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#but that lil secret at the end has given me hope

d1xonss · 21 days

Note

Daryl with a fem reader who’s love language is physical touch? Like whenever they’re cuddling she’s always burying her head into his side or neck. Or another one is acts of service so imagine when they first came to Alexandria she noticed Daryl was the only one in the group who still hasn’t bathed so she offered to do it for him.. he just sits in front of her in the bath while she cleans his hair and scrubs his body

Soap and Bubbles

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 5

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Fluff

✧ Word Count : 1.1k

AN ~ I’ve been slacking on requests big time:( But recently I got my wisdom teeth removed and the whole recovery has been kicking my ass, so sadly I just haven’t felt motivated to write anything new. Though I’m hoping this lil oneshot makes up for it and you guys don’t completely hate me lol.

Hope you enjoy! xoxox

He was stubborn. You were persistent. It was like when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. But in the end it was almost painfully obvious who won those battles most of the time.

When the group first arrived to Alexandria; a safe haven that was gifted to you by the grace of God himself, it was no secret that Daryl was one of the first who didn’t trust it. He was constantly tense and on high alert most of the time, when in reality there was never any real danger to begin with. But his thoughts seemed to haunt him, not necessarily because he felt the constant need to protect himself, but because he felt the constant need to protect you.

You were the most precious thing to him, like a delicate flower that he was constantly worried about squishing under his boot if he wasn’t too careful. And just the thought of you being in this unknown place that none of you really knew, it was safe to say it took him a while to even sleep. And it took him even longer to feel comfortable enough to bathe.

After the first few days of getting comfortable in the new community, you couldn’t help but notice that Daryl was the only one who hadn’t taken advantage of the luxury that was given. He hadn’t slept on one of the actual beds, he hadn’t even eaten any of the food that was stocked to the brim in each of the houses. The man just continuously hunted for his own food nearly every single day instead, working for it as if he felt like he had to. And he was one of the last people to use the nice new bathroom that everyone else had been hogging.

It was hard seeing him like this, knowing without even having to ask that he was slightly uncomfortable here. In the end when the place didn’t seem that dangerous, you knew he only really stayed so you had a roof over your head, and that was it. He always seemed to put you first before anything else and it never failed to melt your heart in the best way. But at the same time, you wanted to help him. You wanted to ease him into everything so he could learn to eventually call this place home.

Which is why you ever so slowly tried to coax him into taking a bath. Like a dog who was afraid of water.

“Nah.” was his original answer when you first asked him, that stubbornness really shining through as he put his foot down at the idea. Knowing that he didn’t feel safe enough to be so vulnerable.

But then you offered to help him, and that seemed to change the game as his interest piqued.

So after just a little more convincing, you finally got him into the tub filled with warm water, even adding some bubbles just to make it a little more enjoyable. And although he scoffed at the sight, he clearly wasn’t complaining as he practically melted into the warm water.

You sat yourself behind him as you ran your fingers through his hair, gently massaging his scalp as you cleaned it with a fresh shampoo. His eyes fluttered closed at your softness when touching him, even letting out a satisfied groan or grunt here and there just to let you know how much he was enjoying it. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself every time he did so, dragging the process out just a little bit longer upon seeing how relaxed he was.

Your nails gently scratched his scalp every once and a while which you knew he thoroughly enjoyed, loving the soothing feeling you provided as he slowly came to the conclusion that maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. His muscles twitched as you rinsed the bubbles out of his hair, feeling the warmth running down his back.

A smile stretched across your lips as you looked down at him, “Feel good?”

He nodded slowly as he let out a long and satisfied sigh, keeping his eyes closed as he was certain he could fall asleep within seconds. “Thank you.” he muttered.

Your face softened at his gratitude, “You’re welcome.” your sweet voice spoke, leaning down to place a kiss on top of his head.

He smiled to himself when he felt the touch of your lips, relaxing even more as you continued on for however long you wished. He wasn’t complaining, nor was he going to stop you anytime soon.

You then ran some conditioner through his hair, being able to run your fingers through the full length of it smoothly as you removed all the tangles. It smelled like heaven and it made his hair feel nearly brand new after not having it clean and fresh in so long. You then took your time washing his body, which to him was his favorite part of this whole thing. Your hands worked delicately, watching the soap run down his arms and chest as the remaining dirt just melted off his body.

A few more cuts were now more prominent on his skin as you continued to wash him, making some kind of mental note to help him clean those when he got out of the porcelain bowl. With being on the road for so long you had no idea how long they had been there, now being thankful you had everything you needed to fix him up. Seeing him constantly putting you before him in every single scenario, you wanted to do the same for him whenever you could. Though he was thick headed and usually refused, he did occasionally like being showered with affection like this.

Once you were done and the water was now a bit colder, you opened your mouth to tell him that he should probably get out. But you stopped yourself upon seeing the look on his face, seeing him finally looking content for the first time in months. You figured a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt as you began to drag your nails through his hair again.

“I love you.”

It was so soft you almost didn’t catch it. But the second his words met your ears you couldn’t help but freeze. He had never said that to you before.

Though you knew he always loved you, showing it in the little ways he knew how, you knew he felt a deep love for you that he couldn’t even describe. His actions speaking much louder volumes than words ever could. But now hearing him admit it out loud, you could feel a warmth spreading through your chest as you smiled, continuing to run your fingers through his hair as if to pretend it didn’t affect you as much as it did.

“I love you too.”

~ Thanks for reading!

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rosedom · 1 month

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Oh, oh, new event!! :D

Albedo + ACDKM hear me out (hope that isn’t too many letters :P)

you have summoned ALBEDO for the event . . .

A/N : i'm hearing u out, honey !! i hope we're on the same wavelength here . .

✦ㅤㅤA = aftercare (what he’s like after sex, what he needs from his partner)

regardless of if he can even walk or not, albedo is first to nudge you with a warm cloth. he gives it to you for you to use, to bathe down the two of you quickly and perfunctory. it won't be sufficient in the long run—you'll definitely need a bath tomorrow morning—, but it's all you'll need.

he's a cuddle-bug, too, always burying his face into your throat. it must be this position, too: he's not content till he's got his nose snug in the hollow of your skin, breaths kissing the empty expanse where, on his own neck, lies that golden star. for a man so aloof, he truly adores you, and he is so, so glad to have given himself up to you in such an intimate way. it is humanity, the way he laid beneath you; and it is beautiful. prepare yourself for nonsensical murmurings, your sweet albedo describing just this notion to you while you're falling asleep, content in your lovers arms, his soft breathing lulling you into slumber.

✦ㅤㅤC = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

really, albedo doesn't often cum in that super "noticeable" way. he's not often a creamer, and he's certainly not like the people in pornos. 'bedo cums in that way that'd leave anybody less experienced than you to wonder if he even came or not. (it's not like he fakes an orgasm, either; he's just so . . albedo, that anybody else would think he came—that he's just as aloof in orgasmic bliss as he is any other time.

he's not, by the way.) his cunt'd be puffier, slightly, pink-hue turned more ruddy-red, and his cock'd be left twitching n' throbbing. and his voice—he whimpers n' whines all the time, but he has this very particular whimper he only makes when he's cumming. it's a reedy, high-pitched thing, but it's so, so obvious to you. your possessive heart is satisfied knowing that you can pull orgasm out of orgasm out of your albedo, and nobody else he slept with could have ever came (hah) close.

✦ㅤㅤD = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of his)

that damned golden star across his throat—it's sensitive as hell, and he's got a smattering of somethings that glitter—these little stars etched across his skin—that make him shiver, each and every time. none of these "freckles" throughout his body are quite as sensitive as that one in place of the adam's apple, but it's so, so easy to key him up . . . kissing up between each lil' star and not so much as getting close to his throat . . it drives albedo crazy.

imagining the way you could brush your fingertips across the smattering on the backs of his hands, maybe fluttering up his forearms . . . really, what makes it such a dirty secret is that way you have pavlov'd him to get hard n' wet off nothing but an innocent touch. it gets really bad when other people—his coworkers, friends, even—will accidentally touch the freckles, and, while they're apologizing for touching him and he's dismissing it, he's warm between his thighs.

those busy festivals in mond are always your favorite 'cos of it. all the people—he's not a fan of them, of course, and neither are you—make it an impossible tease to poor 'bedo.

✦ㅤㅤK = kink (one or more of his kinks)

it's less-so that albedo is into more stuff than his peers, and more-so that he's up to try almost anything. he's the epitome of an experimentalist; and it can stem from his desire to learn about the limits of the human body, or his desire to give himself up wholly to you. introducing a new kink into the bedroom ends up being a one-time thing, more often than not; and it's not that it was bad, per se, but it was simply . . . not worth doing again. albedo sees no attempted kinks as a "fail," per se—he sees them as an experience he was glad to have, but one neither of you are keen on trying again.

anything goes, really.

but the kinks that stay? 'bedo has found himself to be particularly into bondage, in most any sense of the word. spreader bars (which are admittedly a favorite, the way he's always left so open for you . . . the way he can't so much as hide his pale, pink cunt), simple bondage to shibari, and even all the different types of restraints: rope, silk, metal, leather, even his own clothes. that, and good ol' fashioned praise. he gets told how brilliant he is everyday, but it never amounts to the way you praise him even as his smart brain melts and he goes sex-stupid.

✦ㅤㅤM = motivation (what turns him on and really gets him going)

it really depends, with him. he's not this insatiable thing; most times, he thinks with his proper head—not his cockhead. but, back to that dirty secret of his . . teasing touches, teasing looks, teasing words . . . anything teasing gets albedo going. he turns to you, each and everytime, with almost no shame, either. whether or not you satisfy him—play dumb, deny him, whatever—is up to you.

however, i'd like to add this: albedo definitely cannot help getting a lil' hot between the thighs if he ever sees you roll up your sleeves. it's a silly turn on, really, but—god, albedo has something for your forearms . . from the way veins run down the length of them to the way your hands are left so tantalizingly exposed (and don't get him started if you're wearing bracelets or a watch, too) . . it all sends that smart, smart brain going from thinking about alchemy to thinking about nothing but those same, strong arms wrapped around him, those same, strong hands playing with him, those same, strong fingers absolutely ruining him.

this is kinda irrelevant but also not but also i sorta kin albedo, so: ever since he's learned that tidbit of information about the color of your lips (supposedly) being the same that the head of your cock is, your nipples are . . well. it hasn't ever left my mind, and it certainly wouldn't leave his ┐⁠(⁠´⁠ー⁠｀⁠)⁠┌ when he's staring at your lips, he either wants a kiss . . or he's thinking about your cock.

he'll test whether or not that theory is truly fact or not .3.

27 APR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

#ㅤ✦【 EVENT 】#also i'm starting to realize my hcs in these things may not align with yk . what i actually write with them .#if so i apologize LOL #req anything fr these hcs r not end-be-all #anyway .#alphabet #sub genshin #genshin smut #sub albedo #albedo smut #dom reader

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daydreaming-nerd · 2 months

Text

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 10

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: You guys I'm sorry this took a while. I really put a lot into this so I hope the wait was worth it. ALSO The Tortured Poets Department just came out!!! which means my creative juices are flowing, because nothing gets me thinking like Hans Zimmer and Taylor Swift. Already thinking of some Azriel angst for The Black Dog. ALSO this fic has a a cinematic playlist that goes with it? I can post it if that's something you guys are interested in.

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexism, heavy angst, descriptions of character injuries, reader got the Mor treatment, last lil bit of angst guys you'll like the end.

Word Count: 5,103

Third Person pov:

Cassian stared at the other side of his bed. The one that suddenly felt so large now. He skipped training that morning, skipped breakfast too. Instead he twirled a small brass ring between his fingers. His mother’s ring to be exact. The last thing he had of hers, given to him by the female that told him where her body was dumped.

He had wanted to give it to her, his mate. Longed to see it on her dainty hand. He laughed when he thought about it in comparison to the ring Eris gave her. He remembered the sight of it as she pulled it out after the night he first made love to her. The thing was huge, when he held her hand yesterday he could practically feel the weight of it. The idea of putting a busted up old brass ring on that finger made his heartbreak. He wanted to give her so much more.

At least, he thought, if she’s married to Eris she will be able to have nothing but the finest things.

He tried to make that a consolation for him. But he knew that even a gilded cage was a cage.

It wasn’t until midday when pain exploded through his gut, white hot and unyielding. He sat up abruptly, clutching his heart as he reached down the bound searching for her. Gasped as he realized that golden rope unwinding slowly but surely. He looked deeper, allowing himself to feel whatever she felt. His body temperature dropped as the pain in his gut worsened, and then as if the string was cleaved by a sword he felt nothing at all. A stone wall had dropped over the bond.

No, no, no, no.

He shot from his bed, ripping on whatever leathers he could find on the ground of his bedroom. Banishment be damned, he wouldn't let her die.

Azriel sat on the couch nursing a hangover as Cassian bursted into the room, he tossed him a spare dagger.

“Get up somethings wrong with y/n,” Cassain ordered the voice of a general making itself known as he laced up his boots.

Azriel didn’t object, didn’t even whine or moan from his aching head as he got up to join his brother. The shadowsinger had always been the calmest of the three, always the most collected. But he had never seen his brother so scared before, and that cool veil of calm that he always kept so wholly intact started to slip.

It was a short flight to the townhouse and as Cassian landed at the front steps he started to realize the weight of what was about to happen. He had no time to prepare himself for how he would tell his High Lord, his best friend, and his brother in arms about the secret relationship he had been having with his precious little sister. And y/n was precious to Rhys, always had been, even if the trauma they both endured under the mountain had driven a wedge between them.

Cassian reached through the bond and felt nothing still. He lost all hesitation and nearly blew off the doors to Rhysand’s study.

Rhysand’s head flew up, and assessed whatever threat would lie before him. His eyes soften when he found his best friend standing in the doorway, but hardened again once he saw the sheer panic in his eyes.

“y/n is in trouble we have to find her,” Cassian ordered, leaving no room for argument.

“What do you mean y/n is in trouble?” Rhysand stood to brace his hands against his desk. “If she’s having a problem her husband can help her Cassian.”

“And what if her husband is the reason she’s in trouble? I came to you for help, but if you won’t offer it I’ll take Azriel and I’ll find her myself.” Cassian growled, a male beyond feral.

Azriel looked between the general and the High Lord, the stare down between the two so cold, so unyielding that it would go down in history. Rhysand’s violet eyes burned into Cassian’s, looking for the untold truth Cassian was keeping from him. When he didn’t find it, power filled the room as Rhys looked into Cassian’s mind.

“Stay out of my head Rhys!” Cassain grumbled, shaking his head as if those dark talons had already pried into his memories.

It was too late, and Rhysand’s eyes filled with an anger Cassian had never seen as he winnowed over to where he stood and slammed him against the wall.

“YOU SLEPT WITH MY LITTLE SISTER?!” Rhysand bellowed in his face.

Cassian had never been afraid of the High Lord of Night. Not when he showed up at Windhaven with his brand new training clothes, not when he saw him wipe whole infantries off the face of the earth with the flick of his wrist. The common denominator was that he was never on the receiving end of Rhysand’s rage. But now he had a not so friendly reminder that he was the most powerful High Lord to ever grace Prythian, and Cassian was scared.

“Let me explain,” Cassian choked out, the raw power spilling off Rhysand stifling his ability to even breathe.

“Rhys,” Azriel warned, that cool calm coming back to him as he watched his brothers at eachothers throats.

Rhys’ head whipped around to Azriel, “You knew?” he seethed.

The spymaster didn’t dare speak, he simply took a step back raising his hands in surrender.

“She’s my mate Rhys,” Cassian ground out.

Rhys’ eyes met Cassain’s, and saw the pleading in them. The kind that could only be found in a male who’s mate was in danger. He had seen it before, when Kallias talked about Viviane, even before he knew she was his mate.

Rhys released his hold on Cassian and the general's boots hit the floor with a thud as he started to collect himself.

“She’s dying Rhys’ I can feel it. She was so cold and then there was just nothing. Please we have to find her.” Cassain pleaded.

The High Lord seemed to be inside his own head, sorting through all the information he had been given in the last couple of minutes. This was more than just saving his sister, it was saving his best friend’s mate. Losing one would be like losing both, Cassian could never recover from such a loss.

“If you felt cold she’s most likely in the Winter Court. You and Azriel take the border of Autumn and Winter, I’ll go speak to Kallias and Viviane and see what they know.” Rhysand ordered in a way that was more High Lordly than his brothers had ever heard.

y/n’s pov:

It had been at least an hour, I had deciphered. The cold winter winds whipping around me as my body became so cold the snow started to bury me.

I thought about grabbing the dagger just inches away from my frozen hand and plunging it through my heart, but when I tried to reach for it the pain that radiated through my side was too great.

So I kept pulling on that bond, the rope that had turned to a thread. It felt like it was tied to a boulder, as every time I pulled it I found the otherside dead. The effects of the bloodbane taking away my ability to feel Cassian and my ability to heal.

As I lay there, my legs becoming heavy as they become covered in a thin layer of frost and my blood spilling out onto the snow, I thought of one thing.

It was all for nothing.

Cassian’s pov:

The blizzard that had waged war on my wings yesterday was even stronger today. Thankfully Azriel was able to winnow the two of us to the border with ease. If y/n had truly been left out here then there was no time to waste. The snow and wind was so thick I could hardly see the ground below us. I prayed to the mother that she was with Kallias and Viviane, warm, safe and alright. Because if I found her out here it would be a miracle to find her alive.

I flew as fast as possible, fighting against the gusts of wind. Azriel was farther behind me, no doubt running his eyes over every place I might’ve missed in my panic. If she was out here she wouldn't be hard to find, for on the border there was nothing but bare land. No trees, and no bushes or rocks. If the snow hadn’t buried her she would stand out like a sore thumb.

She can’t be gone.

I was beginning to lose hope, nearing the end of the border when Rhys spoke into my mind.

Kallias and Viviane have not seen her, they’re sending out search parties as we speak.

My fears only heightened at Rhys’ status report, she was out here somewhere and I was most likely already too late.

No she’s not gone.

I told myself as I tugged on the bond one more time to see if there was still that concrete wall there and to my surprise I found a faint hum. The rope between us torn to shreds, I almost felt like if I tugged on it one more time it might disintegrate.

“I can feel her!” I shout to Azriel over the wind. He shields his eyes from the wind to give me a nod, as he continues to search for her.

My eyes scan the vast expanse of white below me until I see a small crumpled form, lying in the snow.

No.

I don’t think for another moment before tucking in my wings and diving straight for it. As I slam into the icy ground. I rush over to the heap on the ground and my worst fears are confirmed.

There lies y/n with her back facing me, nothing covering her but a silk robe. Her body littered in bruises and blood pooling all around her. I fall to my knees before her, ignoring the bite of the snow. I pick her up and turn her carefully in my arms. The frost that covers her cheeks isn’t the worst of my concerns as my eyes fall to her stomach. There, nailed to her womb is a note that reads…

‘WHORE’

I feel a liquid coating my hand and I hold it up to find blood. I spy a bloodblane laced dagger lying in the snow just a foot away. I reach down inside for the bond but I feel it disintegrating before my very eyes.

“No, no, no Princess wake up!” I cry moving the hair from her frozen face.

She doesn’t move.

“Please wake up y/n!” I scream, my tears falling on her face as I try to shake her awake. “COME ON!” I growl.

A shadow slams into the earth behind me and I feel Az’s presence behind me falling to hitting his knees next to mine. I don’t try to read his face, if he looks at her like she’s dead I don’t know what I’ll do. Instead I focus all my efforts on trying to get those frozen eyelashes to open up for me.

“Come on baby come back to me,” I grit, pressing a kiss to her forehead. My lips bite at the coldness there.

“Cass I told Rhys, he’s already home,” Azriel reported, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Give her here,” he began reaching for her.

“No, don't touch her,” I growled, holding her closer to my chest.

“I can winnow her back faster than you can fly her. You need to trust me Cass or she’s not going to make it,” he pleaded calmly.

I sigh knowing that my brother is right and that my territorial male bullshit would only kill her. I reluctantly give her to Azriel and it isn’t until he stands with her that I realize how small she looks in his arms. How breakable, and I wonder if I’ll ever see her again.

“Save her Az, please,” I beg, still on my knees.

“Hang tight Cass I’ll be right back,” he says winnowing away.

I’m left with the aftermath, and the roaring wind that’s practically white noise by now. In front of me is the imprint her body left in the snow and ice, as well as crimson colored snow. The knife that lay just a foot away identical to the one that was jabbed into my side just yesterday. I nearly threw up at the idea that she had felt that white hot pain of bloodbane making its way through her blood.

A few minutes later Az winnowed back and took me with him to the townhouse. We landed in the foyer, and I didn’t hesitate to bound up the steps towards her own room. The door was flung open and Rhysand was already pacing watching Madja do her best work.

“Is she going to be okay?” I ask, unable to rip my eyes away from her too still form lying on the bed. Her hair is still frozen, lips still blue.

“We don’t know yet,” Rhys answers in a tone so somber it pulls my attention. His eyes are just as bloodshot as mine and his hair is sticking up all over the place like he had been running his hands through it too much.

As Majda stitches her wounds and assesses every inch of her, I find myself peeling off some of my leathers. The place was practically a sauna with a roaring fire heating the room and the bedpans littered about her bed. Even Rhys had a bead of sweat dripping from his forehead. It was the only thing that could be done, to warm her up.

I stared at my mate's unconscious body, and prayed to the Mother that she wouldn’t take her away. Even half frozen, battered and bruised, she was still so beautiful, still the Jewel. Still my princess who I had fallen for all those years ago.

Please Mother, please don’t take her.

If anything, just let me see her one last time. See her beautiful eyes and kiss her lips. Allow me to hold my mate one last time while her heart is still beating.

As Madja worked her hands up and down her body she didn’t say a word, didn’t even breathe loudly, as if she was listening for something. Her behavior affected us all, as we stayed completely silent, the only sounds in the room coming from the crackling fire.

So when her shoulders slumped and she sighed, the breath echoed throughout the room. My stomach sank as she turned to us with a somber face.

“Before she was left out there she was taken by force, that’s where the bruises are from. The wound to the right side was caused by a dagger laced in bloodbane, she was practically mortal when he left her in the snow. And the wound to her lower abdomen? It hit her womb, if she ever wakes up she may never be able to have children,” Madja says sadly.

“If she wakes up?” I ask quietly, praying I heard wrong.

Her eyes meet mine and then Rhysand’s, “We’re losing her.” she begins and I swear I feel my knees about to give out. “I can’t access her thoughts or her emotions, but given what she’s been through, it seems she’s lost the will to live.”

That was it.

I take the two steps to the edge of her bed and my knees hit the ground as I begin to weep. I slide my hand under the piles of blankets, careful not to disturb them, and take her hand in mine. Gods it’s so cold. She had always had cold hands, she used to put them under my shirt to warm them up. But this was different, her hands were like ice. She didn’t even feel like her.

“Maybe if I can look into her mind?” Rhys breathed, the angst ridden in his voice.

“You are welcome to try my Lord,” Madja said solemnly, like whatever he found wouldn’t be of any use anyways.

I hear Rhys' footsteps walk around to the other side of the bed and kneel. He places a hand over her head, his palm twitching from the sudden cold that was there. I watched intently as his eyes closed and brows furrowed. As he went deeper and deeper into her mind his face contorted until it began to soften once more, and a single tear fell from his face.

“What? What is it?” I asked, my voice cracking.

The High Lord pulled his hand from his sisters face to wipe his stray tear, “Madja’s right. She’s given up. Her last thought was that she had lost the Autumn Court’s armies and she had lost you too Cassian. After everything that happened, it was all for nothing.” Rhys relayed sadly.

“But she’s here now, she’s safe, she has to wake up,” I pleaded, squeezing her too cold hand tighter.

“She doesn’t know that she is here though general,” Madja says calmly, like if she spoke any other way I would rip her to shreds, which was probably true. “She fell under thinking she would never see you again.”

“What can I do? I’ll do anything.” I plead with Madja. Hell I’d trade places with her if I could. Her people needed a princess more than they needed a general.

“I’m afraid there is nothing any of us can do. All we can do is wait and hope she comes back,” Madja says sadly.

“I want you to take up quarters in the town house for the time being,” Rhys ordered.

“Of course my Lord, I will be checking on her constantly,” Madja nods, collecting her bag full of tonics and bandages.

“Is there anything I can do for you Cass?” Azriel asks, placing a hand on my back.

“No,” I say solemnly, pressing my forehead to her hand. “Just leave us.”

Neither one of my brothers protested. The only indication that they had left was the door closing and the silence that had followed. Their muffled voices went down the hall, no doubt to show Madja where she would be staying. I was sure that Rhys would be back to check on his little sister once he was done.

I lifted my head from where I had it pressed against her hand to see her face again. Her skin was still pale but the frost had melted off her eyelashes and skin. Hickies littered her neck and a faint hand shaped bruise wrapped around her neck.

Gods what had he done to her?

“Princess I don’t know if you can hear me but you have to open those pretty eyes for me okay?” I pleaded with her. “It wasn’t for nothing baby, I’m here now and I’m not going to let anyone take you away again. You were so strong and so brave but you don’t have to be anymore, you just need to wake up. Just wake up and I’ll take care of you okay?”

I feel my tears starting to well up. I didn’t just want my girlfriend back, or even my mate. I wanted my best friend back. I thought about what a lonely world it would be without her.

“We can go back to reading your silly books while I tickle your feet. And you can whoop my ass and drink me under the table when we play Marks again.” I laugh remembering the time I taught her how to play the ridiculous drinking game, it felt like so long ago now.

“You have to come back to me because we have to have the most ridiculous and ornate mating ceremony ever.” I chuckle through my tears picturing how much she would detest the idea of an over the top event. “And you gotta wake up because I wanna make you my wife baby.”

I feel the lump in my throat form, remembering the brass ring I had left on my nightstand from this morning. I had almost wished that I had felt the same sadness I felt then now. For nothing could compare to the agony of the mating bond slipping out of my hands like sand falling through an hourglass.

“But we can’t do any of those things until you wake up honey, so you gotta open your eyes for me okay?” I say trying to smile.

Her eyes don’t open, I’m not even sure if her chest rises and falls to breathe.

“Please y/n wake up! Please don’t leave me, I can’t live without you.” I plead, my tears falling faster than ever now.

I let out a groan as I press my forehead to her little hand again. My chest caving in as I find the skin there still cold. Fuck it, if she can’t hear me than I’ll beg to the gods who might.

“Please don’t take her from me. Please don’t take her from me. Please don’t take her from me…”

Rhysand’s pov:

After I show Madja where she can set her things and take a load off, I slump into an armchair in my room and run my hands through my hair. For the first time today, I’m finally hit by the weight of what the past two hours have been.

The images of what I saw when I reached into y/n’s mind were enough to make me shudder. I was so blind to her pain. So focused on my own mate, and my own trauma, I forgot that she went under that mountain with me. And what’s worse is that she felt like she owed me an army for saving her. I almost regret going so far back into her memories that I saw it all. The things Eris did to her, the way he spoke to her. The conflict she felt.

But then there were moments of immense happiness. Each one of them featured Cassian in one way or another. Images of him lacing up her dresses and placing a kiss on her shoulder when he was done. Her laughing in the early hours of morning with him. I had never seen my brother smile so big or love so much.

Oh gods Cassian.

I thought to myself, remembering the look on his face when he saw her lying prone on that bed. His agony that practically filled and infected everything in the room. He needed me, and I needed to see my little sister.

My tired body creaks as I stand from the chair with a groan, making my way next door to y/n’s room. The same one I used to sneak her out of when we were kids. Sometimes I miss those days and how simple everything was.

I opened the door slowly to not disturb Cassian. The light from behind me illuminated the mostly dark room. The only other light source was the fire. Cassain was right where I left him, kneeling on by the edge of the bed, stroking her hair whispering sweet nothings to her that I couldn’t hear.

I make my way inside and close the door to keep in the heat as I sit on the opposite side of the bed. It isn’t until the bed dips under my weight that Cassian’s eyes meet mine. In all the years I’ve known him I had never seen him this way. His eyes were bloodshot and weepy, and the bags under his eyes prevalent. It reminded me of when I thought Feyre had died under the mountain, and I supposed that made sense given this was the same thing.

“Has she?” I asked, wondering if she had shown any signs of life.

“No,” was the only answer the general could give me.

My eyes fell to my sister once more, unable to take the sorrow that came from Cassian’s stare. The frost that once covered her face was now melted, and her lips were no longer blue. However, pink had not yet tinted her cheeks and I wondered if it ever would again. It raised the question, how could I have prevented her from meeting this fate, and prevented Cassain from having to feel this pain. I was the most powerful High Lord in History, but right now I had never felt so small.

“Why didn’t you tell me she was your mate?” the question spilled out of me. “If I had known I would’ve stopped the wedding immediately.”

Cassian lifted his head from where it was pressed against her hand and looked at me again, “For the same reason your mate is still in the Spring Court. She deserved to have a choice.” he said to me, and though his words held no anger, no resentment, they were a punch to the gut.

“I’m a terrible brother,” I admit, my eyes falling to her.

“No you’re not. She did what she did because you are a good brother. She wanted to help you in any way she could, at any cost. That’s how much she loves you.” Cassian spoke, his voice quiet and even toned. “But things might’ve been different if you two hadn’t distanced yourselves when you got back from under the mountain. Whatever you guys saw down there? Whatever happened? You need to face it together, Rhys. If she wakes up, you need to be as close as you once were.”

Gods, for a general my brother had a way with words. He was right about all of it. I had distanced myself from her after we came back. Thinking that I could spare her from the pain I felt, but I had forgotten that she had gone under that mountain with me. She had demons to battle as well, and I left her to fight them alone.

“She will wake up Cass,” was all I could say. “She has to, because I have to make things right.”

y/n’s pov:

Waking up was slow.

First all I could hear was the crackling of a fire and slow steady breaths. Then I smelled the familiar scent of night blooming jasmine laced with cedar. Next was the immeasurable warmth that fanned my face, and last was the feeling of a strong calloused hand holding my own.

I squeezed that hand ever so slightly before finally opening my eyes. I looked up at the familiar ceiling of my childhood bedroom, the constellations that had been painstakingly painted there. To my left a roaring fire and to my right… Cassian. Kneeling at the edge of the bed his forehead pressed to my hand. His breaths rising and falling slowly, the way they always did when he was asleep.

“Cass,” I rasped out, my voice still uneasy.

His head flew up and his eyes were on me in an instant. I loosed a sob at finding that familiar hazel staring back at me. The face I thought I would never see before.

“Oh my god baby,” he smiled, pressing his lips to my forehead. “You came back to me, thank the Mother.”

“Cassian, I'm so sorry. I should’ve listened to you. You were right about everything and I should’ve stayed and-” I began to ramble through my tears.

“Shhh, shhh,” he cooed, brushing a tear from my eye as a few of his own fell. “Don’t worry about that now. You’re safe, no one’s going to hurt you know”

The bond tugged at his promise and I was reminded of the blessing I had been given, “You’re my mate,” I smiled pressing a hand to his face. He winced at the cold but then laid one of his own hands over it, bringing it down to his lips to press a kiss to my palm.

“Yeah I am,” he laughs. “And you’re mine.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked him as he continued pressing kisses into the palm of my hand.

“You were already dealing with so much y/n,” he said softly. “I couldn’t make things even more complicated or try to control your choices. Not when this alliance was the first thing you ever got to choose for yourself. But I should’ve told you and I’m so sorry.”

“Shhhh,” I soothed him like he had me moments ago. “We both made mistakes Cass, but none of that matters now that we’re together again.”

“You’re right,” he smiled, kissing my forehead.

“The only thing we need to worry about now is Eris and whatever he does next,” I say, rubbing his cheek with my thumb, the stubble there telling me he hadn’t shaved in a while.

His eyes hardened as he pulled my hand from his cheek, grasping it in both of his hands as if he was praying, “If he comes back for you y/n I will fucking kill him. I swear to the Gods I will invoke the blood duel-”

“You will do nothing of the sort Cassian. I just got you back. I won’t lose you again.” I say firmly.

“Are you doubting your general?” He gave me a cocky smile.

“No, but I don’t trust Eris to play fair. If he comes back Rhys will deal with him.” I assure him.

“As your mate I have the right to defend you,” he reminds me.

“You’re right, you do. But if we don’t handle things just right Eris could declare war on us. I won’t let my people be attacked by Hybern and the Autumn Court.” I explained to him.

Cassain nodded. I could sense the disappointment in him, and I didn’t blame him for feeling that way. I would’ve paid good money to watch him kill Eris. It was scary enough when someone hurt another male's mate. Especially when the affected male is The Lord of Bloodshed.

“And Cass?” I asked.

“Yes?”

“You were wrong before, about my choices. The first thing I ever got to choose for myself wasn’t Eris, Cassian. It was you.” I smile looking at the best decision I had ever made. I would never come to regret asking him to kiss me after that ball. Not when it had brought me his love. The best thing I never knew I needed.

Cassain smiled and then let out a hearty chuckle, as if he had finally realized that I was back, and we were together again, and we would be together until The Mother called us home.

To be continued…

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dawnagustd · 2 years

Text

MU$IC FAIRY || MYG

❃ Festivaled Away: Burned Memories hosted by @bangtanbathhouse

⤞ Ticket: Playlist ⤞ Main Event: Based on a Playlist ⤞ Games: fucking playlist | sensory deprivation | breath play | phone sex | oral fixation

Read on AO3

Thank you for completing our questionnaire. Please stay on the line and allow us to find you the perfect match…

With a few basic questions and a two minute wait, he was paired with a woman that sounds rather beautiful. He imagines that she is, at least. Well, he hopes.

He’s been chatting with her for about an half of a minute, and he’s feeling her. So he doesn’t hang up when the official timer begins.

“So umm…how confidential is this?” He can never be too careful. This could ruin his reputation if someone found out. “You said you’ve done this before, right?”

“Yeah, it’s safe, love. Trust me.”

He hopes you’re right.

“After you complete the questionnaire, they pair you with a random person who has similar preferences.”

He pushes the worrisome thoughts to the back of his mind and proceeds to pleasure himself before time is up. He’s currently living paycheck to paycheck, so fifteen minutes was all he could afford.

“Should I lead or…?”

He scoffs out a laugh. “I got it, babe. Just vibe with me.”

“Okay.” Your response is through small labored breaths. You must be broke as shit too because you aren’t wasting any time. “C-Can you put on some music or something?...I umm, can’t do it when it’s this quiet.”

He grabs his laptop and allows whatever track is next to travel through the speakers.

Fuck. He forgot about the beats he was playing for someone earlier. Hopefully, it doesn’t ruin your mood before he can change it. “Sorry,” he mutters a bit embarrassed.

“No, this is fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s sensual,” you pant. His brows knit together in curiosity and he momentarily ceases his movements. “The bass complements your voice well, actually. Did you umm…?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“I like it.” The little moan behind those words has him standing at attention. In any second, he could blow his load.

“Yeah? What else do you like?...Tell me what gets your attention.”

There’s a pause. “Or would you rather me shut up?”

“The opposite. I wanna hear you…your voice. You sound hot,” you giggle and it’s one of the most soothing things he’s ever heard. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart. You don’t sound bad either…Just hearing you laugh is making me hard.”

He hears a whimper; one of the sexiest, neediest whines to ever grace his ears. “Tell me what you just did. Don’t be shy.”

“I—”

You hesitate, so he steps in.

“Touching your pussy, huh?”

He senses through the phone how worked up he’s getting you. You’ve started panting and moaning out your words shamelessly.

“Mmhm, my clit.”

He chuckles and whispers of curses come through the phone.

“Do me a favor?” you agree and he continues. “Move a little lower and dip your fingers in your pussy. Tell me how wet it is.”

He uses his spit for lubrication and tightens his fist around his cock. He imagines it was your walls snuggled around him, pumping his length as you bounce up and down. Something inside of him believes that you’re pretty, with a nice ass too. A really nice ass, that’s what his fantasies project at least.

“Fuck. How many?” you ask him.

Damn. You’re obedient as well. That’s hot, really hot.

“As many as your pretty cunt can take.”

When he hears a muffled cry, his bottom lips tucks between his teeth while he concentrates on the squelching sounds coming through the phone. You both move in sync with the music and allow it to take away the nervous jitters the both of you had previously. His cock starts twitching in his palm when your sweet little moans move through his ears.

“How many did you use, sweetheart?”

You answer him in a high-pitched voice. You’re close too, he can hear it. Your eyes are probably screwed shut, trying to keep it together to prolong the call, but he has to go before his bill skyrockets. He needs to get you off—quickly.

“Two. Three, now. I needed more.”

“Greedy, aren’t we?”

“No…I’m just really horny.”

He has to smile at that. “Yeah? Me too. This is good, but I'd rather be balls deep in you.”

“Fuck, I’d like it.”

Sweat beads on his forehead, but he just wipes it away with the back of his hand and keeps going. The music has changed to something more upbeat and he knows this is his shot for home plate.

“Really? Is that why you’re making a mess? I can hear it, you know...you’re so fucking wet.”

“Shit, I wanna come,” your words are barely recognizable and you just keep begging him for more, “please help me.”

“Fuck, sweetheart. Take your fingers out and rub your clit. Spread that sticky shit all over it and get yourself off.”

He throws his head back and curls his toes, bracing himself for the impact of his orgasm. This has to top he sexual encounters and he’s not even touching you. It’s just something about you that’s driving him insane. He doesn’t even know your name, but he doesn’t need to, not when all that matters now is the pleasure of this experience.

“I’d lick it all up too, eat you out until you cry and forget your own fucking name. You want that, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I wanna feel you so bad.”

“I know, baby. You’d let me take you anyway I’d like, wouldn’t you?...I could bend you over? Dick you down with your legs pinned by your head. I fuck you up, princess and you’d never want another.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna—”

Dead silence.

“Are you kidding me? Fuck!”

The phone hangs up just as you both reach your climaxes. Disappointment is thick in the air as his quick strokes gradually begin to slow. He groans and curses angrily at the loss, and grips fistfuls of his hair in frustration. Out of all the people for this to happen to; it had to be him. Just when he thought his luck couldn’t get any worse, this happens and proves that life is just out to get him.

“Something’s gotta give, man. I can’t keep living like this.”

So, he shrugs off his needs and does what he does best—work. He puts on his headphones and hopes that one of these tracks will be the one that opens the door to all of his dreams.

Two years later…

“This is your boy Jay Millz, and you're listening to Q107.9. We got my man Suga in the motherfuckin’ building. This guy has the hottest track on the radio right now, bro. He’s gonna be chilling with us for a minute while we dip into the Rush Hour Mix with DJ Reign. Suga! How you doin’, man?...”

He nods and greets the guy behind the mic. They extend their arms for a brief handshake before he continues. “What’s good? Glad to be here, man.”

Yoongi looks around the table and sighs. He’s tired of the same fucking questions.

What’s next for you? How does it feel to be the hottest rapper out right now? Will you sign with SlaughterHouse Records?

As if he’d leave a crumb behind for the tabloids to fight over. Yoongi’s been careful; really careful. He’s worked hard to maintain a decent reputation; besides a few run-ins with the law. But overall, he’s avoided anything that could damage the image he’s created for his pseudo.

Many have tried to tear him down, or trip him up. However, he knows how to handle those people, and that’s what he’s about to do when the woman across from him asks the question lingering on the tip of her tongue. He knows it’s coming; he can tell by the way her nails tap on the table. She waits for silence and then she goes for the kill.

“So…Suga, you know I have to ask.”

The other co host sighs with an exhausted eyeroll. “Bee, please don’t start.”

“I have to. The people wanna know,” she argues and Yoongi can feel his head starting to throb.

It’s bad enough that he hates these things and they cannot stop themselves from trying to dabble in his personal life.

“Anyway, are you currently dating anyone, Suga? A fan? A girlfriend?...etc?”

Yoongi looks to his left and gives her a lazy smirk, just fucking with her mind a bit before he responds.

“Nahh, I’m good. Gotta stay focused, you feel me?”

He takes a sip from his cup and savors the cold liquor before he gulps it down, watching the poor girl slump her shoulders in defeat. However, he was a fool to think this was over.

“And what about Mu$ic Fairy?” the interviewer to his right asks.

“What about her?”

He sets down his cup and turns in the man’s direction.

“She dropped a new playlist last night. I know a lot of us would have gone to see about that by now.”

Yoongi scoffs out a laugh. “Well, I’m not a lot of us, am I?”

“Damn right,” Jay chimes in from across the table. He notices Bee shaking her head in the corner and he couldn’t agree with her more. This is ridiculous.

This girl, “Mu$ic Fairy” or whatever she calls herself is nothing but a fucking distraction. No one can resist bringing her up when he’s in the room. There’s no fucking escape.

At first, it was cute. A few Spotify playlists dropped every once in a while with a rather risqué cover just to tease, but now it’s an entire movement. Some fans are even calling themselves fairies, and wearing themed attire to his performances.

He fucking hates it. The wings, the glitter, the overly sweet tones in which they speak. Of course, he appreciates his fans and they’re fun to look at, but Yoongi’s a picky guy. And if that’s the kind of girl you are, then you aren’t his type.

“I would’ve probably hit her up after she dropped the Fre@kii Ho @nthem! playlist.”

Jay bumps fists with the other guy host after he says that and they have a “same” moment.

Bee adds her input after it quiets down.

“Well, I’m going to have to agree with—”

“Do not…say her name around me,” Yoongi intervenes.

He can’t; not when he has a show tonight. Just hearing her name pisses him off.

Another reason he hates doing interviews is because someone always has to mention…

“Oh, are you talking about that podcaster?...Damn, what’s her name…”

Jay struggles to remember while snapping his fingers, so Bee attempts to help him out. However, Yoongi cuts her off before she can speak of the devil.

“Don’t you dare.”

The woman once again backs down and carries on.

“Well anyway, I agree with you know who. She makes valid points about how none of these people were after him before he started making industry music. They don’t really fuck with the real Suga.”

Yoongi only nods his head because the annoying bitch behind that podcast is right. This Mu$ic Fairy chick started showing up when he became popular and so did her followers. But that’s about one of the only things he agrees with. Everything else is out of line. This woman doesn’t know anything about him, but yet always has an input to give when it comes to his music.

One of the interviewers notices his change in demeanor and senses the hatred he has for this chick. He steps in and changes the subject quickly.

“Shit, we’re almost out of time. That’s what happens when you’re chillin’ with one of the greatest to ever do it.”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Nahh, man. Don’t put that on me yet. Give me some time.”

“Many would have to disagree with you there, bro. Matter of fact, you should ask them. Why don’t you tell the listeners where you’re gonna be tonight?”

“Yuh, tonight you can catch me at the Varsity. Tickets sold out, but yeah…fuck with me.”

The interviewers briefly share a round of applause before Jay concludes.

“Alright. You heard him. Tickets sold out, but who knows ladies…he might just take you home for the after party, right bro?”

Yoongi can only press his lips in a straight line because anyone that knows him, knows that a piece of ass is the last thing on his mind right now, but for the sake of some poor girl’s imagination…

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

And because of this, he’s probably going to have to fight his way out of the club.

The rush Yoongi gets from being on stage always lingers in his veins even after the music stops. The crowd keeps the energy going and going. They scream his name, applaud his techniques, and praise his stage presence like he’s a king. He is, in a way. Suga is the king of this city; there isn’t a guy who doesn’t want to be him or a woman who doesn’t want to fuck him.

Typically, temptation is easy to resist since his career leaves him little time for extracurricular activities. However, sometimes he just can’t allow something to slip away. Not again.

“You killed it tonight, man.”

Yoongi doesn’t even spare his manager a glance as he brushes past him. His train of vision is focused on that little black dress swaying through the crowd. If he takes his eyes off of you for a second, he knows he’ll lose you in the mass of people.

“Thanks, dude. I’ll talk to you in a bit.”

He doesn’t know what was said in response because he’s out of range within seconds. He’s a man on a mission, and he’s not even sure of why.

You’re beautiful, there’s no denying that—and sexy. But something else about you is just luring him in, and he thinks he knows why. At least, that’s his excuse for following you outside of the club.

It’s dangerous, of course, since anyone could be waiting to get him alone. But tonight he can’t let you just leave without a word. He’s done that too many times. You show up to show after show, stare him down as if he’s your last meal, then leave without even a wave or goodbye.

Yoongi’s had enough; this ends now.

“Hey!”

You immediately stop in your tracks at the sound of his voice. He wastes no time trying to eliminate the distance between you, but you dash down an adjacent alley before he can get close enough to talk to you.

He follows you, and calls out to you one more time before you halt and finally respond to him.

“Hey there.”

Your voice is so dulcet, but edgy…and familiar. Where has he heard it before?

“Looking for me?” The closer he gets the more clearer the sound becomes and eventually it clicks. He knows exactly why he knows your voice.

But you aren’t the person he thought you were, and you’re the last person he wants to see.

“You’re that podcaster, aren’t you?” Yoongi questions, approaching you carefully. At least his mind still holds the common sense to be cautious.

When you look over shoulder, it’s like his breath leaves his body. He’s seen his share of gorgeous women, but you are out of this world. There’s no way you could be her. But everything is telling him that you are.

“Depends…who wants to know?”

Yoongi doesn’t know where to look first. Your face or the body that comes along with it. “You or the bitches who want to be like me?”

The moment he’s close enough to hear the cockiness oozing from your voice, he knows it’s you without a doubt. He can feel the same aura radiating from you now that he does whenever he listens to those podcasts. You’re her; he’s a hundred percent sure of it.

“So you’re bold behind the mic, but now you’re too pussy to look at me?”

You turn around on queue, adorning a wide smirk that he’d give anything to wipe off your gorgeous face. “Better?”

Yoongi nods slowly and takes a few steps towards you. With every step he takes you move backwards, allowing him to corner you and in the dimly lit alley.

“It’s funny because with all the shit you talk on air, I didn’t take you to be a runner,” he points out.

“I don’t think you know me well enough to assume that, love.”

“But you know me well enough to critique my music?”

You hum. “I do, actually.”

“Really?” When your back nearly touches the brick wall, he leans in a little closer. You show no signs of uneasiness so he plants his palm on brick structure and hovers over your shorter frame. “What makes you believe that?”

“Because I’ve been a fan for a very long time. Ever since your underground days. You’ve never noticed me…but I was there.”

When he gives you a look, you roll your eyes. Of course, he doesn’t believe a word that pretty mouth of yours spits out.

“Your first real gig was on your birthday. You were a senior in high school and you invited your parents to the show. You looked around and when you finally saw them you smiled like a fucking dork.”

Damn. You read him like a book, but that doesn’t make up for the negativity spilled on your behalf.

“So you’ve been following me to shows so you can build up the repertoire for your little podcast? For how long?”

You shake your head in denial.

“I followed you because you’ve always been my favorite artist. I admire you, and I’ve been around since the beginning. Even when nobody was fucking with your music…your real music. The kind you’re passionate about.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Like you would know anything about that.”

“But, I do. That’s why I’m so pissed at you. All you make is industry music now, and I’m just…bored, I guess.”

You’re cute when you shrug your shoulders, but your eyes are lethal. He feels like he’s being stripped bare under your gaze. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you were silently flirting with him, but they’d be a reach.

“So find a hobby,” he suggests.

“I did find hobbies. The podcast, the playlists, the—”

“Wait,” Yoongi’s face contorts with confusion at those words, believing that he’s misheard you, “...you said playlists. What playlists?”

Your smirk returns and Yoongi suddenly feels his cock slowly rising in his underwear. Why do the heavens place the demons in the most beautiful women; he’ll never understand.

“You know which playlists I’m talking about, love…” your hand makes a move to touch his shoulder but he grabs your arm to prevent contact, “they were made for you.”

“Made for me? What does…”

Oh, damn.

“Are you…?”

“Well, it sure isn’t the whore in there dressed like Tinkerbell. You think I’d wear that shit?” Your laugh is so intoxicating; he almost cracks a smile just standing there watching you. “I don’t need all of that to grasp your attention. I never have.”

Yoongi shakes his head. All this time you were right under his nose. Two women he could never stand to mention are placed right in front of him, hiding behind a goddess. It’s pure comedy; his reaction to the news should have him pulling away from you and heading in the opposite direction.

But can admit that he judges a book by its cover; you aren’t what he thought you were. You’re different, interesting…someone he’d actually like to have underneath him in the opportunity ever presents itself. But he’s confused…why him? Why go through all the trouble if the music is all you care about? That whole Mu$ic Fairy concept has completely fucked with his mind.

How does he go from having no interest to wanting to see what it’s all about? There has to be more to it; otherwise, it makes no sense. You two are strangers.

He shouldn’t crave the warmth beneath his palm while his hand grips your forearm, but he does. The skin to skin contact should not arouse him so easily, but there’s no denying the bulge forming in his pants. Despite all of this, Yoongi keeps his composure the best he can; you’re too cocky for him to just slip up and expose himself.

“Out of all the times to fuck with me…” he pauses when your beautiful glossed lips part to blow the strawberry bubblegum you’ve been chewing. Your tongue darts out to pop and collect the medium-sized pink bubble, and he can feel his knees buckle when you suck it back in.

He’s usually not this fond of people and gum, but the way you handle it, the way you slowly rolled it over your tongue in preparation was a fucking sinful, and he can’t get enough of watching you do it.

“Why tonight?” he asks you.

You bat your thick lashes, probably knowing good and well what you’re doing to him. He knows you’re taunting him, silently asking for him to make a move, but he won’t. You’ll have to beg him for it.

“Because…I’m horny, and I’m tired of waiting for your clueless ass to figure this out.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Bullshit.”

He looks down as your finger loops underneath one of his chains and tugs him closer, something he wouldn’t allow anyone to do, but somehow you already earned privileges. You don’t know how dangerous of a game you’re playing with him, but he silently prays you’ll get to find out. He’d give anything to bend over the hood of his car and—

“And, I think you owe me something,” you inform, placing your other hand on his shoulder once he slides his to your waist.

“What might that be, love?”

Your smirk widens as you hypnotize him with your brown orbs. He can smell your perfume and flavored gum even better from this proximity, and your scent makes him feel like he’s in some sort of blissful haze—intoxicated by the smell of you. It’s no secret that he wants you bad; he just can’t let you know that. Not until you tell him why you’re doing all of this.

“An orgasm.”

Everything grows quiet after you articulate those words. It only takes him a couple of seconds to remember, and when his mind processes it all, his brain nearly malfunctions as he tries to speak.

“You’re fucking with me,” he insists.

“You should know by now that I’m tired of the games, Yoongi.” His body shutters when you use his real name. Something he’d normally go off about, but he never wants you to stop saying it. He needs to hear you say it again; for an entirely different reason. “You can tell me to fuck off, if you want.”

He blinks a few times, not realizing he was just standing there and not saying anything.

“No, no. I’m just–wow…I never expected you to remember me.”

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s not everyday you’re matched with your favorite rapper on a sex hotline,” you wink and Yoongi’s mouth falls open.

“You knew it was me the whole time?...and you didn’t say anything?”

You nod. “Yeah, I did. Your voice, your demeanor; I knew from the start, but I played along because you obviously weren’t on the call to talk about mixtapes. I just wanted you to enjoy yourself, I guess.”

“This is fucking crazy.”

Yoongi’s speechless. That was kind, and you kept it a secret all this time. Suddenly, all of this seems kind of sexy. It’s a secret he could have been in on if only he had read between the lines. However, he knows now, and it’s still technically still a secret…if it stays between you and him.

Your lips are once again his main focus; he’s so close to living the fantasies he had of you all those nights he wondered about how you handled yourself after the phone call ended. Did you come? Or was your mood ruined like his? He sure hopes not, because you were incredible and if anyone deserved to finish, it should have been you.

He was right about you too. You are sexy, and the longer he stands here with you, the harder it is for him to hold back on his urges. But hearing your needy voice breaks him entirely.

“How much longer am I going to have to wait for it, Yoongi?”

All regards for his reputation goes out the window. He looks towards both ends of the alley before he makes his move. Anyone could be watching, but once he feels your hands sliding up his body, he decides that that is no longer his concern.

“Come here.”

Yoongi grabs you by your throat, but doesn’t squeeze or choke you. He just wants you closer, and your eyes tell him you understand where he’s going from.

“I live 20 minutes away from here, think you can wait that long?”

“Do I have a choice?” you reply and that sass is what gets him riled up.

He doesn’t think twice about kissing your pillow soft lips. He’s been staring at them, wishing he could feel them, taste them, and now he is and he already can’t get enough. The level of sweetness on his taste buds is sinful, but it’s one addiction he’d never give up.

His tongue enters your mouth without any resistance from you, and he eagerly explores its depths, getting familiar with the woman wrapped in his arms as if he has all the time in the world with you. Your moans sends vibrations through his throat when he lifts your leg, nuzzling his crotch against your heat.

Yoongi would fuck you right now while he has you pinned against this wall but that just wouldn’t satisfy his thirst for you. You’ve been teasing him for too long for him to just rush this. It took two years to lead up to this moment, a quickie would never do it any justice.

“I need you to be on your best behavior until we get to my place,” he tells you through his slightly labored breaths.

“And if I don’t?”

His features harden.

“Then you won’t get anything, now come on. Let’s dip before one of your friends sees me without security.”

Or…before he changes his mind. He’s had plenty of bad ideas, but this tops the list.

Breathtaking.

It’s the only thing you can think about as your eyes scan over the sleek hood of the Lamborghini Gallardo. The man’s got some taste, you have to admit. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be taking you to his place. You like the fact that he’s picky, but always chooses correctly.

You drink in the sight before—Yoongi standing there in his stage outfit, complimenting his car. The vehicle’s custom, all white except for the tires and the heavily tinted windows. You could only quiver at the image of him driving it, and when it actually happens, your mind and your mouth start to go in different directions.

He asks you basic questions like your name and where you’re from; you can only hope you’ve given him the correct answers because you cannot break away from the visual of him gripping the wheel with one hand while he’s laid back in his seat. His jewelry glistens and shines even in the darkness of his car, but your eyes still fight through the nearly blinding twinkle so you can watch the man behind it all.

You’ve wanted him since you first saw him. He came to a pep rally at your high school and you fell in love with his music and his sound—his voice especially. Sure he was a cutie, still is. But he had so much hunger, so much passion for music that you felt him on a spiritual level.

He did so well on his first performance, and you remember telling your friends how much you wanted to listen to his Soundcloud when the event was over. Of course, they laughed and thought he sucked because he didn’t fit their visual standards, but now…they probably wish they’d been a little more invested in him.

“Can you stop doing that and answer my question?”

There it is again. That voice. It drives you crazy; when he said hello to you on that hotline, you knew without a doubt you were talking to your favorite rapper.

“Wha–Doing what?”

“Eye fucking me and biting your lip like that. Do you want me to pull over?”

Well.

You open your mouth to speak but he interjects.

“Actually, never mind. Don’t even answer that. Certain things I don’t need in my head while I’m operating a vehicle.”

Your neck and face heat up. If only he knew that you aren’t as confident as you appear. He’s hot, but the fact that he doesn’t know it makes him hotter.

“Sorry,” you turn towards the window so you can smile. You don’t want to feed his ego. No matter how much he denies it, he’s cocky as hell. If he knows you’re gawking over him simply driving, he’ll run with it. “...What did you ask me?”

A slow exhale leaves his lips, like he’s slightly annoyed and you should be offended, but damn—it was kind of sexy.

“I just wanted to know what you do for a living. How can you afford to travel and come to shows all the time? ...I’m just curious.”

“Why? You think I’m selling my—”

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“You were thinking it, and the answer is ‘no’. And no, I don’t have an OnlyFans either…probably should, though. I’d make bank,” you shrug.

“Look, I know you aren’t doing any of that. Honestly, you seem kind of selfish with the goods anyway, but…tell me how you keep up. That’s all I’m saying. Podcasts bring in that much money?”

“No they don’t, especially when you do them for free. I’m a writer. I write songs and I sell them to some of your favorite artists.”

Yoongi whistles. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Name a few.”

“This isn’t roll call, babe. If you wanna look up my credentials, you know my name now…Google me.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Fine,” you scoff.

When you look forward, you notice that you’re entering a gated community. Yoongi lets down his window and waves at the on-duty guard before the older man opens the automatic gate.

After driving past many luxurious homes, Yoongi pulls into a driveway and uses a clicker to open the garage door.

“We’re here,” he announces.

His home is lovely, and you’re in awe by the set up and interior design once you enter. You’re impressed, most guys don’t spend much thought on this level of organization.

Yoongi leads you up the stairs and into his bedroom. You can feel the butterflies in your stomach fluttering more and more as you get closer to the top of the stairs. Your knees buckle slightly when he opens the door, but your eyes still look in every direction once you’ve made it inside.

It’s dark, but you can still make out the colors that fill the room. Blacks and grays with white walls. His bed is draped with a dark set; you can’t help but find it inviting. And it’s huge; you imagine he must be a wild sleeper because you couldn’t imagine sleeping in a bed that large alone.

“I love your home, Suga.”

He waves his hand. “Thanks, but you don’t have to call me that. You didn’t call me that earlier.”

“I didn’t?”

“Nope.” He shakes his head and tells you that you can make yourself comfortable while he disappears into his closet. When he returns with clothes, you tilt your head with curiosity. “I’m gonna go shower, don’t get too nosey while you’re in here by yourself.”

“You’re leaving me? Why can’t I join you?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen for a second and a hand runs through his hair while he ponders over his answer. “Because umm…”

You crane your neck trying to coax an answer but he still stammers.

“It’s…you know.”

You smile. He’s kind of adorable, in a way.

“Too intimate?”

“Exactly.”

Your head lolls back while you laugh and Yoongi huffs in annoyance as he makes his way to the bathroom.

“What am I supposed to do while you’re in there?” you call out and he stops to turn around.

You watch him get ready to produce a smart remark. However, he pauses before he can get it out. He puts his clothes on the bed and walks over to the nightstand, turning on his laptop and grabbing some Bluetooth headphones from the drawer.

“Here,” he says, pairing them to his computer and then handing them to you. You take them before you look up at him, wondering where he’s going with this, but he’s quick to fill you in. “Listen to this, I won’t be long.”

Yoongi puts on some music and gives you a wink that makes your pussy clench. He leaves you sitting on his bed, headphones in hand without another word.

For the first minute you stare at the object wondering what’s being played, but your curiosity takes over quickly and before you know it, they’re coming over your ears. You don’t regret it the second you hear his voice.

The music begins to travel through the speakers, you become obsessed with it from the very first track. You love that it’s similar to his original sound, but it isn’t the same track over and over again. They’re all so different yet so him. You can hear and feel the amount of dedication and effort he put into it. Like it wasn’t done out of obligation, but because he wanted to do it for himself. You can’t help but get up and sway your hips to the music.

You feel so connected to him through his work, and that’s why you go on and on about how you wish he’d make another mixtape because this shit is fire. You wonder how long he’s been hiding it from the world.

You aren’t expecting him to be sitting on the bed when you turn around. Your hand finds your chest and you lower the volume on the headset.

“How long have you been sitting there? You fucking scared me.”

He shrugs. “Long enough to know that I want that dress off of you.”

Your startled expression turns smug. “Oh, really?”

“Hell, yeah.”

“So…you want me to take it off?” You raise an eyebrow.

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re going to have to use your words with me if you want something.”

Yoongi’s arms fold at his chest; his white tee strains against his beefiness. You remember how his clothes used to swallow him, but now he’s filling them up quite nicely, if you may. Either way, he looks good. It’s just a natural trait he possesses.

“I mean either you can take it off or you can leave. Doesn’t matter to me,” he shrugs his shoulders.

If you weren’t horny just looking at him sitting there in his boxers, you’d call his bluff. But you’ve already picked up on his stubbornness and you know better than to try him. “Fine.”

You sigh as you drag down the straps of your dress, rolling your eyes when he tells you to slow down. You flip your hair and twirl your body as you wiggle the fabric down your hips, turning around in the opposite direction to give him a peek at your derriere.

Looking over your shoulder, you notice how his face becomes etched with approval. You give yourself a silent applaud for selecting this piece. You’re sure your thong leaves nothing for his imagination. It also doesn’t help that you’re topless.

You stop torturing him and turn around so he can see the front.

“Damn,” is all he can say.

You take off your heels before walking towards him and his eyes never leave your breasts the entire journey, even once you’re standing between his legs, preparing to straddle his lap.

“I want you.” You tell him as if he doesn’t already know.

Yoongi’s hands find your waist while you place your knees on the bed. As soon as you’re on his lap, you can feel his bulge threatening to burst out of his underwear. It’d be so simple to pull your panties aside and milk him for everything he has, but not tonight. He’s the one who owes you a good fucking.

“How badly?”

His lips find your skin and make their way to your tits, making you clutch onto his damp curly strands while he sucks and tugs on your sensitive nipples. Your hands tug his hair, and you force him to look at your face.

“Yoongi. You’re either going to fuck me or I’m going to fuck you. What’s it going to be—”

He scoops you up and drops you on the mattress, making you squeak in surprise. The dark gleam in his orbs has your thighs rubbing and your fists clinging onto the comforter. He's finally had enough, and hopefully he doesn’t hold back anymore.

“You asked for this,” he warns you and you almost giggle with glee. He pulls his shirt over his head and is about to toss it somewhere, but then he changes his mind. Yoongi looks at you for a moment, contemplating before he speaks. “You trust me, right?”

“Well, I came home with you even though you hate me, didn’t I?...Why do you ask?”

“So a lot or a little?”

You groan.

He chuckles and you feel the butterflies once again. Yoongi turns the volume up on his laptop before holding up a thumb to ask if it is too loud. Honestly, you’re glad it tuned him out because though you understand that safety is first, there’s little you wouldn’t try when it comes to this man. You’ve been waiting as patiently as you could to experience this and you’re ready to get started.

You nod and his devilish smirk is the last thing you see before he throws his shirt over your head. Darkness fills your vision but it doesn’t bother you as long as his voice is filling your ears. His cold hands slide up your thighs and spread them, wasting no time in touching your slightly sodden underwear.

Gasps escape your lips when his finger presses gently on your clit, and you can only hope the sound isn’t too awkward since you cannot hear yourself.

The bed dips so you assume he’s climbing on and you release a breath when you feel his lips hovering over your body. He leaves kisses between your breasts and he doesn’t stop until your lace panties prevent him from accessing any more skin.

Yoongi quickly slides them off, leaving lying on his bed completely naked. Everything from the moment when his tongue dips into your center is one feverish bliss. Your back arches, your toes curl, and your fingers entangle in his hair. The sounds you’re making are probably feral and of an obnoxious volume but Yoongi doesn’t bother to shush you or stop his sinful movements.

He draws circles over your throbbing clit with his tongue, moving in the same motion as you do as you swivel your hips. This song has you in the mood to grind your pussy on his face, and that’s entirely his fault for coming up with such vulgar lyrics. It’s filthy and you feel the muscles in your stomach tightening by the seconds. You scream his name over and over but he just keeps going until you release the pressure built up inside of you.

The shirt is snatched off your face as you’re at your peak and what you see between your thighs only intensifies your orgasm. His face is buried in your heat, sucking your bundle of nerves into his mouth and nibbling gently while you squirm in his iron grip.

Yoongi kisses your inner thighs once you begin to calm down to help you relax. When you back slowly droop onto the bed is when he carefully removes the headphones, turning them off and then setting them on the nightstand next to his laptop.

“I would go back for seconds, but that would only make me want more,” he tells you. He opens the bottom drawer and pulls out some condoms then throws them on the bed.

“I don’t know if I’d survive that.”

“Well, you better say a prayer because we aren’t done,” he laughs and excitement bubbles inside of you.

Yoongi switches the music to something else and you can’t help but pout.

You sigh. “I pray you aren’t all talk.”

He glares at you for your comment and steps closer to the bed.

“You’re a sweet girl, but…” he flips you on your stomach and pulls you up by the waist, positioning you so that your ass and pussy are directly in his line of sight, “you need to watch how you fucking speak to me.”

A shriek leaves your lips when he slaps your ass. “Yoongi…please.”

“Please? You want me to stop?”

“No!” Your voice is high pitched and shaky, almost unrecognizable to your ears. “Don’t stop, please.”

Yoongi finds humor in your desperation. “Ask me nicely.”

“Fuck,” you whine but it’s the wrong answer. “Yoongi, please do it again.”

“No.”

Your breath hitches. “What?”

“I said no.”.

“Such a fucking asshole,” you mumble insults, thinking they’re too low for him to hear.

“What was that?”

You look behind you and notice Yoongi rolling a condom over his dick. You can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of those veiny hands stroking his cock slowly, preparing himself to dive into your wetness. You’ve always wondered what he looked like doing that, ever since that time on the phone.

“Nothing,” you lie.

He puts his knee on the bed and inches closer to you. You tease him by wiggling your ass a little but he places a hand on your hip to still you. “You know…”

You can feel his cock against your entrance and your body pushes back on him to try and get it inside of you yourself. However, your impatience makes you forget how petty the man behind you really is.

The tip slips past your folds and with the amount of arousal seeping from your opening, he’s able to slide in with ease. But it’s only a taste; the majority of his cock still remains outside of you, and quickly your frustration takes control of you.

“If you wanna meet an asshole…” he makes a loud gasp leave your lips when he, without warning, slams into your pussy in one smooth motion. You whimper; a harsh snatch of your hair makes you wince and grip the sheets. Your head is turned in an uncomfortable position, but the only thing you can focus on is the intensity of the stretch and the way his dick doesn’t leave any room to spare, “I could introduce you to one.”

Yoongi pushes your head forward and pins you to the mattress. Your teeth grit together because of your sensitivity. You could come just like this without him even moving. That’s how worked up you still are. You just need a moment to pull yourself together, but Yoongi doesn’t have the patience for that.

“Arch your fucking back.”

He pulls out but swiftly snaps back into you, causing you to let out a squeak. You try to cover your mouth but his large hand comes down on your ass before you can do so. Your moans turn into screams within minutes, increasing in volume each time Yoongi slaps your rear.

“I know you can do better than that. Straighten up before I do it for you,” he grunts through the lewd skin-slapping noises that fill the room.

You squeeze your eyes shut and arch your back like he demands. The position is only uncomfortable for a few seconds, but eventually it becomes familiar and the sensitivity ebbs away.

Yoongi lets go of your hair and starts rubbing his hands all over your ass, kneading the reddened flesh and giving it words of appreciation.

When you start to fuck him back he holds your waist and pulls you back on his cock. Your body begins to move naturally with the rhythm of the background music and he allows you to set the pace while he whispers obscene remarks.

“Look at you taking it just like a whore.”

You can feel the arousal between your thighs, dripping and making a mess of the sheets. The squelching sounds are disgusting but don’t phase you in this heated moment. You have more important things to worry about. Like how long you’ll be able to keep this up. You weren’t expecting him to have this much stamina, but you’ve learned to never judge a book by the cover.

He’s strong, the grip he has on you is evidence to that. The way he’s handling you like you’re nothing but a fuck toy he can use at his discretion has you clenching around his dick. His deep chuckle fills the room when he feels your walls tighten.

“On your next podcast, you should tell them how I fucked your brains out to your own playlist,” he comments.

Yoongi’s thrusts have your knees trembling and nearly giving out, but he’s quick to assure that you keep up. “No fucking slacking, whore. Do better or I’ll pull out and use your throat instead.”

You’re sure your ass will be sore in the morning because Yoongi cannot keep his hands off of it. He strikes you every chance he gets and the stinging sensation from his blows push you closer and closer to your peak.

“Fuck. Yoongi…please.”

Tears roll down your cheek when his cock travels deeper, touching the spot that makes you unravel at the seams. It’s all too much and you beg him to allow you to surrender to the pleasure.

“Not yet. Shit, do you have any idea how juicy your ass looks like this?”

“But I can’t,” you sob into the comforter.

A slap to your left cheek leaves you a shaky mess. However, he shows you no mercy and does the same thing to the other side.

“That’s not an option. If you come, I swear—”

“Sorry…” Your muffled cries are the last thing you can recall before your body accidentally gives in.

Your juices leak onto the bed while you hold on for dear life, afraid you’ll float away if you let go of the fabric. But just as your orgasm reaches its peak, it’s ripped away from you by one of the foulest humans on this planet.

“What the fuck did I tell you?” he growls as he drags you off the bed. Yoongi forces you to your knees, ignoring your pleas to regain what was stolen from you. He slaps your cheek a few times, snapping you back into reality and demanding your attention. “Answer me!”

“You…You told me not to come,” you hiccup.

His expression tells you how displeased he is, but it’s too bad that you don’t care. Something comes over you that has you sucking it up and wiping your tears. If he wants to play dirty, you can do it too.

“So why did you?...I never said that you could.”

You look up at him with innocent eyes. However, you have no intentions on being good anymore.

“Because it felt good and I wanted to,” you tell him and he grabs your face.

“You don’t get to decide what you want to do or what feels good. If you had the answers you wouldn’t have been begging for my dick for two years.”

Yoongi pulls off the condom and brings his cock to your mouth. You clench your fist to hold back the excitement when he tells you to open. You’ve craved the taste of him even though you’ve never had him. Your mouth waters as you wait for him to enter, and when he does, he doesn’t stop until reaches the back of your throat.

“Tap my thigh if you need air, and do not suck until I tell you to, understand?”

You mumble around him as best as you can. “Mmhm.”

Before you can prepare yourself for a pace you know will be relentless, Yoongi withdraws and slowly re-enters your crevice. Your eyes roll back from the fullness and addicting taste of him. You want more—need more to fulfill your desire.

Ignoring his instructions, you enclose your lips around him and begin to suck him in each time he tries to pull out. “Easy,” he warns but you keep going.

One of your hands comes up to fondle his balls and Yoongi’s deep moans begin to fill your ears. He throws his head back in pleasure while you give him, what you would consider, the best blowjob of his life. The sound he produces is the only music you want to hear. His voice holds so much lust and bass, arousal gushes from your cunt as a result.

“Fuck, I told you not to do that.”

You hum around him, sending vibrations up his shaft. The feeling brings him to his senses and he places both his hands on your head. You have to grab onto his thighs to keep yourself steady since he’s starting to take control. You try to maintain the suction but his wild movements make it impossible.

“You wanted to suck me off so badly. Keep it up,” he grunts, increasing his speed.

You choke on his dick and the sounds make him twitch in your mouth. Yoongi starts to intentionally go deeper, but he’s unsatisfied by the lack of space there is for him.

He pulls out of you, leaving you coughing and gasping at the sudden intake of air.

“Well, damn. Do I have to teach you how to suck dick too?”

Yoongi shakes his head as he looks down on you then uses his index and middle finger to open your mouth. He pushes the digits in and finds the back of your mouth with ease, pressing on the back of your tongue to make you open wider. “Stop being shy and open this pretty fucking mouth,” he demands, making you gag on his fingers.

Your eyes water and spit drips down your chin. You must look like a complete mess, but Yoongi cannot take his eyes off of you.

“Now show me, and I’ll give you some more.”

You’re scolded before you can even wrap your lips around his fingers.

“Stop being fucking lazy.” He gives your cheek a few more slaps before shoving his fingers deeper into your mouth.

This time you slurp and allow your saliva to coat his digits. ”Fucking, right. Now open up and milk this dick.”

Yoongi removes his fingers and replaces them with his cock. This time you just open your mouth and let him in. He uses your head like a fleshlight and drills into you at a rapid speed. You try your best to keep eye contact and breath through your nose, but then out of nowhere he buries his cock down your throat.

There’s an intense burning in your airways due to lack of oxygen but it’s nothing you can’t handle. The rush takes you so high you become slightly lightheaded, sending a tingling sensation straight to your center. Nothing but music, the sound of you choking on his dick, and his sound of pleasure can be heard and the way he calls your name sends your ego through the roof.

“Shit, I’m gonna come. Stay just like this, sweetheart.”

Within five long thrusts, his warm seed deposits on your tastebuds. You try to swallow everything but he pulls out quickly and empties the rest on your lips and chin. Your tongue tries to gather as much as you can, but some places are impossible to reach.

“Come here.” Yoongi pulls you from the floor and brings you closer, greeting you with a sloppy kiss once you’re on your feet. He laps up all the cum on your face and gathers it all on his tongue before he feeds it to you. You savor the taste of both of you as the kiss prolongs, and even after he pulls away you can’t help but remember how good he tasted.

If you had to guess which body part Yoongi favors the most, you’d say it was your lips. He can’t tear his eyes away from them. You bite them, he shudders. You lick them, his cock twitches. So you can’t control yourself when it comes to teasing him and pressing them against his soft skin.

“You must want another round if you keep that up,” he mentions as you make your way to his earlobe. You nibble on it gently before you whisper in his ear.

“I just wanna come one more time before you kick me out.”

“Who said I was kicking you out?”

“You aren’t?”

Yoongi ushers you to his bed and helps you lie down before he joins you. He hovers over you once again and his hand snakes between your thighs.

“I definitely am, but not right now. I’m not done with you,” he informs, fingers entering your heat while his thumb caresses your clit.

“Well, hurry up then.”

He frowns. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Yeah, whenever someone has the balls to make me shut up—”

“Interesting,” he states after his hand pins your neck to the mattress. “Let’s test that theory.”

Yoongi’s digits begin to move in and out of your wetness, producing more lewd noises and causing your body to shake with sensitivity.

“Yoongi.”

His name flows past your lips like water. It’s the only word you can think of at the moment. Having been worked up all this time with no relief makes you desperate to satisfy the lingering desire that’s settled in the pit of your stomach.

“Feels good, huh?”

It feels damn good. Your hips buck off the bed to match his movements so you can chase your high. “Yes…more.”

“More?”

His hand tightens its grip and restricts your air supply. He knows how close to the edge it takes you by now and he doesn’t hesitate to use it against you.

“Say please and I’ll make you come all over my fingers,” he chuckles, knowing you can’t respond like this.

You try to speak, but everything gets trapped in your throat. You can only claw at his chest, begging him to guide you to your release. He loosens his grip and through your coughs you manage to give him the answer he wants.

“Please. I can’t take it.”

Yoongi gives you a fake pout, squeezing your face between his fingers. “But you can…watch this.”

His fingers curl inside of you and you’re seeing stars. Your nails dig into his arm, body arching off the bed due to the intense wave of pleasure that hits you. You try to run, but he pins you down and forces you to accept the mind-blowing orgasm you were begging for.

“You talked a bunch of shit, now back it up, love,” Yoongi tells you while your walls clench around him. His hand covers your mouth, preventing your screams from waking up the neighbors as if it isn’t already too late for that. “Let’s see if this cunt’s worth the headache.”

The coil snaps and your body stiffens. Yoongi’s deep voice continues to degrade you as your juices squirt all over his bed. Even though you cry out from the sensitivity he fucks you until the last drop. Your body just falls on the bed once he’s done with you, and you move into a fetal position when he carefully slides out his fingers.

The aftershock of your release has you twitching, but the bliss you feel is superior. This is what it feels like to get fucked out, and you knew he would be the person to deliver. Satisfied would be an understatement because you weren’t expecting to be stuck like this after you were done. Usually, you’re able to get up and go before they can return from the bathroom, but tonight you can only lay there in silence while Yoongi cleans you up with a warm cloth.

“I didn’t break you, huh?”

“The opposite, actually,” you laugh weakly.

“Good.” He lays his body beside you and wraps his arm around your waist, enjoying the familiar beat that plays into the dark room. It’s your phone sex song; the beat he played to help you relax. “Remember this?”

“Yeah, how can I forget?”

“You keep saying that like I’m always on your mind.”

“Maybe you are,�� you reply.

A soft scoff comes from behind you. “I hope you’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

There’s silence, then eventually a long sigh.

“I want you gone before I wake up, okay?”

You shake your head. Not in disbelief because it’s what you expected, but because he can’t read between the lines. But you aren’t naïve and you know when someone wants you just as bad as you want them. So for now, you’ll be patient.

“Fair enough,” you answer.

Satisfied, he rolls over and drifts off into sleep, leaving you awake to wallow in your thoughts. It seemed best to just get up and leave then, but it takes nearly an hour to regain your strength. And just when you think it’s safe for you to slip away and consider this night one of the good memories, the warmth you felt before returns and pulls you closer—it is then that your eyes become heavy and you submit to the comfort you know you aren’t supposed to have.

When Yoongi wakes up and finds a cold empty bed, he can only throw his head back in frustration. He hopes…no, he prays he didn’t say anything to make you feel like he wasn’t interested. He knows he can be a dick, but he was just pissed and horny last night. You’re not easy to handle, but he likes that about you. You aren’t afraid to put him in his place.

He rolls out of bed and the first thing he notices is that his laptop is still playing music, so he makes turning it off his first task. However, once he enters the password, he finds an opened document with a typed note in the center of the page.

If you ever think of me, just call...If you want?

Yoongi’s speechless, and out of his damn mind. That’s the only excuse he has for picking up his phone and calling the number you left at 9 am in the damn morning. The longer the phone rings, the more regret fills him. He can’t help but think you left that there to tease him for calling you so quickly. He tries to hang up but before he can remove the phone from his ear the ringing stops and your beautiful voice blesses him once again.

“Hello?”

He panics, and doesn’t respond. He searches the room frantically and finds his excuse lying on the floor right in front of him.

“Yeah, you left your earring. Looks expensive,” he murmurs before he clears his throat.

“Oh, I’m wearing both of mine now. Must be for someone else.”

Embarrassment washes over him as he stands there naked in his bedroom. How could he be so stupid? That thing’s probably months old, if not longer. He wonders if you saw it. Maybe that’s why you left.

“I’m kidding, Yoongi. If it’s a gold hoop, it’s mine,” you laugh and he feels a weight left from his shoulders.

The idea of you finding stuff that belongs to other women in his home doesn’t put a good feeling in his chest. He also doesn’t want you to think of him as someone who lets anyone in his home because he’s not that kind of guy.

“Haha, you’re so funny,” he says once your giggles cease.

“And you’re sarcastic.”

Still sharp as hell. He thinks to himself.

“Whatever.” He takes a seat on his bed and rests his back against the headboard while he checks emails on his laptop and uses small talk to melt away the awkwardness. “So…you left in a hurry, huh?”

Smooth.

“You told me you wanted me gone before you woke up, remember?”

Of course, he did. Because he’s an idiot.

“Yeah, I was just fucking with you, though. I would have given you a ride or something, you know.”

“No worries. I made it to my hotel room safely,” you assure and he releases a sigh of relief.

“Well, that’s good. Glad to hear that.”

“Mmhm, miss me already, huh?...too bad you kicked me out.”

“Honestly, I thought I was gonna wake up to some tits in my face, but that’s fair.”

There’s some shuffling in the background like you’re moving something, but he doesn’t ask any questions about it.

“Can you remember anything from last night?” you ask him after a beat of silence.

His fingers run through his hair as he thinks about all the filthy images replaying in his mind.

“Well yeah, I remember you, of course. You were fucking incredible. But everything after that moment was a blur. Please don’t tell me I did something stupid.”

“No, you’re good. I had fun.”

So did he. He wishes it’d happen again, and again. “And you’re okay too, right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. My ass is sore and I can barely sit down, but I feel good. Thanks for that.”

Thank heavens you are. He knows how rough he was and most women aren’t into that but you took it and enjoyed it. You were fun to play with, and now his cock twitches at the thought of what your ass must look like now, covered in his marks.

“What about you?”

“I’m fine, love. Bummed about having to work, but I’m good,” he responds.

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay. And I’m sorry I kept you up when you have to work this morning.”

“Don’t apologize for that. I enjoyed your company, and…”

He almost told you that he missed you, but caught himself at the last minute.

“And what?”

“Uhh, nothing,” he gulps. “I was reading something…Forgot what I was going to say.”

“O’kay.”

Yoongi can tell by the sound of your voice that you don’t buy it.

“Yup,” is all he can say in response.

After a minute or two of both of you just holding the phone, you finally say something to keep the conversation going. “Yoongi?”

“Hm…”

“Are you busy right now or…?”

He places his laptop beside him because he can assure that whatever he has to do isn’t as important as this.

“No, what’s up?”

“Well, it’s about last night,” you admit.

Now, he’s kind of nervous. What else happened while he was in his post orgasmic bliss.

“Yeah, what about it?”

Yoongi stays on the line waiting patiently for your answer, and it’s one he doesn’t expect.

“Well, you still owe me, you know?”

Interesting.

“And what do you mean by that?” he questions.

“Well…”

Yoongi already knows where this is going and luckily he knows exactly how to handle this situation. “Not satisfied, are you, baby?”

“No, I am. But…”

He chuckles. “You want some more?”

“If it isn't too much trouble. And if you have time, of course.”

You’re as sly as a fox and you know how to get what you want. It’s hot, but he’s going to have to humble you before he does anything else.

“No trouble at all, baby. Do me a favor, and spread your legs for me.”

“Okay.”

He hears some more movement and then you return, prepared to do anything he tells you in the hopes of pleasuring yourself. You tell him once you’re ready and he provides you with more instructions, in which you follow without question.

“Now, facetime me and place the phone between your thighs so I can see your pretty pussy.”

Within a second, his phone notifies him of an incoming facetime call. He answers it and finds you sitting in your hotel room. You’re wearing a large shirt but he can still see the fresh blooms from where he took your skin between his teeth the night before creeping up your neck. He can’t stop the smirk from spreading across his face.

He curses when he sees your cunt, all glistening and wet with your juices. His mouth waters but he pushes his filthy thoughts in the back of his mind.

“This is what you’re going to do,” he starts, watching in awe as strings of arousal snap while you’re scissoring yourself in his presence, “...you’re going to imagine me fucking your brains out and you’re gonna use that image to get yourself off…without me.”

“Yoongi—”

He tsks. “I’m not your man, and making you come is not my job, baby.”

“But…”

If he gave a fuck, he’d break hearing how desperate and needy your voice sounds, but you need to understand that he isn’t going to come every time you call for him. He’s a busy man and he doesn’t need distractions.

“But nothing…Now, bye. Have fun.”

He hangs up just as you start to curse at him and yell into the phone. But he knows this isn’t over; you’re probably getting a ride over to his place right now, and that’s exactly what he wanted.

You were able to just walk out of here this morning without even waking him. That doesn’t sit right with him, and there’s only one solution for it really—

He’s just going to have to fuck you harder during round two…

And maybe, just maybe…get to know you a little bit after.

We’ll see.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts x reader #suga x reader #suga smut #bangtanbathhouse #festivaledaway #bangtansorciere #btsdreamcourt #yoongi imagine #bts imagines #yoongi fanfics #bts fanfics #sugakookitty

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daemon-in-my-head · 20 days

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Past Dark Urge Asks - 10th Edition:

Listen, fellas, I really thought 'go hard or go home'. Let's humanise some demigods. Oh yes some are hella vague, you are welcome.

Any major physical changes? Any impairments? What are they and when did it happen?

Post-Tadpole Durge is pretty messed up, what does past Durge think of these changes? Do they think it won't matter as they'll still be daddy's favourite assassin even with a head injury?

Out of all the companions, which one would've been an easy victim for past Durge and why?

Would any companions have had any chances with past Durge? Who and why?

What sort of 'real world' clothingstyle would past durge have loved? Are they the type to join a subculture like punk, goth, etc. (Aesthetically at least)?

Speaking of clothes, streetwear or formal clothes?

Durge is old money incarnate, but what do they think of new money? Did their view change after their homemade lobotomy or meeting a young man with a quick and easy smile?

What's their aesthetic like? Describe it to me. Or better yet, hand over the link to that Pinterest mood board we all know exists (at least in theory, go do it).

Any favourite flower? Did they actually decorate things with it or was it a secret hidden pleasure? Do they maybe just like the symbolism, smell, what have you?

Did they ever get to enjoy receiving gifts? From whom and which one was their favourite?

Hot or cold foods?

Do they drink? Which is their favourite liquor? In what situation would they prefer a nice glass of a little something?

How entitled is Durge on a scale of 1 to 'gods favourite little gorebaby deserves the world (or its end)'?

Favourite body part? And of whom?

Can durge ride a horse? Did they sneak around the cities rules pertaining the ownership of horses?

Bribing or threats, which is their preferred method? (Murder excluded)

Bhaal, of course, has his favourite colours, but which colour is your Durges absolute favourite? Did it change after their brain was messed with? Can they even see colours?

Their love language? Did anyone ever experience it in the past? Did they survive it?

Did they ever consider leaving the gate? What for and where would they go?

Did they maybe even leave the Gate in the past? Why or why not? What kept them there or drove them away?

Bhaal despises hope, but what does Durge think of it? Is it fun to play with? A lil bit of sadism never hurt somebody or do they despise it too?

What's their favourite crime? Excluding murder of course, pick another one beside that.

Did they carry money around with them or was their name enough to pay for anything they'd desire (or the explicit death threats they'd mumble)?

The temple has a lending library. Did Durge use it too? What was their favourite genre or did they stay far, far away from books?

City or village? What would they choose if they were given the choice?

Durge is well spoken and presumably well read as well. Who taught them? Did they attend an academy?

At one point or another Durge had friends. What were they like? What was Durge's position in the friend group?

Did they ever attend a street fair or similar city festivities? Did they enjoy it? What was their favourite part?

Did they ever attend a ball or banquet? Run me through their typical evening at one of these 'parties' and tell me whether they hated or reveled in it.

Which of the seven deadly sins would represent them best? Also pride is banned from the list, pick a 2nd one that would fit instead (listen I know y'alls Durges)

Gambling? Yes, no, are they good at it?

Cigarette baron lord Enver Gortash would like to know if Durge would indulge themselves in his business or if they prefer not to? Did they try before or quit already?

What's one unique trait that you think really sets them apart from other Durges? It may be physical, mental, a worldview or a part of their backstory.

Flowery, sweet or spicy scents? Not to say, perhaps, musky?

Melee or ranged? Arcane? Sketchy deals in a dark ally? (Fighting style, I mean fighting styles.)

About the author; do you love them in a 'oh my precious baby' sort of way or rather 'I'm so sorry for what I'm about to do to you' way?

Do they like fish? Baldur's Gate is a port city, I'd imagine they've tried it at least.

Also can they swim? How did they even learn it?

Heat. How do they deal with it? Do they deal with it? What's their body temperature like, as in warmer, colder, perfect average?

If you have any other ocs, do they exist in the same universe and did they ever meet Durge? What was it like and if they didn't, what would it be like? Would anyone survive?

Dragons, Bhaal, Bane and Gortash love em. How about Durge? Are they somehow incorporated in their design?

What's a trait they have that you could never, ever guess from the way they look?

Children, yes, no, how many, what's the best way to prepare them?

Abdirak my baby girl, what would their interactions have looked like? Did they ever meet pre tadpole? What is the gore baby thinking about the lady of pain's priest?

Can Durge drive a carriage? Are they good at it? Would anybody survive if they were in control?

Night owl or early bird?

Also, open book or mysterious stranger?

Pants or skirts/robes? And I mean this for every durge regardless of gender.

Top 3 favourite past times, cannibalism and vivisections excluded.

Do they do their own laundry or is it Scels job? How many shirts have been ruined by Scels hands already?

What do they prefer to be addressed as? Their name, title, nickname, pronouns or just as 'you'?

Open and honest duels, or back handed trickery? What do they prefer?

Art gallery, opera or hunting tournament? Let's just play pretend those exist.

Are they more of a sweet tooth, do they love it savoury or do they prefer their mouth burning from the hot spice? Perhaps they just prefer a neutral taste?

Did the gazette ever print an article about them (or their deeds), what's the headline and what did they feel about it?

Outdoors or stay at home kinda person?

Did they ever hear about the great Wizard of Waterdeep, Mystra's Chosen and if they did, how? What do they think of him then vs now.

Was it them who came up with the cipher or Gortash?

Story behind their name? Is there any story?

Their most treasured memory with Orin? Why do they treasure it? Love, spite, sibling rivalry win?

Dear creators, would you like for your own Durge to meet the Durge of another creator? How would that look like? Who would survive?

Hats. Yes, no, why? Took too long styling their hair? Everyday is bad hair day?

The sweet sweet smell of gore, we've all heard about it. But is it really sweet to them? Or does it just smell like metal and rot?

Did they debate stealing anything else from Mephistopheles vault while already down there? If so, what item was it and what can it do? (Maks up some stuff)

Their sign(s)?

Jealousy, is it a problem, could they care any less?

Speaking off, did they have any partners before the whole tadpole in their brain bit? If not was there a reason?

Pretty much 99% of the nobility and political leaders in Baldur's Gate is corrupt. What did they think of it? Did they enjoy the infighting and maybe took advantage of it?

Worgs or Gnolls, which species is their favourite?

Have they ever been imprisoned? Why, by whom, how fast did they escape?

Would they survive in modern times? Could they adapt easily or would they be desperate to return home?

They don't exist in Faerûn, but hypothetically speaking, which TV show/series would be their absolute favourite?

What's their usual mood/state of mind like? Happy, focused, grim, about to snap someone's neck from irritation?

Graveyards, a nice place to hang out or a crime scene to be avoided? Did post tadpole Durge ever discover a gravestone dedicated to them?

Would they prefer a small and cute pet or a large and scary beast? Besides Gnolls and Worgs that is. Just as a vibe.

Did they ever tell the other Chosen about their own plans to rid the world of all life in father's name?

Also, did they know that the others would probably betray them? Did they perhaps even prepare for it already, or were they oddly naive enough to trust them?

Do they wear accessories (earrings count)? Which one is their favourite?

What languages does Durge speak? Is there any interesting story as to how they've learned them?

What went through your head when you crafted these little Durge doll, dear creator? Are they a self inserted of sorts or as far removed from you as possible?

What do they think of bugs and arachnids? Annoying, gross, fun little creatures? How do they treat one of these things when they see them?

Sleeping. Do they do that? Do they avoid it? Are they generally unable to for one reason or another?

Coffee or tea and why?

Realistically speaking, would Durge be able to sit down long and still enough for a portrait or would they move within 5 minutes tops? Any reason for that?

Would your durge like you? Why or why not? Would it depend on whether it's pre or post tadpole and would it change if they knew you're the reason for what happened to them?

Most Durges have piercings, tattoos or both. What's the story behind them? What's the story behind the lack thereof?

Durge needs to spend a day with someone and they aren't allowed to simply murder their companion. What would they do instead? How would they spend that day?

How do they wear their hair? What's their preferred style? Did their hair go thru any kind of changes, whether length or texture, at any point during their story?

What's the easiest way to piss them off? Interrupt them when they're focused, wake them from a nap, ignore them?

Old blood gets crusty, a feeling most don't particularly enjoy. How do they deal with the plethora of blood and viscera they often face?

Does Durge have a loud voice or are they always asked to repeat what they said because nobody audibly understood em?

Nail Polish. Yes, no, what colour, do they get someone else to do it for them? Do they even take care of their nails are they crusty and each one has a different length?

Dried fish/meat and jerky, apparently a really hot debate, but where does Durge fall? Do they like it, do they detest it, do they have a secret stash hidden somewhere?

Hyperfixation. Yes, no, what topic has their mind in a chokehold and how much do they enjoy info dumping?

What's their personality type? Talking about the '16 Personalities' test. (You can find it here if you haven't heard of it yet)

How many blankets and pillows are in their bed at any given moment? Just one set for them to catch a bit of rest or is it more akin to a fabric fortress with comfy things galore? Any teddies?

What's their sexual/romantic orientation? Do they themselves know? Do they simply not care as they're too busy being gods favourite little flesh baby?

Their favourite piece of clothing? Any story behind it or is it just too darn comfortable?

Wild card - tell us a story, fact, idea you'd like to share about Durge or their creation.

Wild card 2 - followers ask whatever they want (ofc, keep in mind to be nice y'all).

Psssh, cool people ask the person they're reblogging from a question in turn. And if their social anxiety can handle it, ofc. Don't pressure yourself, author's and those who ask, this is for fun, but this is a hell of an essay for one person to just create so ask each other stuff, it's impossible otherwise. If I do see someone genuinely pull it off and actually answer all questions in 1 post again though, I'm sending you a coffee or nice snack or smth. Brother you've earned it that's some real dedication to sit down and answer all 100 questions. Anyway thus the series is concluded and I shall get back to wrapping up other WIPs rotting away.

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rokuhatake · 1 year

Text

New Year's Pt.2 18+

Warnings: 18+ (no minors), inexperienced!reader, tiny bit of jealousy, oral (m&f receiving), pet names, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex (please be smarter than Kakashi & reader here), fingering, lil bit of choking, praise, lots of making out lol

A/N: Sorry it's late and kinda short, I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Word Count: 2.7 K

Who knew a first kiss could be so desperate, so full of need? You didn’t quite understand your feelings for Kakashi before, and you’ll admit that the alcohol led you here tonight – or morning, rather- but the way he kisses you has sobered you right up. You were drunk and silly for coming here, not even truly knowing the reason why, but now his hands are gently grasping your neck, and you’re opening yourself up for him. He wants more, and you’ll gladly give it.

You become pliable for him while he gropes you. It feels like the natural thing to do, to allow him your body, your lips. It’s all his now, and he uses you expertly.

His tongue is addicted to the taste of you, never once leaving your mouth while his curious hands explore your skin. Goosebumps chase after his fingertips anywhere he touches you, and he’s satisfied with how noisy you’ve become. He wonders...how many men have been able to make you feel this way? Jealousy takes the reins in his head, causing his grip to tighten around your throat.

Much to your displeasure, he stops kissing you; but now you can view him in his full glory. You feel love-drunk, maybe a bit silly as well; you just cannot stop staring. The two of you share something intimate now. You share a secret, one he’s never given to someone else.

“Did you wear this, hoping I would see it?” he ponders hotly while tugging at your tight dress. You nod with a sexy grin on your face. Impossibly, he thinks he’s fallen harder for you. “Fuck...” he draws out before pulling you back in.

In a moment, his hands are groping you again, now with more urgency. He wants to peel that annoying dress off of you and worship your skin, adorning it with his love marks. He wants to hear how loud you can really be, and he especially wants to hear you call out his name. That’s the first goal, he thinks, to make you scream for him.

His attention turns to your neck, particularly the spot that makes you arch into his embrace. Already, a dark mark has bloomed, and you don’t seem to mind; he thinks you might actually love it.

As he makes his way towards the peak of your breasts, he feels your body stiffen ever so slightly, and he removes himself. “You okay?” His throat feels blocked, but he tries his best to sound soft with you. Your cheeks are warm underneath his fingertips, and he searches your face for emotion. You seem...nervous, and of course that rubs off on him.

“What’s wrong?” He cups your face with such anxiety, you feel sad for him. “Nothing, nothing, I promise. I just uhhh...I dunno. I didn’t prepare myself for this...” He’s confused. Prepared what?

“What do you mean?” He speaks softly, still caressing your face in his hands. You feel hot and slightly at a loss for words. That alcohol was not strong enough for this.

“You know...I would have made myself look nicer if I had known the night would end this way.” He grins at you, modestly amused. You could have shown up in oversized pajamas, his reaction would be the same. The dress is lovely but only because it’s you who’s flaunting it.

He leans into you, kissing the color from your cheeks. “You always look amazing to me,” he murmurs into your hot skin while leaving wet kisses across your throat. You can’t stay nervous around him, not while he’s complimenting you between kisses.

“Anytime I see you...” he moves your hand to squeeze his crotch, “...you do this to me.” Your innocent look of surprise makes him stir in your hand. “I really could care less if you’re prepared, I always want you.” His voice is richer than you’ve ever heard, it sends shivers through your muscles.

As if by instinct, his name drops gracefully from your lips; but before you can say more, he silences your voice with a sloppy kiss. You feel dizzy again.

He can tell you don’t know what to do; your hand hasn’t made any movements of its own. Your only guide is his hand over yours, rubbing just how he likes it. He’s trying to make sure you’re comfortable, but it’s growing harder for him to maintain his cool composure while your hand grows more curious in its exploration of his body.

Kakashi resumes his work on your breasts, groaning while he sucks onto the supple skin. Your grip is tight around his cock, and you whisper his name, “Ka-kashi...” It’s a desperate whine, and his body responds immediately.

He’s too impatient; he’s waited long enough to have you, and now you’re here, in his arms with your hand grasping his cock. Why should he make himself wait any longer?

Without a word, Kakashi gently nudges you towards the largest couch in his living room, never daring to stop kissing your skin. Once the cool leather touches your thighs, you plop down obediently; but he doesn’t join you.

Kakashi has an idea...you can see it in that devilishly handsome smile.

“Will you do something for me?” He requests softly while brushing a few loose strands of hair away from your eyes. You’re curious...you have no desire to deny him, so you nod enthusiastically. That seems to please him, and something within you burns with pride.

He leans to place a chaste kiss upon your lips, then begins to unbutton his pants. Excitement pools into your panties...he wants to use your mouth. Kami, you think you may overheat.

Once his boxers are removed, your eyes go wide. Surely, he can’t expect you to fit all of that down your throat. You sneak a glance at his face, only to find him grinning at you while he strokes his cock.

“What’s the matter?” he cocks his head playfully to the side. “You’ve never sucked on something this big?” He reaches to caress your warm cheek with his free hand, still stroking his cock with the other. You shake your head ‘no’. “I’ve never...I mean-not even...”

Kakashi’s eye widens. That can’t be possible; if he wasn’t about to fuck your throat, he might be annoyed with the obviously daft men of Konoha.

“That’s okay, Pretty, let me show you how.” His thumb strokes your cheek while you move to the edge of the cushion. His erection is intimidating, too intimidating; you have to maintain eye contact with Kakashi while he moves himself closer to your mouth.

“Now, just take the tip into your mouth...and start off slow.” He can hardly get the words out. Preferably, he would just take your throat then and there without mercy, but he won’t have you getting scared on him.

Instead, he gently guides his cock towards your swollen lips, and you give him one more look before bravely taking him into your mouth, just how he instructed. The hiss he releases scares you, but his fingers tangled in your hair ensures that you can’t remove yourself. You look up to him, wondering if you did something wrong when you see the crimson of his sharingan glaring back at you. You moan around his cock, instinctively taking more of him into your mouth while you hollow your cheeks around the length.

The idea of going down on a man had always made you nervous. Your sexual experience is already minimal at best, but no one had ever seemed interested in using your mouth. After tonight though? You can’t understand that anxious feeling.

This is fun for you; it’s like your own secret experiment. You’re exploring what makes Kakashi noisy, and you’ve concluded that he loves the back of your throat. Anytime you push yourself to your limits, to where you’re gagging around his length, his eyes roll while incoherent curses spill from his lips. You want him to stop holding back, you can tell he is.

Your eyes lock with his while you regress to more gentle sucking, and you whine around him.

“What is it, Pretty?” He grins down at your messy face. Of course, you have no way to tell him what you want, so you place your hands on his hips, then push them towards you. This time, you gag harder than before, but Kakashi gets the hint.

“Oh...you want me to use your mouth?” He bites his lower lip, dying to fulfill that fantasy of his. When you nod wildly around his cock, something inside of him snaps.

Without wasting anytime, Kakashi tightly grips your hair and leads you onto his cock. He hardly gives you time to recover when you gag, he just sends you down the thick length again and again. You can’t help but lock eyes with him while he fucks your throat, and the sight almost makes him cum. He’s not ready for that.

Suddenly, his cock is no longer in your mouth, and you’re panting while drool spills from your lips.

“Come with me.” Kakashi’s voice is clipped while he pulls you from the couch and into his arms. He kisses you deeply before leading you to a closed door that you presume is his bedroom.

Kakashi wastes no time now; as soon as your bottom touches the edge of his bed, he’s kneeling before you, sliding his fingers towards your damp panties.

This is yet another act you have no experience with. You’re starting to think your prior “experience” is child's-play compared to this.

“Kakashi...” you whisper. He hums into your hot skin. “I’ve never done this either.” Your words make him stop. Now he really is annoyed. How could someone completely neglect your needs, when all he wants is to devour you? He’s been hungry for you for years, and you gave yourself to men who couldn’t take care of you. He’s livid.

He doesn’t say a word, only nudges your legs open for him so he can easily slide down your panties. Once he eyes your glistening cunt, his mouth waters. He won’t waste any time on words. He just wants to make you scream; and you do.

His mouth latches around your sensitive clit and he sucks until you’re arching towards the sky while incoherently chanting his name. Just what he likes to hear...

He smiles impishly over your folds, then eases a single finger into your dripping hole. You seem overstimulated from the added pressure; you’re shaking furiously, fingers grasping desperately into his silver locks. He tries to look at your face, but your head is thrown back into the mattress. He immediately doesn’t like that.

“Look at me,” he demands. It takes you several seconds before you can obey him, but when you do, the image almost makes you cum. His sharingan is still glaring at you, and he looks gorgeous with his mouth on your cunt. Now, you can’t look away.

“K-Kaskashi!” You pant. “I’m so close...” Your voice is barely audible, and he can see your eyes begin to close. For the first time, he slaps your thigh. “Don’t look away from me, Pretty, or I’ll stop.” His threat makes you whine, but of course, you obey.

He pushes deep into you, deeper than before, and continues to suck on your clit. The stimulation is too much, and within seconds, you’re orgasming around his finger while calling out his name.

He creeps up your body, slowly peeling the dress with him while he softly shushes you. Once your hips are bare to him, he leaves a trail of wet kisses on your skin, leisurely working his way towards your breasts.

You lift your arms to allow the dress over your body, and he admires your choice to forgo a bra; it allows him to suck them into his mouth once they’re revealed to him.

He thinks he’ll play with you for a bit, maybe allow you to gather yourself before he continues his rough fucking.

You notice suddenly, Kakashi is still wearing clothes; you’re completely naked. A frown forms on your lips. “Why aren’t you naked?” You whine softly. The vibration of his laugh on your skin tickles.

“How thoughtless of me,” he leans to place a sloppy kiss on your lips. “Let me fix that for you.” With a grin, he sits up straight and effortlessly removes this navy long sleeve. Though you’ve already had his cock down your throat this morning, you can’t stop the blush that warms your cheeks. He’s too sexy, in all of his naked, muscular glory. You don’t fail to notice the scars marring his otherwise perfect skin; and you silently promise to give them your full attention later.

The way you blush for him pokes and prods at his impatience, he can’t keep waiting.

“Can I have you, Pretty?” His hardened length slides along your folds while he nips at the sensitive skin of your neck. You don’t fully understand his question, so you give a safe answer, “You can have all of me, Kakashi.”

He groans before nudging into you without warning; your words are wearing down his resolve.

Even if he wanted to, you’re too tight for him to sheath his length in your cunt. He has to work just the tip in, over and over; he thinks you might cry from the teasing. Already, you’re begging him to fill you up.

“Please Kakashi...” you pant for him. “Please stop teasing.” Your plea is weak, it’s not enough to satisfy his perverted desires.

He continues to tease, even when he knows you’re aroused enough to take his cock. Until you beg properly, he won’t fuck you properly.

“Tell me what you want, use your words,” he commands softly. You whine at first, but you’re not able to deny him.

“I wanna feel you deeper...” He continues his torturous pace, still not satisfied. “Need to feel you deeper Kakashi! I’ve wanted you for so long, please don’t make me wait anymore.” Tears are hiding in the corners of your eyes while you desperately try to move your hips against his grip.

Luckily for you, he’s finally satisfied. Actually, more than satisfied; he’s fucking elated. You’ve finally confessed to him, told him everything he needs to hear. He doesn’t waste a second before bottoming out inside of you.

Pain shoots through his back from your tight grip, but he doesn’t let it stop him for a moment. He’s relentlessly pounding into you while he watches your face contort with pleasure. You’ve probably never had it this good, he thinks. He promises to change that forever.

While grasping your face in his hands, he makes you lock eyes with him. “Tell me how long you’ve been waiting for this...tell me how badly you’ve wanted me.” He knows speaking will be difficult for you, he just wants to play with you some more.

“I - Ah! Kakashi...I’ve wanted this, I’ve wanted you for so long.” He bottoms out inside of you, pushing as deep as he can. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve straddled my pillow, wishing it was you instead.” Impossibly, he quickens his pace, hastened by your confessions. “You’re the only person who’s made me cum without even being there.”

It’s too much for him; while trying to overstimulate you, he’s overdone himself. He’s closer than he wants to be, and he's about to pull out before you lock your legs around his hips. “Please don’t stop,” you beg hotly. “I’m so close, ah! Please ‘Kashi.” Your babbling drives him crazy, and he’s too lost in desire to worry about not wearing a condom. If he was totally honest with himself, the thought only drives him wilder.

Your orgasm shocks you, the intensity of it almost mind-numbing as Kakashi finishes inside of you. This sensation is addictive, you think.

He doesn’t pull out, nor does he stop rocking into you. He’s surprised even himself; no one has ever kept his dick this hard. Like a man obsessed, he buries his face in your breasts, sucking roughly on the skin there.

“I can’t get enough of you...” he confesses to your skin. “You’ve made me wait too long... I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop.” He grins devilishly at you. “Do you want me to stop?” He rocks deep inside of you, pulling a gasp from your lips.

“Please...” you beg hotly. “Please, don't stop.” He throws his head back before pounding into you once again, fully intending to head your desire.

He no longer feels guilt for missing your party; having his way with you, even after the sun comes up, is more than worth it.

#roku.txt #rokuhatake #hatake kakashi #kakashi x reader #kakashi smut #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi naruto #kakashi/reader #kakashi #naruto fic

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ganondoodle · 1 year

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this isnt as long as before but i just cannot stop thinking about this, why i dislike story and lore boils down to these main point

--the ending feels unsatisfying as hell even if i ignore everything i dont like about how the game treated zelda and ganondorf, the ending itself just feels, despite being presented as super epic an touching, incredibly empty to me and part of it is that it feels like an unearned return to status quo of course i didnt think zelda would stay a dragon and i actually wanted to help her, which is why i kept trying to hunt down impa since she said shes gonna search for a way for us to help zelda, bc i wanted to!! i was eager to help her!

i fully hoped and kinda expected that thered either be some kind of dragon dungeon (think, the water dragon from okami) tho that would be difficult since you can get items from her so i ended up thinking before going into the end thered be a mission with impa (or at least given to you from her) where she found answers in ancient scripts (that she told you she would look through) and that you need to find a special lil thing that will help zelda undragonfy, like some sort of ultra secret forbidden enigma stone able to reverse dragon transformations kinda deal (golden opportunity to make you go and talk to the yiga bc they might know or even own some ancient texts) that youd keep in your inventory until the very end and after you kill dragondorf (pretty mortal for becoming an immortal dragon huh) you take it out and use it, undragonfying zelda and ending in a similar epic falling and paralel to the beginning way

... and instead impa stays in the house and only has a few repeating dialog boxes and does nothing and you cant do anything bc in the end you just get randomly teleported (and stripped of your clothing AGAIN) into some weird ethereal plane somehow?? with the ghost of long ass dead sonia and apparently not as gone as i thought rauru (seriously i felt sad when he went poof at the end of the tutorial but i guess i shouldnt have) awkwardly blasting dragon zelda with some magic tm and its all reversed no problem (heck me for caring i guess) turns out helping her was killing an evil guy we never really knew and mineru just kinda says lol its bc time and light magic i guess lol as an explanation

like i really wanted to go and help zelda! i was motivated to do it and spent HOURS trying to find impa again but i wasnt allowed to do anything bc zelda gets saved by some deus ex machina bs in the end anyway, what a fool i was, of course killing the evil guy is the solution to everything >:( (and no i dont care if its meant as in uwu sonia and rauru wanted to help one last time uwu bc it doesnt change how unsatisfying it was to watch it all just kinda happen)

--point two is just how much totk feels like its trying to REPLACE botw instead of being a sequel, its not building on anything of it its ripping out the fundation and building its own thing in its place, like i was so excited to see what happened to the titans, and all the sheikah tech what they mabe had done in all that time now that theres a tech enthusiastic girl as the head of the monarchy, maybe even find out more about them and instead its just all ... gone with not explanation? theres isnt even a LAME explanation, its just gone?? you never find out what the ancient energy actually was, and why there were concentrations of it in the regions with the ancient furnace (well heck it didnt even have anything to do with ganondorf actualyl bc that would have been too interesting) bc that was so intrigueing?? like yeah where DID it come from and why is it there ?? and oh suddendly hey look theres an even MORE ancient and even MORE advanced civilization thats way COOLER and BETTER than the ancient sheikah now, they also built stuff everywhere and have been here ALL ALONG cant you see its everywhere!! and its the only thing everyone cares about all of the sudden, all evdidence of the ancient sheikah tech was scraped of the earth so there literally only being some guardian parts on top of the hateno lab feels like an oversight now bc everything lese was to thourohgly wiped of the map- for no reason even?? like im totalls fine with it being useless and not working anymore but .... why remove it like it was wiped from history?? and then they have the gall to mention the happenings of botw like, twice in the entire game but still just give you the most basic summary of it mentioned on a sidenote with again not even a hint what happened to all of it

wouldnt there have been the golden opportunity to use it to access the new parts and map points that changed?? like a shrine thats fallen into the underground, an access to caves and the underground in the broken and collapsed elevator tube of a sheikah srhine?? maybe even a broken interior of an old shrine, like the room you get put into with the puzzle and where the monk once were broken and half overgrown in the udnerground? some left over construction site where you can see oh thats how the ancient sheikah got all that tech underground, bc they all had access to it and built it there to then rise up when its needed? maybe even making use of the old sonau sites since they frequnetly built their srhines within those ruins?? that the ancient sheikah found em and put the ruins to use? to research it and built their own stuff from it? it wouldnt have to have any focus, literally just part of the enviroment even

really everything totk does is like -forget botw ever happend, look how much cooler and better i am, who cares about sheikah stuff sonau are the new cool guys that came out of nowhere but now apparently have been everywhere all along actually-

i LOVE botw and with it feeling much more like its attempting to replace botw instead of building its story and world further every reference to botw i found felt like a slap in the face instead, oh look where the shrine of life used to be isnt even a hint left of sheikah tech somehow, and also right under it is the lake of healing filled with sonau structure bc ACTUALLY they were here FIRST bc they are so cool omg you guys

dare i say it feel a little like they wanted to make an entirely different version of botw basically, but wanted to reuse the map and models so they just said yeah uhhhh its totally a sequel yeah yeha that makes sense, its not erasing botw and doing essentiall the same thing again but bigger cooler and better (tm) its just uuh a ...sequel ye.

#ganondoodles talks #totk spoilers #totk #sorry i got longer again #also what was calamtiy ganon then #if it was ganondorf trying to resurrect himself outside of the seal then ... wouldnt he ... mention it or something or anyoone no?#also dont like how all the teasers made it seem like there was soem great mystery as to how gan got down there-#.. actually how DID he get down there thats a pretty weird place to go to war too #-aynway and WHO did this to him omg he looks in pain maybe theres more to it alll omg #and then its just ... yeah cool guy tm sealed him #oh ... ok #why would you tease us with a good time then bring stale chips and an empty beer can you have brought with you three times before already #like i get we love to read more into stuff that isnt there #but they were oh so vageu with the teasers and stuff we got to see when its all just #the same schlok but even more tasteless than before

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leiawritesstories · 8 months

Text

1778 (My Soldier Boy)

Rowaelin Month, Day 28: Wartime Sweethearts AU

A/N: this might just be the most American thing i've ever written lmaooooo 😂😂 so here's the context: the fic is set during the American Revolutionary War, which took place from 1776-1781. Rowan is a soldier in the Continental Army (the American side) and Aelin is the only daughter of a Loyalist (sympathetic to the British) family. and they're star-crossed lovers, yay!! posting this partially as a lil birthday treat to myself but mostly for you, hope you enjoy :))

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: archaic language (i'm a nerd lol), mentions of war, old outdated traditions, mentions of battle, brief mild angst, flirting

enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

16th July 1778

Heart of my heart,

I write this in secret, barely able to make out my letters by the faint light of this single candle. I apologize for the sloppiness of my script; my governess would have a fit if she were to see this chicken scratch. Of course, I would then retort that she ought to have taught me to read and write in near darkness, as that is the more useful skill these days.

A few words, my love–we are leaving in three days.Yes, leaving! Mother has only said that it was what she and Father thought best, given the current…unrest. I am perfectly capable of reading the unspoken words. We are leaving because they fear what our neighbors might do while we sleep. We are leaving because the English are so hated here. We are leaving because nobody has seen or heard from my brother in months. Nobody save me, that is. I know where Aedion went, and I know what he is doing.

If you love me, Rowan, please send word that my brother is safe, that he is well clothed and has some form of roof over his head. Please. It will calm my nightly worries at least a small bit.

I do not know where we will go, only that we cannot make a scene of our leaving. We must pretend that we are only going into town like we typically do, except that our cart will be full of our belongings, rather than grain and butter to trade. I suspect we shall attempt to head east, towards the port at Baltimore, and from there we shall attempt to book passage on a ship. Father seems convinced that returning to England is the best course of action.

I do not want to leave.

They do not know that, nor do they care. It breaks my heart to admit it, but they do not. They expect me to keep quiet and obey. I have heard them discussing the possibilities of our lives once we return to Mother’s family estate in England–marriage. My marriage. To some titled landowner’s spoilt son, who gives not a whit what I want or who I am as long as I can give birth. I refuse to subject myself to such a fate.

Rowan, my love, I write this both as news and as a warning. I will not silently accompany my parents in their hasty retreat. I cannot abandon my brother in the middle of a war, nor can I leave you, the other half of my soul.

I will be waiting for you, my love. I swear it.

To whatever end,

AAG

Heart in his throat, Captain Rowan Whitethorn marched in step with his regiment up the muddy road leading into Baltimore. The bustling port city was largely unmarred by the war that continued to rage on, continuing to serve as major sea access for traders and soldiers alike. As he and the men that called him their leader entered the city proper, Rowan breathed a short, soft sigh of relief. They had two weeks of leave, unless they were called back into battle, and he fully intended to use those two weeks to the fullest.

“Enjoy your leave, men.” He saluted. “We shall regroup here in two weeks.” The blue-jacketed men broke ranks and ambled into town, most of them probably dispersing to the nearest pleasure house for a good strong drink and as many hours with a woman as their few remaining coins could buy. Rowan didn’t begrudge them their pleasure.

After years of war, they all needed whatever solace they could find. As did he.

Fingers instinctively wrapping around the small, precious bundle of letters in his jacket pocket, Rowan strolled towards the calmer part of town, the residential section not so crowded with soldiers on leave, traders, merchants, shouting vendors, and all the rest of the noise, chaos, and diverse cast of characters that populated a thriving shipping town like Baltimore. He glanced at the street markers as he walked, searching for the one with a blue stripe painted around it.

There.

Pulse hammering louder than gunfire, he turned down that street and walked past tidy clapboard houses interspersed with the occasional grocer, butcher, baker, and seamstress. He was certain every single one of the handful of people he passed could hear his thundering heartbeat, but none of them had said anything to the young man whose ragged blue jacket marked him an officer in the Continental Army who was walking up their quiet street like it was perfectly normal for him to do. One motherly lady had simply offered him a smile and a “thank you, son,” which had struck him right to the heart.

He emerged into a busier street, full of shops and taverns and public houses, the businesses bustling but not crowded with soldiers and sailors like the cheaper taverns down by the wharf were. Eyes scanning the signs, Rowan walked up the side of the street. The building he was looking for appeared suddenly in front of him. A brightly painted kingsflame flower adorned the pub’s wooden sign, its carefully wrought petals the work of a singular artist. An artist Rowan knew as well as his own heartbeat.

With his heart in his throat, Rowan walked into the pub. Immediately, a peal of soft, faintly raspy laughter caught his ear, and his attention snapped to the bar at the back of the softly-lit, cozy space. Behind the well-worn oak bartop, her golden hair tied back with a blue rag that he recognized as his own old shirt, stood the woman who owned every last shred of his heart.

Aelin Galathynius glanced over towards the door, and the whole sky lived in her vivid eyes.

Tin clattered against the bar.

Surprised grunts arose from a table full of stocky, gray-haired farmers.

And with a rush of air and a strangled gasp of his name, Aelin was in his arms, tears glittering in her eyes, warm and solid and real and clinging to him as if her life depended on it.

He was here.

Rowan was here, whole and healthy and standing on his own two legs in a much-patched blue jacket and dirt-stained trousers and battered boots, and his eyes were on her alone.

Aelin flew across the pub floor and all but leapt into her soldier boy’s arms, clinging desperately to him as if he would vanish unless she held him tight. She buried her face in his shoulder and drew in a deep lungful of his scent, the faint trace of mountain pines clinging to him even beneath the layers of sweat and grime. Hot, salty tears of joy leaked into his shirt through a tear in his jacket’s shoulder.

She felt his deep, familiar chuckle rumble beneath her ear. “Why are you crying, my love?”

“I’m crying,” she sniffled, raising her head to meet his adoring gaze, “because you smell so bloody awful that my eyes are watering.”

He tipped his head back and laughed, loud and unrestrained. “God above, I missed you.”

“I missed you more,” she returned, tracing her thumbs along the sharp juts of his cheekbones. “Every day felt like the longest one yet.”

“I’m here now,” he murmured in the soft voice he only used for her.

With tears pooled in her eyes, Aelin leant an inch forward and kissed him, her soldier boy, with all the pent-up fervor of the last several months. She’d been so terrified when her parents announced that they were leaving the Colonies, afraid that she would be uprooted from the life she’d come to love and forced to marry some stuffy lord and shut away in a manor house forever. The very idea that she would be forced to leave Rowan, her love, and Aedion, her brother, without knowing whether either of them would make it back to Baltimore unharmed was enough to disrupt her sleep. She had hardly dared to hope that her desperate escape plan would work until she stood on the pier and watched her parents’ ship depart without her on it.

Every long day of pouring pints of beer for rowdy sailors, handsy soldiers, and disruptive drunken no-goods was worth it to have her soldier boy back in her arms.

“Where–ah, Rowan!” Breathless, Aelin poked him in the ribs, pretending to disapprove of the promising way he kissed her throat. “We’re in public.”

“Let’s fix that, shall we?” He set her down onto her feet, caught her hand, and grinned. “I believe I need a bath, my love. Could you help me with that?”

“You are incorrigible,” she laughed. She pecked a quick kiss on his lips and led him out of the pub and down the streets, turning into a quiet neighborhood and leading him up the front steps of a tidy little brick cottage with a blue front door. “Please be kind about the mess.”

“I’ll show you a mess,” he whispered into her ear, far too tempting for his own good.

She flushed, her cheeks staining bright pink. “Rowan!”

“Aelin,” he mimicked. They were safely inside the house, so he looped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him. “I’ve been dreaming of you for months, love.”

“And you’re going to bathe before you act out any of those dreams, my love.” Giggling, she ducked out of his embrace and led him down the short hall to a washroom. “The tub is full, but it might be cold.”

“I don’t care if the water is cold.” He shrugged off his jacket and stepped out of his boots. “It’s a hell of a better bath than we get in the army.”

She sighed fondly. “I’m still going to boil some water.” He made to protest, and she placed her fingers over his mouth. “Ah-ah, soldier boy. Let me spoil you. Besides, the hot water is half for your filthy clothes.”

“Fine,” he acquiesced. He shed the rest of his dirty, worn clothing and climbed into the tepid bathwater, groaning quietly as he sank into a proper bath for the first time in too long. “Join me, love.”

“Soon.” She kissed his forehead and dropped a washrag and a bar of soap into the tub. “When you stink a little less.”

His playful growl followed her all the way out to the front room.

Following the bath–where she had indeed joined her soldier boy and taken his mind off the weight of war for a few moments–and a hearty dinner, Aelin exchanged her regular blouse and skirt for a soft cotton nightdress, braided her hair, and settled into bed with a lantern lit on the side table and a novel in her hands. Rowan was in the washroom; the faint splashing of water indicated that he was scrubbing out his uniform like he insisted he wanted to. So she opened her novel to the page where she had last left off and lost herself in the tender romance unfolding amidst the pages. She was so absorbed in the novel that she didn’t notice the mattress shifting as Rowan climbed into the bed and settled down beside her.

His soft, low chuckle drew her out of the novel-world. “Good story, Ae?”

“Wonderful,” she murmured. Reaching the end of the chapter, she placed the bookmark, closed the book, laid it aside, blew out the lantern, and tucked herself into his side, her head against his chest.

“I missed you,” he whispered after a peacefully quiet interval, stroking one hand idly up and down her back.

“And I you.” In the faint moonlight, her eyes met his, months of pent-up yearning and uncertainty glossing their turquoise depths. “I am sorry I didn’t write more.”

He soothed her worry with a gentle kiss. “I would likely have found you before your letters found me. ’Tis the life of a soldier.”

She hummed in agreement. “On that note…when did you last see Aedion?” Her older brother, whom she loved dearly but whose rashness she did not ignore, had vanished from the Galathynius home early last spring, leaving no indication of where he was going or why. Aelin alone had an idea of what he had gone to do, because he had confided his wishes to her. He had gone off to be a soldier in the Continental Army, but his unit were scouts, which meant that he could be anywhere between Philadelphia and Yorktown.

Rowan exhaled a long, controlled breath. “The last time our paths crossed was in September, at the camp outside Newport. He mentioned going south, but no details.”

“South.” Aelin rolled the idea over in her mind, forcing herself not to consider the harsher implications. “Was he…how was he?”

“Healthy, as far as I could tell, and tired, but so are all of us soldiers.” Rowan ran his hands along Aelin’s tense shoulders, encouraging her to relax. “He said to give you his love and that he’ll do unspeakably horrible things to me if I hurt you.”

Aelin laughed. “Now that sounds like Aedy. Too protective for his own good, he is.” Idly, her touch trailed along the slope of Rowan’s shoulders, tracing the new scar that slashed from his right shoulder down towards his pectoral muscle. “Tell him that I will return the unspeakably horrible favor if either one of you does anything stupid.”

“Indeed I shall.” Laughing softly, Rowan pulled Aelin flush against his chest, her heartbeat atop his, and kissed her. She sighed into the kiss, threading her fingers into his overgrown hair.

“I don’t want you to go back,” she murmured after they had separated.

He swallowed thickly. “We both know I must.”

“I know.” Her voice was a fragile thread. “I’m keeping you all to myself for the next two weeks, though. It’s only fair.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I love you, my wildfire.”

She smiled tenderly at him. “I love you too, my soldier boy.”

Mid-November, 1778

Aelin,

I apologize both for the shortness of this note and the fact that it took me so bloody long to write it. There is something I must tell you, and I can only hope that you hear it from Rowan rather than me and my paltry excuse for a letter.

We are marching to Savannah. Intelligence has it that the Redcoats intend to advance upon the city, and we cannot let the stronghold go without a fight.

I cannot promise that I will be able to write for any amount of time, and as much as I hate to do this, I leave you all my affection. I will stay as safe as possible, that I can promise. The moment I am able, I swear on my blood that I will come to you, and if possible, that I will bring Rowan.

Stay strong for us, dear sister.

Yours,

Aedion

The short note had reached her in late January of 1779, after three and a half months of ever-increasing tension and worry spurred by the grim reports coming up from the South. Before he left in mid-November, the same time Aedion’s letter was dated, Rowan had revealed that his unit was headed to Savannah to reinforce the troops already there. He had been confident that, with the extra reinforcements, the Army would be able to stave off the British–if not all on their own, then at least long enough for the shipment of French troops to arrive.

Just before the New Year, the newspapers reported Savannah’s defeat.

Since then, all Aelin had received was silence. No letters, no notes, nothing listed in the papers, no weary soldiers showing up on her doorstep. The fact that Rowan’s and Aedion’s names remained out of the papers was but a small measure of comfort; all too often, fallen soldiers’ names never made it onto the listings.

The cloth tying back her hair was black now, the only outward sign of suffering she would allow herself. The people who came into the pub noticed her quiet demeanor, the way her usual vivacious cheer was dampened, and passed quiet condolences to her across the worn oak bartop–a squeeze of the hand, a mourning mother’s shared tears, a word of comfort, a “thank-you” from someone who rarely spoke those words. It lifted her spirits a bit, but not much.

Every night, she trudged home to her quiet little house, cradled a small watercolor portrait of Rowan–done a year ago, it was the only portrait she’d ever convinced him to sit for–stared down into his painted face, and refused to let her captive tears fall. Though her heart and soul ached for her soldier boy, though her sleep was disturbed by nightmarish imaginings of what could have happened or could be happening to him, she refused to let her tears fall until she knew his fate for certain.

If nothing else, she owed him--and the child just beginning to stir inside her womb--that fragile hope.

~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added/removed or if tags don't work :)

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#my writing #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin month 2023 #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass au #revolutionary war au #american revolution #happy birthday to me

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dragon-queen21 · 16 days

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thank for you for reply, apologies for sendin again, can you tell im hyperfixating?

i dont know if you exactly think of her like this but, HUGE hc that robins a flip. listen HEAR ME OUT PLEASE, “mama robin” and “baby bird” nicknames the crew bestowed upon her

i have so many hc for her in a agere situation, shes definitely a kid who has her good and bad days, sometimes she just wants to- needs to be alone because of trauma, and other days shes with them, shes a quiet little lady, but shes there just happy in the crews presence and reading. or maybe shes trying to break out of her shell and try to play a game with chopper, nami, or maybe on a really good day: sanji too. (usopp & luffy, she loves them, theyre just a bit too overwhelming together when shes little.)

i feel like it took her awhile to tell the crew about it, shes always been secretive, shes always had to be. but she realizes; “these are my nakama, they wouldnt hurt me” and just ups and tells them all randomly at dinner in a usual robin fashion

i cant imagine how that conversation would go but shed just all off a suddenly randomly drop that fact about her and everyones like “????”

and for cg robin well,

she would definitely read them stories no doubt about that. shes crack open a book, set her baby on her lap, their head on her shoulder and gently read them a fable or short story until they fall asleep.

or minor hc that when sanjis is like really little and robin has to cook the crew their dinner that night, she’ll set sanji up by her feet while she cooks so she can get things done, and sanji doesnt get upset because hes all alone :( (hes also in his kitchen which makes him happy as can be!)

^ or when hes on the bigger side robin will let him help her cook.

“Sanji, honey, can you pass me the oregano?”

“ACK! Robin ew no!!”

“oh dear! what should i use then?”

“um… ‘dis one!”

im done for mow i promise! i dont wanna chew your ear off but i hope you enjoy! thank you<33

📷

My dear anon I will take all of the ramblings always there is no need for apologies! >:3

Considering how much I have been posting about my current brain rot with demon slayer I get you 100% with the hyperfixations. If you want to send more in I would love to hear and add to them, your messages have made me super happy and have given me a lot to think over /pos Making me want to get back into writing a one piece fic. I need to make more with the babies!

Oh my gosh you’re so right. She would just randomly over dinner tell everyone about her regressing.

I can imagine someone like Usopp or Sanji that took forever to tell the crew and had so much mental prepping and making sure everything was perfect just to see her just out of the blue would probably be so shocking to them.

Letting Sanji be with her in the kitchen, that’s such a cute idea you have no clue how much I love that. I have such a soft spot for Robin and him truly. Probably my favorite little caregiver duo if I am being honest.

Okay but she would also be so good at playing pretend with him. Opening a pretend restaurant with a bunch of stuffed animals as customers, making orders for the little one to fill out and stuff. Ooh or if they are both small playing school

Also, idea, lil Robin, going up to her crewmates with a book in hand and just holding it out to them without saying anything. She wants someone to read to her and is too shy to ask.

Sanji and Nami would without doubt. Luffy would probably get bored half way or reading the actual words and start going off of the pictures and making up his own story. Zoro who is absolutely clueless at first and ends up rejecting her just because he doesn’t understand. Franky would do the best voices. Jinbei the best at picking really good bedtime stories and reading them.

#mayliz rambles #one piece agere #fandom agere #age regression #sfw agere #anime agere #age regression headcanons #agere headcanons #📷 anon

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hime-bee · 1 month

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*rubs hands together menacingly* fuckbuddy hoederer?? ohhhh i'm gonna have fun with this one,,

it works in your favor, seeing as intimacy isn't exactly on the plate for someone of your standing. being the doctor of rhodes island isn't exactly a position that allows you the leeway of what could be considered a normal romance (what, with all the eccentric characters that are your operators). but it does allow you some room to at least weasel in some sessions of getting dicked down. and hoederer is the one who suits your fancy, even if he responds rather awkwardly to your little teasings. you're well aware that he doesn't hold you in the same regard that any of your other operators do, but that's not the end of the world.

hoederer adapts surprisingly well to being your fuckbuddy, even if he's a bit stiff the first few times around. he's certainly not used to you being so forward and bold with your advances, though you work around what makes him comfortable. and you did assure him that your little meetups wouldn't affect his standing within rhodes island, but you did ask that he keep it a secret, especially from w of all people. she'd never let it go if she found out you were getting fucked by what was essentially her father figure, and she'd certainly never let you hear the end of it.

the way hoederer fucks you certainly affirms your choice of picking him for your fuckbuddy. it does take a lil' bit to really get him going, but you've figured out that he needs a good handful of affirmation and gentle touches before he's rearing to go and you can get on all four limbs for him. he fucks you so hard that he keeps slamming against your cervix and making your head go blank from the sensations alone. sometimes when you want to feel just how strong he is, you'll place your hands against the wall and playfully wiggle your hips until he fills you up with that huge dick of his. it's not fair, really, how easily you fall apart to the point where he has to lift your hips up himself and keep fucking into your cunt while you squeal and moan like a needy slut.

he's the type of fuckbuddy who pushes your head down into the mattress while he's pounding into you from behind, your sobs and moans muffled as he hits so deep that you can feel him in your stomach. whether it be intentional or not, just feeling his raw strength is enough to have you creaming around his dick over and over. even if he does offer an apology for getting too rough, it's pretty clear from your pleasure-slack expression that you enjoyed every second of his manhandling.

but the one time you coaxed him into fucking you raw? oh, that really did it in for you. it just felt so damn good with how much of his release he filled you with, and you couldn't stop moaning for him to hurry and knock you up and how badly you wanted his babies. and—oh? looks like he's getting pretty into it too, despite that conflicted look in his eyes. seems like even your war-exhausted fuckbuddy wasn't immune to becoming weak at the thought of knocking you up~

(you gave me an inch and i took a mile >:3c hope this lil' thirst can help with any potential hoederer smut ideas once you're all healed up and feeling much better! <33)

I'M??? LATI????? You really got me over here blushing, no lie 😭 I rarely get flustered by smut anymore, SHEESH- I've reread this so many times, I stopped counting LOL

Ma'am, you're feeding me graciously and I can't thank you enough for these full course meals fr. You've given me such a good idea for a fic, I can't WAIT till my hands heal up, I'm gonna be all over that old man like white on rice, just watch me 😩😩 If you end up writing for him as well, I can guarantee I'll eat that up too 😌💦💦

#Lati when I catch you Lati #you got me climbing up the walls on all fours #n/sfw #Arknights #arknights hoederer

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pixelateddork · 11 months

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HEHEHE Finally ready to ramble about Grandpa >:3c

Context! This was in response to the anon who asked something along the lines of "Since you've read the books, do you think Arsene would be a good grandpa or would he still try to steal his grandson's kidneys?"

OKAY SO I do think he'd be a good grandpa to little Lupin, but I don't think he'd be perfect. No where near the lengths or organ stealing or just...general child abuse and/or neglect though. He's a flawed person, and I love that about him. Now fair warning, 99% of this is going to be me rambling about my own HCs and such so don't mind meee…

He'd be around 80 or so when baby Lupin is put under his care. He'd been retired for a good long while at that point, and in my personal timeline he's wife had died maybe around a year before he starts caring for Lupin. So for a good while it would've been just him. his garden, and his house workers(He has friends sorta everywhere, but the death of his wife really hit him hard. He's doesn't tend to handle loss very well). Then, one day a baby Lupin is left at his doorstep, and one look at the little one and he decided "I'm going to take care of him".

First off, let's get this out of the way…he'd still teach little Lupin how to be a thief. Arsene finds a lot of pride in his theiving, and genuinely considers thieving to be a job. Sooo like with Nisei, he'd train Lupin and teach him everything he knows about how to be a gentleman thief. But this time around he made more of an emphisis on that it was Lupin's choice to become whatever he wanted thief included. Along with theivery, he'd teach Lupin everything he'd learned throughout his life. He always made sure that Lupin knew that he had the freedom to chose what it was he wanted to do with his life. That whether or not wanted to become a thief, that he wouldn't stop him...Though of course since he took a lot of pride in his theiving, he'd of course talk about how great it was, and recount the stories or what it was like. He didn't tell his grandson everything though. Arsene wanted to make himself look cool for his grandson, someone worth looking up to. And to do that, in his mind he had to...omit of few things from those stories.

He'd also definetly express his disdain for those with lots of power and money, and he'd make it clear there was a massive difference between him and any common, petty theif(which Lupin took to heart as he grew up).

Aside from mostly being taught at home....Arsene would spoil the hell out of this kid, even more so than his own son. There was something about Lupin specifically, the child reminded him so much of himself. He's a totally softy for the little one and treats him as if he were his own child, to the point of frequently calling him "Mon bébé". Along with that he'd given him plently of nicknames as he grew up, one of them being "Loopy".

Okay before this gets any longer, I think you get the gist of my ramblings. I do think he'd a good grandpa. He'd grown a lot since his days as a thief, and even since his days raising his own son. He'd be a lil pushy, would definitely spoil his grandson, maybe even kept him a lil too sheltered for a little too long, and had a few secrets about his past, but had good intentions at the end of the day. He cares very deeply for his grandsom and wanted to give him all that he could, making sure he got the life Arsene didn't have growing up. And most of all, he wanted to at least push him in the right direction, hoping that Lupin wouldn't make the same mistakes he did.

#{pixeltalks}#mmm i rambled a lot okay #whoops XD #i think this is mostly coherent and makes sense i hope #feeling brave imma put fandom tags #lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin the 3rd #arsene lupin the first #arsene lupin #arsene lupin i #lupin the first

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morphodae · 3 months

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omg i finally remembered my password!!! lollll

i came to see you write for bb? omg that was my childhood,,,

since i read ur other posts/thoughts on bb, may i ask for headcanons on how you think alois would feel knowing he is actually the son of the earl (*retch*)? or just you know ur overall thoughts on it lolll thank youuu!

Hi Cece! I hope you've been well! And yeah I write for Black Butler now lol. I've been hyperfixating on that show and manga alongside Honkai Star Rail, soooo yknow how it is lol.

You absolutely can request this! I'm about to rub my hands together like a lil gremlin and put this all into words because I have a LOT ok--

a/n (1): i assume you want a x reader for this? let me know if that was alright! :) i dont think alois would be able to get through this revelation without a confidant/companion tbfh

a/n (2): just for people to know that black butler is a fandom (that I write for) where I will only write for older!ciel and older!alois. I will likely write those two between the ages of 18 and early twenties

Older!Alois Trancy - discovering the 'truth'

Again, and I mentioned this for those who aren't familiar with my post and a crack theory I saw circling around; the idea is that Alois is actually THE Alois mentioned in season 2. You know, the son of Earl Trancy and his late wife who offed herself due to the "kidnapping" of her son? So, imagine Claude suggested this fabricated story, thinking it too unbelievable to possibly be the truth, only for the young, naive 14-year-old Alois to think it perfect to trick his "uncle" with. In this case........ it wasn't a fabricated story by Alois when Arnold Trancy came over. "Jim Macken" is his name, the name given to him by the couple who adopted him as a baby.

Anyways...

In no way do I see him taking this news well. That's the understatement of the century, but you know what I mean.

Even if Claude didn't yeet him into the afterlife and nom nom on his soul at the end of S2, I can still sort of see the rivalry between him and Ciel throughout the years. Either way, I digress: let's say Alois - for one reason or another - is able to celebrate a few more birthdays past his canon age of 14. So, now he's a young adult and is suddenly staring the cold, cruel truth right in its face.

How, exactly, the truth of him being the biological son of the late Earl Trancy being discovered is something that could have happened in many ways. The most likely way I see this happening is that Claude got pretty tired of Alois' "boring" soul and decided to stir the pot. It isn't out of the realm of possibility to see Claude unearth some secrets of the Trancy estate in order to... alter Alois mental state so that it may affect the "flavor" of his soul.

Now, in Alois' extreme grief and PTSD coming back full force upon such a horrific revelation, his soul is now more appealing to Claude (yippie -_-).

No servant in that household is prepared or equipped for the incredibly detached and (even more) unstable young man they serve under. Most days I can see Alois staring blankly, mind going at super speeds. Hardly anyone can get through to him. But, as I said, the flavor of his soul is now more appealing to Claude. That little shit knows what he did stirring the pot and is waiting patiently for his mental state to "burn even hotter."

I can only see Alois working through this if he had a companion. In this case, the reader. They are a human, they have emotions, they can understand him. It's really all they can do to help him through such heavy news. And even if Alois is older now and has mentally and emotionally matured ever-so-slightly (i am a firm believer he has bpd but that's another can of worms), he is still in the process of growing as a person. So, having an actual person in his life whom he trusts and cares for deeply, and boy does he care deeply (scorpio energy fr), he will not ever forget it nor will he ever let them go. They are his rock, his safe place, his only anchor to the world. If he can't trust anyone, then he can trust them. In fact, it may just be the catalyst towards a future marriage proposal.

#alois x reader #black butler alois #alois trancy #kuroshitsuji alois #black butler x reader #x reader #black butler headcanons #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji x reader

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fangirleaconmigo · 1 year

Text

As I watched Blood Origin I took notes. They are silly and disjointed bullet points and here they are:

(My full review is HERE)

Ep One

Shit, that's intense. My bard is having a bad time.

Hi Minnie Driver!

Wait. Why would Geralt hate that? (were they saying he'd hate an elf being the first witcher? V confused. Why would he hate that?)

So Fjall was too slutty to be a bodyguard.

Glad pretty girl didn’t get punished for helping the little girl.

Hmmm the princess doesn’t want to just be a baby factory. Word. I get it.

Michelle Yeoh!!!!

Wow the princess really flat out murdered her brother.

Girl, you don’t get a nation when you kill their king it’s not that simple.

MICHELLE YEOH I hope we get to see more of that.

Ep 2

Is she talking to her hammer? I love her already.

Fjall and Éile are they tied by destiny? How?

I juuuuuuuuust realized that sellswords don’t sell swords in the literal sense. I don't know why I thought that. This is all making a lot more sense.

I like the failed romance in the beginning. Hey folks, even if you fall in love with a brother murdering evil chick, life goes on. Second chances, etc. etc.

If they kill off Scían this fast I’m gonna be annoyed

Oh Hi Avallac'h. Avallac'h is like ummmmmm I’m regretting this shit (he is just a babby)

Merwyn is determined to survive, I like that. I like that in my evil women.

Eredin has a knife to a hotties throat saying 'you fucked me'(gaygayhomosexualgay?)

Oooooohhhhh

Actual real gay

Nice

Yes. Welcome to the family Eredin.

Brother Death called Fjall Square jaw-all the flirting! (Fjall is very flirt-withable imo)

Holy fuck Éile burning folks. That's hardcore, girl. Good thing that you ran away.

Winterberry and lilac CREEPY but revenge cool. Also, LILAC AND GOOSEBERRIES

Uh oh is Balor giving her those kids. That's rude.

I assume true sacrifice comes from within means Balor has to kill someone he cares about. If I was that girl with him I'd be pretty worried right now.

Eredin done in by the most obvious “spy” who literally ran right into him. He’s dickmatized or something. Himbo?

DONT TOUCH EILE YOU FUCKERS

Ep 3

Yesss love Meldof YET AGAIN

Poison a sheep and feed it to it, yes reference to the books.

Wow, girl (Zacare I looked it up) is throwing that “not really family” in his (Syndril, I looked it up) face fast ain't she. Found family gets lost fast when shit gets real.

Solryth? Is this empress chick talking to the brother she killed??? Girl? Do you think he wants to hear from your ass??? He's in the great beyond cursing your name.

Awww Fjall being protective

Even if you fell into a bucket of tits you’d come up holding a cock (is Meldof calling him gay?)

Ooooo no secret entrance?!?! Damn you Fjall. Just full of piss and vinegar barreling forward with nothing but guts and good cleavage.

Awwwww I love that the mage sees him as he is.

Éile sings

Such pretty voice Fjall is down bad.

As he should be, as am I.

Girl, he is not gonna let you be the first witcher. Not after you sang that. Please be real.

I love an 'end of the world about to die shag and party' episode.

We gettin a witcher, folks.

Ugh I hope Scían doesn’t betray them. I think she’s just getting them a way in tho.

Empress really thinks she’s gonna hit it again with Fjall? THIS CHICK. LMAOOOO She just has no concept of her actions having consequences does she.

She looks hella cool in her fancy armor tho.

She’s actually quite good at this. Making deals. Knowing what people want and offering it to them.

Yeah he’s gonna kill Fenrik I knew that from when he killed the kids

Ep 4

Avalac'h is a sad lil loser boy pobrecito

Eredin thinks he won’t risk Fenrik? You a dummy hunny

I woulda given Avallac'h more time rather than run back to Balor. I mean he's just a babby, he's gonna be badass folks.

Oh no he's hulking out. Look out empress girl.

“You’re a monster”

UH OH BETA RUN GRL BETTA RUN he kills those things now.

Why are his eyes black? Potions make eyes black?

OH YOU DUMMIES YOU THINK SCÍAN CANT TAKE TWO OF YOU?? FOOLS

Damn, lark. Éile really broke down the difference between a feminist and a girlboss to Miss Empress then stuck her. That was a clever way around making her badass but not 100% a murderer.

Balor killed that soldier for zero reason. This is just not a good person.

WOOPS HULK BOY Sun's gettin real low.

Wow Éile is pregnant? I thought that witchers were sterile. Maybe that's a thing the mages did.

I already knew Ciri was her descendant because people on twitter were shitting their pants because the actress is Black. I mean, don't they know how genes work? You can get a blondie in that span of time? Its centuries? And her child's already gonna be half Fjall, so idk, people cannot be normal about Black women I cannot fathom it.

And there's Mr. Joey again, we always love to see him.

The end. That was fun. Might watch again.

#the witcher #the witcher:blood origin #blood origin

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iwanttolickthatcowboy · 1 month

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3, 5 & 7

3. You’re stressed or upset about something, how does your f/o attempt to cheer you up? pre-war coop: he usually tried to get me out of the house if he had time. mainly to the movies or somewhere alone to talk. he let me rest on his side or even in his lap. (like the totally platonic man pals we were. and we were. he was married and happily so. don't get it twisted) post-war: the same things but also the 200+ years has made us both a lil loopy so swinging me around like a ferret till I start giggling. or teasing me and playing with my ghouly wrinkles like I'm a pug till I cheer up. post-war jambo needs weird lil ways to cheer up since the world is so shit. but sometimes a simple cuddle and a movie if there a working tv still helps.

5. Do you cuddle with your f/o a lot? If yes, then who normally initiates it? this relationship started and will most likely end in cuddling. It is a very physical dynamic despite it being platonic / one-sided for many decades. James usually instigates if they are casually sitting next to each other....but if James is upset to the point of just standing there, spacing out, coop will pick them up and sit us down. being picked up is also a common occurrence throughout all this (despite James being 5'3 and coop being 5'10'. they don't have the most drastic of a size difference but James is a light lad)

7. How do you show affection to each other? since the 2 above was basically "they fuckin cuddle a LOT" il try to think of something else. gifts are a huge factor too. especially pre-war. As his stylist, James always made sure Coop's wardrobe was filled with very well-made clothes. coop usually gets something new once a week. coop likes to take James out, get drinks, and make sure he is a valued person in his life. next to Barb and Janey, James is the 3-ed closest person in his life and has been there the longest. post-war, the gifts don't stop. Since they don't see each other for months on end, they try to keep gifts as safe as possible. it's easier for Jambo since they are safely settled in a settlement but Coop has to fight tooth and nail to not get shit stolen. It's always worth it. jambo collects old-world merch of movies and clothes so he's rather easy to "shop" for. but Jambo never knows what Coop wants at any given moment. He's changed so much. but he still likes giving him anything with dogs on it or cowboy-themed stuff. sadly coop usually gets stuff lost or stolen if he takes it with him. so jambo usually keeps it safe at home so Coop can rest around all his belongings. Jambo hopes he knows he has somewhere safe (doesn't mean people don't try to still steal. jambo has had to stab and shoot anyone trying to get into the secret locked room in their lounge apartment. a lot of newcomers have no idea what's in there.)

#f/o #self ship #self shipping #cooper howard

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ronanceisintheair · 1 year

Note

humbly asking for u to write a lil blurb drabble thing of nancy seeing bbyboy robin take off their glasses. please.

Rj my dear you add fuel to my little au that haven't even fully been born yet, ofc💖

Nancy didn't know what was more asinine; the fact that Robin asked her to come to Hell's Kitchen to help with a case or the fact that she agreed.

They both knew the devil was more than capable of handling their own cases.

And yet Nancy had barely given it a second thought, or even a first. "What's the case," Nance asked almost immediately. And she could tell Rob was smiling on the other line.

Fuck.

"You know you didn't have to book a hotel for this?" Robin is tapping their finger against the foam cup of the coffee Nance bought them; trying not to think about how they managed to become so wrapped up in each other so quickly...not just the multiple times they ended up wrapped up in the sheets together.

This was something else entirely. Something deeper. Maybe scarier.

"You could've stayed at my place, it would've been cheaper and possibly safer," Robin hopes their words are coming out cool and casual. Because that's all this is. It's casual. Nance has made that apparent on multiple occasions.

"Safer?" Nancy scoffs, "don't get ahead of yourself Buckley. Unlike you my identity isn't a secret."

Robin hums, holding the door for her; of course they do.

She wants to find herself annoyed, but she can't, a small warmth blossoming in her chest. Such a gentleman.

"Well," Robin says casually, their usual raspy voice growing slightly more rough around the edges, "we are here only as lawyers. Not the other thing."

Nance bites down on her tongue, she knows what they mean, but her mind can't keep the images from flashing. The other thing, that more often than not leads to more other things.

She's trying to ignore the way that suit hugs their body perfectly. How every suit they wear seems to fit just right in all the right places. The way their hair is slightly messy in contrast, which makes her jaw twitch.

"You don't need to remind me." It comes out more harsh than she intended.

But maybe Rob did need to remind her; because as they're sitting down across from their client, Nance standing in the corner. Robin wanted her to provide a presence, Something about things being different in Hell's Kitchen.

She's been casually nursing her own coffee, while they are practically pulling teeth to get any information. Nance should be focusing, she knows that. But she can't help admiring Rob; the way they speak, their calm and cool level headedness, the way they occasionally run their fingers through their bangs. The definition of a pretty boy.

But something shifts as Robin seems to be losing out on patience.

Robin takes a deep breath. First, rubbing at their temples. Then, moving to slowly remove their glasses. An eye to eye moment, for lack of a better term.

Nance isn't exactly sure it's nkr happening in slow motion. Maybe there's something wrong with her?

It's like the cogs in her brain have gone rusty and as a result her brain is buffering. She feels her fingers tense around her cup, finding her mouth suddenly dry and the need to swallow battling with the lack of spit.

Double fuck.

She needs to focus...on the client and not the way Robin taps the table, something in morse code?

The client. Nance focus.

Her brain screams at her.

She clears her throat. Or tries to, taking a cautious drink as not to choke.

"Listen. You called us," Nancy is thankful her voice comes out normal...or normal adjacent, "what my partner-" fuck! There goes that word...what was she thinking?

#this got longer than i thought ahdksldl #ronance #she/devil ronance #robin x nancy #nancy x robin #asks that tickle the brain worms #birb in my nest

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urdearestmom · 2 years

Text

3:15

forgot to post this to tumblr when I posted on ao3, so here it is now! just a lil something :)

It’s dark outside. Like, really dark. His watch reads 2:15 California time, which makes it probably 3:15 in the morning where they are (which he’s not sure of, actually. Somewhere between Wyoming and Nebraska), but there aren’t any stars out. It’s the ominous kind of darkness that comes before a storm.

Argyle is inside the gas station they’d stopped at ten minutes ago, Jonathan is passed out in the passenger seat, and Will is out cold on the floor. El is staring silently out the window from the other end of the backseat, as she has been virtually since they picked her up. She had only said enough to explain that they need to get to Hawkins as quickly as possible because their friends are in danger. There’s a tension thick between the two of them as long as they’re both awake, but he’s not sure what to do about it. El doesn’t exactly seem like she wants to talk to him.

He regrets leaving things the way they did before El got arrested, only at the same time can’t think of how it could have turned out any differently. He still can’t bring himself to say the words she wants to hear, even at this moment. It feels like his throat is stuffed with cotton if he even tries to imagine saying it. Still, Mike feels like he should say something. He knows things have happened to her in the few days since he last saw her; she’s wearing the same clothes but her head is shaved again and she has her powers back. It’s just like the night they met, except it isn’t at all.

“El,” he starts, entirely on impulse. He hasn’t given a single thought to what he might say.

“I’m tired, Mike,” she replies, turning further toward the window and tucking her legs underneath her.

Mike almost swallows his tongue. “Okay. Sorry.” He crosses his arms to keep his hands from fidgeting nervously, turning to look out his own window.

They stew in silence, Mike thinking over what he wants to say to El, until Argyle returns and drives the van to some empty space behind the gas station.

“Just gonna rest here for a few hours and then keep going, alright man?” He tells them, settling in to sleep in his seat just like Jonathan.

Mike responds with a barely audible, “Yeah,” while El remains fixated on the darkness outside. After about ten minutes, Argyle starts to snore lightly. Mike looks over at El again, sighing because he can tell she’s not asleep. Everyone else is though, so at least they’re afforded a little bit of privacy. They won’t have much of that when they reach whatever’s waiting for them back home.

“El,” he tries again, quietly. “Can I talk to you?”

She doesn’t answer.

Mike’s eyebrows furrow. “I know you’re awake.”

Nothing changes, until El slowly turns around and fixes him with a stare. He can barely see her, but he feels its intensity.

“What do you want?”

He shifts in his seat, tucking his hands under his thighs. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry. For how I acted at the rink and for not saying-”

“I don’t want your apology,” El says stonily, jerking her head back to the window.

“Fine, then, I’ll stop apologizing,” Mike replies, and pauses. This isn’t starting how he hoped it might. “But will you listen to me? Please?”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then: “Yes.”

He slides closer. “About our fight,” he begins. “I didn’t explain myself properly, and then the cops showed up and shit hit the fan and we didn’t finish that conversation.”

El stays silent, still facing away, and he continues.

“You know that I have feelings for you. I don’t think that was ever much of a secret,” he says, and almost laughs a little. It really wasn’t; Lucas had mocked Mike proposing to El like two days after they met her. “I told you last year that it’s… it’s crazy, and I’ve never felt like this about someone before. Being away from you- is so hard.”

He has to pause again to gather his thoughts, and El turns her head back toward him. Her face is expressionless, but she seems receptive.

Mike swallows. “I didn’t know that those words were so important to you, okay? I never meant to hurt you. I just have a hard time saying it, it doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.”

He reaches out for her shoulder, looking into her eyes. “It doesn’t mean I don’t feel it, El,” he repeats. “I care about you so much it’s insane, and I don’t know why I can’t say it! I don’t know if it’s because my family never says it and it’s weird in my head, or if I’m just awkward or something. Sometimes I think that word isn’t even enough to describe what I feel.”

El is starting to look sad and Mike is starting to feel desperate. “Maybe it’s because if I say it, it’ll be real,” he continues. “And it’ll be so much worse if you get taken away from me again. I’m scared because- I can’t deal with that anymore.”

“You won’t lose me,” El says quietly.

“We don’t know that,” Mike answers. “Spring Break was just supposed to be fun and look what happened.”

El shrinks back and Mike almost smacks himself. He doesn’t even know the half of what happened yet, but it was obviously bad.

“I got my powers back,” she whispers. “I can be a superhero again.”

He sighs. “Look, I don’t know what happened with Owens or what you had to do, but it doesn’t matter. I told you the other day, El, you are the most incredible person in the world to me. Whether you have powers or not, it doesn’t change how I feel about you, okay? I want you to remember that.”

“Okay.”

“I just…” He trails off. “I try to say it in other ways. I gave you that ring,” he says, reaching for her hand where she’s still wearing it. That’s something at least. “I told you what it means. I picked you flowers from Hawkins because I knew you missed them and you’d like them. I write you so many letters because I’m always thinking about you and wishing you were with me. I guess… I thought that was enough. I’m sorry it wasn’t.”

El squeezes his hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t understand.”

Mike quickly shakes his head. “No, that’s not your fault. I’m bad at talking about things. I should have explained myself better.”

The two of them have slid closer to each other the longer the conversation has gone on, now sitting pressed together.

“I love you,” El says suddenly, holding his hand tightly and leaning in to lay her head on his shoulder.

He lays his head against hers. “I know. And I do too, so much. Just… be patient with me?”

He feels El nod against him. “I will.”

A few minutes of silence later, Mike thinks El has fallen asleep. He will soon.

But then she speaks again. “Am I still pretty?”

Mike sits up. “What? Why?”

El faces him, her voice meek. “My hair is gone.”

“El,” he sighs, almost exasperated. “Of course you’re still pretty. Whether you have hair or not doesn’t change the fact that you’re beautiful. Don’t tell me you forgot that you looked exactly like this the first time I kissed you.”

She doesn’t say anything to that, just lays her head back down, so Mike continues to try to lighten up the mood.

“Man, I embarrassed myself with that one,” he tells her. “I still cringe a little if I think about it for too long. Did you even know what I was doing?”

“No,” El replies. He can hear the smile in her voice. “But I liked it.”

Mike smiles in return, though El can’t see it. “Me too.”

She squeezes his hand again. “Night, Mike.”

He squeezes back. “Night, El.”

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