any fucking chance to have that again because it’s so much better than what he’s stuck with now. having you, but not really having you, because you’re there but you’re someone else’s and you’re not his and he isn’t yours. the best thing he could ever hope for was for you to own an article of his clothing and a piece of his shattered heart, broken into a million fragments. some cruel voice in his buzzing head reminds him to change the scoreboard to 0-100.
and he could buy you cheap hot coffee or earn your smiles from scrunched up paper balls or even hear your laugh with crude jokes, but there’s no point when he realizes he can’t buy you with caffeine or earn you with hitting the back of people’s heads with his bio notes or have you and your laugh all to himself anymore.
it’s almost pathetic, the way satoru’s voice cracks and changes. the look of unadulterated concern on the face of the boy who stole your lips just adds fuel to the fire.
“gojo? what are you doing here— hey, are you okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
he noticed you’d stopped calling him satoru a few weeks back. he should’ve seen it coming.
“huh? oh, yeah. i’m good. i think you’re the one hallucinating.”
he’d never told a bigger lie in his life.
satoru had left after excusing himself for intruding. how very unlike him to be so polite, you think.
so in the end, he leaves your apartment with something in his hand, after all. but it's not your own— just his blazer that you’d given back to him before he stepped out the door, taunting him with the faint scent of coffee and lingering perfume. his hope was foolish, so it seems. it’s too bad, he thinks. if it were him, he would’ve sandwiched you against your counter while he kissed. but it wasn’t. apparently, it was your turn for your stars to align at the price of his.
and so, gojo satoru, the boy force-turned man with a chipped ego and a completely broken heart, loses you again.
bonus bonus.. part 2….
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writingsbychlo · 3 months
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UNDER THE MISTLETOE | epilogue
summary; a year later, your bond with azriel is still going just as strong. new years eve with your mate couldn't be sweeter.
word count; 3171
notes; I know this was highly anticipated, and I'm sorry it's so short, but it is just an epilogue, not a full fic! I hope this isn't too disappointing to anyone! <3
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Staring out across the beautiful cityscape of Velaris, your eyes wandered across the twinkling lights of the town. From house to house, all over the city. The rainbow was lit up even more magnificently than usual tonight, celebrations so loud you could hear them from here if you strained your ear, cheers and singing and dancing, the revelry of happy people, finally celebrating in peace after so many years of darkness. 
Beyond them, snow-capped mountains glowed under the bright moonlight and the stars, the clear sky a lucky twist of fate, as though even the Heavens wanted to be here tonight, watching. Second to Starfall, New Year's was your favourite holiday. A chance for a fresh start, to reflect on everything, to make new plans or to wipe the slate clean. To watch fireworks explode in the cold night sky, glittering and beautiful. 
Taking a sip of Rhysand’s expensive champagne from the glass in your hand, you sighed happily. As you did, a pair of strong arms circled your waist, familiar hands smoothing over your stomach, and tugging you back into a firm chest. Warm lips fell to the crook of your neck as your head fell back on his shoulder, delicate kisses dotted along your shoulder. Dropping your free hand to clasp those around your body, you traced your fingers delicately over scarred skin, eyes slipped closed in his embrace. 
“Hello, my love.” His voice was a low murmur, deep in your ear and humming along your skin. 
“Hi, Azzy.”
Turning in his arms, you looped your hands carefully around his neck, his head bowing to meet your own as he finally stole a sweet, simple kiss for your lips. He tasted like whiskey and sugar, no doubt pumped full of candy Nyx forced him to try, the small boy having kept him hostage all night. Despite it, he’d never let you out of his sights, you’d barely been out here for ten minutes before Azriel had come to find you, following you like a puppy. 
Leaning in a little further, your tongue teased along his lower lip, and he let out a soft groan as he parted them. The kisses grew, his mouth sealing over your own, passion like it was the first kiss you’d ever shared all over again, not the thousandth. Tightening your hold on him, his wings fluttered, circling your body to close out the rest of the world as he hauled you in further, up against his chest. 
Your heart was thudding in time with his own, beating in sync like they had done for just over a year now. 
Only days ago, you’d celebrated your one-year anniversary, taking a few days up at the cabin and away from every, just the two of you, no clothes, and a lot of sleepless nights. The desperation might have died down, but the infatuation still remained as strong as ever. One look, one touch, one kiss was enough to drive you crazy. You were utterly at his mercy, him just as much at yours, and you truly hoped that the intensity between you both never faded. 
He pulled back with a sigh, one more final kiss left on your lips, before he was smiling, forehead on your own. “What are you doing out here, it’s cold.”
You couldn't hep but smirk at that, brows raising a little as you looked up at him. It certainly wasn’t the coldest you’d ever been, there wasn’t even a layer of goosebumps on your exposed skin. But, he had always been a worrier, and your mate bond only seemed to enhance that, even now. “Just… thinking, that’s all.”
“Good thoughts, I hope?” He leaned in, a peck to your lips before you could even respond, and you smiled, stealing another one when he pulled back. 
“Thoughts about us.” your nose bumped his as you leaned up. You tipped your head further, pecking the tip of his nose, and he smiled sweetly. His cheeks flushed with a little warmth, the same way they always did when you gave him this kind of attention, a happy sound escaping him at that affection. 
“Care to share any of these thoughts?”
“All in due time,” You whisper in response, and he merely grunts, “Just thinking about the future.”
“I do that a lot too.”
You knew as much, Azriel had a habit of telling you. When you’d get in bed at night, his head on your chest, all the weight of him grounding you to the mattress as you played with the soft, dark curls atop his head, he’d spill about his day. All the thoughts he’d had, the jokes Cassian had told him, the things that reminded him of you, and his plans. His ideas, even the goofy ones that he knew he wouldn't actually do. 
There wasn’t a thing he ever wanted to keep to himself, and you liked to soak up every part of him that you could. 
The music from inside could reach you, even out here, a band playing beautiful songs and together, the two of you began to sway. No talk was needed but your body moved with his, your feet staying planted as you danced together gently, wrapped in one another’s embrace. His face dipped down, burying into your neck again, and he sighed happily onto your skin. 
The moment was perfect… only broken when Azriel received a small shove. 
Untangling yourselves, he glanced around, gaze dropping to the ground, to see a moody toddler, arms crossed. “Uncle Az, you said we were going to colour in my book!”
Azriel gave you an exasperated look, pressing a final kiss to your cheek, before stepping back. Leaning down, he scooped Nyx up under his arms, lifting him up into his arms. The small boy’s wings batted angrily, portraying his emotions. He truly as a little lordling, always used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it. 
“Alright, little bat. Come on.” Your mate sighed, adjusting the boy to sit on his hip and stepping towards the door. You watched them go, a small smile on your lips, and he turned back to look at you. “Don’t stay out here too long, love.”
You shook your head, offering your hand to him as you walked forward. His smile grew, and he took your fingers, linking them with his own and raising your clasped hands to kiss your knuckles. Leading you both inside, Nyx babbled on about the drawings he and Az would be colouring in, you were pointedly not invited at any stage of events as you made your way back to the ballroom, and Azriel rolled his eyes fondly when the youngster wasn’t looking. 
Stepping back into the bustle of the room, you glanced around, gasping happily when you spotted a familiar face and two heads of white hair in the crowd. 
Azriel only chuckled, releasing your hand and motioning for you to go, before dropping Nyx down and being led away by the hand. 
Darting through the people, Vivianne saw you just in time, a squeal on her lips as she opened her arms for you to fly into. The two of you collided gently, arms wrapping tightly around one another. 
You cupped her face, kissing both of her cheeks as she smiled, all but bouncing as you were reunited. You’d kept in touch all year, letters going back and forth so fast you could hardly keep up with them, but for one reason or another, you’d yet to have crossed paths again, life always getting in the way. Until now. 
“You’re here, you made it!”
Pulling back from her, Kallias grinned, laughing as he swept you up into a hug, your feet leaving the floor momentarily with his enthusiasm. 
“Oh, I missed you both, so much! I can’t believe it’s been a year, already.” For more than one reason, the time had flown, not just missing your friends or your time with Azriel, but so many things had taken place. “We cannot let so long go by again.”
Vivianne clutched your hands as her husband released you, her forehead coming to your own as she giggled. “We will make it our new resolutions to make it so. Besides, it should be an exciting year, we don’t want to miss a thing.”
You cocked a brow at her statement, but she didn’t expand, not as Mor was rushing over in excitement too, greeting both of them herself, and then Kallias was excusing himself as Rhysand and Helion beckoned him over. Vivianne linked her arm with your own, Mor on the other side, and turned to face you with a smirk as the blonde guided your trio through the room. 
Gathering in the kitchen, a private break away from all the noise, Mor set about preparing drinks, handing them out to you all. Vivianne smiled, cheers-ing with you both, and Mor took a heavy chug from her own as you sipped at yours. 
“Jeez, Mor! What did you put in this?” The burn of alcohol down your throat had the ice queen chuckling, putting her drink down and nudging it away from herself. 
“It’s New Year’s Eve, don’t be a buzzkill!” She chuckled, taking another gulp from her glass as though it were water. 
“I heard Mor is pouring, does that mean we’re getting fucked up?” Nesta slipped into the room, and the blonde cheered excitedly as someone matched her energy, Feyre and Elain following, arm in arm, as the youngest sister rolled her eyes. 
“Looks like Cassian will be carrying someone back home later, before the clock even strikes midnight.” Feyre tutted, but accepted a drink nonetheless as Mor poured them and began to distribute them. 
“What’s the point of having a great, big, hulking boyfriend if not to carry me home when I have fun?”
“Now that I can cheers to,” You grin, tapping your glass on her own, and she smirked. Elain laughed lightly, lifting herself onto the counter, and swinging her legs as she clutched her cup between both hands, wincing as she took that first sip. “Don’t worry, it burns your tastebuds right off after that first taste, now you won’t taste anything else for weeks.”
She giggled at Mor’s scoff, taking a sip, and the six of you gathered around into a tighter group as hushed discussion took over. 
Nesta made sure to fill everyone in on herself and Cassian. The two had no plans to truly settle down anytime soon, far too busy battling and playing with swords to even consider a child. They were going to travel some more this year, Nesta wanted to visit every Court, and while Cassian unfortunately couldn't visit them all, whether it was allergies or laws that kept him barred, he was happy to oblige for most Courts. The Winter Court became the first on her list, when Viv promised her a stay like no other, any time they wanted. 
The High Lord and Lady were battling that stage of ‘terrible twos’ with Nyx. He was bouncing like a ping-pong ball between loving mama or loving dada more, but never both. One was always the enemy. He was also jumping between desperate for a sibling, pleading and begging and fighting as he checked every Solstice box for a baby brother, and deciding if he ever saw another child in his life he’d throw a fit. Feyre had a perpetual headache, and Rhys was at the end of his tether, but both had never been happier,
Elain and Lucien were skipping between here and the human lands, repairing bonds as their bond grew ever stronger, giving Elain the perfect mixed life she’d always dreamt of. Mor and Emerie were moving into their own home, and bickering every single day on how to decorate. 
Then, there was you and Azriel.
Vivianne had chosen to avoid Mor’s attempt on everyone’s lives and had found herself something else to drink. Sipping through the straw coyly, she eyed you, and you waited. “So, you and your Az looked sweet, walking in with baby Nyx. Sweeter with your own baby on his hip, I’m sure.”
You sighed at her, raising your brows, even with the smile growing on your lips. “Not anytime soon.”
“And why not?” She pressed, her hands on her hips like your declaration had ruined her life. 
“Because… we’re taking things slow.” Stirring your drink, you stared happily into the swirling alcohol, smiling to yourself as you thought of your lover. “Took us long enough to get together, we figured we have time to savour every step.”
She rolled her eyes, but smiled in that sisterly way you loved so much. “Well, alright. I can allow that. Not too slowly, I hope.”
“You’re impatient!”
“I’m excited!” She clarified, and you grinned into the rim of your glass, taking a sip. 
“And, where exactly are your little icicles, hm? You and Kallias have been together longer than Az and I.”
Instead of sniping back, and utterly lovestruck, wondrous expression passed over her features. She smoothed a hand over her stomach, and your own flew to your mouth as you gasped. “Well…” She whispered, shrugging bashfully at the shriek you made. 
“You’re serious?” Discarding your drink to the nearest surface, you rushed to her, and she lifted her bulky winter sweater. You hadn't suspected a thing before, but now, as she revealed her stomach, you could see the slight bump forming. She took your wrist, lifting your hand, and your eyes watered as you looked between her face and your hand on her warm skin. “I can’t believe it!”
Everyone crowded in, then. A thousand questions were being fired at the elated new mother-to-be, who was happy to answer every single one, showing off the bump she was beginning to grow. 
Nyx would get that new playmate after all, taking a little of the weight off of Feyre and Rhys, with an heir to the Winter Court at last. Stepping back to let everyone else have their moment too, you leaned back on the counter, smiling at the love and excitement surrounding you at every turn. 
A tugging on the bond pulled your attention away, and a haze fell over everything as the feeling in your chest sharpened to full focus. Smiling to yourself, you rubbed absently at the spot where you could feel your love. Tugging back, the thread between you both vibrated contentedly, and you could feel his happy hum on your skin, the trace of phantom arms around your waist.
“Needy thing, your mate, isn’t he?” Feyre’s voice sliced through the bubble, and she was leaning on the counter beside you. “Do you think it’s an Illyrian thing?”
“Hmm.” You smirked, “Potentially. I can barely get a moment away before he’s pulling along the rope to find me.” You made sure the notion reached him, a warning burst reaching your chest, teasing and light, like a nip to the shell of your ear, and you shuddered. 
“Let’s go find our needy Illyrians, hm?” Her arm laced through your own, following the steps Nesta had not long taken. 
Hidden in the back of the room, Rhysand was spread across a couch, his son sleepily yawning in his lap as he tried to stay awake, while Azriel and Cassian both sat in the low-backed armchairs before the roaring fire. He never had to glance up to feel you coming, raising a hand to his shoulder at the same time you reached out to him, leaning over the chair from behind and kissing the top of his head. 
He pulled you around the chair and across his lap, nuzzling at your cheek as needy kisses trailed from your cheek to your mouth, and you grinned, turning to face him and rewarding him with a single kiss. He didn’t seem too satisfied with that, a glint in his eyes promising more was to come, but he let you adjust comfortably across him. 
“What did you ladies talk about?”
“I can’t tell you that, Az, or it wouldn't be girl talk, would it?” Your words had his eyes narrowing, calculated gaze fixed on you, “What did you boys talk about?”
“Can’t tell you that, baby, or it wouldn't be guy talk.” He retorted, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him. He pinched your jaw in his hand as a response, twisting your smushed face back to him and kissing you. He was smirking as he pulled back, leaning in close enough to share breath. “Kal and Viv, right?”
You caved to his charms, smiling as you shared the same space, wrapped up in him, “Mhm.”
He only smiled, nothing more needing to be said between the pair of you. 
“Viv asks when it’ll be us. Says we looked good walking in, hand in hand, Nyx on your hip.” Azriel’s eyes snapped open, straightening up as he put several inches between you both. Your hand smoothed up his chest, settling on his neck, trying to suppress your laughter. His pulse raced under your palm, your hand sliding behind his head and into his hair. “Relax, Azzy. I told her how we’re taking things slow, at our own pace.”
“But— But… I mean— It’s not like I’m opposed to it, but—” He sputtered over his words, and you kissed him silent, his shaky kisses returned with vigour, the trembling bond between you both settling steadily again. 
“We have things to do first, I’m in no rush to move through our milestones. I want you all to myself, for a little while longer.” You pulled him back in, kissing across his cheek, lips travelling to his ear, “And when I say that, I mean it.”
Despite it being whispered, Rhysand still hurled a mental stone at your walls, snickering to himself at your gasp as he eavesdropped on your private dig at him. Turning around, you glared, flipping him off mentally. He smirked, sipping his drink and patting his son between the wings as the small boy slumped asleep over his thighs. 
Turning away, you sealed yourself back into the haze with Azriel, his mouth travelling along your jaw, your head tipped back.
“Must we really wait until midnight before I can kiss you properly, Azzy?”
“I suppose, we could be early for once in our lives. Kiss me now, we’ll pretend it’s midnight.” He whispered, a lazy smile on his face when you looked at him. He was so beautiful, the man who owned your heart was like a work of art, watching you with such sweet love that it made you want to melt. 
“I love you, Azriel.” You whispered onto his lips, lessening the gap between you both, and a content sound rumbled free from his chest. 
“I love you, my dear. To another year, another decade, century, with you.”
“To forever, together.” You finalised, and he nodded, your eyes squeezing shut tighter as a flood of his emotions overwhelmed you from your words. 
“Forever sounds like a wonderful place to start.”
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coffeebanana · 2 months
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It felt eerily familiar, kneeling ghost-like beneath a vermillion sky. Doom crept though Antichat's chest, as thick as the acrid smoke scorching his lungs. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. There was a weight in his arms—an inexplicable solace. And yet…  Suddenly it didn’t weigh as much as it should. No.  His eyes flicked downwards. No, no, no, no— All he held was a pile of ashes, moulded into the shape of a girl.
Some nightmares refuse to fade.
***
[Read the full fic below the cut or on Ao3!! CW: panic attacks, dissociation, depression]
It felt eerily familiar, kneeling ghost-like beneath a vermillion sky. Doom crept though Antichat's chest, as thick as the acrid smoke scorching his lungs. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. There was a weight in his arms—an inexplicable solace. And yet…  Suddenly it didn’t weigh as much as it should. No.  His eyes flicked downwards. No, no, no, no— All he held was a pile of ashes, moulded into the shape of a girl.
Please, no.
Chat squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head to rid himself of a sudden, blinding panic pounding through his skull. But it was too late. Ladybug’s slate-stained image was seared into his mind, her face frozen in pain, devoid of everything that had once painted comfort across his soul. 
Her mask was half-torn, such that Marinette's bare cheek was cradled closest to his chest. Like maybe he'd tried in vain to protect her from the blast.
From his own destruction.
A choked sound ripped itself from his throat, a painful lump following in its wake. He had no way to fix this, nothing to do but pull her in closer. To tighten his arms around her precious, fragile remains.
Another mistake. 
She crumbled in his grip; ashes floated up like a mosaic, blinding his vision. Frantically, he pawed at the air—trying to gather her fragments, to force her back together. If he caught enough, perhaps he could papier-mâché her likeness. He could use his tears as glue.
But there was no time for that before a fiery breeze tore through the street. Marinette’s remains were swept away, and only Chat’s strangled cries could follow. 
The further away they fled, the more he came undone. There was nothing left to tie his mind together, to keep his pain from exploding like a supernova.
Nothing to keep the world from collapsing in on him.
“What did you expect?” Nightormentor’s voice sliced through the smoke. “You’ve always been poison to the ones you loved most.”
NO!
With a frigid gasp—one that curdled his tar-slicked insides—Adrien awoke. Once again, there was a darling weight in his arms. Only this Marinette was warm and solid. Her limbs were tangled in the blankets she'd pulled to her side of his bed, and one of her hands curled slightly into his T-shirt as her breath tickled the fabric.
She was alive.
Adrien just wasn't sure his heart still knew how to beat.
He was too hot and too cold all at once, both drenched in sweat and trembling. His chest felt like someone had trampled it, and every attempt to breathe sliced further into the wound. 
When he closed his eyes, the world was still on fire.
Stomach lurching, he carefully rolled Marinette’s weight off his chest. He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t listen to the even sounds of her breath without hearing echoes of his own sobs slip between them. 
The room spun around him as he stumbled to the bathroom; the world still appeared as though through smoke—muted and unreliable, the air too thick to breathe. He collapsed to his knees in front of the toilet, his empty stomach convulsing, only to realize the sickness inside him wasn’t the kind he could expel.
He remained there, braced against the toilet seat, until his limbs eased their shaking enough for him to crawl away. Even so, he barely made it to the wall beside the sink before one of his arms gave out, and his cheek slammed a little too hard into the handle of one of the cupboards he twisted into a seated position. Hissing in pain, he let his face press against the wood there, shuddering at the way the cold surface shocked some life inside of him.
Time ceased to make sense after that. One moment, his chest was burning, pain reverberating through his back as he struggled to fill his lungs. The next, it seemed he’d become a giant cloud. A numb expanse of icy droplets, ready to fall at a moment’s notice.
Light gradually awakened the room, a subtle warmth flickering near the edge of his awareness. He only fully realized the day had come when, somewhere beyond the door he’d left ajar, the bed creaked.
“Adrien?” Marinette called. Her voice was gentle, but pierced through him all the same. “Everything okay?”
No.
Panic set in anew as footsteps approached. He swore he could somehow taste the blood pounding in his ears, and he clamped his mouth shut to keep from crying out. To keep from breathing, even.
He didn’t want to be found. Maybe, if he held his breath until his lungs screamed again, he’d remain concealed in his lifeless fog.
But ironically, it was harder to keep from breathing when that was his actual goal. He sucked in sharp breaths, timed to his heartbeats, and hid his face in his hands.
“Oh, Chaton...” Marinette’s slippers scraped across the bathroom tiles, coming to a stop within his sight. Too close. “Did it happen again?”
He managed a nod, bottom lip quivering as he bit back a sob.
A long exhale piqued his attention; it started as a noise from above and ended as a warm breath against his cheek. Kneeling at his side, Marinette rubbed her hands against her thighs.
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
Adrien shifted his jaw from side to side, guilt hooking its talons into his gut. “I didn’t want to bother you.”
It wasn’t a lie; he felt plenty bad about inadvertently dragging her here every night. She deserved the comfort of her own bed, regardless of whether he could actually get any sleep without her. So the least he could do was actually let her get enough rest.
But it wasn’t the truth, either.
And as she took his hand, carefully smoothing his fingers over hers, he had a feeling she knew it.
“Adrien…” She tugged his arm upwards, pressing a kiss to his fingertips. “You’re not going to hurt me.”
Biting his lip to keep from disagreeing, Adrien squeezed his eyes shut. With one less sense at his disposal, he was all too aware of the way she lifted his hand further, unfolding his fingers to press against her cheek.
“See?” she whispered, breath tickling the inside of his wrist. Her head twisted to the side, lips planting a kiss on the heel of his palm. “Everything’s fine.”
He swore he could feel the remnants of destruction prickling against her cheek. It took everything he had not to jerk his hand away.
Nothing was fine.
No matter how he’d come into this world, and no matter how much he despised the fact, Adrien would always be—in some way or another—his father’s son. Sometimes he swore he saw a glimpse of the man when he turned too fast in the mirror. Other times, a flash of fury would seize him; with a sickening sense of satisfaction, he’d know what it might felt like to be a villain.
Even worse, he was his mother’s son. His very existence had killed her.
He’d killed both his parents, in the end. 
So no matter how much Marinette tried to console him, Adrien knew the voice of his nightmares had a point. He was a danger to her, to himself, to the world.
It might not even end up being his choice. All it would take was someone finding out what he was, and stealing the two rings he still couldn’t stand the sight of.
He was, at most, a liability. And Marinette deserved more than that.
She never agreed with him on that point.
“Look at me,” she said now. An edge crept into her voice, one that shocked him into listening.
His heart jumped at the blue of her eyes—filled with all the warmth that the fiery world of his nightmares had failed to hold. 
“I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking. 
“No, no, no. I don’t want you to be sorry. I just…” Tears filled her eyes. “I love you, okay?”
Adrien couldn’t say it back. He couldn’t find enough truth to shove into the sentiment—not when that was all buried beneath his own misery. It was like he’d returned to his nightmare, with smoke charring his throat and one all-consuming fear.
Just the tiniest wrong movement could ruin everything.
But if he didn’t give some kind of response, Marinette would only worry. So he tugged on her hand—maybe a little too hard considering her yelp of surprise—and guided her to sit between his legs. She moved readily into place, and Adrien forced himself to ignore the fear spiking through his veins, hugging her back to his chest.
Once settled, she twisted around and tried to crane her neck upwards, reaching a hand half-blindly up to his cheek. Heart squeezing in his chest, he tightened his grip around and pressed a kiss to her head. 
She remained tense for a moment too long, but finally sighed and melted back against his chest. Her hand trailed lazily back down to her side, and her breath spilled into a hum of contentment. With her gaze fixed firmly ahead, Adrien could finally breathe again.
He didn’t want her to see the few tears he’d finally let slip down his cheeks—even if she’d no doubt hear his sniffles or feel the way the cries rumbled in his chest. And he didn't want her to examine him to deeply, to discover what he already knew.
One day, he would surely disappoint her.
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shadowy-dumbo-octopus · 2 months
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Y'know, something I really love about this fandom is how attached y'all got to Parker.
This isn't even about "fandom latching on to a niche character" but about people seeing Arthur's former business partner - who was a massive part of his life and helped him through so much, who died in e1 and we don't even know what he looks like and is barely mentioned - and refusing to let him die.
What was he like? He was such a big part of Arthur's life, they trusted each other, saw each other everyday, he helped Arthur out of rock bottom. What did he look like? How close were they? Friends? Familial? Lovers? No, we don't care that he died! What if he didn't? What if that body wasn't his? What if he's Noel? What if he's among this or that cult trying to take it apart? What if he's in the Dreamlands? What if he's still out there? What if he's alive in this fic? In that one? In this AU?
He's so fun to explore: a blank slate we never got to meet, brimming with potential and spiced up with what little we do know about him. No wonder fic writers love him.
We can't just leave that guy dead, can we? He was important to Arthur, so obviously he's important to us. We never met him, and yet we love him as if he's been alive all along. And I think that's really lovely.
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candy8448 · 9 months
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Random details i noticed while rereading random bits of LU:
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1. When going into a new world and asked if anyone recognises this place, Wild pulls out his slate (probably to check if his map is working) to see if they are in his hyrule. Ive seen this a lot in fics before but i never noticed that the idea may hhave come from the comic itself
2. When Wild feeds Epona, it has the same sparkle effect as in BotW!
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3. "Its a secret to everyone" hehe
Wild also said it in that one extra where they discuss who knows about Twilight's wolf form
Intresting how its been used both times to do with dark world forms
4. Twilight looks like a werewolf, almost definetly probably intentional
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5. When Legend reverts back to hylian form and is holding the master sword the tempered sword is also very obviously glowing, just thought it was intresting
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6. "Nice hair" XD
Quote from Skyward Sword, Link says it to Groose at the begining when Groose hides Link's loftwing as one of his dialogue options
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7. The first reactions we see to Wolfie being hit are the four people who know that Wolfie is Twilight
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8. At this point, Warriors knows about Wolfie being Twilight, and probably knows that Wild is very close to him, so he lets Wild run off ahead, understanding that he probably needs to make sure Twilight is okay as soon as possible
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9. "What a terrible fate" 0.0
10. This is probably going a little deep into analysis here, but when Wild starts talking here the pannel has him silhouetted against the background, as if he is laying his feelings plain and bare
11. We see the Link from 100 years ago here as a ghost with the champions, in his soldier armour, Wild probably sees him as a different person
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12. I may be missunderstanding something here, but does Time not know that twilight is his descendant? Because in the Malon comics he does know, but the extra comics always did feel really seperate from the rest of the main story
13. Also! Malink baby!!!!!!!!
14. Also (ran outta space for photos) Hyrule's healing powers look similar to Mipha's healing powers
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inmyheadimobsessed · 9 months
Text
I Don't Play Nice
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pairing: riri ✘ black!fem!reader
summary: don't fuck fans. this was your rule. unfortunately though, the development of this rule came only after you'd done just that. and now, you cannot seem to outrun your mistake.
word count: longg <3
contains: singer!reader, obsessed!fan!riri, mean!reader, semi mean!riri, possessive!riri, jealous!riri, ooc riri, tbh riri herself is a warning, toxic dynamics, some darkish themes?, mentions of stalking, smut (18+), dom!reader, sub!riri, bratty!riri, riri is mouthy & very unhinged, oral, choking, knife play (riri loves her knife), light nipple play, mentions of blood, car sex, public sex?, strap!reader, fingering (riri receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dirty talk, spanking, crying, biting, pain!kink, masturbation, strap sucking (barely), use of drugs (pills), rough sex
tags: @verachii @venusdraco @quintessencewrites @cjariot @widowmakker @blackgcomica @n7cje @dejaonline @shinsousliya @generallysapphic @mbakuetshurisprincess @pinkwright @saintwrld @axailslink @mocha-aya @uhwhatsay @6-noir @cuddl3s4shur1 @chidinma @shuriszn @lppriceisright @sweetalittleselfish-honey @abenomeiiii @marsolgy @prettymrswright @shurisjournal @marsolgy @shurismainbxtch @shurisbbymama @shuriri4life @cafehyunji @yunhofingers @yamsthoughts @iseebeautyinwords @ihearttish @vampzxi @sapphicvqmpires
divider by: @firefly-graphics
note: uhhhh, just stay with me, walk with me!!! see it the way i’m seeing it first!!! the car scene/smut is heavily inspired by ohmami by chase atlantic & maggie lindemann, i've had that song on repeat for weeks just sitting in my ideas. i would suggest listening to it to understand some of the references lol. other songs that inspired this fic: misunderstood - kodie shane, don't fight it - kodie shane, f&mu - kehlani, triggered - chase atlantic, off my head - kodie shane and then ohmami last. also this is dedicated to that anon who was screaming in my askbox for sub!riri for like a month, i saw you fren. i had too much fun writing this even though it killed my brain, i didn't even think i was gon post it fr. but anywhoo, hope y'all enjoy! mwah, mwah!!
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Bright neon lights illuminated the stage, your crimson-hued silhouette resembling that of a deity from where you stood, bathing in the crowd’s continuous chant of your name. There were distinguishable cracks in the voices rushing you, throats more than likely sore from the ear-piercing screams bellowing out of them, yet still, they endured, glazed eyes stalking you in sheer adoration. Your audience clung to your every lyric, your every move down to the bounce of your sweaty curls as you pranced around the stage.
You were in your element, entrancing their minds with a power you had yet to grow used to.
In your chest, your heart gained life, its thump a deafening pound resounding in your ears; if the beating were any louder, the microphone clasped in your fist would surely pick it up. But it was yours to hear, just like the sensation of your stomach in your throat was yours to feel — the absence of your mind yours to know.
Calling your love for performing an addiction would be an understatement. You were your most authentic self on stage, every surge of adrenaline dosing the high you were jonesing for. Your confidence blossomed, not as a mirage, but as the most corporeal entity your body could conjure up, differing greatly from your branded media persona of an arrogant, entitled, asshole.
These were titles intended to condemn following the very messy breakup with your now ex-girlfriend, renowned actress Syla Slate. Gorgeous, talented, beloved by all of America; she was their sweetheart, so naturally, she won the public’s favor in the split. But your resilience had been a thing miscounted, and woefully so; you wore your scarlet letters with honor, refusing to clear up rumors surrounding your infidelity.
If there were words to be said, feelings to unpack, you would express them on the stage before the thousands of people holding your word as bond, which happened to be the exact thing you did now.
“London!” You commanded the audience with outstretched arms, your very presence eliciting a thunderous uproar. “I ain't think y'all could get any louder.”
The drove of onlookers read your disbelief as a challenge, shouts climbing the arena walls as the sharp octave punctured your eardrums.
You popped out your in-ears, unable to halt the slow smile stretching across your features. You were proud, proud that they risked the health of their voices just to hear yours. “Well alright, I guess y’all could get louder.”
They chuckled as a collective, making you follow suit, “I got one more song for you lot. That's what y’all be saying over here, right? You lot? Shidd, my southern ass wouldn't know,” They laughed again at your terrible rendition of a British accent. “Anyway, like I was saying, I got one more song, y’all cool with that?”
Just as you expected, shriek after shriek bled into one another, melding to create a boisterous sound that expanded around the O2 Arena, and you let your smile broaden as you secured your microphone back into its stand. “Ooh, y’all sound excited!”
The slowed tempo of your closing track began its waft, filling the speakers, the ears of your admirers, and your system all at once. They recognized the beat within seconds, the bass now competing with their cries.
A little bit of that arrogance you chose not to refute came peeking through as you adjusted your mic stand, “Oh y'all know this one, huh?” And they yelled again, satisfying you.
You shut your eyes, expiring a shaky breath into the grille of the mic in preparation, allowing the music to seize hold of you. Your digits trembled around the mouthpiece, and your rings scraped the surface.
Complicated, I shouldn't ever have to feel this way.
Instinctively, the lyrics vacated your mouth, and instinctively, your sockets began to well. You fought the tears, keeping your lids tight in protest of the tumble they threatened.
But, every time I try to up and walk away,
You come around and start to love me, love me better.
Your emotions and your wet eyes were both the epitome of irony. How many shows had you closed with this very song? Why were the waterworks threatening to spill now?
Complicated, I shouldn't ever have to feel this way
Perhaps they were due to the truth stewing inside you. Tonight wasn't just the last show of your tour, it would be your last live performance for a while. You would be leaving your heart on this stage tonight. A difficult decision made, but a necessary one nonetheless. Perhaps this was your body attempting to accept this fact.
Every time I try to up and walk away,
You make a promise that you'll love me, love me better
Love me, love me better
After a moment, your eyes fluttered open and the tears swelling your orbs rained down, fogging your vision. You loosened your strangle on the mic, only now realizing how tight you held to it. As you gazed at the sea of bodies, you noted their red eyes and damp cheeks. They were screaming your song back at you, your lyrics dragging through the air.
It wasn't uncommon to witness your fans crying at your shows; your music overwhelmed them; their connection to you overwhelmed them, and the vulnerability birthed from this emotional exchange overwhelmed you.
I think I'd rather just be misunderstood,
Found out your love ain't no good.
You took in the masses, scanning their dazed smiles as you continued to sing, and that's when you saw her.
Through the mist in your eyes, she emerged out of nothingness. Clad in lace, sporting that devilish smirk that curdled your blood, wearing those dark irises brewed to the brim with mischief. You could always pick her out in any crowd, which looking back, had been the commencement of your own undoing.
Had me at hello, got me with a kiss, left me in abyss.
She swayed to the music, mouthing the words with those dangerous fucking lips. Lips that could ruin your life with a single utterance, lips that did ruin your life, your relationship.
When you finally let your eyes meet, she bared her white teeth, taunting you in that way she often did. You were seething and she knew it, her swift little wink a testament to her knowledge.
You should turn away, rip your gaze from hers, focus on the tear-stained faces in the audience. You should ignore the abrupt shift in your heart’s thump, how it rattled in rage now at an uncomfortable rate. You shouldn't allow her to get to you just by simply existing.
Don’t want my heart cold, so I took it off of my neck and my wrist.
But, in an arena sculpted to house twenty thousand, a lone Riri Williams faded your performance high just by being.
God she was maddening, and inescapable it seemed, no matter the continent you ventured to. To the rest of the world, it'd look like you were serenading her in a bubble where just the two of you existed, but you both knew better. Your anger was palpable to her alone, something she counted on; you’d played this game of hers long enough to hone certain skills, like how to bury your building fury. Your muscles tensed, your knees locked in place as you returned to choking the mic yet again, sizzling under your elevating temperature.
You sang through your irritation though, spitting your venomous lyrics directly in her face as she watched, amused. She wouldn't ruin this parting performance for you.
Found out it was mostly lust but not love.
You kept your eyes on her for the duration of the song, earning jealous stares from the other girls rallying around her, their own hopes of soliciting your gaze made obvious. They were shoving, and yelling, yanking the barricade aggressively, yet still, all your focus lay on Riri. It's what she hoped for, to ensure chaos, to make it obvious she did not need to vie for your attention, she just… simply had it.
You were strengthening her pride, the last thing you sought to do, but looking away from her proved to be impossible.
Complicated, I shouldn't ever have to feel this way.
But, every time I try to up and walk away,
You come around and start to love me, love me better,
Love me, love me better…
Confetti raining from the heavens emulated her skin's shine, golden and distracting, the showers causing you to rip your stare away from her briefly. When the dust settled, she’d vanished, disappearing like she'd never existed, and you couldn't help but chuckle to yourself with a head shake.
“London, thank you, I love you. I’m gonna miss you!”
With that, the lights dimmed, giving you time to evacuate the stage swiftly and stealthily. Off you went, mind still muddled with the smugness she wore on her features as she gawked at you with feral eyes.
Riri being in town meant trouble, and you wanted no fucking part in whatever she had planned.
•••
After leaving the venue your entire body felt numb and fatigued, so you instructed your driver to take you straight back to your hotel. Typically, your routine concluding a performance would involve saying hello to fans who stayed behind after the show, you'd done it countless times, but not tonight. With Riri on the loose, you couldn't chance running into her anywhere, not in your current state of exhaustion. If she was to meet you this way, you were ashamed to admit that it would take zero effort on her part to coax you into doing whatever she wished.
You weren't too tired to be furious though, allowing the emotion to take precedence over your shame; you intended to use said fury to venture as far away from Riri Williams' deranged ass as you could manage.
The length of your silent car ride was spent with your head propped on the cool window, pondering her being in London. You didn't have to question her why; Riri fought valiantly to be wherever you were, but her how, that remained somewhat of a mystery.
How was it plausible for her to be in Europe right now? Her finals should be consuming the majority of her time, clashing with the schedule for the last leg of your tour. You knew this because you planned this.
For the first fifteen stops, there were no tour buses broken into, no dressing room locks tampered with, your shows remained uninterrupted, and you hadn't had to suffer through your usual internal battle when facing off with your biggest weakness. All was fine until tonight, your final concert.
How convenient, you thought, though you supposed her powers should in no way surprise you anymore. You knew the things Riri was capable of, experienced the fate of her actions.
Which was why you decided a quiet night in your hotel would be your chosen way of decompressing. When you pulled up to where you were staying, you shot your manager a text informing her you would not be attending the after-party thrown in your honor. Parties meant paparazzi and their intrusive questions about your relationship, or rather, the lack thereof. But most annoyingly, parties meant Riri, and her covert ways of always weaseling past security at events she presumed you to be at.
And you would pass on dealing with either scenario tonight.
The elevator chimed, doors sliding open on your floor and you stepped out, trotting swiftly toward your suite with a hot shower in mind, one that would rinse away your stressors.
Upon unlocking the door though, there was an immediate sense of something being off, the instinct an acquired habit after your colossal mistake of intertwining your life with Riri's. Every day since you'd been made to look over your shoulder. You stalked deeper into your room, eyes trailing to your rumpled white comforter pulled back as though someone had lain in your sheets.
Before you left that morning, you'd made your bed, another acquired habit, this one drilled into you by your grandmother growing up, and one you practiced diligently when sleeping in threads that weren't your own.
So naturally, with the sight laid out before you, your mind ran straight to the only person you knew could be responsible. The pillow on the right side of the bed was dented, and one of your silk button-ups from a previous concert sat in a pool on the carpet. You bent over to pick it up, pulling it to your nose for a deep inhale to find that you were indeed correct; the intoxicating aroma of Riri's perfume misted the fabric, forcing an unintentional smirk to crack across your lips. You battled against its appearance and lost, as usual.
She was here, in your room, in your bed, wearing your clothes. And recently too, her floral scent still lingering on your linens serving as proof. Your eyes rolled on command, but you decided to ignore the knowledge you'd just gained, mind still set on that well-earned shower. You figured you could still get to it, if Riri had still been around, her presence would've been made known the moment you stepped through the threshold.
Her absence indicated one thing though; she wanted you to come find her, but you wouldn't play into her hand. You were far too tired, and far too over her games.
You began a leisure strip, stepping out of your leather pants and dressing down to your undergarments before making your way to the bathroom. You stopped short when your toes met the tiled floor, gawking at the scene awaiting your attention.
Scarlet petals floated atop long departed waters, blanketing the bath that had now run cold. They were scattered across the floor as well, and the lasting whiff of outed lavender candles filled the air. A discarded bra hung off the side of the tub, matching panties too, and you sighed, stepping on the torn roses as you walked further into the bathroom. She sure knew how to make herself at home.
When you stood before the sink, your eyes dropped instantly to the counter, glued to the promiscuous polaroids littered across it.
Every last one of Riri, every last one taken in your bed. Your shirt draped her body in some, the golden shade making her skin pop beneath the material, mimicking the confetti from earlier. But she was fully naked in most, bare breasts and nipple jewelry exposed with her perfectly manicured fingers playing in her pretty cunt. You picked them up one by one, examining the images further.
The angles were impressive, you couldn't lie, and you appreciated her effort. Like her position in the picture your thumb grazed now; Riri was bent over, ass high in the air, her dripping folds glistening in the perfect shot.
The more time spent gaping at the photos, the stickier your underwear became, clinging to your own saturated cunt. Riri's effect on you wasn't some unknown thing, you were aware of it, she was damn sure aware of it, and these polaroids displayed below you were her version of a reminder, but you chose to stare anyway, reveling in the building throb at your center.
In the final one, her locs cloaked her shoulders, slightly shielding her nipples from your view. But your focus did not lie there, instead, the hefty-looking purple toy rammed into her tight hole stole your attention. It stretched her wide, the pleasure causing her head to sling backward, and those pretty lips to part, forming the most pitiful little 'o' you'd ever seen.
It was this shot that compelled your hand's betrayal, your shower partially forgotten as you slipped your digits beneath the waistband of your panties. One stroke of your swelling clit had your throat craning, imitating Riri's in the photo, a rugged moan slipping free as you splashed around in your wetness, eyes fluttering in response to the sensation.
Before you could really delve into pleasuring yourself though, you glanced at the mirror, reading the words written on it, words you'd somehow missed upon entry.
You rolled your eyes and freed your damp hands from your pussy, arousal on a mission to flee your body. It was replaced instead, by your previous rush of agitation as you reread her cheeky message.
“Did you miss me?” Scribbled across the glass in ruby-red lipstick, the question enclosed in her literal kisses.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
•••
In an interesting twist of events, you'd found yourself in the hotel bar nursing a rum and coke with your thumb looming over a poorly typed text message, those photos still weighing heavy on your head.
Under steaming streams meant to wash her likeness away, your pussy had a vastly different idea in mind, wrangling your fingers in on the plan against your will as you fucked yourself to the thought of her. You came harder than you had in weeks, though the orgasm did nothing to relax your spinning mind.
That's what the alcohol was for, or, what it was supposed to be for anyway.
You’d wandered downstairs in disgrace, desperately needing to drink your actions away. But rather than the escape you chased after, you were met with only more shame at the bottom of your glass. It was your single drink that prompted the idea of texting Syla. A risky move, and a cliché at that, texting your ex the second a drop of liquor kissed your lips. But, you’d done worse things, quite literally moments before drafting the unsent message you still stared at.
You supposed it was the guilt of your shower excursions truly driving your choice. She deserved an explanation for everything, a proper one, and providing that hadn't been an accessible opportunity over the past few months. She was busy on set, and you were on tour, battling the everlasting presence of the demon at fault for your parting.
Riri Williams.
You'd met her a year and a half ago, when your career was on the climb, and the line of girls willing to do whatever you wanted on the promise of a good fuck and a shot at being your next video vixen was unending. You never delivered on the latter part of that promise, but after experiencing the former, they hadn't the capability to mind much.
It was a routine you developed, sleeping with girls after every show, slutting them out, then sending them on their merry ways immediately after. So when the girl with full lips and sinful eyes caught your attention in a Chicago crowd, you knew immediately she was to be your next conquest.
She was alluring, unsettlingly so as she bopped to your singing with a smirk hanging off her blood-red lips. Danger lurked beneath that smirk, lying wait, and you took notice. It should've been your first sign to steer clear of the menacing beauty, but, you were stubborn by nature, and evidently your own worst enemy. So you stooped on the stage, extended your hand to meet hers, laced your fingers together, and sent the audience into a frenzy when you dedicated your celebratory ode to the soul foretold to doom your life.
Riri was the first of your plethora of playthings able to keep up with your stamina. She was fucking feral, and insatiable, hell-bent on riding your strap off of its harness. You weren't ashamed at the time to admit she was the best you’d ever had, and that was only after one night together.
You hadn't even questioned her appearances at multiple gigs and events afterward; you were way too gone off the sex to notice the sprouting problem. Much like performing, you were developing an addiction to her, and the heat between her thighs. Submerging your tongue deep within her wet walls provided the same jolt of adrenaline you received from being on stage, if not more. Bending her over to demolish her from the back got you higher than the chants from thousands of fans ever would.
When you finally did come up for air long enough to acknowledge your predicament, it had been far too late. You began to pull away, wanting to wean yourself off of the drug that was Riri. But she wasn't going for that.
Where you tried dousing your addiction into a dwindling flame, Riri's obsession flourished like a forest fire.
Denying her access to yourself was possibly the worst decision you could have ever made. It didn't stop her from finding your studio, damaging your car engine and conveniently being nearby to help fix it, she even went as far as getting jobs at the venues you played just so she could see you, only to quit directly after your set.
Her ways of maneuvering were mind-boggling, frustrating you to your very core because no matter the effort you poured into it, leaving Riri alone was a task you found to be formidable. She'd show up, and you'd give in. Every. Single. Time.
All of that came to a crashing halt when she obtained your home address, deciding to break in as some grand romantic gesture to “win you back.” You didn't read it that way, obviously, and you branded her a lunatic who had no part in your life. You fucked her like she was nothing and sent her packing, threatening a restraining order if she didn't leave you alone from then on.
Dating Syla forced you to make good on that threat. Your relationship was fairly new at the time, but you liked her enough to want to keep Riri miles and miles away from her. You were at a place of contentment in your career, the need to collect a harem of women washed from your system after the nightmare of your last encounter, and peace seemed like an obtainable thing, or at least some semblance of it, with Riri gone for good.
It's what she allowed you to believe anyway, until she'd apparently had enough of watching you be happy with a woman who wasn't her.
You'd received a text composed of the same words signed across the mirror upstairs.
Did you miss me?
And it wasn't much longer before Syla was on the line, screaming obscenities at you through the phone.
“Lying bitch.”
“Cheating ass hoe.”
“Fucking slut.”
“We're Done.”
She hung up without letting you get a word of defense in, leaving you more so angry than heartbroken. Because it was undeniable that the cause of Syla's unrest and the text on your screen somehow coincided. A truth confirmed when your phone started dinging off the hook.
Riri liked to take flicks.
“To commemorate the moment.” She'd say, and it had already been discovered that telling her no wasn't a thing you could do, so you always let her pull the camera out, far too turned on by the idea of your own personal collection of home movies with Riri in your phone.
In hindsight, you should've guessed they'd come back to bite you in the ass eventually, despite Riri's accomplished skill to manipulate. How she'd managed to convince you the tapes existed in your phone alone was embarrassingly beyond you.
Because there they all were, coming through one by one as you sat on the edge of your bed, dumbfounded.
Syla had forwarded every piece of incriminating evidence that backed up her accusations to you. There were dozens of photos, dozens of videos, all of you and Riri over the year she spent in and out of your sheets. None of them recent, but that ceased to matter. Your girlfriend had seen images of your strap down Riri's throat, watched videos of her back arching impressively for you. And your words; her ears were exposed to the vulgar phrases you hissed as you fucked Riri senseless, phrases you'd never once mouthed to her in the bedroom.
Which was why your conscience scolded you so, because the hurt dampening her words that day was unmistakable for anything else. Yet, you ignored that fact in the shower, huffing Riri's name as you permitted a climax brought on by her image to rattle your bones.
You sighed, finally hitting send on the message just as the bartender approached you, “Oof, you look like you could use another one of those. My shift ends soon, but I could make you another if you'd like.”
Her name tag read Esperanza. Pretty, you thought, a pretty name for a pretty girl. Almost pretty enough to tempt a yes out of you, “Could you ask me again, preferably in an accent that isn't as attractive as yours so I can say no? Because I really, really wanna say no.”
She laughed when you groaned in frustration, rewarding you with a blinding smile that unexpectedly heated your cheeks, “I mean I could, my Swedish accent is pretty terrible, that might work. But I won't, seeing as it's in the job description to seduce guests into buying more alcohol with my voice.”
“Is it?” You questioned with a small smirk.
“Yeah. Especially the pretty American ones like yourself.”
You opened your mouth, fully prepared to retort with something equally as flirtatious, but then your phone buzzed in your palm, capturing your attention as your eyes fell to the device in hopes of seeing Syla's name lighting the screen, only to be met with disappointment.
You wanna fuck that bitch or something?
The number unknown, but the sender was far from.
“Would you excuse me?” You spoke finally and Esperanza nodded, returning to her business of cleaning the counter down.
You stood up from the stool with darting eyes, scanning the bar for any signs of her presence but to no avail. When your phone rang, you answered it without a second thought.
“Where are you?”
Soon, Riri’s permanently teasing voice chimed in your ears, “Hi baby, you miss me?”
She giggled, and you imagined her somewhere twirling her hair around her finger, smiling innocently to herself.
You huffed into the mic, already beyond irritated with her antics, “Riri, where are you?”
“Ugh, baby, why you always so hostile?”
“I told you to stop fucking calling me that.”
“Don't be mean to me. I'm sensitive, baby.” You could hear the frown in her voice, the way her tone took a dive indicating she'd been truly hurt by your words, which only annoyed you more.
“No, you're fucking crazy.” She paused, just like you'd anticipated, and you listened for her intake of breath, smirking when the faint sound of her gasp blessed you. You knew her eye twitched like it always did, you just wished you had the pleasure of witnessing it for yourself.
“I don't like that word.” Her declaration blew through the speaker cold as ice.
You dragged your hand over your face, losing the patience you barely had to begin with. “Riri, what do you want?”
“Did you see my pictures, baby?” Just like that, she did away with the chill lacing her voice, returning it to its usual chipper pitch. “Did you like them? I figured you'd need something to… relax you after your big performance. You did so well by the way, I’m proud of you.”
The thrill that shot through you from her praise would have to go ignored, because you weren't trying to deal with any of your conflicting emotions for the psychotic girl on the other end of the call. “What do you want from me?”
“You and Esperanza looked cozy flirting at the bar. Can't say I wasn't jealous, you never talk to me like that. But if you like her, I could help get y’all together, give you a helping hand and shit. Now that you single.” She giggled slightly after finishing her last sentence.
You turned, eyeing the bar once again. It was mostly empty, save for the three girls in a corner booth, the security guard posted at the door, and yourself. Esperanza had left it seemed, clocking out like she promised, leaving you alone with the ghost of Riri on your line.
You rolled your eyes, remembering how you still suffered the ramifications from the last time she felt inclined to offer a helping hand, “Your crazy ass blew up my fucking relationship and you think I want your help?”
She remained silent for a lengthy amount of time, almost tricking you into believing the line went dead. It wasn't until you were lowering the phone from your ear that she cleared her throat, and you braced yourself for impact. “She could never satisfy you and you fucking know it. You ain't even like her for real, you just wanted a new bitch laid up under you after I stopped giving you access to this pussy baby.”
If the word delusional existed as a person, her name would be Riri Williams.
“You're fucking insane do you know that? Like something is genuinely wrong with you if you think–”
Riri cut you off, “Let's not forget I wasn't alone in our little movies baby. You can't blame your fuck ass relationship failing all on me, because if I remember correctly, you was the one holding the camera while you was blowing my shit, wasn't you?”
Your throat dried, your vision reddened, and your phone shook inside your fist. You couldn't speak because there were no words to be said. “Ri–”
“You know what? I change my mind, I won't help you with Esperanza after all. I like having you to myself anyway. You still want me, and with ole girl out the picture, we can go back to how we used to be.”
“Tell me where the fuck you are Riri.” There was a thud on her end, one that you also heard inside the bar. She was definitely somewhere close.
She tsked, “Nuh-uh baby, you gotta come find me. I got a surprise for you.”
And she hung up the phone, the beep forcing an exasperated sigh from your lips as you stood hopeless in the middle of the bar.
•••
For as long as you’d known Riri, she'd always been obsessed with the never-ending game of hide and seek she trapped you in, forcing the role of being it on you every time. She wanted you scouring the hotel for her while she waited, sitting pretty in whatever cranny she'd made herself comfortable in. She wanted you to do what you always did when you inevitably smoked her out of hiding: punish her for her bad behavior.
Fuck what she wanted.
You wouldn't give in, not this time, and what better way to ensure this case than leaving the hotel entirely? It was late, the night breeze dry as the valet pulled your brand new Ferrari GTC4Lusso around the front, the street lights reflecting off its bold cherry tint. A destination was the furthest thing from your mind when you climbed inside the car, but truthfully, you didn't require one. Driving was merely a ploy to put some distance between you and Riri.
The car’s rumble when you pulled off wasn't one loud enough to drown out your screaming thoughts, much to your dismay. You’d hoped, at the very least, that the revving engine, and the openness of the endless motorway you were now zipping down recklessly, would be enough to dampen your anger. But alas, vexation was an ever-present emotion whenever you found yourself in proximity to her, or rather, when she forced proximity between the pair of you, and it didn't emerge for the reasons you wished it did.
Your adrenaline was rocketing, heart rate spiking in tandem with the numbers on the dash as your toes pushed into the pedal, but despite all this, your sour mood remained. Because you could not discredit Riri's infuriating claim; you wanted her still. You'd endured months without her, abiding by the useless lies that failed to convince you otherwise. That lust for her taste lingered, that lust for her feel, all of it.
Lust that Syla could never satiate, and you often got the sense she wasn't heedless to that truth.
“Fuck!” You cursed aloud, eyes flickering to your dinging phone screen colored in her text messages.
You almost reached for the device resting in the mount, crippling guilt once again driving your decision-making. But you reminded yourself you were behind the wheel, just as an identifiable sensation against your bobbing larynx sent a chilling shiver down your spine, and molded you still in your seat. Briefly, cautiously, you allowed your eyes to leave the road, causing the car to swerve unintentionally into another lane when your gaze became acquainted with the object pinning you down. Beautiful, black, and blinding; the razor-edged blade tacked to your flesh was accompanied by the sweetest pain, and a deeply sultry voice. “We don't text and drive, baby. Leave the bitch on delivered.”
When she spoke, it irritatingly settled your breathing, but not enough to assist you in regaining control of the steering wheel clutched in your fists. There were other cars on the road honking at your continued shifting, but what could you really do when there was an insane girl holding a knife to your throat as you drove? “Riri...”
“I told you to come find me and you didn't.” She spat harshly. Just your fucking luck, she was upset.
“Riri, Ima crash this fucking car if you don't move that shit from my throat.”
She ignored you of course, opting to press the knife in harder. If it were her goal, she could break through skin, the choking pressure indicative of the power she wielded, and in any other circumstance you'd probably be enjoying her lethal way of incapacitating you. “Why didn't you come find me? I was waiting for you.”
“I'm not finna play this game with your psychotic ass tonight Riri. I said fucking move that shit.”
Once again, your cry fell on deaf ears. She kept her hand looped around the driver's seat, knife firm in her fingers as she tightened her grip on the decorative, golden handle.
You listened to her airy exhale, flinched beneath its warmth when it plowed into your expecting cheek, and it was then that you allowed your glare to capture hers in the rearview mirror. Her lips, pouty and red-stained, twitched at the corners, morphing into a foreboding smirk that traveled straight up to her smoky eyes. Eyes that were deep, eyes that were dark, and exceedingly dangerous; like a void you were destined to forever fall victim to.
Riri launched her body forward, nibbling on your bare earlobe. “You're being mean again baby. Real mean for somebody with a knife pressed to they throat right now.”
The sting from the blade began to heighten, building into a burn so glorious, it shot through your limbs, and you found yourself inadvertently tilting your head backward to relish in the hurt.
“I could slit your fucking throat right now and you wouldn't even be quick enough to stop me.”
Words of your own were difficult to come by, you were entirely consumed with combatting the violent throb increasing in your pants, all amidst your efforts to keep you both alive in the drifting Ferrari, but it seemed your soul was the only one inside the car yearning to live another day. “Ri–”
“Just kidding!” The dagger levitated, undoing its imprint in your flesh, and you coughed, one hand instantly flying up to your bruised throat while the other remained on the wheel, regaining full control of the vehicle.
She planted a long, sloppy kiss on your cheek before climbing over into the passenger seat, giggling all the while.
“Jesus fucking Christ Riri, what the actual fuck?!” You spared her a glance, of course she was grinning.
“Were you scared for your life, baby?” She giggled again, biting her lip as she tried reaching for your phone, but you smacked her hand away before she could get to it. “Rude!”
You sighed, “How the hell did you get in here, Riri?”
“Mmm, semantics.” She huffed, seemingly bored.
You relaxed, eyes fixed back on the road now that you were somewhat confident Riri wouldn't be slicing you open. Your muscles loosened and you fell into a leisure position, tossing an irritated scowl her way. “What are you doing in London? You should be at school. Don't you have finals and shit?”
“Aww, look at you all concerned about my studies. You're so cute, baby.” You tried your hardest not to cringe at the pet name and the heat it churned inside your abdomen. “But, obviously I had to see you. You all single now, your tour just ended, and you announced that hiatus, I didn't know when I'd get the chance again. Aren't you happy I'm here?”
“Not at all.”
She frowned, “That's not funny.”
“I wasn't tryna be fucking funny, you shouldn't be here.”
You hadn't needed to see her face to know a smirk played in her features. “You didn't think that lil restraining order was gon stretch all the way across the pond did you? They don't got jurisdiction over me out here baby. I can be as close to you as I want.”
You groaned inwardly, unaware of who you were truly annoyed with; Riri and her actions, or yourself for being so damn turned on listening to her insane logic. She was correct, because you knew that her stunt with Syla wasn't a one-off, and you'd eventually be seeing her again.
Riri was immensely smart, so it made sense that she waited until you were no longer on American soil to corner you, and making you think you'd finally escaped her by being in Europe had to certainly be part of her plan as well. Fuck, why was her conniving nature so damn sexy?
“How did you get in my car?” You asked again.
“I'm not that big, and you should know by now that I'm very…” Riri paused, deliberating on the word she wished to use. “Efficient, when it comes to getting into places I probably shouldn't be in.”
“Yeah, cause you're crazy.”
You could see Riri's body turning towards you in your peripheral, she bent her knees in the seat, eyes locked on your form as she skillfully maneuvered her knife in between her digits. “You like your tongue, baby?”
“What?”
She sneered, “Your tongue. Do you like it?”
“The fuck are–”
“Cause I like your tongue. When it's inside me, when it's rolling over my clit. Yeah, I actually kinda love your tongue, and I really, really want you to keep it.” She surged forward with a quickness, almost diving the point of her ebony dagger through your jugular. “So Ima suggest you stop fucking calling me that shit, I'd hate to have to cut it out.”
All you could do was roll your eyes. “Dramatic ass.”
“And you love it.” She plopped back into the seat with a satisfied smile, extending her legs so they now rested in your lap, to which you did not protest.
Riri giggled, reaching into the bosom of her dress to retrieve a small, clear baggie harboring those circular blue pills that she loved so much. Her wet tongue awaited the tablet's arrival, extending out of her mouth in preparation for its landing. And you turned, one hand on the wheel as you watched a gradual cerulean bleed cover her tastebuds. “Want one?”
“No.” All your attention shifted back to the road and your lack of destination. You'd left the hotel to get away from Riri, yet here you were, essentially taking a fucking joyride with her after she broke into your brand-new car.
“Ugh, lame.” She stashed the pills back inside her titties, once again reaching for your phone, and this time you didn't stop her. “Can I put my song on?”
Your brow quirked, “Your song?”
Riri nodded, “Yes, my song. The song you wrote for me!”
“You think I give enough of a fuck about your deranged ass to write a song about you?” You did, write a song about her that was, a couple in fact. All of them about your reprehensible escapades with the groupie who wouldn't leave you alone, the groupie who you couldn't leave alone.
Your entanglement with Riri had managed to bypass public perception, the only thing you executed correctly when it came to her, so her name had never been in the running when the speculations of who your last album could've been about arose. You knew she'd figure it out though, because of course she would.
She kicked your thigh, causing you to smack her ankle in retaliation. “You do. I'm your muse.”
You bellowed a hearty, sarcastic laugh. "My muse? Oh, you're very unwell, Riri." She pointed the blade your way as a warning, causing you to grin triumphantly. "And which song you think I wrote about you?”
“Don't play dumb baby, you can't pull that shit off.” Riri placed your phone back into its holder, her lips curling into a bashful smile when your voice drifted from the speakers, and her song coasted the car's air.
We done played all these games,
Only now I can't wait, I want you now, I can't wait, oh yeah.
The track she chose had indeed been one she inspired. It was also one you avoided entirely, purposefully leaving it off the set list for all of your shows. But again, here you were, subjected to listening to Riri's painfully off-key rendition of the lyrics that symbolized the relationship you two shared.
But she just wanna off my head, I just want the neck instead.
She just wanna fight in bed, I wanna get high instead, oh yeah.
“You think this is about you?” You teased, only seeking to rile her up. “This could be about any of the other girls I done fucked.”
“You know I can't leavе you alone? You know I could never tell you no? Hmm, definitely sound like this is about me. Cause I know you wasn't running back to none of them other hoes like you was running back to me, let's be for real.” She continued to sing, spreading her legs in the process.
It was muscle memory that had your hand descending to her ankle perched in your lap, making you squeeze it before you began to massage it in the way only you knew she liked. And the smile that you failed to disguise when she whimpered was one of instinct, not intention.
“How many girls have you f-fucked on tour, baby?” The question straggled out of her mouth behind a breathy moan.
You hadn't wanted to award her inquiry with any sort of answer, largely in part due to the answer being one that would please her, so you elected to lie.
“A few.” You retorted with a sanguine smirk you deemed sharper than the blade she flaunted, but when your gaze panned her way, the sight awaiting you dulled your smile into a flaccid frown.
She was bunching her dress, thumbing the fabric of her underwear once the hem circled her waist. “Mmm, that's a l-lie.”
Riri made you weak, downright helpless and impotent whenever her authentic huffs of pleasure gained volume. So it wasn't the least bit surprising when her whines from beside you nabbed your attention from the freeway, making it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything apart from the wet sounds emitted by her dripping center.
Your eyes drifted, and you stifled a moan of your own when you realized she'd graduated from touching herself with her fingers. Riri had the blade locked in her fist, dragging the handle up, down, and around her throbbing clit above her panties.
“Riri, what are you doing?” You bit your lip, feeling your pussy clench around nothing.
She slipped her sticky panties to the side, finally bridging the gap keeping the hilt of the knife apart from her eager cunt. “If you was fucking bitches I would know. Sticking to your rule I see.” You watched the tip of the handle orbit her hole, just before it slowly sank in, getting swallowed by her grip all the way up to the bolster. “F-Fuck baby, I guess this p-pussy really changed your life, huh?”
“I don't want your fucking pussy juice all over my seat. This car is new.” Your scolding tone was feigned, only in an attempt to express a fragment of restraint, but truthfully, every ounce of it slipped swiftly away from you the second you bore witness to that molly hitting her tongue.
You weren't even sure if you were driving on the right side of the road, far too fixated on keeping your composure as your fibers mastered the art of persuasion. They insisted you pull over and allow your fingers to replace the knife, have your tongue relieve the shiny gold hook of its lewd duty of fucking Riri's cunt.
She was thrashing, pumping the back end of the blade in and out, in and out as her squishy pussy sang to you. “Am I the f-first g-girl you let r-ride in your new 'Rari, baby? Ooh, I feel so special.”
“I'm not letting you, your crazy ass broke in. And I mean it, close your damn legs.”
You did the only thing you could think of to get her to stop: you pushed the pedal to the floor, the speed sucking you into the seat as the car surged forward. But beside you, Riri remained a moaning, giggling mess. It was like your accelerated driving, and your admonishments motivated her to fuck her cunt faster as she slicked the knife, making herself wetter. “Hear h-how wet this pussy is for you b-baby? You haven't even t-touched me and I'm fucking drenched. Oh, oh! Shit!”
“Do not fucking come on my seat Riri.”
“Or what? You gonna p-punish me?” She used her free hand to rub coaxing circles into her twitching clit, biting down on her lip as the tool dove deeper into her stretched hole, prodding her sensitive spot just right. “Fuck! It f-feels so good! I'm close!"
You took your eyes off the road, watching her lids droop from the pleasure building deep within, tuning in to the cry clamoring from her tightening stomach.
“Don't.” But you knew she would.
“I can't baby. I-I… Oh fuck!” She groaned, long and breathy, her back arching inward, chest bouncing rapidly from the build-up. Riri screeched the second her orgasm knocked her down, and it was the sexiest sound you'd ever heard. Droves of bliss pillaged her frail body, and she shook violently next to you. “I'm s-sorry... I-I c-couldn't.”
“It's okay.” You were soothing her as she declined from her climax.
The handle glided out of her used pussy, dragging out strings of her oozing cum with it, and the hilt glistened brighter than it did before her hole consumed it. Your quick glances from the knife to the road, from the road to Riri’s seeping cunt weren't enough, you needed to taste her, and it was apparent that she read your mind. “Wanna taste?”
You tried for reluctance, at least your brain did, your body not so much. A steady nod was your only offer, eyes never leaving the road ahead, and you could sense Riri’s grin after receiving your answer. She was excited, pleased, surprised that you gave into her off the first ask, usually she'd have to work harder to earn your compliance. She was on her knees seconds later, left hand propping her up on the center armrest while her right carried the glimmering dagger to your mouth.
She smeared the tip across your full lips, her slickness coating them like gloss, and out came your tongue, drinking in her juices like a parched animal. As always, Riri's cum tasted fucking fantastic, but you refused to give her the satisfaction of moaning. “You like?”
You remained silent, and she smirked, “You love.” She beamed, tapping your mouth, “Open wide baby.”
She was taunting you, this you knew. You were also aware that you were on the verge of doing exactly as she requested without a lick of shame, and you glared at her, unimpressed.
“Please? For me?” She whined.
You couldn't resist her pout, you couldn't resist her, not anymore. So immediately, you promptly parted your lips, offering the stem of the dagger a seat on your watering tongue, your saliva mingling with Riri's sweet, sweet nectar.
This time you did moan, and loud too, fueling her fire just like she wanted, just like you always did. You twirled your tongue around it, sucking and licking every last drop of her creamy cum off the knife handle.
“Backseat. Now.” The only words out of your mouth when she pulled the hilt free, and she clapped, climbing over you as you smacked her ass before pulling the car over on the side of the highway.
•••
“Bend over.” You tried tearing your lips from hers as you spoke, but Riri snagged your bottom lip between her teeth, biting fiercely while her cunt brushed your lap. She kept her eyes on yours, smirking, wanting you to behold the peril swallowing her pupils when she slipped the point of her blackened blade between the buttons of your shirt. She dragged it down, the sharp knife popping each one clean off until your top flew open under her swift slicing.
Your own eyes twinkled encouragingly; you were far too into this; you always enjoyed those seldom moments when you permitted Riri's belief that she held the upper hand.
The tip of her pointed dagger grazed the valley of your unbound breasts, their exposure earning her marvel as she used the bountiful view to aid her desperate humps against your thigh. And you could hear her pussy, you could feel the sticky puddle created by streaks of her first climax seeping through her thin underwear. Her moans were so broken and docile, it almost seemed criminal to make her stop, but you needed her splayed across you.
“You gon make me say it again, mami? You know how I like you.”
With fogged-out eyes, she nodded, stealing one more kiss and shoving the knife into your palm before stretching her small body across the extended center column. Her plump ass elevated to eye level, and you sat back to enjoy the view presented to you.
Lace complimented her skin's deepness far too well. The material embraced her curves, molding to her hips like a second skin, and you nearly let guilt get the better of you for the actions that followed. Your movement was one of speedy precision as you slashed through the bottom half of Riri's dress with the blade she awarded to you, making her gasp.
“This good baby? This how you wanted me?” She backed up a little, seeking some sort of comfort and it clicked then, that this position must be an awkward one for her with the armrest slanting her, and jabbing right into her abdomen.
You bit your swollen lip, moaning from the sweet pain left behind by Riri’s incisors. “Mhmm,” The blade's handle trailed her sticky crotch, “Just like this mami.”
In seconds, you were cutting her cunt free from her messy underwear, kneading and jiggling her exposed ass cheeks in your hot hands. But your pace wasn't up to her liking, and Riri never shied away from voicing her opinion. “You moving too fucking slow. If you gon hi–”
Before her complaint could force its end out of her mouth your palm collided with the meat of her ass, hitting her with unruly force. Her body jerked on top of you, and she yelped, the fragile screech music to your ears. “What you was saying, mami?”
Riri groaned under the rush of pain, then exhaled, and you took this as your opportunity to slap her behind again.
As you ran your hand along her bare skin, you absorbed the heat drummed up from your two hits alone, chuckling. You skimmed the area with your nails, growing more excited watching her twitch. You'd almost forgotten how hopelessly responsive her body was to your touch, even under the faintest brush of it.
“You're a fucking problem.” You slammed an open palm up against her right cheek, smiling at the ripples the collision created in her skin. “Do you even know what you do to me?”
Of course she knew how her actions dictated your decisions, how her guise plagued every divot in your brain. Riri understood her power over you, and it was this very knowledge that had you spanking her again, and again, and again.
“H-Harder!”
Her ass was hot, sore, and damn near swollen. Her tears were heavy streams rolling from her eyes and into her gaping mouth, yet still, she desired more. A resilient little thing she was; you admired her moxie. With every lash, her sopping pussy called on your digits, needing them to plug the dribbling hole expanding the wet patch already existing on your thigh.
“You like that shit don't you? Being in pain?” Your handprint painted her butt cheek, pulling a guttural scream from her throat. “That scream wasn't an answer to my question mami.”
She was full-on bawling, blubbering in your lap when your fingers forced their way inside her cunt unexpectedly, and she lurched.
She sniffled. “Yes! I l-like it!”
“Then shut the fuck up and stop fucking crying.” You smacked her tired ass for the umpteenth time, sliding your fingers through her soaked folds, coating them with all the slick you could collect before ramming them back within her welcoming walls. “You asked for this shit, and you gon take it like the slut you are.”
“Y-You hit like a b-bitch.”
You spanked her once, twice, three times, four times, five; each hit reprimanded her unacceptable behavior as she sobbed with the brown seat leather aching between her shaking fingers.
She wiggled in your grip, wanting desperately to escape the hurtful blows that just kept coming, smack after smack after smack echoing throughout the car. “Not you tryna run Ri, thought I hit like a bitch. Nah, bring that ass back here.” You laughed.
“Please!” Each of her screams made you fuck her pussy faster, encouraged you to slap her ass harder just to revel in her burning skin as Riri cried herself to the edge of her second orgasm.
You pushed up against her nerves, thumb swatting brashly against her swollen clit. “You squeezing my fingers real tight mami, that must mean you finna come.”
“I'm, I'm…” Riri kicked her feet, whining around the deepness of your digits. When she glanced back at you your heart softened just a little. Her big brown eyes were blown the fuck out, leaking fat tears and mascara that seemed never-ending, and she chewed on her lip hoping the action would alleviate some of the hurt. “C-Com…”
Your thrusts slowed, and your hits morphed into a massage as you groped her cheeks tenderly. “Yeah, give it to me, come on my fingers, come all over them.”
“Ooh, baby you f-fucking me s-so good! I’m coming for you!”
She poked her ass out, twisting from side to side as she permitted spasming shocks of pleasure to surge throughout her body at a rapid pace, still backing up into your digits that had yet to depart her hole. “That's it, fuck yourself on my fingers Ri. Show me you can be a good girl, fuck yourself through it.”
It was a difficult thing you’d tasked her with, but luckily for her, Riri thrived off hardship. When the aftershocks subsided, her movements halted and she sighed, moaning low in her throat at the gentle pace in which you extracted your digits from inside her.
“Sit up and come taste it.” You commanded, rolling your eyes when she looked back at you weakly.
With your hand inching toward the hair hanging over her sweaty back, you looped the ends in your fist, yanking her body up until she shifted, then you turned her so her sore ass could plummet right onto the slim storage compartment she was just bent over. “I said sit up.”
Her naked cheeks being forced against the car’s leather prematurely earned you a painful cry. But you didn't care, the reaction only adding to your arousal. You used her parted, wincing lips as an opportunity to stuff her swollen mouth full of your cum covered fingertips, and she gagged from the intrusion before beginning a light suckle. “That's my good girl. Suck them clean for me. You like how you taste?”
“Mhmm.” She hummed around the digits you thrusted in and out of her mouth.
“I know, mami.” You moaned, feeling your clit jump in your pants. “Open your legs, lemme taste that pussy I just made come.”
Riri giggled, separating her sticky legs to grant your salivating tongue entrance. They made a loud squish when she spread them apart, and you could hardly contain your grunt when presented with her messy, bare, pussy lips; your drug of choice. Her cunt's shine danced like diamonds, entrancing you with a beaming glow that could not go ignored. “Shit…”
You reached out for the lever on the driver's side that pushed the seat forward, never once denying yourself face time with her spilling sex. And then you were dropping to your knees, licking your lips before burrowing open-mouth kisses into her sprawled, wet thigh.
Easing her into it failed to make your list of priorities, you wanted her wriggling, squirming with her legs trembling around your face as you slurped her folds. You were also on a mission to feed the starvation gnawing at your gut; it'd been too long since you last feasted on her, and you didn't plan on letting a single drop go to waste.
Your tongue nudged her pulsing clit, licking firmly before you wrapped your thirsty lips well around it, and Riri screeched. “W-Wait baby, wait… Ooh shit.”
And so it began, her pleas for a pause, for you to slow down and allow her to regain her strength. But sadly, her wants were of no importance to you. You trudged on, running your famished tongue around her sweet hole before slipping it all the way in. Riri tapped your head aggressively when you began a slow thrust through her aching walls, and you laughed when your eyes drifted up to see her scrunched face.
“Fuck! Oh.. w-wait..”
“What I'm waiting for Ri? You getting soft on me?”
It was apparent that your comment struck the nerve you intended it to, her huff of annoyance lighting a smile across your face. You refused to let up, licking and sucking the length of her leaking core as she jerked in between broken grumbles. “Ain't nobody s-soft. Eat it r-right and I won't have no c-complaints. Fuck!”
You simply shook your head before diving back into her pussy, rolling her clit in your tongue once more. She whined, the drugs in her system clearly heightening her stimulation, but she took it like a champ, moaning your name breathlessly from above you with her head thrown back.
Riri fisted your curls as you sucked her watering cunt, whimpering where she sat, hips rolling hard into your already stuffed mouth. “Yes! Yes! Just like that!”
“Fuck, I missed this pussy so much.”
“Yeah?” She huffed, tugging your hair to detach you from her center so your stares would align.
Wild eyes scanned your drenched face over, then she tilted your chin, boring straight through your soul with her hopeful gaze. “You missed me?”
You knew what she wanted, and you were fully prepared to give it to her.
“Yes.” Your answer elated her. It didn't matter that in your mind you were admitting to missing her cunt and the way it drooled cum right onto your accepting tongue, to Riri you were confessing to something far more intimate; to Riri you were confessing that you missed her.
The one word, the yes, was enough to bring her to the brink of her third orgasm. But she wouldn't win that easily. You stopped then, just as she was about to fall over the edge, and you let her saturated labia fall freely from your lips before smirking up at her through plotting pupils.
“The fuck are you doing? I was about to come!”
“Ion know, it don't seem like you want it enough.” You teased, making her whine in annoyance. “Need you to beg.”
You'd learned fairly early on that Riri Williams was not a girl easily deterred. With your refusal to allow her release, the job fell on her to complete. Carefully, Riri began to drag her puffy pussy along the lid of the storage compartment she was perched on, hissing in both pain and pleasure as she attempted to make herself come.
You watched her, forever wonder-strickenn by her fortitude. You should stop her, she’d already undergone one orgasm that didn't come from your hands or mouth, and you didn't want that happening again, but the image of her working through the pain brought on by her sore ass cheeks creating friction against the leather was a sight to behold.
“I’m so c-close! Please can I come?!” Her hands found her erect nipples, the standing nubs threatening to rip their way out of her dress. “Please, let me come!”
Her pussy sloshed against the column, her hip jolts splashing her wetness everywhere. Granting her permission would be easy, considering how badly you wanted to enclose her clit in between your lips again, have her juices course your veins like your own personal brand of ecstasy as she convulsed from the shock waves you caused to ripple throughout her body. But you weren't looking for easy, not tonight, not after her behavior.
Your fingers located her waist, holding her still and making her groan in frustration when your strength prohibited her humping. “Mm, do you deserve it?”
“Yes I fucking deserve it!” She yelled, irritated, “Let me fucking come oh my god!”
“That mouth mami. How you gon talk to me like that and think Ima let you come? Hmm?” You parted her thighs, nuzzling your face back into the sweaty space before planting a kiss on her hot skin. “Say you're sorry.”
“No!”
You'd predicted her protest, and you took it as your opening to sink your teeth into her pretty waist. You didn't stop amidst her wails, instead, you dove deeper, biting her flesh with more ferocity. “Say you're sorry Ri.”
Still, she shook her head, standing her ground.
Fuck, you loved how stubborn she was, but you'd never admit that out loud. Luck had been on her side it seemed, because she gave in merely seconds ahead of you puncturing skin, weeping through her words. “I'm s-sorry! I'm s-sorry, baby pl-ease let me come!”
Truthfully you were in awe of how long she held out, surprised by even your own restraint with her pussy lips shoved directly in your face. You were spitting on her bud soon after, suckling her bundle of nerves harshly as you hummed into her quivering sex. “Come in my mouth mami.”
“Oh fuck! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” Within seconds of your go-ahead, Riri was gushing onto your face, your seats, squirting on everything in her vicinity with a scream so powerful, the hairs on your neck rose to attention.
“Shit Ri, you made a mess all over my fucking seats. I told you this car is new.”
She awarded you a weak chuckle, on the edge of collapse before you steadied her frail body. “You think I give a damn, baby? You can clean all that shit up with your mouth if you so bothered.”
Her smirk was a thing contrived of pure, unbridled deception, and she sported the smoky eyes to match. These were reasons to incite terror, but for you, they only bustled your intrigue.
•••
The blade danced beneath the strap of Riri's dress, leisurely cutting her shoulder free and you watched from in front of her as the frayed fabric fell gracefully away from her skin. “You putting a lot of power in my hands right now Ri.”
“Mhmm. What you gon do with it baby?”
You moved to the other, repeating your destructive motion before finally positioning the gold-trimmed point at her clavicle, gliding the jagged dagger down her chest. Thread after thread bursted under your descent, doing away with everything left of her torn gown, exposing more of Riri's tender flesh.
Riri watched, bewitched by the way you skillfully maneuvered the blade she'd entrusted to you. “You so fucking pretty mami.”
Words that made her brazen, words that bestowed upon you the power to control her body without the need of a weapon. But you used it still, grazing the edge up her bare stomach as she twitched beneath its scrapes. You stopped once you met her bra, slicing it clean down the middle with your lust-filled eyes glued to hers. Riri gasped, startled by your abruptness and the twinge of danger you knew she caught swimming in your irises when her boobs bounced free, and the small baggie of pills fell from its warm hiding spot.
“You sure you don't want one?” She waved it in your face, and you began to contemplate her question. Riri was no stranger to a pill or two, so her enthusiasm hadn't been a surprise. She always offered, and you always declined, more than content with the natural high you floated on from merely making her come undone for you.
Tonight though, something about the tension building in the car was about to coerce a yes right on out of you. But, something else thieved your attention just as you were about to offer her an answer.
Letters. A word. A name. Your name.
Inscribed into her flesh, squarely below her left breast sitting gorgeously in your face, was a tattoo illustrating your name. You blinked, believing you'd somehow imagined the ink and its placement. Unconsciously, you hoisted the knife up toward the tattoo, running the dagger along each and every letter in amazement.
“Do you like it, baby?” Meek words leaving generally poised lips.
Riri had marked herself in your name, in you. And you decided you did indeed like it, you loved knowing that no matter where she ventured, no matter whose fingers wandered her skin, your claim on her would still exist. Permanently. “This my surprise? Cause yeah, I do like it mami.”
You let your lips replace the blade, kissing the tattoo that exemplified your ownership of her body as she giggled from the heat your breath blew onto her.
“Not your main surprise, but I guess it's a s-surprise.”
Soon your lips were latched to her poking nipple, your tongue swirling and tugging on it. She was moaning, a sound that intensified when she felt the sharp jab of the weapon you wielded circle her other bejeweled nub. “Shit… that hurts so damn good baby. Keep it right there.”
Her whimpers traveled directly to your sopping pussy still locked away in your pants. You were swimming in your own wetness, floating atop a wave that threatened to crash down on you the longer you dragged the same knife she held to the column of your throat around her responsive tits. “Yeah? It hurts?”
“L-Love when you make me hurt baby.”
After letting go of her spit-covered nipple, you flattened the sharp tool against it, watching her hiss under the cool contact. You scuffed the steel bar poking through her pebbled nipple with the knife, humming on key with the scraping sound of metal on metal. “I can keep hurting you, or you can give me that surprise I know you want me to have so bad.”
You aligned the pretty dagger with her sweaty neck, and she grinned menacingly. Before the chance to process her guile even arose, Riri regained control of the knife, using it to assist her in widening your mouth. She wiped the back against your tongue, swiping it down the length of your wet muscle. “Your surprise is up next, in the meantime I need you to stick this tongue out for me before I cut it clean off like I promised.”
“You're cute.” You laughed, but you did as she said. Your tongue extended out, and Riri leaned forward, plopping one of her little happy pills directly in the center, waiting for you to swallow it.
“Extraordinary.” She smirked. And then her lips were on yours, kissing you roughly as she sat her naked form in your lap.
•••
Riri attacked your lips with gusto, kissing you like the air you expelled into her was the very breath she desired for survival, and every one of your pecks matched her intensity. “Baby, lemme make you feel good.”
She broke the kiss slowly, tentative in her release of your hot, wanting mouth. But you refused to let her go, holding and compressing her throat amidst her hand fumbling around on the floor. “Yeah?”
“Mhmm…” A second attempt to pull away made you curious as to what she could be searching for. Usually, her main method of action would be to eat you out until your quaking knees detained her head in their hold, and even then she'd still refuse to let up. But that didn't seem to be her intention here.
You groped her boobs, trying your hardest to pinch one of her sparkly nipples, but yet another threat was tossed your way. This time it was your fingers in jeopardy of severance, so you let her go with a deep chuckle. She leaned to the side, pulling her backpack free from under the front seat and you looked at her inquisitively.
Riri upheld her silence, unzipping the bag from her perched position in your lap.
“What–”
Your question hadn't the chance to escape your lips, because soon the lavender glint of the sizable toy Riri used in the photos dispersed across your bathroom counter reflected in your curious eyes. “Tada!”
“Riri what is that?”
“Um, the fuck does it look like?” She tossed you the harness, worming out of your lap and onto the floor in between the driver's seat and the one you sat in now. Your eyes raked the dildo, examining its shape and the intricacies put into its creation. It looked more… advanced than the ones you were used to, an observation that awakened your fascination.
Riri on the other hand, appeared beyond excited. She fumbled with your belt impatiently before deciding to hack at it with her sharp tool. She popped your button open, and mechanically, your hips levitated so she could guide your bottoms down your legs.
“You this wet and you was talm bout some you not happy to see me. Just be lying for no reason baby.” She laughed, tracing a finger over your pulsating clit and you sighed. With all the straining, and all the buildup you'd been suffering through, that lone stroke could've been enough to do you in, a fact Riri was privy to when she smiled up at you. “Strap up baby, need you inside me.”
You wasted no time assembling the strap and securing the toy in place, and with Riri’s help, the harness was adjusted to your body. She positioned herself across the center console for a second time, sticking her ass out as you kneeled behind her in the seat, admiring the display of her used hole. She backed up onto nothing, trying, and failing to get the tip inside on her own. “You're taking too long! Please, I need you!”
Fuck, you supposed by now Riri's unwavering stamina shouldn't be a thing that caused bewilderment, but it would forever be an entertaining sight. She was sexiest like this; eager; desperate for you to destroy her. “You need it so bad, don't you mami?”
“Yes! Please fuck me!”
She needed not to state her demand again, so you snaked your palm around the tip, pumping it gently before invading Riri's soaked cunt.
The instant you bottomed out, Riri trapped the strap inside her narrowing walls, restricting your movement at the same time your eyes began to roll to the back of your mind. Her wetness, her constricting tightness, the heat derived from stretching her velvety cunt wide; you could feel all of her. It was way too overwhelming, the stimulation weakening your muscles.
You hadn't even gotten a single stroke in and you were already fighting off an orgasm, gripping firmly to her hips in hopes of stopping your collapse. “W-What– Why can– Ri, I can f-feel you. Shit…”
You remained still for a few beats, wanting, needing to savor the snugness of Riri’s warmth before drilling her as she deserved. Her squeeze was intense enough to make your eyes well just a little, and you were certain whenever you did allow that pleasure rush to stifle you, the tears would be unavoidable.
“Surprise! You like it, baby? I made it special for you.”
Of course she made it. You pulled out slowly, then pushed back in, still consumed by the sensation, barely able to keep a steady rhythm as you rocked into her dribbling pussy. “Fuck Ri, this is…”
“Shit! Tell me how good my pussy feels, I'm tight, huh?” Your stamping fingers dented her skin as you began to create a rapidly growing pace of stuffing her full of the faux dick she craved so much, and your thrusts had her quaking around you. Feeling every divot in her pussy walls had only ever been a fantasy, one that existed now as your reality, because you unknowingly chose to fuck a super genius who just so happened to be a little off her rocker.
If you thought you were addicted to her cunt before, this strap just changed the game entirely.
You were fucking her with abandon once completely adjusted, snapping into her again and again with an unrelenting grip on her hips; you’d be admiring the marks you left behind later on. Each thrust sent Riri’s small body forward on the armrest, her cries meshing with your breathy moans that fogged the car windows. “Ooh mami, you so fucking tight. Your crazy ass really made a strap so I can feel this pussy, god.”
Your hips crashed into her bouncing ass cheeks, the impact forcing rushed whines out of her throat. You couldn't tell if the sounds were intended to be words, but truthfully you didn't care, far too enraptured by the feeling of fucking her obnoxiously loud cunt.
Every thrust caused her seeping pussy to squish louder, every squish making your clit thump faster as your high began its heightening.
“Your desperate ass always so damn wet for me, I bet you don't let nobody else fuck you, huh? You know I’m the only one who can treat this pussy right.”
She groaned, attempting to speak through your abusive jolts, “Don't f-flatter yourself, I let plenty of other people hit. This ain't y-your p-pussy.”
It was a trap, an obvious one designed to rile you up, but you chose to fall victim anyway, using the molly floating in your bloodstream to control the power dives you took into her tired little cunt. “Oh it ain't?”
She couldn't even speak with the tip of the strap bludgeoning her sensitive nerves, but she still shook her head defiantly. Riri’s hole gobbled up the girthy toy impressively as you leaned back to marvel at the way it disappeared, then reemerged from inside her convulsing walls.
“Why she leaking this much then? Messing up my fucking seats. So damn wet mami.” You slammed into her cervix. “You make special straps for all them other bitches? You let them slut your nasty ass out on the highway like this? Who else you let use your needy little pussy like this?”
Riri was sobbing, loud and boisterous, almost able to give your screaming fans a run for their money with her pitiful little sounds. A few cars honked on their drive past your parked vehicle, certainly aware of the goings on inside. The Ferrari rocked in tandem with your jabs into Riri’s g-spot, the back and forth motion assisting you in pushing deeper into the smaller girl's sex.
“You hear me talking to you don't you Ri?” A deliberate slap met her welted ass cheek, forcing her to scream. “Why you so quiet? This wet ass pussy louder than that fucking mouth right now. You hear that?”
You fucked her harder, grunting loudly into the air when she squeezed your shaft; she was close.
“Pl-ease!”
“This dick shutting you up or something? Pl-ease what?” You mocked, spanking her again, and rattling her entire being.
She pushed back on the unrelenting curved member digging her out, a whimpering mess when she glanced back at you, catching your eyes with her helpless ones. “Wan– Wanna c-come! M-Make this pussy come for you!”
You tsked, “Thought this wasn't my pussy though. Can't make you come if this ain't my pussy.”
Her broken voice made your cock twitch deep inside her, something you hadn't expected and couldn't control.
“M’sorry, it's yours! M'sorry, it's your pussy b-baby, pleaseee!” She cried, squirming as you rammed into her special spot.
“Fuck… What you sorry for Ri?” You tugged on her locs.
You freed one of her hips, looping your hand under her sweaty abdomen so your digits could press into her clit. God, it was too much for her, the endless pounding, the swift flicking of her bud, the jarring hair pulling. You were barely able to move inside her contracting cunt, but you weren't letting her off that easily. “Tell me what you sorry for.”
“All of it, baby all of it! Sorry for s-sending those videos to y-your girlfriend, s-sorry for breaking into your room, your car, s-sorry for hurting that girl at the bar! I'm sor–”
Your thrusts stopped, “You did what?”
“I didn't mean t-to…”
Cautiously, you pulled the strap from inside her reluctant cunt, falling back into the dampened, sticky seat in disbelief.
And Riri followed you, outwardly panicked when she dropped into your lap. She hung her head in shame as she rambled, wanting to explain herself. “She was just flirting with you and you were flirting back, and I didn't like that, cause you're mine, and–”
You thought back to the bar, to Esperanza, to the thud you heard when you were on the phone with Riri earlier, and you tilted her chin so she could look you in the eyes. “Riri… what did you do to her?”
A sound you hadn't expected, but most certainly should've anticipated rumbled out of her: a chilling chuckle. Gone was her frown, in its place stretched a smile that accentuated her unruly eyes. And of course, her seductive response to your pressing question was not an adequate answer. “Put it back in baby, or I’ll fucking bleed you dry.”
You smirked, teasing her clit with the head of the strap. “Crazy girl.”
Damn her, you shouldn't be enjoying this, but you became smitten with the idea of her hurting someone all because she wanted you to herself. It was sick, you were sick, maybe just as sick as her.
Her pussy was dripping onto your dick, coating the length of it with each grind meant to coax you back into fucking her, and it was certainly working.
Riri brought her trusty blade back up to your throat. She pressed in harder this go ‘round, threatening to drag it along your skin, and you were prepared to let her. She leaned in, her breath a warm ghost kissing you instead of her lips. “How many times do I have to tell you I really, really hate that fucking word. Stop saying it.”
“Would you prefer insane?” You clipped back, spitefully teasing as Riri quite literally held your life in her hands. You should be terrified, the bitch was deranged enough to kill you, but the feeling coursing through you was more akin to fear's distant cousin — thrill.
“I'm not crazy,” You could feel the knife's indentation, and your throat bobbed beneath it. “I'm not insane.” She was gliding the dangerous tool against your neck now, and you felt your skin tear, small streaks of warm blood rolling down your tilted neck, catching Riri's wild eyes.
“I just know what I want, and I always get it.”
You moaned, still rubbing up against her overly used clit, head spinning as you reveled in the heat of your crimson liquid staining your chest and Riri's.
Riri lowered the knife, pecking your cheek lovingly before extending her tongue to the shallow little cut she drew into your neck, running it along the length and licking the beautiful blood decorating the area. “And right now I want you to let me ride you, want you to slam into me and punish me for all the bad things I’ve done. I deserve it.”
The head of the toy was still trapped in your fist, twitching from Riri’s every word. You glided it through her crying folds, brushing her hole but not quite shoving your way inside, and she whined.
“Don't p-play. Please just f-fuck me baby.”
And that was all it took for you to slam up into her hovering hole, bullying your way inside her walls as she screamed from the intrusion. “Fuck! Just like that! Keep fucking this pussy like that! Go deep baby, make me take it!”
“This how you want it Ri? You want me to fuck this greedy pussy like this?” Your violent pumps shook her, and she slapped her open palm up against the window to keep herself upright, the knife clattering to the floor. “Use that nasty mouth and answer me when I fucking speak to you.”
But how could she?
Your hands needed something to grab onto as her addictive heat consumed every inch of your dick yet again, nearly rendering you unconscious, so naturally, they gravitated to her neck.
Your fist was strangling her throat, blocking her airflow and her ability to say words. You used her neck to pull her down onto the throbbing member ravaging her tight wetness, enjoying the melody performed by her pussy far more than any of your own.
Shit, you were going to come, and from the feel of things, you were going to unload inside her. An unfamiliar sensation began to brew inside your abdomen, a tightness you knew well, but tucked behind it was something far more rattling, and you weren't prepared for it at all.
“Ooh mami, I'm finna– I think I'm–”
She tapped your stifling fist, unable to breathe and you let her go so she could cough. “I-Inside… do it ins-side!”
And oh fuck, you felt it, the hunger that Syla had never once been able to truly feed. Riri could though, her strangling pussy walls could do that and more.
Your vision went white, and you were quite certain every star in the galaxy resided behind your welling eyelids. Ropes of your release spilled into her accepting cunt, filling her so much, everything that didn't fit leaked right back out and onto your already filthy seats.
“Fuck! Fuck! Oh fuck!”
“Tell me you love me.” She continued to bounce on the strap. You were so sensitive, you could barely take it, but you tunneled your fingertips into her ass cheeks anyway, aiding her as she rode you through your orgasm.
Riri leaned in, kissing your dry lips, “Say it. Tell me.”
“I love you…” You didn't mean it, not in the way she hoped you did. You never meant it when she made you say it, but it made her happy in the moment, and it made her flood your dick, so you always obliged.
With her pussy drowning in cum, hers and your own, she gingerly eased the strap from inside her, slithering onto the floor to wearily envelop your twitching dickhead in her swollen lips, but your ringtone stopped her.
“It's your girlfriend.” She chuckled jeeringly when she turned to read the name flashing your phone screen in the front.
“Let the bitch go to voicemail.” Your final words before you felt Riri swallow you whole, slobbering on the dildo as she permitted your second load to trickle down her throat.
•••
Serenity swaddled you while you lay there, helpless, following Riri's skillful performance with her mouth and jaw. You were still as the unbound night outside the steamy car windows, watching through drooping, fucked out eyes as Riri climbed into the driver's seat. She revved life back into the Ferrari's engine, stealing you, and driving you off to a destination unknown.
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selfindulgentpixies · 3 months
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Blood upon the snow: chapter 1
Vampire!Gojo x gn!reader
You read that right folks, it's finally here. Or part of it is anyway. I decided to split my vampire Gojo fic into several parts just because feed back really helps me stay inspired and I'm not sure how long this potential beast of a fic will take me to finish otherwise in all honesty. I've put a lot of work into this fic so far. probably one of the most refined things i've written.
CW: canon typical violence, blood drinking (you know vampire stuff),GN!Afab!reader, reader isn't a blank slate but I still hope you will enjoy putting yourself in their shoes, reader is a hunter(the normal kind), Sukuna is here and he's his own warning. Potential for vampire politics in a future parts if i'm feeling crazy, past satosugu (what you thought i'd be able to leave suguru out of this?)
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It had been years since it happened but you’d never forget it. The winter had been a particularly harsh one and you’d heard the adults talking about bandit attacks being on the rise due to scarcity. Your mother had soothed you and told you nothing would happen though. That you'd get safely from one city to the next. She’d been wrong. 
A merchant caravan was far too tempting a target with all the potential goods on board. From the food to all the valuables carried within. You’d been asleep when it happened, curled up safely in your mother’s lap the both of you wrapped in warm furs and being gently rocked by the movements of the carriage. You were meant to make it to the next major settlement by noon the next day. But right now the moon hung high in the sky, bright enough to to be seen through the thin cloud cover. The world outside was all shimmering shades of blue and white under the winter moon’s silver gaze. 
The silence of the snow muffled night is cut sharply by a scream followed by a loud crack of splintering wood echoing through the air, likely from the back of the caravan. You wake groggily in your mother’s arms, dazed and confused as she sets you down on the seat so she can look out one of the carriage’s windows toward the front where your father was at the reins. A wet thump, followed by a scream from your mother. More screams, seemingly from all around, cries from adults scrambling to issue orders. Then your carriage veers, the horses startled by the chaos.
 You’re knocked from your seat, tiny body tumbling across the carriage when something suddenly rams into its side, sending it over and off the path. The world goes dark, you’re not sure for how long. When you come to the caravan isn’t immediately in sight though the screams seem to echo all around you. When you finally catch sight of an orange glow in the distance your eyes are able to focus on something much closer as well. A dark shape lying in the snow, red slowly spreading around it. No. Not it. Her. Your mother. There’s several figures in the distance backlit by the distant chaos approaching but you can’t tear your wide eyes from your mother. You begin to crawl toward her when her eyes suddenly fixate on you. “Run.” You freeze. With more strength she speaks again. “Run.” The figures in the distance grow closer. “I said RUN.” 
You stumble up to your feet then. A step backward. 
“RUN”
And you do. Turning on your heel to stumble through the forest. You hear shouting then but you don’t listen to it. Can’t listen to it because you need to listen to your mother. Her face in that moment seared into your mind. Cold air burns through your throat and lungs as you push yourself to run. To where you had no idea. You didn’t know these woods. You’re quick though, like a little rabbit, running with fur boot clad feet you barely sink into the snow at all while your pursuers stumble and sink through the deep drifts of snow. Too heavy to be supported by the shimmering shell that is the snow’s top layer.
You keep running long after you stop hearing their crashing footsteps and shouts. You keep running until you can’t. You collapse, coughing, lungs burning from the effort and cold. You curl into a ball right there beneath the canopy of pines. You’re not sure how long you lie there, but eventually somehow silent and without sinking into the snow at all a pair of boots appear in your line of sight. You weakly turn your face to look up, your lashes and cheeks decorated with jewels made of frozen tears
A person.. Are they really a person, they seem too beautiful to be a person, it’s as if the moon took human form and came to earth. They kneel down in front of you, expression solemn as they reach out to brush away some of the frozen tears before cupping your tiny face in their large hands. Their hands are nearly as cold as the snow you’re laying upon. All you’re really focused on now though are their bright blue eyes, not just bright but glowing. You attempt to speak but no sound comes out of your raw throat. 
“Shhh… Don’t try to speak.” The voice is deep yet melodic, you think it might be soothing if you weren’t so numb. The deepness of the voice at least makes you think they’re a man of some kind even if not a human one. He picks you up and bundles you into his coat. You gaze up at him as he carries you, where to, you have no idea but you can’t seem to care in your current state, so instead you gaze up at him. His eyelashes like the snowflakes that fall around you as they dust over his cheeks with each blink. 
You’re apparently not the best listener  because you weakly croak out a question. “Are you an angel? Did I die..?”
He pauses mid stride and glances down at you, crystalline eyes wide. Then he laughs, the action jostling you against his chest. “Now that’s a new one.” He adjusts his hold on you and continues. “You don’t need to worry about what I am and no you didn’t die.” His solemn expression has been replaced with a soft one. Lips gently curving at least for a moment and gaze soft before he looks ahead. “No more talking from you, you need your rest.” 
You don’t need to be told again as your eyelids feel heavy. The exhaustion from before settling over you like a blanket, wrapped in this strange man’s coat and being gently rocked by his steps you drift off. 
__
You stare up at the ceiling of your small room, blinking away sleep. It’s been years since that night and yet you still dream of it. You roll from your cot, immediately stuffing your feet into a pair of slippers. It was beginning to get cold out, the chill always bringing with it the dreams. Not that it was winter yet. Instead of a world dusted in white the world outside was a fiery palette of reds, oranges and yellows. 
You wander your way to the small kitchen where your grandmother sits with a cup of tea clutched between her weathered fingers. “You slept in.” It’s simply an observation not an accusation. “That’s not like you. Normally you’re up before the sun, not well after it.” 
You reach for the pot of tea and pour yourself a cup, happy to cradle the warmth in your hands. You hum. “And yet you didn’t come to wake me.” 
Your grandmother hums in turn then, it was a response you picked up from her after all. “Of course not. You need to get more rest or you’ll burn yourself out. You’ve spent nearly everyday in the woods either hunting or gathering other supplies.” 
“I need to make sure we’re both taken care of. It’s predicted to be a harsh winter. This fall has already been particularly cold.” You blow on your tea and sit across from your grandmother. 
“We already have more than enough smoked and dried meats to get through the winter.”
“And the extra can go around to others in the village who need it in that case. If not that I can take it to trade in the larger towns for other supplies we might need. You know, like your medicine. OW!” You yelp as she gives your leg a thwack under the table with her cane.
“Watch your tone,” She replies, both hands returning to her cup to raise it to her lips for another sip. “And stop worrying so much about me. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself still.” 
You grumble and rub at your leg. “Stubborn old bat…” you mumble beneath your breath. 
“What was that?” 
“Nothing~” You sip at your tea as she narrows her eyes at you. 
Before she’s able to say anything more there’s a knock at the door, drawing both of your attention. “Expecting someone today?” You ask her as you begin to get up and go to the door. 
“Not at all.”
 Not that it was abnormal for people to stop by for any number of reasons in a village like this. What wasn’t normal was when you looked through the peephole and saw one of the lead elders had stopped by your home unannounced. You open the door quickly and step to the side so your grandmother can see who it is. 
“Now to what do I owe the visit, Gakuganji? The elders council isn’t meant to gather until the end of the week.” Your grandmother was technically on the council though she was the current youngest member to be welcomed on. Meanwhile she’s said before that she remembers Gakuganji being old already while she was young.  Honestly you can’t imagine this fossil ever being young anyway.  
“There’s an urgent matter that I need to discuss with you.” He says to your grandmother while his eyes flick pointedly toward you. 
You raise your hands in mock defeat. “Alright alright I’ll make myself scarce. Just give me a minute to get properly changed, old man.” This earns you a glare from Gakuganji and a snort from your grandmother as you head back to your room. Soon enough you’re dressed and heading out the door, grabbing your bow and quiver as you go. Your hunting knife already secured to a belt at your waist. Admittedly you’re curious about what could be so urgent that it would bring Gakuganji here, especially when as your grandmother had said there was to be a regularly scheduled meeting of the elders from the various villages at the end of the week. 
You stretch and breathe in the crisp air. Glancing toward the sky you realize just how late you actually had slept in and feel a bit mortified. Your grandmother had really let you sleep in well past noon. You grumble and go to bundle up one of your kills from the previous day onto the back of your horse to bring to the city to sell. You really did need to go and get more medicine for your grandmother anyway. 
__ 
It’s grown dark once you’re on your way home. The days grow shorter and shorter giving way to long nights. You didn’t mind it much. There was a certain peace that came with it, though while on the roads  you didn’t allow yourself a false sense of security. It’s why even when you weren’t hunting you always had your knife and bow. It’s a habit that’s saved your life on more than one occasion, both from creatures of the night and simple brigands who think you’d make an easy target. 
Something is wrong tonight. You feel it in the air. Everything is too quiet and when the forest is quiet it often means something dangerous is around. You pet your horse’s neck, aiming to soothe it. That’s when not far ahead you see a figure on the road. You slide your bow off your shoulder, your free hand poised to grab for an arrow if you need it as you steer your horse with your thighs. Not that it needed guidance on the path home which you’ve taken hundreds of times.
“So even rabbits can bare their teeth, hmm?” The figure speaks without looking at you. His voice is deep and dripping with amusement. “Put that arrow away before you get hurt, human. I have no business with you”
A shiver goes through you at the words. Human. Your horse stops and refuses to go forward. Your horse that’s encountered all sorts of beasts and kept its nerve. When you don’t say anything the man looks over at you, his eyes are crimson and his face is adorned with tattoos. You know who he is even without having ever seen him in person. You press your lips into a firm line. Sukuna the vampire lord from a distant land. His territory brushed precariously with the Vampire lord who called your own lands home. Two vampires who were closer to gods than anything walking this earth truly ought to be. Crystalline blue eyes and a snowy night flash through your mind’s eye.
You at least know better than to question his presence out loud. But still you don’t avert your gaze and his eyes narrow.  Suddenly he is much much closer, making your horse rear back in panic, knocking you off before it lets out a sound of fear and runs off into the woods, leaving you on your back on the dirt road. 
“Perhaps your beast is smarter than you are.” 
You let out a hiss of pain before opening your eyes and looking up.  He’s standing above you, crimson eyes gazing down at you unimpressed. Fear pricks across your skin and keeps your mouth shut. After what feels like an eternity he snorts and suddenly you feel as if you can move again. You scramble to your feet and look away. Years of experience have told you not to take your eyes off a predator and give them an opening lest they rip out your throat but your instincts say to stop meeting his eyes and get away. You think your instincts have the better of it this time.
“Now you show sense,” His tone is incredulous. Now that you’re looking away from his face he begins to walk past you. He pauses when he’s right beside you. “You should be grateful I’m in a good mood tonight.” And like that he’s gone.  
The encounter leaves you shaken and without a ride. You curse and shakily gather up anything that fell off your horse with you before heading home. Hopefully your horse would find their way back home just fine and wouldn’t get picked off. You’d worry about them being stolen if they liked anyone but you.
You debate the whole way home if you should tell your grandmother that you encountered Sukuna. Would she even believe you? And if she does, what can she do with the information? Bring it up to the other elders at the end of the week? Or maybe Gakuganji is still at the house… Your whole face sours like you just drank bad milk. That old man wouldn’t believe you. There’s no way.
You’re incredibly surprised then when you crest the hill to the village and see chaos. People rushing around everywhere, loading carriages and preparing livestock to move. You break into a run toward your home. This had to do with the elder’s visit, there’s no way it wasn’t related. When you burst through the front door and into the kitchen you’re surprised to find your grandmother much like you had this afternoon when you’d gotten up. Though this time she’s smoking instead of drinking tea. Blue grey smoke curls into the air from the intricately carved pipe.
“Grandma, what’s going on? Why is everyone panicking and why’re you just sitting here?” 
A deep inhale and the end of the pipe shines bright with embers casting the old woman’s face in orange light before she sighs out a plume of smoke and sets the pipe down against her little wooden ashtray. “I told the villagers they need to evacuate.” 
Your brows furrow together and dread begins to tighten your chest. “But why? What did the old fossil say, and don’t try and say it’s unrelated.” 
She snorts. “Don’t let him hear you call him that…” she ignores your mumbled ‘you call him that all the time’ and sighs deeply. “You’re aware that we fall within a vampire lord’s domain correct?” 
You’re a bit taken aback but you nod. “Lord Gojo oversees this territory and the vampires within it.” Not that he exercised any direct power over the human population. Not in a ruling sense anyway. 
Your grandmother nods. “The people of his territory are lucky. He’s benevolent as far as vampire lords are considered. He limits the hunting of vampires within his territory and protects us from outside threats.” She pauses, seeming to think for a moment. “He even saved you and brought you home to me without asking for anything in return.” 
You’d started to brew tea as she spoke, needing to direct your attention somewhere to control the dread, but now after lowering the kettle over the flames in the hearth you look at her. Really look at your grandmother, frail and forlorn but with a slightest hint of a smile on her face.
“Imagine my shock when he showed up at my door with you bundled up tight. By the time he brought you home I’d heard tell of what happened to the caravan, I’d assumed you’d been lost. But there he was with you, rosy cheeked and cared for. You’d been missing until you were able to tell him who your family were… “
You sit across from her, wondering where she was going with bringing up this story. “I don’t really remember much other than when he found me to be honest..” 
“I’m surprised you remember that much.. Truly though I’d expected him to ask for something in return. Perhaps even ask for you once you were of age.”
You choke on nothing at her words and your cheeks flush with heat. “Grandma! That isn’t funny.” Your voice is indignant.
“It’s not meant to be,” she says seriously then sighs. “My point is we’re lucky. He mostly leaves us all be despite his eccentric whims. That isn’t something many who live within a vampire lord’s territory can say. Afterall when I was growing up I fled from the territory of one who was far more malevolent.” 
Lord Sukuna. Your encounter on the road flashes through your mind. Things are slowly clicking into place in your mind. 
“Lord Gojo has been challenged to a battle by Lord Sukuna.” She folds her hands on the table in front of her, the weight of her words creating a pit beneath you that threatens to swallow you whole. You'd heard the stories of how those who lived within his domain lived or died based on his pleasure of displeasure. 
“On the road tonight-” you begin but your grandmother cuts you off.
“This is why the village is evacuating. We’re too close to where the battle is to take place. Though some are going to go further than others. If Lord Sukuna wins, who's to say how quickly all our lives will be thrown into chaos. If he’ll decide to try and take over or if this is simply a game to test his power.” 
You chew your lip. “Okay if that’s the case why aren’t you preparing to leave as well?” 
She makes an incredulous sound. “Please, you know how my health is. I’m staying here, I won’t be run off from my home by him again. I told the villagers to evacuate so they can make their own choice. Mine is to stay here.” 
You stare in disbelief. Maybe you shouldn’t be shocked considering this small village basically sprung up around your grandmother after she settled here. But still to just stay and wait for whatever happens… 
The kettle begins to whistle and you push away from the table to get it. To prepare you both steaming cups of tea. 
“My question then, oh grandchild of mine, is what will you do?” 
Your hands tremble slightly as you pour each of you a cup. “How long do we have, do you know?”
“Two nights from now on the harvest moon.” 
“Thats-” 
“Incredibly short notice? I imagine Sukuna is forcing lord Gojo’s hand for it to be so sudden. Fight him on that night willingly or he’ll simply begin wreaking havoc in his domain regardless and force him into a confrontation that way.”
“And i really can’t convince you to leave…?” 
“No. I decided years ago that I would live out my life here in this village. If it’s to end in a blaze of glory during a battle of titans? Then so be it.” 
You tightly clutch at the tea cup in your hands. There’s an unspoken ‘you won’t take that away from me will you?’ that hangs in the air between the two of you. And you won’t. Despite how much it pains you, you won’t take that away from the woman who’s given you so much over the years. 
In the end you’d left. You stayed longer than most, until the autumn sun was high in the sky, uncaring of the destruction that was sure to be wrought that night. Hadn’t the sun realized that a day like this was meant for storms and gloom? But you’d stayed until your grandmother urged you out the door. You’d wanted to drag her with you but if her final wish truly was to live and die in this village you couldn’t take that away. 
You didn’t go far. Only as far as you had to, something in you deciding that you’d bear witness even if from a distance. The powers at play were hard to comprehend. Two beings who appear to be but mere men but with power so immense that you think your grandmother’s description of titans failed to convey it fully. You imagined this is what it was for gods to clash. 
The night is old when all seems to have settled and you make your way toward the battlefield. Your intention was merely to see what was left of your home and if your grandmother perhaps still lived. You don’t make it that far though under the harvest moon’s orange red glow. Instead halfway through a scorched field you find him. Pale form covered in ash and blood, once brilliant blue eyes staring dully at the night sky above. 
Your breath stutters in your chest. Part of you wishes you could say you hesitate but you don’t. You move to the vampire lord’s side, gently going to your knees by his head. There’s no reaction, not at first anyway. But then dull eyes slowly move toward you. Even still you knew he was dying. If nothing was done he was going to die just like you would have in the snow all those years ago if he hadn't found you.
You draw your hunting knife from your belt, the worn handle carved from the antler of your first kill making it feel like an extension of yourself. You stare at it and its glinting blade, kept meticulously sharp and clean by you, before glancing back down at the man who’d saved you. You weren’t sure if this would even work but you felt you needed to try. Cold steel cuts into the back of your wrist cleanly. You let out a hiss between your teeth at the feeling, and then watch mesmerized by the blood welling to the surface. 
With the knife tucked away you slip one hand beneath his head and then lower your bleeding wrist to his lips. At first he doesn’t react. Instead your life simply flows passively past his lips. “Please… I never got to thank you,” Your plea is quiet. 
You feel it then, his lips moving against your skin. His lashes flutter before his eyes seem to gain a hazy sort of focus, different from the dullness of moments prior. You press your wrist more firmly to his mouth and you feel his tongue laving over the cut in your wrist. The action surprising you both as something unfamiliar in itself but also in how it soothes the stinging wound. Then like a steel trap being triggered his hands fly up and grab your arm securely before his mouth fully latches onto your wrist, fangs cleanly piercing your flesh as if you were nothing more than a ripe summer peach. You cry out, both from the sudden sting of pain and the abruptness of his action. You don’t try to yank away, instead curling forward, the hand that was once supporting his head going to the ground to curl into the soil. You pant, your face directly above his with your eyes closed tight. The pain is fading as quickly as it started, numbness taking its place similar to when he’d licked the cut you’d made. Your eyes flutter back open and for the first time the eyes you remember from that winter night meet your own. Crystalline as they hold your gaze even as it grows hazy. 
You wonder then if you were trading your life for his. If he would drink you dry with every pull of your blood past his lips. You don’t think you’d mind that since your time had been borrowed from him anyway. You sway even on your knees and begin to fall forward. It’s only distantly that you note him releasing your wrist before everything swims out of focus. __
Ba-thump
“Gojo! You’re alive! We thought- .. who is that?” 
Ba-thump
“I don’t have time to explain. Get Shoko-”
Ba-thump
Ba-thump
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And there you have it folks! And i used dividers for the for the first time. Nothin too fancy but I felt this deserved it. I would love to hear if you guys enjoyed this and what your favorite part/s were. This fic is sorta my baby. It's somthing I'll work on when the mood strikes because I want to do it right and put a lot of love into it. I'm really trying for those gothic romance vibes. Also sorry Gojo wasn't in this chapter a ton but I really needed to set the scene and tone of this story.
tag list!: @icy-spicy @margumis @fah-keet @missmugiwara @pastelle-rabbit @mysugu @fushigurro @nanamikentoseyebags @whispers-of-lilith @princess-okkotsu @strawberrystepmom @chifuyuskoneko @katsulock @kinjuutsu @kweenkatsuki-main @biscuitsngravie @pupkashi @chuuyasboots @porridgesblog @kailali @4sat0ruu
divider credit: @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more
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loruleanlover · 2 months
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Hiiiii do you do platonic yanderes? If you do is it alright if I request platonic yandere who also wakes up from that 100 year power nap (idk maybe they were placed there since Wild used to look after them before being placed in the shrine of resurrection) so they set off on their adventure together but the reader gradually starts trying to leave
Platonic Yandere!Link with a Resurrected!Reader
(A/N:) I haven't written platonic content before but I'm open to it! I hope you like it 💜
Synopsis: Link was your protector before the Calamity, and he did his very best to shield you until the end. When you both wake up, 100 years later, he is unwilling to let go of the one thing he has left.
Contains: "Link" is used because the fic does not take place in an "LU" setting, gender-neutral reader, yandere content, queer-platonic relationship, possessive and manipulative behavior, mentions of blood and violence
Word Count: 1.5k
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Waking up was tough. 
Getting back into the groove of…being alive wasn’t something Link ever thought he’d have to do. It wasn’t as if he remembered anything from his time asleep, but something inside him could just feel the passage of time, and it had ebbed away at his being. 
He felt like he had to learn to be a human again. It was as if someone had switched his dominant hand suddenly. Of course he still knew how to be a person. He knew how to live and eat and communicate, but it was so…off. He just felt so uncoordinated in every aspect of his life. 
The worst part was that he hardly had any idea of what he was supposed to be. Sure he could be human and alive, but could he really be him? 
He was left with his life, and yet so very, very little. 
One of the only things he had left was you. 
You had, according to what few memories he could grasp, “died” with him. He’d given his life to protect you, but you both suffered lethal wounds. In an effort to salvage anything they could of your lives, you both were placed in the Shrine of Resurrection. 
Your face was the first thing he saw when he woke up. 
It wasn’t a face that he remembered, but it was one that he liked. 
Words couldn’t even begin to describe the anxiousness and cluelessness he felt after waking up. All he had was a voice in his head and a trail to follow. It was as if his brain had been completely washed. Like he was a slate that had been wiped clean. 
But you were there. A guiding light, a lantern in the darkness. You remembered hardly any more than he did, but you were there. You, more than anyone else, knew what he was going through, and you were a constant. 
You helped him climb trees for a single apple, swam with him to fish with your bare hands, swung around branches with him while he desperately tried to find his strength again. You were his light. He couldn’t have possibly done anything without you. He would’ve broken down completely, the second he saw the ruins of Hyrule. 
The sight was taxing enough. Looking out at the grown-over landscape for the first time. Tears had pricked at his eyes, and he had no idea why. 
But you were there. There to take his hand and keep him going. You were his voice of reason. And you were the companionship he desperately needed after being alone for so, so long. 
You’d climbed mountains with him, bundled up with him in the unforgiving cold, helped him catch horses. You even suffered through every shitty meal he cooked, while he was still learning what was edible. 
You were his best friend. His favorite person. His soulmate. 
But now, much to his dismay, things were starting to change. 
You could say you were both on your feet now. You’d been with each other for a couple months, traveling and doing your best to settle the Divine Beasts, as Princess Zelda intended. You had both started to regain your abilities and could more than take care of yourselves against monsters and other challenges to be faced. You were much different than the scrambling weaklings you’d been only months prior. 
Throughout the entire journey, Link had never actually considered the possibility of you two separating. It simply wasn’t something that ever crossed his mind. In the back of his head, he sort of just thought you two would be together forever. 
But you weren’t the hero. You weren’t the one destined to save Hyrule. It wasn’t your job, it wasn’t your responsibility to face such a burden. And he would never expect it to be. If anything, as you grew closer to each other, he found himself forming an aversion to your involvement in combat altogether. 
He’d walk ahead of you on the road, head on a swivel so he could always be the first to engage any potential threats. He’d give you the best long range equipment, subtly encouraging you out of close-quarters with any monsters. He’d even asked you to stay in the village whenever he’d calm the Divine Beasts. After a few close-calls on Vah Naboris, he felt far too uneasy to let you aid him with any of them. 
You’d resisted the subtle safe-guards at first, trying to do your best to help him and be on equal ground with him, but eventually you fell into it. Now though, you were starting to pull away completely. You’d started to grow more independent, and that was the opposite of his desired effect. 
He wanted to keep you safe, and if possible, completely reliant on him. However, you were starting to get very comfortable with the idea of working as a separate force from him, and he hated it. Every time you spoke of your future, as if he wasn’t a part of it, it wounded him. Saying things such as “When we go our separate ways–” or “After we find our own paths–”. It made him want to pull his hair out with anxiety. 
He never wanted to go a “separate way.” He didn’t want to “find his own path,” because he knew that it was with you. You were his person, his companion, his partner. He didn’t want to even think about facing anything without you. For Goddesses' sake, you experienced your comas together! How could you get any more bonded than that? 
You had begun to grow closer to others. Bantering with Lady Riju, laughing with Prince Sidon, chatting pleasantly with Teba. And he wanted to spill blood when Bozai asked you to go out with him. He was trying to take you, his best friend, away from him. 
Couldn’t that pathetic failure of a man see that you didn’t want anything to do with him? That you didn’t want to go anywhere with anybody when you had someone like Link? He prided himself on being a level-headed and amicable person, but things like this made his blood boil. 
Why couldn’t he just have you to himself? Didn’t he deserve that, at least? All the shit he went through and that you went through, everything that was stolen from him and all the people that he lost; didn’t he at least deserve something? Something to stay by him for once, to be his rock, and his light. He couldn’t lose you too. Especially not to another person. 
It wasn’t all that difficult to distract you from others, though. Spending so much time together was a benefit, when it came to that. Even if you weren’t as…he doesn’t want to say it, attached to him as he was to you, you cared about him deeply. It was easy to just crumple in your arms at night, with tears and sobs that demanded your attention. 
Even if the tears weren’t real, his frustration was. His utter desperation and fear of losing you, his pent-up exhaustion and stress from everything he was expected to face, it all came crashing down until his sobs felt as real as they looked. And you couldn’t just leave him like that, of course you couldn’t. Because you were such a caring person, such a good friend. You held him and comforted him, wiping away his tears while he clung to you. 
But even so, as you fought together, ate together, and slept together, he couldn’t get you to stay. You’d talk of parting ways and traveling south. Potentially settling in Lurelin, maybe even leaving Hyrule altogether. He didn’t know how to make you stay. How to get you to stay by him. He would follow you to the ends of the Earth had you let him, but he couldn’t defeat Calamity Ganon without you. 
Of course, he wouldn’t want you to have anything to do with the fight itself. But he wasn’t sure he could keep going, knowing you were no longer standing by him. Simply the thought that you weren’t with him was enough to make him start shutting down. 
Showing his dependence towards you wasn’t enough. It was a band-aid on a bullet wound and he could not figure out a way to keep you with him without compromising your autonomy. 
Feeling like you had no choice was the absolute worst. From what little he had managed to glean of his past, that was what his life was before. And he hated it. He wasn’t that person anymore. He was his own being, with thoughts and feelings and freedom. 
As someone whose destiny was thrust upon him at such a young age, he couldn’t forgive someone for taking that from him. Not again. 
So how could he possibly do that to you? 
He looked silently at your restful face, smushed (comfortably, he hoped) against your sleeping mat. He wouldn’t sleep, not when you were so vulnerable out in the open like this. 
See? You needed him. What would you do if you were all on your own, camping and asleep out in the open? Anyone or anything could get you, and you’d be completely unable to stop it. 
No, he definitely couldn’t let you leave him. It wasn’t safe. Taking away your free will was the last thing he ever wanted to do…
But he was getting desperate. 
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I hope I characterized him well here. I became a bit stuck between the characterization of Breath of the Wild's "Link" and Linked Universe's "Wild," as they very much have different idiosyncrasies.
In addition, I am inexperienced with platonically obsessive character content. I attempted to capture the complexities of Link's feelings without straying too far from his character, so I hope that was successful.
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foxilayde · 6 months
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Where’s My Goddamn Money? [Marc Spector x Fem!Vampire!Reader]
Word Count: 2.5k
Warnings: Blood drinking, lack of consent, groping, nudity, suggestive language. Minors DO NOT INTERACT
Summary: Marc Spector wants his wallet back.
A/N: I wrote this fic a long time ago, but removed it in a fit of angst shortly after posting. I’ve been thinking about Ula recently because of spooky season and wanted to share her with y’all. I hope you love her as much as I do!
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“I know you’re here Dracula, you big fucking nerd. Where’s my Goddamn money?!”
Hurried steps and the swish of a crescent-shaped cape accompany the echoing voice of Marc Spector as he descends the slate steps of your abandoned-chapel-turned-temporary-home. Seems ironic to live in the belly of a place so full of crosses, but it reassuringly houses a small family catacomb, and it just might be the last place anyone would think to look for a vampire… unless they knew who they were looking for. And would you look at that, Spector figured it out.
“Took you long enough, Spector.” You sip your wine, curled up on the velvet divan, the ceiling drips steadily above you, and you couldn’t look more like a fucking vampire if you tried. You look like a boudoir photoshoot they’d sell at an alternative gift shop, and if you were able to appear in photographs, you’d consider posing in a calendar for real. Eternal life has it’s disadvantages certainly, but it is easy on the eyes.
“Where’s my fucking money, Ula? I know it was you.”
He stalks closer to you now with a slow intensity. It’s funny; for how rushed he seemed to be making his way down the steps, he appears to have lost some of his impatience upon reaching his destination. The sight of you totally naked in the candlelight on the blood red velvet fainting couch has the desired stunning effect on poor Marc Spector. His steps grow slower, edging closer to you, but scanning his surroundings now with creeping mistrust. Smart boy.
You pick at a button on the sofa and purse your lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Marc.” You smile wickedly at him, taking another sip from your glass.
Marc’s mask dissolves and he flips back his hood to reveal an unamused angular face, inky curls hanging handsomely over his brow. What a tasty looking treat. And so thoughtful. To bring himself all this way.
“My fucking wallet, Ula. Black. Leather. Full of cash. Ring any bells?”
You put an affronted hand on your bare chest, making sure to caress a nipple with your ring finger while you give him a cartoonishly innocent doe-eyed look “Why, whatever could you mean, mister Spector? Are you accusing me of being a thief?”
“You this lonely, huh? You have to take things of mine to lure me down here. You’re obviously not expecting… company.” He shakes his head and gestures to your curled nude form.
“I’m deeply offended, Marc. I assure you, I did not take your wallet.” You set the wine glass down on the lacquered table, next to the flickering candelabra. “Tell you what” You stalk toward him, very slowly as not to frighten him, “You can even search me if it’ll make you feel better.”
Marc gulps and takes one step backwards for every advancing footfall you trod across the damp stone floor. His back eventually reaches a column and he pauses wide eyed allowing you to slowly and carefully close the distance between your bodies.
You thought an avatar might be a little harder to hypnotize, but he was no more of a challenge than any other man. His eyes are effortlessly tractioned by your own and his jaw loosens in wonder as you step between his legs.
He puts up no fight when you grab his hands and place them on your waist. Oh darkness, his hands are warm, warm and sweet like his candied brown eyes. And fuck, the way his panicked heartbeat vibrates through his hot fingers and into the flesh of your ass? The radiance is akin to the memory of sunlight… you can smell he sun on his golden warm skin. Everything in you screams with a bat-shriek to bite into him now, to suck the sweet life out of his sun-kissed neck, with its thick ropes of tense muscle, fatigued from carrying that pretty head around.
He won’t fight now, not while you’re looking at him like this, but you can’t hold his gaze forever… or perhaps you could. You’d wager your hypnotic gaze could theoretically keep him here for as long as his biology could remain stasis without rest and water— but there’s no chance your patience and lust could wait that long. Not while the throbbing vein in his neck, so thick, so appetizing, is inches from your face. You’ve improved upon your restraint in the last few hundred years, but it’s yet to be perfected. And why wait? You don’t want the stupid bird to come looking for him, do you?
Your eyes are heavy on his own when you purr, “search me, Spector.” He nods like a zombie and his hands are rough on your body, zeroing in on the fleshiest part of you— your bare ass, he squeezes and pulls your cheeks apart and his lip curls like a dog when he growls softly. Whether the vocalizations are a demonstration of pleasure or defiance, you don’t care.
“Ooohh,” Your eyes tighten in mirth and you nearly lose the gaze before you widen them again.
“Good boy, Spector.”
You bite your lip, letting your pearly fangs hook on your bottom lip. He’s delightfully obedient to the gaze. You let your long nails scrape along his scalp, scratching him affectionately before you take a handful of his unruly curls in your grasp.
“Such a good boy that I’m going to let you in on a little secret, okay?”
Marc gives no indication that he understood and he continues to stare dumbly into your eyes and pinch and squeeze the softness of your backside in his warm, wide palms.
You huff impatiently and use the reign of his thick strands to nod his head in agreement for him. You smile with satisfaction. “I did take your fucking wallet, Marc.”
Again, no reaction from him, thoroughly caught in the haze and muck of your sticky spell.
“I took it to lure your cute little butt down here so we could have some fun.”
Still silence, hardly a trace of recognition on his dazed face.
You trace a long fingernail down the side of his cheek, poking up the corner of his mouth into a half-smirk. “Gods, I love a man who knows when to shut the fuck up.” You laugh, scraping your nails gently down his neck and down his suit, to the crescent emblemed breast plate. You nearly, very nearly, break the gaze to look at the plate while you tease your fingertips across it. But your gaze is steady.
“But that’s not the secret, Spector. You knew I took it. The secret is this, and I’ll drain you if you ever tell anyone, but the secret—” You pitch your voice down to a breathy whisper, “You know how mortals have to invite a vampire into their home before we are allowed to enter?”
No response, no matter.
“Well, the opposite holds true for mortals entering a vampire home.”
Again, not a flicker of recognition from him, his thumbs are rubbing needy circles at your backside and the closer you step into him, the more pronounced you can feel the pulsing heat between his legs. Fuck, maybe you should drink from him there. It’s been a long time since you feasted on a femoral artery of a man.
“You see, Spector, once you enter a vampire’s lair, you can’t leave without express verbal permission.” You lick your fangs to punctuate your point. “Like a mouse in a glue trap, I could keep you here as long as it pleases me,” you laugh.
You think you see a subtle widening of his eyes, but it could have been a trick of the candle light.
“Oh don’t be scared, Marc. I’m not going to kill you. Not even going to change you. Just going to take a few good mouthfuls of you, and then I’ll let you go.” Your mouth waters at the visual you’ve painted for yourself. Mouthfuls of his thick pulsing blood, straight from the femoral artery. Christ, you need to feed.
“Does that sound good to you, Marc?” His nostrils flare a bit and you grin. “Oh look at you, baby. You’re excited, I can tell.” You place your palm at the inside of his knee and drag it up, up, up, till it’s resting over the booming ventricle at the center of his thick, warm body, it’s playing a quickening beat and you can feel your fangs grow at the temptation of it.
“Eyes on me, baby.” It’s harder to talk the more your throat fills with the analgesic fluid and your fangs thicken and extend. Your tongue gets hard to control in your attempt to swallow the flood of venom that pools in your mouth. You drop to your knees, never breaking eye contact while you kiss his inner thigh. Your lips are right above the searing pulse point he smells like heaven itself. You rip off his stupid loincloth with impatience. Nuzzling your face into his thighs as best you can while still holding his eyes with your own.
Your bare knees sting slightly on the cold wet floor, You grip onto his thighs, nails biting into the grey linen wrapped coverings while you affectionately nip at his clothed inner leg, never breaking the gaze. In your mad craving, you hardly register as a string of venom drips to the floor from your mouth in a debauched display. You admit you can’t remember the last time you went on your knees like this for a warm suck, but Spector looks delicious from this angle, leant back against the cold stone column, legs obediently spread for you. His hands, unable now to “search” and grope you, are balled into fists at his sides.
Your fangs are at full extension and they grow itchy and painful, if you had any patience left you’d have asked Marc to vanish this part of his suit, but he’s likely capable of fuck-all since the gaze kicked in, so you sink your teeth right through the gauze of his leg coverings, hitting that sweet throbbing vein that’s been calling out to you, begging for relief, begging you to slow its rapid pace down.
Your eyes close in relief and ecstasy, and it’s no matter that they do, the damage is done. You don’t have to hold the gaze any longer, your prey is paralyzed. Though, you think briefly you might enjoy it more if he were able to struggle, to vainly wriggle his thick thighs against your predatory hold. He would be so much fun to play with! To wrestle him down, to fight for your meal— for each suck to drag him further and further away from his own strength… but mortals are so fragile, if it weren’t for the gaze, many would perish from a heart attack before you could get to the meal. Only the most unrefined of your kind ever resort to such discourteous practices when feeding.
He tastes so thick and sweet, and so very very warm, much warmer than a neck bite. The heat of his thighs on either side of your head adds to the burning delicacy, the muscles are more tender down here as well… as much as you had fantasized about the ropey texture of his neck under your lips, this holds its own delights. Sure, you can’t taste the sun, salt, and stubble of his neck— but the flesh down here is soft like butter-seared fois gras. Blood syrupy and warm like hot mead. You don’t want to drink too much, but you don’t want to drink too little either. It’s unlikely Marc Spector will be fooled twice and pay you another visit, so you must savor and make this last as long his blood will hold.
When his heartbeat eventually slows to a resting rate, you make an irate little sound against his blood soaked thigh and force your teeth to pull back into your mouth. Fuck, its so painful to do when your lust isn’t slaked, much easier to just drain him… but a promise is a promise.
You nip your finger and squeeze a few drops of your own blood till it pearls on your skin and you swipe the healing blood onto his puncture wounds, effectively sealing him up. It does nothing for the staining though, and the dark red continent is prominent against the light grey of his suit. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and smile, rising up to your feet. You step in between his legs and snake your arms around his trim waist, planting a bloody kiss on his dazed mouth. He kisses you back faintly, like one might groggily mouth a kiss in their sleep.
“Mmmm, darling, you tasted even better than I dreamed you would.” You wipe of the stain of blood you transferred to his lips with your thumb and you pout at him.
“Baby is tired, isn’t he?”
Marc blinks slowly at you in response, eyes rolling back in delirium, and he heavily collapses into your embrace. Luckily your senses are heightened from having just fed, so you’re able to support his weight with ease and bring him to rest on the divan. You prop him up comfortably. Poor baby is helplessly unconscious… Perhaps you took a tad too much from him? You climb on top of him, still naked, and straddle his limp form to press your ear to his chest.
Still beating. Strong enough.
You sigh with relief. If he was dying you’d have to change him and then you’d have that fucking bird on your ass for turning his avatar. Nearly 600 years old and you still can’t control your lust to a conscionable level. Just imagine, Spector as a vampire! You laugh at the idea and slap his sleeping chest as if he were the one who came up with the thought. “Ha!” He would make a miserable vampire, he’d never have fun with it. No imagination. He’d be the type to be wracked with guilt at every kill. Sad silly boy. A regular Louie du Pointe du Lac, feeding on cats in shame and writing disconsolate letters to no one with his own blood tears. What a mess he would be!
You prop yourself up in a cobra pose on him, forearms and elbows on his breastplate, laying on him fully, the tops of your feet pointed atop his shins. You shake your head at his handsome face and smooth the curls from his brow. For the first time in a long time you have a whim to sleep for a moment… but you can’t, you haven’t slept in nearly 600 years, so you prop your chin on your fist and stare at the pretty avatar while he sleeps, drinking in his slumber with your eyes, savoring the slow rise and fall of his chest.
You reach under the decorative pillow and pull out a black leather wallet. You grin as you tuck it safely in his belt and you kiss his warm cheek before whispering in his ear, “I grant you permission to leave when you wake, Marc Spector.” You rest your head in the crook of his neck, lips teasing his weak pulse point. You sigh when you close your eyes and pretend that you can dream.
END
[If you enjoyed, please consider a reblog! 😘]
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silvervioletvalentine · 8 months
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🖤¡And I never saw you coming , and I’ll never be the same!🖤
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Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Teammate Cherrie!
Word count: 4.7k
Summary : lyric request : hey! love your writing by the way <3 could i request "and i never saw you coming and i'll never be the same" with charles leclerc? maybe cherrie's had a few bad breakups and she doesn't really trust men anymore, but charles comes along and just changes everything and it's superrr fluffy? thank you so much! x
A/N : hiii!! @cieloclercs Thank u for giving me the inspo for this fic!! Sorry it took so long but I had fun writing it. I hope you u like it!! You guys can send in more Taylor swift lyric prompts for f1 drivers or nhl players and I’ll see what I can do! Lemme know what u guys think xoxo
'I'm walking fast through the traffic lights
Busy streets and busy lives
And all we know is touch and go
We are alone with our changing minds
We fall in love 'til it hurts or bleeds, or fades in time'
Cherrie tried to push the stinging in the back of her eyes as she ignored the consistent buzzing of her phone in the back pocket of her jeans , sniffling quietly as she quickly crossed through the traffic lights .
Barely seeing a flash of green in the corner of her eyes as she rushed through the busy streets , everybody too overtaken by their own busy lives to pay her distressed self any mind.
And she supposed she took some solace in knowing that everybody was going through the same shit , at different points in their lives . Everybody got sick sometime. Everybody kissed somebody that they didn't see themselves spending the rest of their lives with. Everybody cried , everybody died. Everybody was suffering in some way, some had better coping mechanisms than others and some barely coped at all.
Some found art in pain and some found irony in their own , shaking her head with a bitter chuckle as she roughly pulled her still buzzing phone out from her pocket in a sudden burst of rage .
It had always been like this and at some point in her life she had started to wonder if she really was the problem. If she really were so unlovable than a man could look at her and see someone that they could lie to, someone that they would betray.
It wasn't fair. And it wasn't fair that it hurt each and every time. The sting of betrayal never got any lighter and even if she didn’t love them, it still hurt to know that they didn't love her either.
Maybe she deserved it. Maybe she just wasn't good enough.
To the rest of the world she was this shining star, destined for bright things. Destined to be the best, to stay at the top of her game . Racing fast until the slate ran clean , but no amount of trophy's and no amount of winnings could make this sickness brewing in her heart go away.
"What?" She snapped into the phone , not caring for the wary looks she received as she finally stomped her way into the paddock. Paying no mind to the cameras and no mind to those trying to catch her attention.
She was tired , so fucking tired of trying to be somebody that she just wasn't. She didn't want to smile and look pretty for anyone, she was sick of giving love and getting absolutely nothing but lies in return.
"Haven't you hurt me enough already ?" She almost cried into the speaker , wiping at her slowly drying eyes. She wasn't going to cry at work, she wasn't that type of girl.
She was the star after all. She was ferrari’s golden girl. She couldn't let them watch her bleed.
She had come out of crashing her car with much less scars than this relationship had left. And she was done.
She was sick of men. But she wanted love.
She didn't want to love a thousand of them, didn't want to go through the stages again . Through all the get to know you questions and the uncertainty , failing in love again till it hurts and then bleeds, then fades in time.
It just hurt. And she was tried of it.
"Now you want to give me a headache too?" She snapped at her now ex boyfriend in a rage, kicking the trash can in the corner of the room as she did so. Imagining it was his stupid face.
Why did all the pretty ones have to be such lying assholes in the end?
They had all been so beautiful until their true colours finally showed and it was so fucking ugly.
Like a picture she never asked to be painted , a puzzle that never would fit.
"I'm sorry baby- look- just come back home! We can talk about this-it doesn't have to end like this- I still love you-" the asshole tried to sound tearful but she knew that the only reason he was crying was because he got caught.
She let out a cold laugh, hand pressed to her forehead in frustration . Tears blurring her vision despite her otherwise blank face.
"It ended the moment you decided to kiss any lips but my own! You don't love me-" she laughed and she laughed. Sadly or bitterly , maybe both.
“If you really loved me, you wouldn't have been able to have been 'stolen from me' in the first place." She quoted what the headlines had wrote when they photographed her boyfriend with his tongue down some models throat.
But she didn't blame the woman. Oh no. Because he wasn't hers to begin with was he? Because if he was hers, he wouldn't have been tempted to do this. He wouldn't have even hesitated to say goodbye and turn the other cheek. He would have said no.
But instead he told her he loved her that night and then humiliated her for the world to see.
A awful pattern in most of her ex boyfriends , most of them pretty liars that liked to cry wolf as soon as she saw them for who they truly were.
"So goodbye. Don't call me. Lose my number asshole, we’re fucking done ." She instructed him with a hard sigh, done with this conversation now. Done with him.
She didn't see her teammate uneasily hesitate by the doorway , having heard every single world.
Having been worried about her since the headlines had made its way to his knowledge. But he didn't know what to do or say because they weren't exactly friends. They just worked together and she had been so fixated on lost love and championships, she barely paid him any mind at all . No matter what he did.
She tolerated him at most and no matter how hard Charles had tried to her closer to her, to show her that he was a good guy. She just was never interested .
Too busy with her bad guys to see him.
She almost jumped, startled , when she finally ended the phone call and turned around to see him standing there. Waiting for her to see him. To talk to her.
She inhaled deeply, pursing her lips together tightly as she realised that he had definitely heard it all.
Taking a moment to just look at him, seeing his soft , nervous smile on his pretty little face as he ran a hand through his hair. Eyes falling away from hers then down to his feet instead.
She sighed quietly , patience for men ran thin.
“You alright?" She muttered. Barely paying him any mind again as she tried to gather herself together , brushing down her clothes with the palm of her hands like she was brushing off the memories.
Charles slowly nodded his head, frowning a little. Worried.
"Yeah. are you?" He wondered in concern. She looked so sad. So tired. It hurt him to see.
He wondered how long this had been going on for, wondered why she kept doing this.
He had seen her jump from one guy to another , bad boyfriend after bad boyfriend. And he was starting to wonder if she got them off a bad friend, or if she was just catching these assholes like Pokemon balls at this point.
But Charles thought that she deserved so much more , to him she was daylight. She was golden.
He couldn't understand why she accepted fake love when she could have the real thing if she just opened her eyes and saw him standing there. He has always been there , waiting for her to see.
Instead she looked away, shrugging her shoulders in vague irritation . Not wanting to talk about it with her teammate that she barely knew beyond greetings and forced team bonding.
They weren't friends. She reminded herself to hit feel guilty for being so emotionally distant from him. She didn’t owe Charles anything.
Didn’t owe any man shit really. But still.
Maybe they were never meant to be friends.
She just didn’t know anymore . She sighed.
"I will be." She promised with a light laugh . To be polite . Before quickly Moving on. Because that was all she knew how to do.
‘And I never Saw you coming
And I'll never Be the same’
Cherrie looked down at the box of chocolate cupcakes in Charles hands, glancing back up to his little smile in confusion.
"What's this for?" She asked him curiously , lips twitching at the sight of all the different colour icing on top of them.
“It's not my birthday." She added as though he didn't already know. As though he didn't have her birthday marked in his Calendar as soon as he knew she existed .
Which was a long time ago, way before she even knew who he was.
Yeah. That’s how gone for her he was, and his friends could tease him all they liked for being ‘whipped’ and a longtime ‘simp’ for her, but he simply didn’t care. Because she deserved the world and Charles wanted to be the one to give it to her.
Charles just chucked a little, smile widening as he saw the way she breathed the smell in like the aroma was a candle . Gently taking one from the box , still sat on a random storage box in her garage as she watched her mechanics tinker with her car. Ever the vigilante.
He then took a seat beside her carefully , eyes never leaving The side of her pretty face, his cheeks flushing when she looked over at him and caught him staring . eyes not as dark or as sad as she took a bite from the cupcake , humming happily as she did so.
"I know." He acknowledged softly , fiddling with the box a little nervously . "I just-I overheard you telling your trainer this morning that you could really eat some cupcakes right now so.." he trailed off with a slight shrug. Swallowing.
But he was trying . So fucking hard to show her that he could be the one , that he could treat her right. That if she just have him a chance, he would never treat her like they did. He wasn’t them.
She just needed to trust in him.
Cherries eyes widened in surprise, having known that he was in the gym with them too , but not having realised that he paid any attention to her at all.
She was used to guys not listening to her mindless rambles and just leaving her to it, her talking usually just annoying them until they made some excuse to change the subject onto something they liked instead .
She exhaled softly , heart warming at his kind, selfless offer.
“Oh." She said smiling a little at him "then you heard him tell me not to eat them too. I'm meant to be on a strict diet." She giggled before taking a big bite.
Then she offered him a cupcake too.
Charles Beamed because it’s was progress.
Charles gently taking it from her fingers, playing with the wrapper as he murmured quietly .
“You can have them . You're perfect. And you-" he nervously giggled a little as he added quickly "you deserve them for winning the race."
Cherrie looked at him, confused. Face flushing a little from him calling her perfect so casually.
Like he meant it.
"I haven't won yet." She said.
Charles just smirked, nudging his shoulder gently against hers as he answered her easily "but you will." Because he believed in her. She could win anything she wanted. She was the best.
And Cherrie could only look down at the cupcakes, heart feeling strange as she realised that this might be something that she never saw coming .
Because it felt different, it hit different now. 
Had his smile always been so soft towards her? Had he always been this nice?
'You come around and the armor falls
Pierce the room like a cannonball
Now all we know is don't let go'
Cherrie could only let out a little groan when Charles found her in the corner of the ballroom, sulking in a beautiful silk gown as she clutched onto the empty champagne glass in his hand.
Feeling like a lonely loser in the darkened corner of the room. Watching the rich couples dance and laugh, and spinning circles around the room while she tried not to cry.
And utterly failed .
Charles found her tucked into the corner of the window seat , most of the velvet curtain covering her as she tucked her knee up underneath her chin and cried silently , waterproof makeup not budging.
She thanked god for it. She might be a little unstable but her mascara wasn't .
He looked concerned, and rightfully so. She was Crying at a party that was more like a grand ball , all mopey and for the first time in a long time, arriving alone. Maybe that was what was hitting her then.
That she was really alone. She didn't have anyone by her side anymore , no one to sneak off with , no more stolen kisses, silly jokes and long goodbyes.
It was just her now. Sat in a pretty gown, champagne glass and tears in her eyes. If only a poet could see her now. She'd be the star of his novel.
Charles leant against the wall of the fancy window, looking down at her quietly for a moment . Taking in the way she refused to meet his eyes, he sighed sadly .
"You're too pretty to be crying in your pretty dress Cher." He murmured to her softly . Meaning it.
She just laughed bitterly "I'm too pretty to be getting cheated on and having my heart ripped out but..." she shrugged with attitude "happens to me all the time. So Leave me alone Charles." She tried to push him away.
Charles took one good look at her, then shook his head, laughing sadly at how easy she thought she could scare him away.
Instead He sat down beside her, pulling his knees up so that they were sat toe to toe. Tapping the heel of his dress shoes against her heels to make her look up at him.
Grinning a little at the glare she shot him, he shook his head fondly.
"No. I'm not." He simply denied. Because he wasn't going to leave her alone, crying at a party . No way. "Don't be silly."
"Piss off." She snapped back. Kicking his foot with her heel.
He barely reacted.
Instead, he snorted at her, smirking . "You've been hanging around lando too much. Should have said bugger off." He told her amused.
She glared even harder then , wiping underneath her eyes with a little huff.
“Charles. I'm serious. I don't want to talk to you." She told him , upset.
He just shrugged, getting comfortable . "Why are you so upset? Is this about that asshole again? Cause he doesn't deserve your tears." He asked her instead.
Cherrie groaned . Then looked at his soft eyes, stubborn face and gave in.
Her amor falling down just like that.
"I know but all I've known is touch and go." She murmured sadly . Finally Letting him in . "It's never permanent and it's always me that gets my heart broken. Men fucking suck."
Charles blinked , then "thanks. I can confirm that we do suck. But why are you crying? It's over now , no? You should be celebrating if anything, that you got rid of that asshole!" He nudged her foot with his again. Grinning at her like a fool as he tried to cheer her up.
and it worked. Her shoulders slowly relaxing without her even realising it as she giggled, looking over at him in amusement .
"In this party? They don't even have any real food! They offered tiny cheese that even a mouse would go hungry eating!" She complained to him.
Eyes widening in surprise when he suddenly jumped to his feet, grinning down at her as he offered her His hand.
"Come in then!" He said . Rolling his eyes when she just looked up at him like he was insane.
“Let's get out of here! We can see what's open and hang out . Hopefully over some pizza." He tugged at her hand impatiently , pulling her to her feet when she failed to do it herself.
Gasping a little with a laugh as he started rushing her out of the grand doors, paying no mind to the looks they received .
He just held onto her hand tighter , her other hand quickly reaching down to hold up her dress as they started to run down the dark and empty street together .
Charles laughing as she squealed , giggling along with him too.
"I'm going to fall!" She exclaimed while wobbling.
But Charles just tugged her closer, tightening his grip on her hand as he looked over at her with a wide grin on his face. Beaming at her , eyes sparkling beneath the moonlight.
"Then don't let go!" He said.
'We are alone, just you and me
Up in your room and our slates are clean
Just twin fire signs, four blue eyes'
Cherrie didn't know how she ended up here. In Charles room at midnight , sleep clouding her eyes as he pulled her lazily to his chest, his fingertips tracing soft letters into her shoulders. Feeling his soft breathing ontop of her forhead as he held her close , their legs intertwined as they listened to the faint sound of the radio playing .
"I shouldn't be doing this." She whispered into the dark, yet snuggled into him even closer . Feeling his lips curve into a smile against the top of her head, laughing lightly as he gently flicked between her shoulders
He just hummed "you should be doing whatever you want to be doing." He simply replked. Twirling her hair around his finger with his other hand, lost in all that she was. all that she could be.
Cherrie sighed, troubled.
Frowning sadly "I don't know what I want anymore." She admitted to him , feeling a small weight break apart from her chest as she did so.
Charles sighed too, like her sadness was hurting him. Then he carefully pulled away until they were nose to nose , looking into her eyes with all the patience in the world for her.
She softened. And He did too. His heart mirrored hers. All she was him then.
And All he had ever seen was her.
"And That's okay. You will." He believed it. He trusted it.
He had her now and he was going to make sure that she knew what good love felt like for as long as she would let him.
And she knew. And she exhaled shakily , hugging him to her as she felt a small surge of guilt run through her body.
"You don't want this Charles . I'm a mess." She tried to make him see.
But he did see her. and he loved what he saw, he always had. A few shitty ex boyfriends wouldn't scare him away.
"I think I'll decide what I want." He told her in vague amusement . As stubborn as she was. He wasn't about to let this , her, go.
"You'll be waiting a long time." She tried again. But it was futile .
He just laughed "I don't care. It'll be worth the wait." He whispered back to her, smiling softly.
She felt her cheeks flush and then she smiled too.
'And I've loved in shades of wrong
We learn to live with the pain
Mosaic broken hearts
But this love is brave and wild'
The ghost of past heartbreak got easier to deal with because of course it did. and what once felt overwhelming and painful now just felt something like vague annoyance , a little sadness of what could of been.
But she wasn't alone to face it this time. So when Ben, her ex , turned to her with a new woman on his arm at a party, she could only let out a resigned laugh. Because this was how she let go.
She felt Charles arm tighten briefly around her waist but she didn't look at him. Feeling him with her was enough to give her the courage to smile in face of somebody that had hurt her deeply, and now she barely felt a thing towards him at all.
"Hey." Ben breathed out nervously , looking at her with big eyes that darted between her and Charles with a slight frown. "How have you been?" He asked her .
It was then that she Finally glanced over at Charles, stifling a laugh as she saw the look on his face, clearly unimpressed and looking like he wanted nothing more than to trip her ex boyfriend into a pile of hot shit.
"How have I been?" She mused.
Meeting Charles knowing eyes as she thought about the summer of holidays , of exploring places and a new body. Of soft kisses and unbroken promises , of commitment and truths.
She thought about all the good love that she had experienced lately at the hands of Charles , who had done but persistently show her that she deserved nothing but the best.
That she didn't need to overthink the bare minimum because he gave her the world.
He have been showing her what a man truly in love looked like. And he was looking at her like she was his best friend, like she hung all the stars in his sky. Like he was looking at her and see the future , saw a bride. Saw a forever friend
So she smiled at Ben genuinely , shocking him as she told him Honeslty . "I've been good."
Because she was learning to live  with the pain of broken memories. Of fading , old loves and she was slowly having her heart stitched back together by the soft hands of her teammate.
'This is a state of grace
This is the worthwhile fight
Love is a ruthless game
Unless you play it good and right'
But it wasn't easy and they're were moments were Cherrie was so sure that Charles would leave her. That he would see what a mess she really was and realise that she wasn't worth the fight.
But he stayed each and every time .
He fought back when she screamed at him to go, because he knew that wasn't what she really wanted…she just wasn't used to being verbally emotional with a guy that actually loved her.
She was So used to quick goodbyes and letting go. So used to feeling like a stepping stone.
But this was different now. It hit different now.
"This isn't going to fucking work Charles! You're insane for thinking that it ever would!" She screamed at him. Upset and worked up over something that she couldn't even explain.
All the ghosts of bad love making her like this. Making her shiver with unease . Expecting all the bad things, anticipating the goodbye.
And she thought that he would crumble , that he would leave her like they all did and had.
But this was Charles , who was just as stubborn as she was. and crazily in love with her too. He wasn't going anywhere.
He was in this for forever .
"You're insane If you think I'm just going to give up because you're scared Cherrie!" He gave it to her bluntly . Wanting to give her a little shake so that she would just listen to him.
She was so stubborn. But he loved her, so fucking much.
This was the worthwhile fight. And love is a ruthless game unless you play it good and right.
and he knew that she needed a little bit of tough love sometimes , some directness to get her there. She was used to being brushed aside and nobody fighting back, used to no effort and lies.
Charles wasn't going to let that happen ever again. He chose honesty . Always. Because no relationship would last if it was built on flimsy lies.
"All those other guys. They are idiots okay? They were stupid , insecure boys who didn't know what to do or how to handle a woman like you! They didn't know what they had until you are gone and that's on them. Not you." He told her firmly . Planting his hands gently on her arms to turn her to face him.
With attitude, she slapped them away. Huffing as she glared back at him. He stubbornly glared back too. Not giving in.
He wasn’t going to let her push him away.
“And you do? You can handle me?" She scoffed. Expecting him to back off the. . She was being a bitch and she knew it.
Because Charles was right, she was scared.
Because this felt real.
It was real. and she had never felt anything good like this before, she felt like she was waiting for it all to fall down .
Waiting For him to lie, to hurt her. To chose another girl , to love anyone but her when he finally got bored of her attitude  , got sick of her in general.
But then she looked at him. His tearful eyes and incredulous smile as he took another step closer to her, never walking away. Looking at her with a shake of his head, even laughing a little and she knew.
She knew this was different.
This was it.
"I can. I do." He continued for her quietly "because I love you. I am so in love with you that when you’re being mean to me, When you’re making your stupid jokes and telling me all your bitchy gossip. and when you're everything that those other guys told you were 'bad traits'. I fall in love with you even more. Because you're you." He told her simply , heart wide open for her to see.
She had the keys to it, it felt like she always had. He had just been waiting for her to use them, to see him.
"And I love you."
She could see him clearly now. And she finally believed him, trusted him.
So she kissed him .
She grabbed his face between her hands. And kissed him like it would be the last time, but it was the beginning of forever .
He was going to be the last man she ever kissed hopefully , his head tilting with a soft moan as he pulled her close. Even smiling ahinst her teeth as she tried to deepen it , groaning in frustration when his breathless laugh forced them to break apart.
"What?" She wondered. Grinning just because he was. She gently stroked the red apples of his cheeks with her thumbs , fondly .
He turned his head and gently kissed her hand "I'm gonna need to head you say it back." He told her seriously. Impatiently this time.
He even placed his hands on his hips , raising a eyebrow at her while she just huffed a laugh of amusement . Shaking her head at him with a little giggle, pulling him back into her.
"I am so in love with you, you idiot! God! How could I not be?" She breathed out. Her Heart finally healed, heart golden and her heart all for him.
He kissed her this time. and he kissed her and it tasted like forever. It tasted like love.
But this time, it felt good and right. It was worth the wait, worth every tear and every fight.
Because All the bad love had brought her here, into his arms. Where he was always waiting , and she was never gonna be the same.
'This is the golden age of something good and right and real'.
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ravixen · 4 months
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Hi!! I've really loved reading all of your fics to the point I've actually binge read them for comfort (it's kinda a problem now lmao) I wanted to request a part 2 for members sending you a video message because it was just so...CUTE. Stay healthyyy and thank you!!
svt + sending a video message on a show (pt 2)
➔ reaction || requested
➔ warnings: none || ~600 words ➔ notes: fluff ; stay healthy...I ended up being sick for 3 weeks in November LOL and i have a cold again. thank you for the love! all the likes and reblog mean a lot 🫶🏻 and being a comfort writer is SUCH a compliment. you didn't request any specific members, so I just chose a few that I wanted to write for. hope you enjoy this one!
MINGYU: the request catches him off-guard, so he does what he always does. he freezes mid-clap, mid-laugh, his expression slowly morphing into confusion as he processes it. then he takes a page out of jeonghan's book and tries to change the topic, but he lacks jeonghan's tact and delicacy, so instead of it being a smooth transition, he just turns to jun and asks, "what was it like filming your drama?" of course, everyone falls out of their chairs laughing, and the cameras zoom in on his sulking face as he keeps repeating, "oh, whyyy..." it does end up working in his favor, though, because he gets away with just sending you a shy wave, ignoring the fact that he wants to curl up and hide in someone's shoulder. the only downside is that the screen time is taken up by everyone making fun of him for being soft. he doesn't even want to re-watch this when it airs. he knows the editors are going to edit puppy eyes and exaggerated blushes, and he'll never live it down. the only thing that lifts his spirits is your texts a month later; apparently you thought it was cute.
SEUNGKWAN: a professional through and through. he buys himself a few minutes by pretending not to hear them the first time, and while he's playing off the hesitation, his brain is arranging a warm but neutral message to make. the hosts don't notice; they're just thrilled to have his participation. he clears his throat and starts in on how the weather is changing and how he hopes that you're taking care of yourself. he himself is busy, but he's making sure to rest when he has a chance, too. there's no stuttering, and his cadence is heartfelt...until he claps his hands like a slate and yells out cut! the adoring expression melts away, and the hosts are left staring as he sips on his coffee. "were you just pretending?" they ask, incredulous. they were hoping to make fun of his sincerity, as mean-spirited as that is, but he beat them to the punch by removing that sincerity. "of course," he says, blinking like it's obvious. "welcome to showbiz, right?" (but he does feel bad about it afterwards, so he shoots you a message with lots of hearts in preparation.)
VERNON: well, it depends on whether he's paying attention. if he was, he'd probably give a long uhhh... as he thought of what to say. after thirty seconds of that, he'd turn to a camera and just wave, awkwardly smiling at the camera people staring back. unfortunately, at the exact moment the show hosts ask him to send a video message, he's distracted by the fact that seokmin keeps reaching over and pressing the lever on his chair. so when he hears his name for the second time, his head whips up and he gets his usual deer in headlights look as he tries to figure out what's going on. "a...a what? a video message?" he hopes that he heard wrong, but when they repeat the request, he resigns himself to his fate. yeah, he'll do it. it won't be much: just a few words of encouragement that they can barely pick apart, which is a good thing. jeonghan gives a barely perceptible smile, placing a comforting hand on the back of his chair, but it's not a big deal. he doesn't really care what other people think.
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bakerstreethound · 1 year
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Mine for Eternity, Yours for a Lifetime
Kinktober: Possessive Kink
Relationship: Morpheus (Dream of the Endles) x human fem!reader
Warnings: 18+ Smut, oral (fem receiving), slight praising, possessive Morpheus
Summary: Morpheus catches you and Lucienne gossiping about some failed date you had but Morpheus is determined to remind you exactly where your loyalties lie, for he’s not about to lose you to some miserable excuse of a mortal who dare tried to kiss you. 
All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound​ (Do NOT copy, repost, claim, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)
Word Count: 1.2k+
A/N: I’m dedicating this one to @novaracer​ who I’ve been teasing with countless snippets of this fic for a long time. I know it’s long overdue, but I had a vision for this one and wanted to execute it in the way it needed to be portrayed. A majority of this fic was inspired by the song Figure You Out by Viola. Once again, thank you for all the love and support you’ve shown through the years. Your comments and reblogs mean the world to me. Please enjoy! 
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“The thing is Lucienne, he’s a jerk and my friend asks me constantly to cover for them, but I don’t see the point. It’s exhausting and he needs to be dumped already.” Plus, you already fancy someone else the unsaid words ran through your mind, not that Lucienne needed to know, but still you catch a small smile just barely on her lips at your ranting. 
You continue about this awhile longer as you thrum through a favorite book of yours, however, the next words aren't finished falling from your lips when you feel Morpheus’s looming presence behind you and Lucienne fights the urge to roll her eyes casting a glare through her glasses, making her look imposing. She knew she was far too invested in your mortal qualms more so than she needed to be, but it was interesting hearing about the so called band you were slated to suffer thtough seeing and what a mediocre kisser your date was. 
“Ah, his radiance now decides to join the gossip doesn’t he?” Lucienne casts an unamused look at him, subtly winking at you in amusement. 
“Come with me.” He brushes by you without a word, gently linking his index finger with yours in a gesture to join him. You suffer a long sigh, laying your book down on the table.  
You stand there a fraction longer and he waits, his back turned towards you still. You know you’re not going to get another word out of him if you don’t follow his order, though you're sure he meant it as a request, alas you don’t want to give in to him so easily. 
He has no other reason to be sulking around the library for all anyone knew in the Dreaming it was Lucienne who kept it afloat through thick and thin. 
Soon enough you’re winding through the maze of shelves, the place you found to be your second home in the Dreaming. Words were powerful and the stories of the entire universe were here, waiting for you. You casually cast him a look, nudging his shoulder since he decided to walk with you in stride, before you continue strolling down the numerous aisles, touching and caressing the book spines like a gentle lover. 
Without warning, he pinned you to the bookshelf, and tugged back the collar of your overcoat. “So he did leave his mark on you. Or tried.” He smirked almost in self-indulgence, tracing over it with a finger, goosebumps following in its wake. 
It’d only been one kiss and the guy had sucked a few other marks but it was nothing special and you didn’t want anymore. So you left your pride intact and parted ways with the guy, thanking him for the almost lovely date, trying to be as polite as your friend were had they been there instead of you. You felt such relief though in deleting his number, telling and texted your friend the odds of you standing in for their next date were next to none. 
“You’re mine alone to claim. Any evidence of his pathetic endeavor to mark you as his will be erased.” Morpheus’ voice is powerful and sensual and you can’t help but fall into him, as he caresses your face gently in his hands, resting his forehead against yours. 
Your heart rate increases, so different from the other times you’d been drawn to someone and you wrap your arms around him, trying to ground yourself. You couldn’t believe this was real. You with Morpheus Lord of Dreams, the care the utter power that laced his words together and you were there before him accepting his gentle caresses.
“If it’s true what you say, then make it so, Dream.” 
Almost immediately he swooped you to the throne room, carrying you up the mountain of steps leading up to the throne. How much more dramatic could he be? It was fitting for him and his status though, although you much prefered when he sat like a bedraggled cat on the bottom step when he conversed with Lucienne. 
Without warning, the coldness of the obsidian throne meets your thighs and you yelp in surprise, Morpheus’s face lighting with a faint smirk. His fingers dance teasingly along your waist gripping you tight before tracing your lips with his. No matter how much you try to fight it, you fail, crashing into him with feverish need, but he’s all too willing to take his time, to stroke that fire to seduce you slowly, not ready to give into your body’s demands.  
“Tell me, can he try to do this to you, my love? Has he fathomed the possibilities as deep as I?” 
His all-consuming darkness envelopes you, his hands and mouth touching you, making the hot searing fire fall along your skin and course through your veins. He was determined to ruin you and remind you and everyone else that you are his. 
You didn’t have long to clear your head from your thoughts before you registered his lips along the hollow of your neck, biting nipping, and sucking hard marks. Though your mind insists on it being a dream, the way he touched your waist, sucking marks along your collarbone, his hands fondling your breasts was all to real. The fire inside you continued on, fueled by your desperation, utterly under the spell Morpheus had you under. 
“Just like that little dream, you’re doing very well.” his soft commanding voice said while you desperately tried to cling to him, savor him in all his glory. 
You kissed him more, running your fingers thorough his unruly strands while he held your waist tight, murmuring in approval as he slowly disrobed you, utterly enjoying the sight of you before him on his throne nonetheless completely bare.
He whispered soft praises to you in your ears again and you almost lost it when his hands slide down along your thighs, caressing them lovingly while simultaneously lowering himself to his knees and you bit back a moan at the sight. No more words are needed, not when he begins worshipping your body in such a sinful way, devouring you, eating you out so fully bringing you to the precipice of pleasure that was unfathomable to you. 
“Morpheus…” your words were a prayer upon your lips and rightfully so, for you sung your praises back in blissful harmony with his tongue in time needing….begging for relief. Oh, he didn’t stop, not when you were gasping, not when you asked him to stop, practically squirming, causing his grip on your thighs to tighten, sure to leave bruises. The thought alone made you borderline moan once more, so intent he was, such a devout being tending to your needs. 
When his eyes met yours, you didn’t look away, clinging desperately to the arm rests of the beautiful throne as you finally, blissfully came undone on a place of power of the Dreamig where your lover claimed you over and over as his own. For he kept to that promise, no one would harm you, no one else would claim you except for him. 
“You are mine,” he whispered with such conviction and borderline reverence, coming up from his knees to kiss you, crashing into your lips fully and as you tasted yourself on his lips, you knew you were irrevocably and utterly his forevermore. 
“Mine,” you whispered back, your lips crashing into his, drowining impossibly further to him while the shadows of the Dreaming consume you, claiming you as their own. 
******
@bakerstreethound​ @lilythemadqueen​ @frostandflamesfanfic​ @feral-for-strange​ @novaracer​ @starks-hero​ @azu21​ @strangelockd​ @roguelov​ @dearly-dreaming​ @starstruck-loner​ @wint3r-h3art​
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cinnamongorll · 3 months
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a fragile line - chapter 9
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read on ao3! (111k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist
Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC
Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse.
Fic synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.
Warnings: threats and allusions to sexual assault + graphic violence
Word count: 5.9k
Chapter 9: 'Carolina'
One Week Later…
A cold pressure spread across the side of Juliet’s head. She shifted, tilting to the side but the solid surface remained, creating an uncomfortable weight against her skull. A groan escaped her chapped lips but her eyes stayed shut, squeezed tight against the light which threatened the darkness behind her eyelids. A soft rumbling sound breathed in Juliet’s ear and she felt her body shake with the vibrations that rattled around her head. What is going on -  
“Shit!” Juliet yelped and sat up, her eyes wide open. She was in a car, a dusty road projected across the front of her vision. Juliet released a slow breath of relief at the sight of the familiar horizon, the same horizon they had followed for several hours now. Only now its colour had deepened, the soft pinks transformed into a multitude of blues. 
Juliet turned to her left, her neck now incredibly stiff, and found Joel in the driver’s seat. He had one hand on the wheel, exactly where he was before she fell asleep, although now he stared at her with his eyebrows raised. Juliet could have sworn there was a slight curve to the corner of his mouth, but that was impossible. 
She sighed and reached a hand up to massage her neck. “Eyes on the road,” she grumbled. Joel’s face was a blank slate again, his head turned upwards before his eyes met the road.
Over a week had passed since their night at Bill and Frank’s. They had left early the next morning, packing the truck with weapons, food and anything else Joel deemed necessary for their journey. He had estimated that it would take about two days of near constant driving to reach Iowa, a task he was very much prepared to complete until they ran into trouble.
About five hours into their roadtrip, Juliet spotted the signs of a group travelling the same road. Fear had gripped her, sudden and fierce, as she pointed towards the man standing in the middle of the road ahead of their truck. He was crouched in a defensive pose, his hands outstretched above his head and he was shouting, a series of “please, please, please,” echoing in the deserted highway. The action struck Juliet with a sense of deja vu, she recognised the performance: a single man, entirely alone, with no belongings in the middle of the day, looking strangely clean and unharmed for a post-apocalyptic vagabond. 
“Don’t stop,” Juliet had urged Joel, as every muscle in her body froze. 
“I wasn’t fucking planning on it,” Joel growled as he grabbed the wheel and dragged it to the left in one powerful movement, the truck tires squealed and burnt rubber invaded the air as it swung off the road into the trees.
They had to stay off the highways after that. 
Instead, Joel drove them through deserted back roads and rough woodland trails which the truck barely survived. They also limited their time on the road, only driving when the sun was high and the wind howled around them to mask the roar of the engine. Joel was the most cautious man Juliet had ever met, his mind always went to the worst case scenario. It was annoying as hell, but an incredibly useful trait in a partner while travelling the battered wasteland of America. 
After over a week on the road, Juliet was used to the routine, familiar with the subtle signs of Joel’s weariness at the end of a long day and the soft tapping of his fingers on the leather steering wheel. Which was why, when Juliet woke in the truck to the sunset’s approach on the horizon, she blinked and dared to take another peek at Joel, a question lining her lips. He was usually so careful about staying off the road when the light began to shift. Joel must have felt her confusion because he responded to her silence:
“There’s a town about a mile away. We can find a place to lay low when we get there.” 
Juliet let her gaze fall to the forest lining either side of the truck, her brows furrowed. Joel’s decision was final of course, but she wondered what had urged him to risk driving into the evening. Maybe he was sick of moving slowly, maybe he was desperate to get rid of her, get his supplies and get to his brother. Juliet, too, felt the crushing weight of each second they spent on the road and not at her destination. She was sure Ethan felt it too. 
Juliet shuddered and wrapped her jacket around her, faking a chill. Her shoulder had begun to heal properly, Joel had rebandaged it again before they left Bill and Frank’s but now that her infection had thankfully cleared up, she could take care of it herself. Joel wasn’t forced to touch her anymore, he didn’t have to flinch every time his calloused fingers met her skin. 
Juliet let her head fall against the back of the seat once more and her eyes fell closed, listening to the tap of Joel’s fingers. In the fading light, Juliet allowed herself to fade into another dreamless sleep. 
…………………………………………………………………………
“Get up,” Joel’s voice cut through Juliet’s mind, his voice a harsh, warped whisper in her sleep soaked subconscious. 
She blinked rapidly, attempting to take in her surroundings. Juliet sat up and turned her head, her eyes still adjusting to the darkness now clouding her vision. It was pitch black, night had fallen.
“What’s happening? Why did we drive for so long?” Juliet croaked, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. 
Her eyes were still squeezed tight when an arm wrapped around her head and a warm hand closed over her mouth. Juliet reacted immediately and reached her hands up, clawing at her attacker, her broken nails digging into the hard flesh. 
“Shhh, it’s me,” Joel’s voice whispered in her ear, his stubbled cheek pressed against the side of her head. He didn’t react to the small scrapes now piercing his skin.
Juliet’s body sagged instantly at the sound of Joel’s voice. Her back pressed against the front of his body despite the odd angle they were positioned in. When he felt the recognition flare through her, Joel’s hand slid from her mouth to rest on her collarbone. Juliet’s eyes were wide, scanning the darkness which stretched in front of the truck window, she tried to turn and look at Joel’s face, desperate to gain some understanding of their situation but Joel’s hold on her was solid and unyielding.
“We’re bein’ followed,” Joel hissed in Juliet’s ear, his voice thick with urgency. “They’ve got us boxed in, we need to get to that store along the street without makin’ a sound.” 
Juliet could just make out the faint outline of a shop when she squinted her eyes, the world around her was so dark that only Joel’s soft breaths grounded her in reality.
“When I say go, we’re goin’ to leave the truck and sprint for the store. You run without lookin’ back, I’ll find a way to get us in,” Joel said, breathing the instructions in her ear. 
Juliet said nothing, waiting for Joel’s signal.
“You hear me?” he asked, his voice practically a growl in her ear.
Juliet nodded her head, her chin barely able to tilt downwards in Joel’s embrace, she felt his head turn, as though he was scanning their surroundings. 
“Now,” he whispered. 
In a smooth motion, Joel let go of Juliet and pushed her towards the door on her side of the truck as he reached down to grab the gun placed strategically at his feet. Juliet stumbled out the truck, her own gun locked in her hand, safety off. 
Seconds later, they were speeding across the dark street, the sound of their steps ricocheting off the stone buildings lining the road. They had left everything in the truck, their food, their backpacks, their brief pretence of peace. They only had their guns, Juliet’s knife, and the variety of weapons Joel probably had stashed on his body. Juliet could barely see Joel in the pitch black, she followed his footsteps as he rushed in a straight line towards the large store at the end of the street, the moon cast a soft glow on the red circles attached to the top of the building. 
Juliet’s breath escaped her mouth in rough gasps, the remaining haze from her sleep dulled her senses as she ran after Joel, not daring to turn back at whatever or whomever had spooked him. When they reached the building, Joel signalled with a quick movement of his hand to follow him around the side of the store, their bodies practically plastered to the crumbling grey stone.
Their brief pause against the wall allowed Juliet to take a deep inhale of the night air, her clarity returning in a flood of panic and disorientation. She reached out and clutched Joel’s arm, he turned towards her immediately, his eyes burned with a hot fury, wide with a sharpened focus; his survival instincts out in full force.
There was a glimmer of fear there too, just a hint of it in the wideness of his eyes, which dampened when he scanned Juliet’s body and found it unharmed. 
Joel was a master at silent communication and the look he gave her in that moment, when an unknown threat was creeping around them, was utterly lethal. The words of confusion, a desperate need to understand what was happening, died on her lips.
Joel shrugged off her careful grip, gave her another desperate look and continued their movements along the side of the store. They reached a door only seconds later, Joel stopped in front of it, instantly attempting the handle. Locked, of course. 
Joel scanned the area around them as Juliet closed her eyes in an attempt to capture evidence of the anonymous figures Joel was so sure were stalking their every movement, concentrating on any sounds passing in the cold wind. Juliet heard nothing, which did not bring her the relief she craved. The continued stillness was disconcerting. 
Joel’s hand grazed her own and Juliet’s eyes flashed open. He stood before her, turmoil raged behind his eyes, the dark brown now entirely invaded by the black of his pupils. Juliet tilted her chin up to meet his cold stare, awaiting whatever instruction lay heavy on his tongue. 
“There’s a window, I’m gonna boost you up to unlock the door from the inside,” he murmured, moving closer to Juliet to ensure she heard his rushed, quiet words. 
Juliet looked behind him at the small window situated just left of the locked door, the glass was smashed and small shards rounded the edge of the frame. Juliet’s eyes met Joel’s again and she nodded, she could feel the invisible threat closing in every second they were still out in the open. 
Joel bent down under the window with a soft groan, his gun now in his back pocket as he cupped his hands for Juliet to step on. Juliet didn’t hesitate, she shifted her own gun into her jacket pocket, quickly stretched her bad shoulder and placed one foot on Joel’s hand, her arms reaching towards the window frame.
Careful to avoid the sharp shards that littered the frame, Juliet used her remaining upper body strength to push herself up, her feet now dangling. Warm hands caught her, Joel stood underneath her, his hands gripped her waist with a tight security she hadn’t realised how desperately she craved. Juliet couldn’t allow herself to think about how good the heat that radiated from his large hands felt against her sore body, she could only use Joel’s offer of strength to push herself the rest of the way. 
As she wriggled through the window she felt the glass tear at her jacket and trousers, covering them in small rips. Juliet cringed when her feet landed on the linoleum floor with a loud thud, she stood for a second in the enclosing darkness listening for any sign of company in the small room. Her torch was in her backpack in the truck so she relied on the dull glow of moonlight seeping in from the window to light the room. Silence surrounded her once more and Juliet decided it was safe enough to unlock the door. The sound of the lock turning was like a crack of thunder in the black stillness of the room, she turned the handle with fearful caution and forced open the door. Joel stood on the other side, gun in hand once again, Juliet barely had time to step back before he pushed through and closed the door behind him with fierce urgency. 
Joel spared Juliet one unreadable glance before he rushed to the door across the room, prying it open and turning to Juliet once again. He met her eyes and raised his finger to his lips, Juliet answered by reaching into her jacket pocket and slipping her gun out. Joel scanned her face then turned and stepped through the door, certain that Juliet would follow close behind. 
The darkness of the store didn’t seem so frightening when Joel was with her, leading the way. Juliet’s trust towards Joel was an odd thing; she trusted his abilities as a survivor, she trusted that he would keep her alive until they reached their destination.
Juliet wondered when that unwavering faith in him had been forged. They worked together for years in the QZ without engaging in any form of conversation, but they were together, always. Each day they clocked in for their shift, each day they both carted bodies to burn in the firepit, each day they watched with gritted teeth as young children were consumed by the flame. Juliet often found herself examining Joel out of the corner of her eye, watching as he rolled the sleeves of his flannel up his smoke covered arms. She felt his eyes on her, too. His gaze was always clinical, analytical, Joel would examine her like she was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. A puzzle he wasn’t sure how he ended up with.
Throughout those couple years, Juliet memorised the sound of every sigh from his lips, the way his jaw would harden when the body of a young girl was next to be burned, and the look in his eyes when a lethal anger spread throughout him. Juliet remembered too, the almost invisible twitch of Joel’s lips when she would complain about her neighbour Kenny to the other people on shift. She remembered the way his hands would clench around his tools when he heard one of the other workers get a bit too familiar with her, Joel’s knuckles would whiten and he would wave her over before the next truck had even rolled in.
Juliet didn’t know Joel well, but she knew enough to trust him. What surprised her over the past couple weeks, though, was the sudden urge to know more about him.
Joel stopped suddenly and Juliet ran into his back, a gasp left her mouth as the air was knocked out of her. Joel reached behind him, his hand now latched onto Juliet’s arm, steadying her as she remained protected at his back. Juliet was practically pressed against his dark jacket, she could smell the smoke and pine which never left his body. Joel turned around and crouched behind the shelves, pulling Juliet down with him, his hand still clenched around her arm. 
Juliet took this opportunity, protected by the towering shelves behind them, to question Joel about what was going on.
“Who’s following us?” Juliet whispered.
Joel’s head whipped towards her, a warning glare stark in his eyes. Their faces were so close, Juliet swallowed hard, then tried again.
“You need to tell me what’s going on,” Juliet hissed, her words stronger than she felt. 
Joel turned away from her, his eyes scanning the aisle they crouched in. There was no one here, Juliet was certain of it. She was used to following Joel’s rules but the pressure of not understanding what was happening was unbearable, Juliet struggled to feel out of control. 
Juliet reached out and touched Joel’s cheek, her fingers brushing over the permanent stubble that shadowed his face. Joel froze, his body locked up, his knuckles white as he gripped his gun. Then he turned, facing Juliet as a muscle jumped in his jaw. Juliet dropped her hand, thankful that they sat in near complete darkness which meant that Joel didn’t see the redness staining her cheeks. Juliet held his gaze, waiting for him to give in and answer her questions. 
Eventually, after several seconds of tense silence, Joel’s eyes hit the ceiling and he began to talk in a hushed whisper, leaning closer to Juliet. 
“Few hours ago, spotted a truck movin’ slow behind us, thought they were bein’ slick hidin’ in between old cars,” Joel began, irritation weaving a rasp through his words. 
“Couldn’t stop, I didn’t know how many was in the truck,” he continued. “Not goin’ to risk an ambush.”
“So I kept drivin’, tried to cut them loose but they must know the area well cause they were unshakeable,” Joel explained, then shook his head. 
“Then another truck showed up, blocking the road,” he said. “They were fucking herding us.”
Joel wiped a hand over his face, resting it on his jaw, then scanned the aisle again. 
“Once they got to this town, they disappeared. Just gone,” Joel said, slower this time as though every word weighed on him.  
Juliet stayed silent throughout Joel’s whole explanation, digesting every bit of information until he mentioned their disappearance. White hot horror crept through her body, tightening every muscle and raising the hairs on her arms. She knew that trick.
“It’s a game to them,” Juliet whispered back, her voice cracking. 
Joel’s eyes shot to her, surprise rippled across his face, his chin pointed down in agreement. 
Something was still bothering Juliet, another question building a pressure inside her.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” she asked, surprising herself with the animosity that laced her words. 
Joel didn’t answer immediately, just glanced down at his hands, one now resting on his knee, the other still white knuckled around his gun.
“I had it handled,” he reasoned, still not looking at her.
Juliet rolled her eyes, then sighed. Her confusion had bled into anger and now, her anger had transformed into a cold disappointment. Juliet trusted Joel, but it was obvious he didn’t share that sentiment. 
“So how are you going to get us out of this?” Juliet replied, then rested her head back against the shelf. If he was so set on handing everything on his own, he could figure this out too. 
Joel glanced at her then looked away, the lines on his forehead deepened. 
“Because you know that they’re watching our every movement, they know we’re in here,” Juliet whispered, then paused. “They’re just waiting for the right moment to come for us.”
“I know,” Joel grumbled. “I’m thinkin’” he added, with a sharp glance towards Juliet’s unimpressed face. She looked down at her hands, her mind desperately forming a plan to get them back to the truck alive. 
Muffled laughter sliced through the silence, accompanied by the sounds of multiple harsh footsteps booming across the floor. 
Juliet’s head whipped towards Joel but his eyes were already trained on her, alarm darting across his face. Joel raised his finger to his lips again then pointed to his ear, listen.  
Juliet sat frozen against the cold metal of the shelves, Joel’s leg brushing against hers as they remained in complete silence, listening to the movements of the people laughing and joking across the store. The shop was big enough that the sounds were muffled, Juliet thought the voices were male but she couldn’t be sure. She let out a long, slow breath, if they were on the other side of the store that meant they had time to figure this out. She turned to Joel, desperate to signal some sort of plan to escape but her words were cut off when a cry rang out across the room. 
“Stop!” a girl cried. “Please, no.” 
The voices were clearer now, they were getting closer. Juliet heard a sick laugh in response and a slap echoed across the store. The girl’s cries stopped. 
Rage stormed through Juliet’s body. Those men had a hostage, someone who probably already played their little game… and lost. Juliet pulled her gun in front of her and moved to stand up, ready to kill those men and damn the consequences. 
A hand reached across her chest, pushing her back down to the floor. Juliet hissed and she locked eyes with Joel, his expression was frigid. “Don’t fucking move,” Joel mouthed, his arm not releasing his tight hold on her. Juliet’s hands shook, the sound of the slap had awoken something in her, something she had so desperately attempted to quell. She closed her eyes and the tears clouding her vision spilled down her face, her breaths were quick, there wasn’t enough air in her lungs, she couldn't breathe. 
Joel shifted and pulled Juliet onto his lap as his gentle hand hovered over her chest. “Slow down,” he whispered against her hair. “Deep breaths.”
The shaking had moved throughout her whole body, every part of her trembled. She couldn’t do as Joel asked, she couldn’t do anything. All she heard was that slap echoing through her skull, the girl’s cry ringing in her ears. Terror and rage interlaced in her chest, pumping through her veins. 
“Juliet” Joel breathed, his voice soft. “Please.”
Juliet flinched, startled by Joel’s pleading. She never thought she would hear that word leave his lips, the sound of it had shocked her into distraction. Her breaths came slower, deeper, and her dizziness began to recede. A chill covered her skin as the aggressive trembling slowed, and Juliet wriggled on Joel’s lap, desperate to gain a hint of warmth. Her body had shifted into survival mode, embarrassment wasn’t on her radar. 
Joel released a shocked groan right into Juliet’s ear as his free hand adjusted her on his lap, moving Juliet further down. The chill on her skin began to ease when a heat flooded her body, her breaths now slow and steady. 
When her panic shrank, the voices of the men returned. They were still laughing and spitting disgusting words at the girl who appeared to still be alive. Juliet wasn’t sure that was a blessing. Joel’s grip loosened and Juliet turned to catch his eyes, the voices were getting closer again, they had to do something. 
Juliet’s panic might have receded but her rage overpowered her. She plotted the deaths of those men with a cold precision. Joel met her frenzied gaze and nodded. 
Juliet slid off of Joel’s lap as quiet as she could, her gun steady in her hand. Joel stood, his hand outstretched, hovering behind Juliet’s back to steady her. Juliet took a second to bathe in the warmth that brought her. Then she opened her eyes, her gaze locked on Joel and waited for his instruction. Juliet wasn’t thinking rationally, she needed Joel’s detached approach to lead the way. 
Joel’s jaw shifted, then he signalled to move. 
Juliet was Joel’s shadow, she moved when he moved, stopped when he stopped. They rounded the aisles in the opposite direction from the voices, attempting to catch a glimpse of how many there were. Juliet knew there was no getting out of here without alerting them to their presence. In fact, Juliet wouldn’t have been surprised if the men already knew they were there and the choice to ignore them was another part of their sick game. Juliet shuddered, memories threatening to resurface. 
Joel stopped at the start of another aisle and met Juliet’s eyes, she shook her head slowly and Joel nodded in response. They were in agreement: the men had to die. 
They were in a spot now where they were hidden from the men but could still hear every disgusting word uttered from their mouths. Joel held up four fingers, then one.  Juliet closed her eyes to listen better than nodded. There were four men and one hostage. 
Juliet’s mind finally slid into a state entirely detached from her feelings, her eyes narrowed to the weapon in her hand and what she would do with them. Confusion, anger, and disappointment all faded, only an icy focus remained. Joel looked Juliet up and down, something shifting in his eyes as he caught the expression painted on her face, then he moved down the aisle towards the men. Juliet rolled her neck and followed.
………………………………………….
“Bryan, fuck, don’t hit her again. She has to still look pretty when I have my fun with her,” whined the tallest man out of the group as the rest of them laughed at his vile words. Juliet watched through the gaps between children’s toys on one of the shelves. The girl lay on the floor between the men, her face splattered in blood and her clothing ripped. Juliet ran her finger over the sharp blade of her knife now gripped tight in one of her hands, not caring when it pierced her skin. 
Joel was behind a shelf on the other side of the men, they had split up to coordinate their ambush. Juliet could see him across the aisles as she waited on his signal. She attempted to tune out the vulgar men as the minutes ticked by but the odd word still invaded her mind, forcing her blade to dig deeper into her finger. Blood dribbled down her hand, droplets dripping onto the floor by her feet. 
Joel held up his hand, then used his fingers to count down from three. When he reached one, Juliet moved. 
They shot out from the aisles they were stationed in, guns raised. Juliet wasted no time firing two bullets into the chest of one of the men as Joel put another in a headlock.
Juliet found the crack from his broken neck incredibly satisfying. 
There were two men left, Juliet had her eye on the tall one, she didn’t want his death to be quite so quick. 
The girl was on the floor, her body trembling as the tall one grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up into his arms. His gun was against her neck a second later. Juliet froze, her finger hovered over her trigger. Joel had the remaining man in a tight grip before he could retaliate. Joel’s gun was against his head, ready to pull the trigger until the tall one made his move. 
The tall one’s sick laugh filled the space around them, his free hand stroking the girl’s face with a disturbing gentleness. 
“We were wondering where you guys ended up,” the man continued laughing. Juliet shifted her feet, her eyes darted between the man and Joel, her mind buzzed with possibilities. None of them were particularly good.
“We had our eyes on you two for a while, led you all the way here, but then… well, we found this little one,” he said as he squeezed her cheek, the gun still pressed against her neck with his other hand. The girl had started crying again, silent tears streaming down her blood stained cheeks.
The girl looked a couple years younger than Juliet, and when she looked in her eyes, Juliet saw herself reflected back. 
“What do you want?” Juliet demanded. “I mean, it seems you’re all geared up for your big villain speech, so let’s hear it.” Joel’s eyes darted towards her with a slight shake of his head. Juliet was past caring at this point. 
The tall one’s laughter ceased. He raised an eyebrow, and tilted his head to the side as his eyes surveyed Juliet’s body. Joel tightened his hold against the man in his arms. 
A slow smile slid over his face but his soulless stare remained. Then his smile transformed into a grimace and he released his hold on the girl, Juliet flinched as the girl hit the floor with a cry. By the time Juliet opened her eyes again, the tall one had the gun trained on her. 
“Maybe I made the wrong decision,” he mused.
“Maybe I want you,” he said, tilting his gun up and down Juliet's frozen figure. Then he moved, stalking over to her. “I like my girls with some fight in them.”
Juliet swallowed, her mouth incredibly dry. Her hands started to tremble again as the man moved closer. Juliet’s mind projected another man’s smooth stride over the scene in front of her. Her breaths began to speed up again and her eyes darted to Joel. His gaze was trained on the tall one, murder danced in his eyes. 
“Get the fuck away from her,” Joel growled, digging the gun deeper into the neck of the man wriggling in his arms.
Juliet pushed every horror filled thought to the back of her mind, allowing that cool indifference to enter her consciousness again. She gripped her gun tighter in her hands, ignoring the sweat that coated the handle.
“Oh but we were just getting started,” the tall one moaned, turning towards Joel with another grin on his face. “She's a keeper,” he sang, his words slurring slightly as he winked at Joel. 
Juliet had witnessed many of Joel's hostile stares but the fury burning within his eyes in that moment was brutal. 
“Not interested,” Juliet replied, then pulled the trigger, using the man’s distraction against him.
The tall one didn’t even have time to turn towards her before a bullet shot through the side of his head. In the same second, Joel shot through the neck of the other man. Blood spurted from the wound, pooling beneath him when his body dropped to the floor. 
Juliet’s gaze immediately went to the girl on the floor, covered in more blood now from the bodies of the men who had captured her. She trembled so hard, it looked like her entire body was convulsing. Juliet knelt before her, laying her gun on the floor as she reached for the girl’s arm. 
“We won’t hurt you,” Juliet reassured her, her voice a whisper. “Are you okay?” 
The girl turned towards her, tears flowed down her red cheeks, a sob choked her throat as she reached her hands to grip Juliet’s. 
“Please, help me,” she cried. “I’ve lost my brother, I need to get to my brother,” the girl sobbed, her voice breaking. 
Juliet nodded. “We can help you, you’re safe, you’re safe,” she consoled the girl, stroking her hands across the girl’s trembling palms. Juliet felt an intense protectiveness towards her, her chest was tight with rage and terror but her mind was focused on the safety of the girl in front of her.
She had the same brown hair as Juliet, the same dark eyes, the same scream.
Juliet would convince Joel to take her with them, she would help her find her brother, she would - 
“Juliet,” Joel said urgently, cutting through her racing thoughts. Juliet turned to find Joel towering over her from behind, gun in his hand, locked on the girl. 
Juliet froze, her gaze darting from Joel to the girl and then back again. The girl started to sob again, choking on her own tears.
“Joel?” Juliet asked, confusion overwhelming her. “What are you doing?” 
Joel’s expression was eerily vacant, as though he had made a conscious effort to rid himself of any emotion. “Her arm,” he replied, his voice as empty as his features. 
Juliet followed his gaze to the girl’s arm, the one she had held only seconds ago. Her torn sleeve had pulled back revealing a large bite on the inside of her forearm, already red and blistered with dark veins stretching around the wound. 
“No” Juliet breathed, shock paralysing her. Her hands dropped instantly but she couldn’t move her body. The girl sobbed harder as tears, snot, and blood coated her face. Juliet’s mouth dropped open but no words came out. 
“Please help me,” the girl wailed. “I need to find my brother.”
She wiped her nose with her injured arm. “Will you help me?” she asked, her voice so childlike. 
Juliet glanced up at Joel, his gun was still locked on the girl, ready to pull the trigger at any time but his gaze remained on Juliet’s face, searching her eyes, waiting for her signal. 
A silent sob escaped Juliet’s mouth and she reached up to touch her face, her cheeks were wet with tears. She covered her mouth with her hands and squeezed her eyes shut. This can’t be happening, she thought. Sorrow filled every inch of her body, Juliet couldn’t make sense of this situation, it was so unfair. 
Juliet opened her eyes slowly, desperately hoping that this was all a bad dream and she was really still asleep in the truck, on her way to a more familiar nightmare. 
But she wasn’t, she was still in this store, and there was still a girl in front of her who was dying and who needed her. Juliet reached out her hand and felt Joel stiffen behind her as her fingers grazed the girl's cheek. “What’s your brother’s name?” Juliet asked, her voice a gentle whisper.
“Luke,” the girl answered, her voice a quiet rasp. “His name was Luke.” 
Juliet choked on another sob, then smiled at the girl through the tears that spilled into her mouth. Juliet wiped her nose. “You’ll see Luke again,” she said. 
The girl’s sniffles stopped for a brief second as she looked into Juliet’s eyes. “You promise?” she whispered back. 
Juliet dug her broken nails into her own palms, welcoming the pain.
“I promise,” Juliet vowed. Then she nodded, her head tilting down in a sharp movement. 
A shot rang out between them. 
The girl slumped to the side, blood pouring out from the bullet in her head. 
Juliet released a shaky breath and turned towards Joel. Once their eyes met, he reached down and grabbed her arm, pulling her up to stand beside him. Juliet’s head was spinning but her gaze eventually fell to the devastation around them. Five bodies littered the ground in their own pools of red. Joel’s grip tightened on Juliet’s arm, holding her close to him. She could feel his heartbeat hammering in his chest.
Juliet met his eyes, his expression had thawed a little and she saw a glimmer of pity shine through.
Juliet paused and squeezed her eyes shut, praying the darkness would swallow her whole. Then she opened them and shrugged off Joel’s hand, reaching down to grab her gun from the floor before more blood flowed its way. She wiped it off on her trousers then turned in the direction she believed the exit to be. Joel hadn’t moved, he just stared at her retreating form. 
“Come on,” Juliet called behind her in a cold, lifeless voice. She heard Joel’s footsteps stride forward to catch up with her.
Juliet didn’t need his pity. She didn’t want to witness that knowing stare. She just wanted to forget, move forward with their journey. 
Juliet knew, though, deep in the darkest parts of her soul, that she would never forget the ghost of a smile that haunted the girl’s lips as the bullet hit her head.
_________________________________________
@ilovemybrown-eyedbabygirl
67 notes · View notes
ragingbookdragon · 1 year
Note
hello bubuuu, how are u? i hope that ur fine :) can I request something? could u write strangers to lovers with ghost x fem reader? ignore this if ur uncomfy :) xx
the only time i've ever been made uncomfortable by an ask was when an anon asked me if i would write a fic where the kink was breeding and i was...floored, and not in the good way
but here you go <3
**********************************************************************
The first time he shows up in her bar it’s an hour to closing, there’s barely a handful of people in the bar at this point, most of her regulars already gone home for the night. He’s an odd one to peg already, dressed in all black, hood raised, and a black mask covering his forehead and lower face; only his eyes are exposed, but even then, they’re covered in what looks like soot. He sits on the very last stool furthest away from the doors and waits.
“What can I get you, babe?” she asks, propping an elbow on the bar.
“Bourbon, neat,” he replies, a rumble of a voice like thunder on the distant Birmingham skies.
She hums as she gets a glass. “Any specific kind?”
“Kentucky.”
“Ah, a good ole boy, aren’t you?” she teases and grabs a bottle of amber liquid; pours more than a generous amount for him, she’s not about to question his day, it already looks like a rough one. She places it in front of him about the time he’s pulling out a tenner. “On the house,” she smiles and his hand freezes before he puts it away.
“Thanks,” he mutters lowly, and she can tell he wants to be left alone while he drinks.
She throws the towel over her shoulder and givers him another smile. “Let me know if you need anything else, babe.”
When she comes back a few minutes later, he’s gone and she’s rather surprised that she hadn’t even noticed the man leave, as big as he was, she should’ve at least seen him, but not even Barry, her bouncer, saw him. She reaches for the glass and chuckles at the tenner tucked underneath it.
***
“You’re not from Birmingham, are you?” he asks, one evening, and she’s shocked to hear him even talk to her.
“Me?” she repeats, as if he’s speaking to anyone else. “No, I’m not from here.”
“The bar’s American.”
“It is. Based on World War Two and other American wars. A family friend who took me in as a kid was a Vietnam vet. I dedicated the bar to him and other Americans who fought in wars then and now.” She cleans a glass. “You military?”
“Army.”
“From the way you carry yourself, I say special forces. SAS, isn’t it?”
“Mhm.”
She takes a long look at him, the mask riding just above his upper lip. “You’re an odd sort of fellow, you know that, right?”
“I’ve been told.”
“So, what’s the deal with the mask? Is it a comfort thing? Security? Both?”
He looks back at her, slate gray eyes staring right through her; it makes shivers ripple up and down her spine. “You ask a lot of questions.”
“I am bartender,” she chirps and sets the glass down. “I like to know my regulars.”
“I’ve only been here twice.”
“And if you didn’t feel comfortable, you wouldn’t’ve come back, babe,” she says knowingly, looking at him. “Have a name?”
“Ghost.”
“Hmm…how fitting.” She sets another bourbon down and takes the empty glass he has. “Let me know if you need anything.”
***
It’s a regular occurrence over the next few months to see Ghost in her bar an hour before closing. She recognizes he likes the silence and peace that last call brings. She’s gotten into the habit of setting his drink up exactly a minute before he walks in. Which is always ten on the dot.
This time, when he sits, he pushes the glass forward and she’s confused. “Want a fresh one?”
“What do you like?” he asks, looking at her.
“Oddly enough, I’m not a good ole girl.”
He smiles at that, and she knows by the way his gray eyes crinkle.
“Why don’t I make you something I’d like and see how you like it?”
“Surprise me then, love.”
It only takes a few minutes of vigorous shaking and switching liquors and Ghost has a tall, yellow fruity drink in front of him, complete with whipped cream and pineapple on top.
“Voilà.”
He blinks. “What…is that?”
“Hawaiian Rum Punch. Spiced and dark rum, pineapple liquor, passionfruit and pineapple juice. Little bit of sun in the gloomy English weather.”
Ghost snorts as he picks it up and takes the straw in his fingers, sipping it. “Funny.”
She waits, a slow-spreading grin on her face as she watches for his reaction. “Well?”
“It’s good. A little too sweet for me,” he replies honestly, and puts it down. “You’re good though.”
She reaches over with the towel and nicks the corner of his mouth where the whipped cream got him. “I know I am.” As she walks off to attend to another customer, she calls, “Drink your bourbon, good ole boy!”
***
It’s the rare night that the bar is closed that she’s out on her own, visiting an older family friend at the base on the other side of the city. She’s only been once, but this time, he’d insisted on her coming. Plus, she had a bottle of old whiskey on hand, so she knew he wanted that too. He escorts her inside, answering her few questions she asks with more grunts than answers.
“How’ve the missions been going?”
“Good. Just finished a hefty one out in Syria.”
“Interesting. Have to tell me about it tonight.”
“I will. Soap will want to brag.”
“Soap?”
“New team member. Made the mission a success with his demolitions.”
She smiles as he wraps his arm around her outside the door. “It’s good to see you, Price. It’s been a while since you came to the bar.”
“I’ve been coming, you just haven’t seen me there.”
Her brows pull in confusion but he opens the door and there’s a group of men surrounding a card table; all of them look up, but one looks shocked.
“Ghost?” she asks and turns to Price. “Did you send Ghost to scope out my bar?”
“I had to keep an eye one you somehow,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know your Uncle Tommy would’ve wanted me to.” He nudges her. “Besides, Simon would’ve protected you if anything bad happened.”
“I can protect myself,” she retorts, sticking her nose in the air. “I only went through six months of rigorous training with you and Uncle Tommy.”
She walks over and around Ghost with the bottle, grabbing a glass from the table to set beside him; cracking the bottle, she pours him a round before leaning on his shoulders and asking, “So, Simon, is it?”
Simon takes the cigarette from between his lips, grinds it out before he looks up at her and replies, “I thought it was ‘babe’?”
“I call everyone babe.” She smiles at him. “If you want to be special, you’ve gotta take me out.”
“I can do that.”
321 notes · View notes
fushic0re · 2 years
Text
─ 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍
𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙪𝙨 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙭 𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙖𝙣!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧
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𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — “WHAT’S YOUR NAME? WHO’S YOUR DADDY? IS HE RICH LIKE ME?” – in which sirius black becomes infatuated with the young auror who joined the rrder.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — 18+ ONLY; MINORS DNI. smut; unprotected penetrative sex. daddy kink. age gap relationship (reader’s age is not explicitly stated, but they are of age).
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if you enjoyed this piece, please, please, please reblog it! the writing community is slowly dying out due to tumblr’s algorithm being ineffective and reblogging our fics is our bread and butter. support fic writers! ♡
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THE FIRST TIME Sirius Black laid his eyes on you was the first day a woman had ever left the notorious womanizer speechless.
He remembered the sight perfectly. The Weasley children, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter were cooped up in the foyer, grasping desperately for any source of entertainment. They found solace in the radio, flipping through stations until they found the perfect track to jam to. They rejoiced, Fred and George immediately reaching over and turning up the volume, earning them a scolding from Hermione.
“It’s too loud!” She hissed. “You’re going to get them in trouble.”
“Like some good ol’ psychedelic tunes are going to interrupt important Order business,” Ron mumbled, wincing at the glare the brunette shot him.
“Ronald Weasley, I swear to god—”
“Turn it up a little more, I can barely hear it!”
“You’re right bloody next to it, Gin!”
“Exactly, it’s so low I can hardly hear shi—”
The shadow of a womanly figure loomed over them. The teenagers froze like a deer in headlights, eyes wide and egos awaiting a scolding. Harry leaped for the radio and shut it off. However, their fear dissipated when they allowed their eyes to meet the figure in front of them. Immediately, they were stunned by her beauty. The second thing they were stunned by was the lack of angry expression. Instead, a playful smirk graced her features. She said nothing, only nodding to the radio before shutting the curtain that separated the foyer from the rest of the house.
"Turn that back on." The woman encouraged.
The teens shared a look with each other, processing the stranger’s words before their demeanors loosened once more. Ginny and Hermione giggled amongst each other, the boys joining in before turning the radio back on and adjusting the volume to a respectable level. The Zombies filled the room, prompting the woman to dance; swaying her hips to the music, her arms thrown in the air carelessly, eyes closed in ecstasy, and a gorgeous smile stretched across her dazzling features.
“I love this song,” You sighed, undulating your way across the room.
The sight was utterly bewitching. The older man swore you had snuck a drop of Amortentia in his wine. Maybe you had him under the imperious curse. But as he watched you, his gaze trailing from your shut eyes, cheekbones, lips, decolletage, and down your tantalizing figure as it oscillated in waves, it became glaringly obvious that the only spell he was under was yours.
“And who might you be?”
Your body responded to the velvety voice in a Pavlovian manner, spinning around without hesitation to face its source. Pupils dilated, lips parting, and heart quickening, you couldn’t believe who was stood in front of you looking devilishly handsome; Sirius Black himself.
“Mr. Black, I thought I’d run into you.”
You introduced yourself, reaching out for a handshake and praying that he couldn’t spot your hand shaking from anticipation.
He took your hand in his, opting to hold it rather than shake it.
“You’re the auror.” He pointed out, a glint of mischief disguised within his sculpted features.
“That would be me.” You affirmed, trying your best to hide the fact that you were instantly smitten. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Black.”
The raven haired man brought your hand up to his mouth before placing a slow, delicate kiss to the back of it, his slate eyes never looking away from yours.
“Sirius.” He purred. “And the pleasure is all mine.”
Harry was not oblivious to his god father’s advances. Sure, he was just a teenage boy with hardly any experience with girls, but he was still a male. He knew what it looked like when one of his kind was in the pursuit. It didn’t help that Remus had told him numerous stories of his god father’s womanizing ways back in their younger days. At first, he couldn’t possibly imagine Sirius even flirting with a woman. Afterall, he was his family, and you never think of family in that way. But now that he was witnessing it, Remus’ stories were no longer baseless. Sirius Orion Black the third still had the Midas touch.
Sirius tilted his head, eyeing you with curiosity and interest.
“I didn’t know aurors looked like this nowadays.” Sirius quipped. “If you were the one to arrest me, I would have gone willingly.”
You giggled at the jest, almost missing the way Harry scoffed at his god father’s methods of philandering.
“It’s not fair what happened to you. I’m sorry you had to go through that.” You lamented, not feeling right casually joking about the wasting of an innocent man’s life. “When this is all over, the first thing I’m doing is working on getting you a fair trial.”
The ebony haired man tutted, shaking his head and squeezing your hand gratefully.
“You’re too kind, darling. That bridge will be crossed once we get there.”
He let go of your hand and lightly placed it on the small of your back, leading you out of the foyer.
“For now, would you do so kindly as to oblige an old man with a drink?”
Your heart skipped several beats. Suddenly, you felt like a schoolgirl once mor, fawning over the man like a lost puppy.
“I-I’d love to,” You stumbled, your brain short circuiting at the simplest touch of his palm on your back.
Without as much as a glance back, the two of you were out of sight.
The teens’ eyes darted back and forth at each other, unable to process what had just played out before their eyes. A pregnant pause took place before Ginny Weasley broke the silence.
“I don’t blame him at all.”
From the master bedroom upstairs, Sirius Black vigorously thrusted away in between your shaky legs. The sight of you was pornographic; legs thrown over his shoulders, palms pressed against his naked tattooed chest, your face glistening with sweat, pretty mouth slack as whines and moans flowed from your body like a symphony. He cupped your face in between his hands, pressing his forehead to yours.
“Little fucking minx. Dancing around like that in my house.” Sirius panted. “Look at us. Look at how wet you are for me. How well you’re taking me.”
Sirius’ grip on your face tightened, directing your gaze downward. The sight of your cunt splayed open and his member glistening with your nectar each time Sirius pulled out of you partnered with a particularly hard thrust caused a loud cry to escape your lips. His hand flew to cover your mouth, ceasing the sound from traveling further. You turned your head, eyeing the nightstand where both of your wands rested. Swept up in the heat of the moment, neither of you had the opportunity to cast a quick Colloportus or a Muffliato. If you were being completely honest, neither of you cared. Secretly, you hoped someone heard you. Maybe not the kids, but the junior auror who was shadowing you who had been eyeing the master of the house unabashedly the moment you both stepped into the house. You hoped that, triflingly, she would learn her place.
“Quiet. I don’t think Moody would be impressed hearing his shiny new protégé getting fucked like a whore.” Sirius hissed, burying his face in the side of your neck and placing feverish kisses and love bites along your flesh.
He brought his mouth to your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.
“Say it.” He growled.
Another loud moan was drowned out by his hand. The older man above you began to fuck into you with increasing vigor, the sturdy bedframe now beginning to rock against the walls. Your back arched off of the bed, hands clawing at his shoulders for purchase. Your walls began to flutter around his cock, coaxing deep groans out of Sirius. The both of you clung to each other, sweaty torsos pressed tightly together, the friction stimulating your pebbled nipples. Your breath quickened until you were uncontrollably panting. Mewling was the only form of communication you were capable of.
“Aw, baby,” Sirius cooed condescendingly, pressing his lips against your dewy cheek. “I thought you had some bite to you, now you don’t have any bark left?”
His hands moved to grip your throat firmly.
“Say it.”
You turned your face to face him, noses touching and eyes locked.
“Daddy.”
In that very moment, Sirus Black lost all sense of humanity. His eyes darkened with unfiltered lust, jaw clenched tightly, and instantaneously, he began to quite literally pound you into his mattress. If they hadn’t heard what was going on already, the guests downstairs definitely could now. The clear sound of rhythmic slapping skin was too distinct to be mistaken for anything else. Especially by Molly and Arthur Weasley who had done it enough times to produce 7 children.
Your body began to convulse, hands tangling in Sirus’ raven curls.
“Fuck daddy, that feels so fucking g-good,” You gasped.
“I bet it does, pretty girl. This is how real men fuck.” Sirius chuckled deeply. “Now be a good little girl and soak daddy’s cock, can you do that for me?”
“Mhm,” You mumbled in a daze, eyes shut and seemingly unable to be opened as euphoria took over your entire existence; mind, body, and soul.
Sirius admired you from above. In all of his bachelorhood, he had never met anyone as beautiful and charismatic as you. Even on the darkest days he served in Azkaban, the days he spent fantasizing his dream woman, nothing his imagination could conjure up came even close to you.
And now, he had you in his bed.
He was inside you. Wrecking you. Taking down you, a force to be reckoned with, stroke by stroke. Sirius Black had one of the best aurors the ministry had to offer speechless. His ego was soaring.
“Sirius! Y/N!” Molly hollered from downstairs. “We’re starting!”
Your mouth opened to respond, but words couldn’t come out as your peak gained momentum and your entire brain shut off.
“I’m coming!” You gasped sharply, loudly. “I’m coming!”
The double meaning behind your words was the final nail on the coffin. Your velvety walls clenched down on his cock, juices flowing freely upon him. Your orgasm triggered Sirius’ and with a low and drawn out moan, he emptied his seed into you. He relished in you for a brief moment before gently pulling out, cock stirring as if it hadn’t just had its release at the sight of his cum dribbling out of your mound.
He quickly dressed, helping you into your skirt and heeled ankle boots once your bra and blouse were on.
“I’m sorry, love. I hate to end this abruptly, but they’re waiting on us.” Sirius apologized wholeheartedly, pressing a kiss to the back of your head and smoothing down your sex hair fondly.
“Where are my—”
Your sentence died as Sirius stuffed your panties into inner pocket of his blazer. He stared at your bare legs, a wide smirk on his face.
“Pay good attention at this meeting and you’ll get them back, little miss auror.”
With that, he turned on his heels and exited the room.
“Sorry about that, got to another spat with my mother’s portrait. Don’t know why I even keep that old bat…” You heard Sirius’ jovial voice announce as he walked down the stairs.
You waited a brief moment, allowing an appropriate amount of time to pass before following suit. You walked carefully, afraid that with any sudden movements, his spent would flow out of you all at once. With a deep breath, you entered the dining room.
“Good evening,” You greeted amicably, hoping you didn’t sound out of breath.
“Have a seat, lass.” Moody acknowledged. “Everyone, this is Y/N Y/L/N. One of the brightest. I trust her with my life.”
“Ah, it’s so nice to formally meet Alastor’s golden child!” Arthur joked, introducing himself with a warm handshake.
You made your way down the table until you reached the head, your breath getting caught in your throat at the sight of the man who had just fucked your brains out and sent you downstairs full of him sitting cool and unbothered.
“Y/N, Sirius Black.”
Your walls clenched and unclenched, your previous activities flashing through your mind. A small dribble of cum made its way down your bare thighs, making their way passed your skirt before you pressed your legs together in a panic.
“Please to meet you, Mr. Black.” You greeted.
He raised his glass to you, winking at you subtly. He had saw.
“The pleasure is all mine.”
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