#finally sitting down and replying to this.... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aemondtargaryenonlyfans · 3 days

Text

REDAMANCY.

Cregan Stark x female Targaryen!Reader (Part 1 here)

From the very beginning on you’ve been hesitant to accept your younger brother’s offer to return to the capital for your child to receive his blessings. And when you‘re finally on the way, it’s your husband‘s duty to take care of you.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MDNI; p in v, lactation kink, lactating, pregnant sex, pregnancy, slight breeding kink, praise kink, slight degrading, angst, fluff

WORDS: 3.3 K

NOTES: Redamancy means A love returned in full; an act of loving the one who loves you, and let me tell you: these two are in love. Thanks to @sylasthegrim, it‘s always good to know you help me with my zero grasp on English!

✖️ 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

Ravens from Winterfell flying all the way down to King’s Landing has always taken quite some time. And therefore it was no wonder you were surprised that one of your younger brother’s ravens reached the castle not long after you'd informed him you were with child, inviting you to birth it in the Red Keep for it to receive the young king’s blessings.

Being the ever dutiful Lord of House Stark, there was no way your husband would refuse the offer, and once your pregnancy had crossed the seventh moon mark, a carriage and your husband’s entourage were sent south.

From the very beginning on you’ve been hesitant to accept the offer. Westeros’ capital has brought nothing but pain and grief to you, and you’re afraid coming back ruins the comfort and peace you’ve found far, far away from the castle in the North, in Winterfell. But a part of you misses and longs for your siblings and the part of your family that’s still left, hence it didn’t take too much convincing from your husband.

You’ve lost count of the days you spent in that damned carriage by now, solely accompanied by your maids as your dear husband rides at the front of his entourage, joining his men on horseback. But there’s one thing all days have in common: it’s you being exhausted beyond relief once night comes.

For the longest time you thought your unborn babe to be no-fussy and calm, which proved to be false just one week into the travel. It’s restless, kicking and moving especially when you finally find rest in the bed of the receptive inn you stay in for the night. Your feet are swollen, just like your breasts, and your body provides milk as though the babe has been long born already, and all you crave at this point is for the pregnancy to be over already.

As the wheelhouse comes to a stop, you rub your swollen bump with a sigh, looking toward the door with heavy footsteps approaching. Your beloved husband opens the door, and even though he won’t admit it, he looks just as exhausted as you do.

“Is it time?” you ask, slowly rising to your feet with another sigh. You place your small hand in his large one, allowing him to help you out.

He nods, bringing a hand to the small of your back. “Indeed. We have reached the crossroads. From here we are only ten days away from King’s Landing, which means the end of our journey is in sight,” he replies. “How are you and our son feeling?”

Cregan guides you away from the wheelhouse, escorting you through the crowd of his men towards a large inn sitting right where the river road crosses the kingsroad. And from old tales of your uncle you know it has to be the Bellringer Inn, a place where even your great-grandfather and great-grandmother have stayed at before.

“We do not yet know if this babe will be a boy or a girl, husband,” you chastise him in a teasing manner.

“You are right, we do not,” he says. “But I feel it in my bones. Just call it a father’s intuition.”

You roll your eyes at his words and nudge his ribs with your elbow, yet there also pulls a smile at the corners of your lips. He chuckles at that. “Careful, my love, I am not as nimble as I used to be.”

Shaking your head, you giggle softly. “Do not tell me that you are an old man now, Lord Stark.”

As you make your way through the courtyard and towards the inn, you can feel the curious glances of the passerby; a man of Cregan’s caliber always drew the attention toward him, just like your hair did. But you’re unbothered by it all. You carry a piece of your husband within you, and that thought fills you with a sense of fulfillment and pride.

He looks for the innkeeper as you reach for his hand, pulling it from your back around your frame, squeezing it softly. “Might you join me tonight? I know that you can not leave your men alone, but one night will surely do no harm. I must admit that I have hardly found sleep without your warmth for the past weeks.”

With a gentle, intimate gesture, Cregan brushes his fingers over your swollen bump, before pulling you against his side. “How can I ever be expected to refuse anything my beautiful wife asks of me? Of course I will join you tonight.” Leaning a bit closer toward you, he adds with a quiet whisper: “Your presence has been missed in my bed as well. The nights feel cold and lonely without you by my side.”

Heat crawls onto your cheeks at the proximity and the slight implication that comes with his words, solely interrupted when a stout man with a bushy beard but otherwise pleasant demeanor walks around the corner and welcomes you two.

Upon Cregan’s inquiry about the availability of a room, he hands over the keys and leads you toward your place of retreat for the night. More than once have you told Cregan you’re perfectly fine with sleeping in a tent with him, yet he always came back to your delicate condition, stating he only wants the best for you and his unborn child, and you eventually have given up and accepted it.

The room is decent. Not as big as your chambers at home, but still larger than what you’ve slept in for the last few weeks. Your maids already scurry into the room to bring some of your belongings and clothes to get you ready for the night, while Cregan leans in to kiss your temple. “Let me arrange for my man to sleep outside the inn for the night,” he mutters against your skin. “And then we shall spend the night in warm beds.”

Even with your maids bustling around you, you can’t help but feel a flicker of excitement at his words. The prospect of sharing the night with him is enough to make you forget the soreness of your swollen curves that has become a constant companion over the past few moons.

“I will freshen up in the meantime,” you say, leaning into his touch before he pulls away to take care of his men’s sleeping arrangements for the night. Once everything was adjusted in the chambers, your maids moved to help you out of your clothes, but you refused them, having planned something very special.

Standing in front of the small window, overlooking a stable with a thatch roof and a bell tower, you all but admire how quietly Cregan opens the door, and with the lock falling right into place behind him, the room grows even quieter and the atmosphere becomes charged with anticipation.

“Is everything sorted?” you ask, looking at him from over your shoulder.

“All set,” your husband replies with a low voice as he approaches you.

He comes to tower over your frame from behind, moving his hands over your hips up to your waist. Lifting your head, your eyes lock with his. “Alone at last, hm?” There’s a sultry smile on your lips now, and you gently reach behind you to cup his cheek with one hand. “Now you’re all mine for the night.”

You lean against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breaths against your back. Cregan seizes the opportunity and brushes your hair over one shoulder before he presses his lips to the crook of your neck. The touch makes you sigh, stirring something inside of you you have had to keep at bay for quite some time. When he brings his large hands to your swollen breasts, fondling them through the thick fabric of your dress, you can’t help but moan, the slight squeezing aiding against the heaviness.

But then his hands and lips leave your body, and he slightly leans around you to look at you – or rather your breasts – and you immediately know the reason why.

The gray fabric has become damp under his touch, two dark spots prominent in the front of it. While it brings a bit of shame to your cheeks, the low rumble that escapes his chest sends a fire straight down between your legs. “I should have warned you I started leaking a fortnight ago,” you admit ashamedly, biting your bottom lip.

“I quite enjoy the sight of it, you know,” he says, voice laced with a combination of awe, adoration and burning need. His hands shift to the lace in the back of your dress. “But let us put this to good use.”

The dress comes undone with ease, falling to the floor in a puddle around your feet. Damp spots are decorating your smallclothes, but this time you don’t mind the sight. Cregan’s hands now roam over your body, tracing the curve of your waist and your growing bump.

Although you know exactly what it is his words are meant to imply, you choose to tease him. “And what is it you have in mind right now, hm?”

His gray eyes briefly flicker to the bed close to you, before meeting yours again. “I have a few things in mind. But for now…” He cups your chin, tilting your head up so he can claim your lips in a slow, deep kiss that’s full of desire and passion. It makes you feel as though the air is sucked right out of your lungs by him, as if you can’t survive without his lips on yours. “How about we make the most of this night, my love?”

“I’m all yours,” you breathe against his lips.

His large hands roam your curves, helping you out of your undergarments, until they settle at your thighs, wrapping around them to effortlessly hoist you up. Although Cregan is quite the bull of a man and appears to be a brute, he possesses a tenderness you wouldn’t expect from him, gently keeping your body against his and lying you down on the bed not far away just as carefully.

Soft, gentle kisses are pressed to your collarbones, igniting a fire within you that has been smoldering for too long. As his fingers glide over your skin with featherlight touches, leaving a burning trail behind, he finds his hands drawn to your full breasts, cupping and holding them, and eventually squeezing them.

More droplets of your milk trickle into his calloused palms, wetting his skin, but he does not care–not when he has you writhing and whimpering beneath him at just the faintest of touches.

Your husband’s eagerness would have almost made you chuckle, watching him rise from the bed to rid himself off his clothes hastily, if it wouldn’t match your own desire and greediness. With his breeches falling to the ground, his cock stands to full attention, hard enough for it to almost seem painful.

His hungry gazes devours your bare form, tall frame slightly hunched forwards as his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths.

“Will you just stand there and watch, my wolf?” you tease, propping yourself up on your elbows. “What happened to ‘let us put this to good use’?”

It’s the teasing lilt in your voice that pulls him out of his stupor like a wave, the chuckle he releases low and throaty. “You are a temptress, my love,” he replies. “You are lucky I am a man of my word.”

“Then touch me,” you whine, words coming out more desperate than actually intended.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. Slowly approaching the bed, Cregan bows forwards and grabs one of your feet. He lifts your leg and starts to trail sloppy, open mouthed kisses along the inside of your leg, occasionally nibbling on the skin of your inner thigh.

Your back slightly arches off the mattress, body thrumming with desire. Entangling your hands in his dark curls, you use the grip as reigns to where you want him most, but your husband acts completely unfazed, not allowing you to tug him higher up.

He takes his time, kissing and nibbling your thighs, before he boldly presses a kiss to the apex of your legs, tongue briefly dragging through your folds. It elicits a shudder in its wake, and you can’t stifle a moan.

Making his way up, he licks your navel, and eventually traces the curve of your full breast, circling your hardened bud. Cregan laps up every drop of milk that oozes out of your bud like nothing else than a starved wolf, the edge of his teeth applying just a faint pressure to the sensitive skin to stimulate the flow.

But when his other hand comes up to fondle and squeeze your other breast, that’s the moment you lose your composure, shamelessly smothering him with your breasts. “Gods, Cregan…” you whimper, immediately bringing you relief. There isn’t even time to waste a thought about the indecency of it all, not when it feels just so right.

It’s your mewls, your whispered whines and moans, the sound of you saying his name in such a desperate manner that drives him to continue. “You make me ache for you,” he rasps against your skin, voice thick with desire. Your husband never falters to ignite a fire inside of you with his words, especially when there’s an innuendo hidden between his praises.

Bringing his hand from your breast down between your bodies, he aligns himself with you, dragging the tip of his cock through your folds in a way that makes you bite back a moan and grind against him. You grip his dark curls harshly as he finally eases inside, pushing into you inch by inch, agonizingly slow to make sure you feel him enter you.

His suckling falters with the tightness of your walls embracing him, overwhelmed by pure bliss and a feeling he’s missed for the past few weeks.

Every gasp and whine that escapes you only serves to embolden him further, continuing to tease and taste your breast with unrivaled enthusiasm. It juxtaposes the slow, sloppy thrusts of his hips, and brings you two different kinds of sensations at once.

Cregan has made himself home between your legs, rocking his hips leisurely back and forth. He has dropped his weight on one elbow and leant his upper body to the side, determined to not put any weight on your swollen bump. His lips are firmly wrapped around your bud while his hand teases the other, pinching and squeezing it between his fingers. The proximity is unmatchable, feeding into your constant desire to be as close to him as possible.

You can practically watch him lose every ounce of self control, his suckling becoming more intense and the thrusts growing in determination. His groans and grunts are muffled, and droplets of your milk trickle idly down his chin, getting lost in the dark, coarse hairs.

You fully expect him to say something when he releases your bud, but he’s far too eager to get his fill again. Pinching the perky bud of your other breast harshly, droplets of milk run down the curve of it, only to be traced by his tongue, liking a flat stripe over your skin. He chokes on a groan as the sight has you clenching tightly around his hard cock.

“Please– do not stop,” you whimper, applying a bit of pressure to his head to urge him towards your breast again. “... not yet.”

Dark-blown eyes suddenly flicker up to meet yours, and a shuddered breath leaves your lips. “My my, what a greedy wench I have for a wife,” he chuckles to himself. You don’t take offense, but the statement does make you duck your head and bite your bottom lip sheepishly. “I do not intend to.”

Despite the teasing, it’s obvious your pleas fall upon eager ears as he heeds your command and closes his lips around your bud again. Every hungry pull of his lips draws more and more milk from you, and while relief makes itself known in your breasts, a different kind of pressure starts to settle in the pit of your belly.

Squeezing him so well, you make it impossible for Cregan to move on his own accord, and quickly take over, rolling your hips against his. It’s a race for completion, making your pearl throb with anticipation.

The coarse hairs of your husband’s beard drag over your sensitive skin with his eager suckling, tickling you and causing you to arch against him even more. You have your arms wrapped around his neck at this point, keeping him tightly against you.

A string of yesses falls past your lips like a chant, and the pace of your hips increases as far as your bump allows you to. Your mind grows hazy with pleasure, until your peak washes over you with a loud gasp.

You haven’t noticed Cregan watching you through it all, too focused on the sensations coursing through your body. His gaze is mesmerized, clearly relishing in the relief that’s etched onto your features and the way your walls flutter around his cock.

He pulls back, droplets of milk resting in the corners of his lips, and lifts his body to tower over you. The thrusting of his hips grows sharper now, determined to help you through your pleasure.

“That’s it,” he rasps, one hand resting on the mattress next to your head while the other gropes at your now relieved breasts.

“Once this pup is born,” he emphasized the words by rolling your sore bud between his index finger and thumb, drawing out just a few more droplets of milk. “I shall put another in you to keep you round with my seed.”

Your head grows dizzy, lightheaded even, and you can’t do more than whimper and whine through your peak, not fully comprehending what he’s said.

Cregan snaps his hips into yours once, twice before he topples over the edge with a loud groan, his throbbing cock spending itself deep inside of you. Cupping your breast, his fingers dig harshly into your flesh.

You continue to roll your hips against his, prolonging his pleasure. Switching roles, it’s now your turn to milk him for every drop, taking everything his cock spills inside of you. Every muscle in his body tenses, until eventually, he collapses to the side, careful not to put his weight on your swollen bump.

With his cock slowly becoming flaccid again, the sensation of his seed leaking out of your cunt is more apparent, causing heat to spread throughout your body. If it wasn’t for you carrying his child already, you would have mounted him to make sure his seed would bear fruit.

Cregan eventually lies down on his back, and you seize the chance to rest your head on his chest. It’s hard to keep your eyes open as his hand softly entangles into your hair, scratching your scalp in the manner that usually lulls you to sleep. His breath is slower now, his chest rising and lowering your head.

“I can not bear to spend another night without you by my side,” you all but whisper, bringing a hand to his stomach.

Your finger trails the contours of his muscles, before following the dark trail of coarse hairs down.

“You needn‘t worry about that,” he says. “We shall not stay in King’s Landing for too long. And I highly doubt that anyone could get me out of your chambers during the time we stay there. Once we arrive, we shall stay together.”

Nodding your head slowly, you hum a ‘mh-mh‘, too engrossed in the feeling of his hand in your hair and the other rubbing soothing circles over your back. Having trouble staying awake, you’re hardly able to process his next words, already drifting off to sleep.

“Let us sleep now, my love. We have another tiresome day ahead of us.“

Cregan Taglist: @nats-whore @aemondsbabe

413 notes · View notes

valerieisunavailable · 2 days

Text

Simon uses a vibrating piercing for the first time

CW: nsfw, c*ck piercings, vibrating piercings, overstimulation, mutual overstimulation, d*ck riding, dom to sub Simon.

You were sitting down in bed, watching television. But you were getting worried, as Simon hasn't came back yet. It was getting rather late. Later than usual. You knew that sometimes he had other things he needed to do after completing one of his missions or doing paperwork and reports, or listening through debriefs. Despite all the times he's said not to worry, you couldn't help but let the doubts crawl into your mind.

But after about two hours later, you heard the door unlock, followed by Simon's muffled cursing to himself about the things that went wrong or could've gone better. It was nights like these when he was stressed like this when you knew that he would fuck the tension out to relieve some stress. Although weirdly enough, he hasn't done that for about two weeks now. You could tell that he was stressed and wanted to fuck the absolute shit out of you on those nights, but didn't. So you knew that something was up. Simon walked into the bedroom, hanging up most of his military gear and uniform stuff up, letting out an exhausted sigh before slumping in the bed on top of you.

"Another stressful day, huh?" You say jokingly, giving him a small smile.

"You have no idea." He replies. Simon goes on to mumble about how his soldiers didn't do what they were supposed to and how they messed up. As he does so, he's taking off his shirt. After a few moments he stops rambling on, and he looks at you with a lustful gaze.

"I need to fuck you, love. Need to fuck this absolute beauty." He says. His husky voice makes it sound like it's a command, but the way he's saying it makes it come out as though he's begging.

You let him anyways, no matter how you feel at the moment. You know that he needs this, and you know that he knows how to pound into you nice and hard when he's this stressed. It feels absolutely amazing when he does it. Simon leans into you, giving you a rough, passionate kiss. Besides, he's probably gone absolutely nuts. He hasn't fucked his stress out on you for two weeks straight, you could tell that he needed this. Part of you wanted to ask him about it, but you decided not to. He sat up on his knees, slowly removing his pants, but stopping at his boxers.

"I got a surprise for you, love." He says, before pulling his boxers down. There, you saw his erect cock, standing straight up. But it was followed by a row of silver metal piercings going all the way up and down along it. You stared in surprise. He saw your reaction as he smirked.

"They vibrate, too." He says.

So this is why he hasn't fucked you for two weeks. He had gotten vibrating piercings along his cock. But the only thing you were worried about were how thick the piercings were. There was no way you'd be able to have his cock AND his piercings inside you. He chuckles at your reaction, before quickly stripping you of your clothes and having you sit on his stomach as he laid down. He then positioned you above his cock, pushing slowly into your entrance. You let out a small gasp, feeling the first set of metal piercings along his cock stretching you out.

"S-Simon, you're too thick…" you stammered. He chuckles at your response.

"Mmm, I know, love. I'm stretching this tight cunt of yours..~ It'll take some time to get used to.." He says, continuing to slowly push himself into your entrance. You gasp and shudder at each feeling of each new set of metal piercings stretching your pussy, hitting along your walls until you gasp from finally hitting the base of his cock. You can already feel a set of his piercings going along your cervix. You let out a small whine in response. Simon sits himself up, leaning over to your ear.

"But I know that you'll be cumming all over this cock and these new piercings of mine once I'm done with you, love~" He chuckles. Simon firmly holds onto your thighs, before looking back at you.

"Hope you're ready, love. 'Cause I plan to make up for those two weeks." He winks at you, before raising your thighs up and slamming them back down as he pounds into you at a steady pace. You moan in response. You can feel his metal piercings hitting your cervix.

"Fuck…" He groans. He pounds into you a few more times before he stops. You moan in his ear, holding tightly onto his shoulders before you glance over at him. Simon takes out a remote.

"Let's see how good these vibrations are." He says, clicking the button on the remote as the both of you jolt in response to the sudden vibrations.

"Ohh fuuuckk…." He lets out a loud, guttural moan. His eyes go into his head for a split second, and he slumps back down into the bed, his cock slipping out of you.

"Oh, Simon..~" You moan, your thighs quivering in response from the vibrations, with it brushing your clit as his cock slips out of you. He squeezes your thighs. Simon definitely wasn't expecting for the vibrations to be this strong. His body shook, and his legs quivered. You could hear him beginning to whine and whimper.

You grin as you watch him weakly reaching for the remote on the bed, before you move his hand away, grabbing his cock and slipping it back into you, once again feeling the piercings stretch your walls, your slick acting as lubricant. Once you reach the base of him, his eyes come back out of his head, looking at you.

"No, no… Too much.. It's too much, love." He says in between gasps.

You smirk, looking down at him. "I thought that you needed to fuck the stress out. Besides, you said that you were going to make up for those two weeks." You taunt him.

Simon whimpers, before his eyes go back into his head again as you start to ride him, moving your hips at a slow pace. Simon lets out a loud moan, his breath hitching as you suddenly feel him coming inside of you. You look at him in surprise, but you could tell that the man was seeing absolute stars right now. You continue your pace, feeling the vibrating piercings repeatedly hitting your cervix. You let out a breathy moan, before letting out a loud moan in surprise from feeling your orgasm reach you.

"Off.. Turn it off, please…" Simon begs, the feeling of the vibrations and your walls around his cock overstimulating him. As you sat down, rested on the base of his cock, you could also feel yourself getting overstimulated as you let out a few whimpers.

You reached for the remote, trying to turn it off, although you didn't know how. Pressing a button, the both of you whimpered in response. Simon tightly holds onto your thighs as he instinctively bucked his hips.

"Ah, Fuck!" He whimpers. Your loud whimpers could also be heard throughout the room. "Oh, fuck.. Sorry…" You apologized, trying to switch through the remote settings. Simon eventually grabbed your hand, hitting and holding onto the button, before the vibrations stopped. He let out a sigh of relief, his eyes rolling back out of his head.

"It's alright love…" He says, before letting out a small chuckle. He catches his breath, slipping himself out of you as you laid against his chest. He gives you a passionate kiss, embracing you in his arms.

"That was one hell of a vibrator…" He muttered, as the two of you stared at each other, passionately kissing each other until you both got tired and fell asleep. He might've not fucked the stress out of you like you had originally expected, but this felt just as good, if not better.

#cod #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #valwrites

259 notes · View notes

crilbyte · 3 days

Note

Hi, I was wondering if you could do an Alastor x reader one-shot inspired by the song 'Don't you dare make me fall in love with you' by Kaden MacKay?

Ooooh my gosh, I love this! This is so cute. I love the idea of an angrily lovesick alastor.

I wasn't sure if you wanted a smutty oneshot or not, so I stopped right before it.

Update! Due to popular demand I've made a Part 2. It's 18+ so be aware!

Everything had been going so well. He'd wormed his way into the hotel, Charlie trusted him, he'd even gotten her to make a deal with him. Everything had been going according to plan. Until YOU showed up.

At first it wasn't so bad. Sure, you were pretty and intelligent and the only one who could make a decent cup of coffee in the whole hotel. Sure you were funny and sweet and the only one he could stand to sit with in the study to read. You were quiet when it called for it and loud when it was okay. That was all.

But then Alastor started noticing when you weren't there instead of just when you were. He began to schedule when he would read by the fire in the study for when he'd know you were there. It was one of these times that made him realize something might be wrong with him.

Alastor went to the study, ready to read silently alongside you as you both usually did at this time only to find you missing. It was then that he heard Charlie and Angels voices from outside in the hall.

“...no, she's just taking it really hard,” Charlie says softly.

“It’s not her fault,” Angel insists. “Girl needs to chill.”

“You know how she is, her reason for being down here is pretty different from most people's.”

“Yeah, I get that an’ all… But it's still *not* her fault. That crazy motherfucker deserved what he got. Fuck him.”

“Still, she’s just like this. She feels responsible for his death, even if he arguably did deserve it.”

“So, now what? Do we just let it play out?” Angel asks, seemingly sincere.

“I… I don't know,” Charlie sighs, exasperated. “I tried to talk to her, but she won't let me into her room. She’s locked herself in. So, yeah I guess…”

*So… you are in her room were you?* Alastor thought, already beginning to fade into shadows. Then that’s where he would go…

He hadn't even fully corporealized before he could hear the quiet sobs. Alastor slowly approaches the lump in the bed, a curled-up you hiding under the covers like a scared child. He sits beside you, a gentle hand on what he assumes is your head.

“My dear, what troubles you so…?” His crackled voice asks.

With a jump, you throw the covers off of your head, not having realized he was there. The look of shock on your face would have been quite amusing if it wasn't layered over red puffy eyes and an even more pallid complexion than you usually had.

“Alastor!” you chirp, quickly looking away and wiping your eyes. “W-what are you doing here? I thought I locked the door.”

“Indeed you did, luckily I am not bound by such trivial things,” Alastor replies proudly.

You give him a slightly irritated look. He’d take it; it was better than crying.

“I overheard that you were inconsolable up here, wouldn't even let Charlie in. That’s typically my cue to step in. So do tell, what can I do for you? My purpose here is to help after all.”

You give him a skeptical look. This wasn't exactly out of character for Alastor, but you know better than to assume that he would ever do anything purely out of the kindness of his heart.

“I'm not making any deals with you, Alastor,” you say, turning away from him and pulling the covers up to your shoulders.

“Who said anything about a deal?” He replies, only inches from your face.

You scream, jumping up to a sitting position. “Hell’s sake, Alastor. I wish you wouldn't do that.”

Alastor didn't reply, instead choosing to tilt his head with a closed-mouth smile.

With a sigh, you seem to give up. You look down at the sheets, your finger tracing an embroidered pattern on the duvet. “It’s about why I'm down here” you finally admit. “It's… just hard. It's the anniversary of when it happened and it's just…”

“Let me see if I've got this straight,” Alastor asks, spinning his cane. “You feel guilty for the sin that brought you here?”

You nod silently.

“And what exactly was that?”

You look up at him, nervously. “Murder…”

Alastor's eyes glint. He would never have guessed. “And what caused you to do such a… heinous crime against God?”

“He was a friend of my brothers. He was trying to blackmail me into… into doing porn for him.”

“So you murdered a man who'd threatened you?”

You nod. “And other girls.”

“Bit of a pimp, then eh?” He grins, sounds like you did the world a favor.”

You’re taken aback by that, you hadn't even considered that. You look down at the bed, little sniffles being the only sound between the two of you. Alastor moves closer, taking your chin in his thumb and first finger, forcing you to look at him.

“Now… I believe I asked you a question,” he chirps out, voice low and ridden with static. “What do you need? Your any desire is mine to fulfill. No deals necessary.”

You just stare up at him, stunned. There had to be a catch, right? Alastor was not *kind*. He didn't do things for no reason. His goal was always to further his own plans. But no matter how much you try, you can't figure out what he could get out of this, besides your trust.

“Come, my dear. Surely there's something, anything I can do to help,” he tries one last time.

The words fall from your mouth before you can stop them. “Stay with me tonight…”

Alastor pulls back slightly, eyes widening, his grin still present, but nervous. “You want me to…stay?” He asks.

You just nod, moving towards him. “Please?”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Wait, wait, wait,” Rosie throws her hands up, waving them. “She wanted you to stay the night?”

Alastor takes a sip of his coffee, nodding.

“So how'd she take the rejection?” She asks playfully, raising an eyebrow.

“Whatever do you mean?” Alastor questions, lightly placing his cup back on its saucer.

“Well you didn't sleep with her,” she says with a scoff.

Alastor doesn't respond, instead taking another sip from his cup.

Rosie's eyes grow. “Alastor. You didn't.” Her hand flies up to cover her mouth in shock.

“I did as she asked. I'm not one to go back on a promise.”

“And… so… what was it like?” She asks, genuinely interested now.

He ponders, eyes looking off into the middle distance with thought as his brows pull together. “Warm?”

Rosie chokes on her tea.

“I haven't slept that well in a long time, frankly. It's not something I've ever been interested in before.”

“I'm well aware,” she all but stutters out.

Alastor takes another long sip from his coffee before continuing. “Since then, she’s had me stay with her every night this week. Which is the subject of the advice I came to you for.”

Stunned silence. Rosie can't think of a single word. She had not expected this. Instead, she just nods, motioning for him to continue.

“At least she doesn't snore,” he jokes, his canned radio laughter echoing.

“She doesn't…” Rosie blinks a few times, realization setting in. “Wait, so you didn't…”

“Hmm?” Alastor raises an eyebrow, peering at Rosie over his monocle. “Didn't what, my dear?”

“*Sex* dear,” she says bluntly, smirking.

Alastor's eyes are suddenly as wide as Rosie had ever seen them. With his trademark grin still plastered on his face, it was a pretty comedic expression.

“Oh, no, no,” Alastor says through a laugh once his initial shock wears off. “Absolutely not, no. I have no interest in such things. No, no.”

Rosie's grin grows as she squints at her old friend, analyzing every word, every moment. Something was off, and then it struck her.

“Darlin’, you’re dizzy with her,” she says flatly, sipping her tea.

Her words actually silence him for a moment. She couldn't mean that. She was wrong.

“You must be mistaken,” he says, attempting to brush the comment off while readjusting the silverware on the table.

“Well, let's just think about it for a minute. You like her, right?”

“Indeed. She's intelligent, powerful, and quite the little spitfire when she wants to be,” he admits readily.

“And you like being around her? She doesn't make you uncomfortable?”

“Quite the opposite. She goes out of her way to ensure that I am quite comfortable.”

“Al, I think you love this girl,” she says with a squeak of barely contained excitement.

"No,” he says a little more forcefully than intended. “I do not love her. I *like* her, I will readily admit that. But I do not love her. I don't love anyone. I only find it enjoyable to be around her, and I attempt to do what I can for her to be happy and fulfill this silly desire of hers to accend.”

“And you are willing to brutally murder anyone who gets in the way of that..." She adds.

Alastor makes a point not to acknowledge her statement.

“Oh sweetie, honey, darling,” she coos teasingly, reaching a hand out on the table to him. “That’s how I felt about my dear Franklin. Well, before things grew cold between us and he had that *horrible accident~.*”

Alastor's smile is unwavering, but his eyes give away quite a bit. He was thinking, fighting these suggestions in his head, but he trusted Rosie. She'd never done him wrong before. In fact she had even gone out of her way for him on multiple occasions. If she was saying it, she meant it.

“If any other soul in this realm spoke those words to me…” he trails off, but Rosie understands.

“I might be off the mark,” she admits, throwing her hands up. “But promise me you’ll think about it. After everything that girl has gone through, she deserves at least that much.”

The walk home is far from peaceful. Alastor’s mind is plagued with thoughts of his conversation with Rosie. She was one of the only souls in hell he would ever admit to feeling anything even remotely close to “trust” in. He wants to scoff, wave away such frivolous accusations and move along; but when he tries, something deep in his brain tugs at him. Like a hook stuck in a fish that was too stubborn to be reeled in.

With a heavy sigh, Alastor walks into the hotel. There are more sinners there than usual. The sight lifted his spirits, Charlie would be happy. Though quickly his grin twists to one of chagrin. It happened again. What was this? Surely Rosie wasn't right. He knew himself. He was The Radio Demon, one of the most feared overlords in hell, serial killer, and cannibal. There was no way that he-

Alastor’s eyes lock onto you, standing at the bar, back against the wall, hands up in a defensive position while some… *kreatin* stood in front of you, fist against the wall beside your head, keeping you there. He was suddenly boiling with rage. His grin shifts to a sneer, antlers growing steadily as his legs take him closer to the offending and soon-to-be *deceased* sinner.

“No, I’m sorry, I really don't want any…” he hears your non-confrontational voice and his throat burns.

“Come on,” the man’s gravely voice insists. “What’s one drink? It's on me.”

“I believe the lady said N͇̱͐̿͛́o̷͖̤̺̥͈̲̓̓.̢͙̼͈̝ͫ͊̋ͅ.” Alastor’s voice contorts, his eyes turning to dials as he grows in size.

The man stutters, mumbling out apologies before turning and quickly attempting to escape. Alastor made to follow but feels tiny hands on him, turning harshly to see who dared to stop him, only to see your small form hugging his arm. It was as though you had poured cold water over him. He shrinks back down to size, his grin shifting from its twisted form to a much softer one as he takes in your trembling frame.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He reaches a hand up and pats your head gently and you grip him tighter.

“Thank you, Alastor…Thank you.”

Alastor closes his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nose.

*Fuck*…

The next week was difficult…

It was as if everything was conspiring together to find new and unique ways to piss Alastor off. Between having to restrain himself from tearing to shreds and devouring a new resident at the hotel after he disturbed you with extremely inappropriate remarks one fateful afternoon, and him finding himself genuinely happy at the sight of you when you were telling Charlie about it later… It felt as though his sanity was being used as a yo-yo. But this was not the end of it, or even the worst of it to come.

On one quiet afternoon, Alastor is sitting in the study, reading a book and sipping coffee, relaxing. Or at least, he *had* been relaxing. It was rather difficult to unwind when you are being watched.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alastor can see Charlie peeking in through the doorway. Each time he looks up to welcome her in, she disappears. She even begins just walking past the doorway over and over as though she is trying to work up the courage to go in, only to change her mind at the last second. After about ten minutes of this cat-and-mouse game, Alastor can't take it anymore.

“Are you going to enter, my dear, or are you planning on just staring the entire night?” He asks, not looking up from his book.

“O-oh. Sorry,” Charlie enters sheepishly, walking to sit in a nearby plush chair.

“So what brings you to me this afternoon?” Alastor asks, closing his book and placing it on the little table beside him.

“Um,” she looks down at her hands which are stuck between her thighs. She really did seem quite nervous. “I wanted to ask you for some advice?”

He perks at that. “Of course, my dear. Ask away, I’m always happy to help.”

“It's for a friend of mine.”

Okay, that doesn't narrow anything down, he thinks.

“A mutual friend of ours,” she continues.

And that narrows it down considerably. So she is talking about you, Alastor decides.

“Yes, and what problem does our friend have.

“Okay, so… There’s this guy…”

It was as though a hole opened in his chest. Three little words. Why had they affected him so strongly? He needed to quash this ridiculous and frivolous emotion.

“And you came to me?” He asks, examining his claws. “My dear, I'm hardly the sentimental type.”

“Well, he’s uh, a lot like you. Old fashioned, proper.” She looks so nervous to be asking him this, her face is red, which was quite noticeable with her pale complexion. “She… she *really* likes him, but she doesn't know how to tell him. So I hoped maybe you could help me give her some advice…?”

Alastor wants nothing more than to ask this man’s name and hunt him down.

The thought causes him to pause. What a strange intrusive thought. He attempts to shake it off, turning his attention back to Charlie.

“Well,” he begins. “That isn't much to go on.” Alastor crosses his legs, it feels as though he was trying to tie himself into a knot. What an annoying feeling.

“Ok, so… he’s smart and generous um…” Charlie bites her lip, “Funny?”

Alastor remains silent, this isn't very useful information.

“Is he a sinner, dear?” he inquires.

Charlie perks at that. “Oh, yes actually.”

He has to suppress a growl. *So it was some lowly human then,* He thinks as though he in't the same. He attempts some deduction. A sinner who identifies as male. Old-fashioned. Proper… That likely ruled out the recently deceased. Apparently “smart” and “funny”. Though Alastor mused he couldn’t be *that” smart to have ended up on his shit-list. He was beginning to compile a list of suspects. Just as he was about to ask another probing question, there came a voice from the door.

“Hey, Charlie, there’s some new girl here who swears that you told her she could have a room with a jacuzzi?” Angel says incredulously. “Bitch, if we have rooms with jacuzzis why the *fuck* am I staying in a traditional fucking suite?”

“Oh, uh, I think she may have misunderstood,” Charlie begins before turning to Alastor. “Sorry, I think I’ll have to deal with this personally… Thanks for listening, but, honestly… you can forget it. It’s not that important anyway.”

With that, she stands and leaves, though through the doorway Alastor can swear he saw Angel playfully elbow her ribs, though he couldn't begin to guess what that was about.

A sinner who was smart, generous, and funny. This was sounding less and less like someone who would have ended up in hell. He would do more reconnaissance later. For now, he wanted to prepare for his radio show tomorrow, hoping it could take his mind off this itching feeling in the back of his head.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It's quiet in Alastor’s room. The only sounds coming from the ticking of his grandfather clock and the quiet sounds of jazz from his gramophone. It had been a rough day, well… a rough fewI days. But this afternoon seemed to be going more his way, he thought. At least until he hears a knock at his door.

Alastor sighs, letting his head fall over the back of his chair. Who could it possibly be at this hour? After so much inner turmoil, he had very much wished to just relax in his room. It seemed as though even that was asking too much. Alastor steadies himself, pinching the bridge of his nose, and stands. He opens the door only to be surprised. Outside stood a very nervous looking Charlie. With a quirk of his brow; Alastor's grin grows.

“And what, may I ask, brings you to my humble abode at such a late hour?” He asks.

“Well,” she begins with a twitchy look in her eye. “Tomorrow we're doing a sort of graduation party,” she begins to explain how she has a surprise party planned for you, that your progress was so much faster than she could have ever assumed and so she wanted to throw you a party before you disappeared up to heaven.

Each new word from her mouth felt like another weight added to the chain that threatened to drag Alastor down into some deeper pit of hell itself.

“You think she'll be heavenbound soon?” He asks, his mouth dry.

“Yes!” She replies cheerfully. “The rain she was down here to begin with was pretty shakey, anyway. To be honest, I'm surprised it's taken this long.”

“You'll have to excuse me, my dear, but I've just remembered I have something very important to take care of,” Alastor says with a harsh smile.

“But I haven't even asked what I came here to-” Charlie attempts to finish, but is cut off as the door closes in her face.

With a determination he hadn't felt in a long time, Alastor turns and I'm stalks towards his table, picking up his book and returning it to its shelf before dissolving into Shadow. He doesn't reappear outside your door, or even attempt to knock. Instead he apparates directly into your room. Luckily you were looking in the direction his shape takes form in so you're not quite as startled by his sudden appearance, even if it does shake you slightly, seeing as how you're in bed and in your nightgown.

“Alastor?” You ask as he solidifies and steps towards you.

"Darling," He whispers, a small smirk on his face at your state of undress. "I'm here to make a deal…”

"a deal...? with me?" You ask, curious.

"Yes, my dear," He murmurs, his tone turning serious. "Charlie has informed me that your ascension is nearing. I have come to persuade you to… make a different choice.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. "Oh... she said that?" You ask. "And why... is that?"

Alastor takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Because, I'd be... lonely, without you here. I've grown fond of your quiet presence, and I don't like the thought of going back to solitude.”

You tilt your head. "But you have Charlie, aren't you and her quite close?"

Alastor pauses for a moment at your question, his eyes narrowing slightly. He never thought you would question his reasoning.

"She... it isn't the same," He growls. "I want you, here... always, keeping me... sane." A hint of sadness crosses his face, but it's quickly replaced by a smirk. "Charlie and I have... similar goals. But we are not close. She doesn't need me the way you do... and she certainly doesn't have... my tastes" He says, taking another step towards you.

You give up on this line of questioning and instead start a new one.

"So you want to make a deal for my soul?" you ask. "You get my soul and in return I can have... anything I want?”

Alastor smiles again, but more genuinely this time. "Yes... that's what I'm proposing. Your soul, in exchange for anything your heart desires." He says with a grin, sitting down on your bed and holding out a hand towards you. "Do we have a deal?”

You feel the static in the air, the sound seeming to fill your ears like a flood as he leans towards you. You watch as his antlers slowly grow and green scratch marks appear in the air, forming into unfamiliar symbols that flash in and out. You look down at his hand, your gaze steeling before you tentatively reach out, but then pause. Just as he thinks you might pull back, you do the opposite, confidently gripping his hand and looking at him with a determined glint in your eyes.

"Deal.”

Alastor chuckles low as you accept his hand and the deal. The static intensifies as he grips your hand back, pulling you closer to him. The symbols in the air flare brightly for a moment before they vanish, leaving a faint glow that's slow to fade. You watch as the green stitching appears in his lips, a gold contract and a quill appearing between you.

You take the pen and sign your name without hesitation. The moment the last letter is written, a flash of green light fills the room and you feel a heavy weight settle around your neck as a neon green collar appears there. The chain attached to it leading to Alastor's still outstretched hand.

Alastor chuckles again as the collar settles around your neck, tugging on it playfully. He brings his free hand up to trace a finger along the chain, watching it with interest before he looks back at you.

"The weight of your decision…” he says. You watch his finger as it slides down the chain, your body leaning towards him. Alastor's finger hooks into the collar, pulling a little harder, causing your body to lean closer to him still. "...is now physically upon you," he finishes, a dark glint in his eyes as he studies you. He leans in close, whispering seductively, "And what could you possibly want so badly you'd be willing to trade your soul for it without a second thought?”

"If I tell you, you can't go back on it right?" You ask, your eyes boring into his. "Just like I can't go back on the deal, you can't either, correct?”

Alastor smirks, a wicked and sinister expression taking over his features. "That's right," he confirms, running his thumb along the collar before letting it fall from his fingers. "Once you've signed the contract, there's no going back. So go ahead. Tell me what is it that could tempt you so drastically. What did you desire?”

You're silent a moment, just staring at him, still leaned in close, before a single word falls from your lips.

"You…”

Alastor tilts his head slightly, processing your word as you stare at each other for a tense, long moment. Slowly, his lips curl into a small smirk.

"You desire me?" He repeats, an almost mocking tone in his voice, but his eyes tell a different story.

You nod, silently moving forward towards him, closing the distance between you. Alastor watches as you crawl across the bed towards him. Something flashes in his expression, but it's gone just as quick as it came. He moves his hand from your collar to the small of your back, pulling you gently closer by slowly reeling you in. Closer, until your body is almost flush with his, able to feel the rise and fall of his chest under his suit jacket, his lips a breath away from yours. You look up at him, blinking rapidly, mouth slightly open.

"Yes," you say in almost a whisper. "What I desire most... is you…”

Alastor closes his eyes, your words causing a visible shiver to run through him. He's quiet for a moment, just simply holding you close before he takes in a deep breath and finally crashes his lips against yours, a low moan rumbling in his chest. You gasp into the kiss, moaning. Alastor takes the chance to slip his tongue between your lips, tangling with yours as he pulls you closer against him. His hands move from your waist and up your back, pulling you impossibly close as he devours your mouth hungrily.

A groan escapes him as he can feel your tongue fighting his own for dominance. He finds he likes the challenge. Alastor chuckles against your lips, breaking the kiss for just a moment before diving back in, hands slipping up under your shirt to rest against the warmth of your skin. He matches your fight for dominance with his own, a growl rumbling through his chest as you continue.

Tonight, Alastor would claim full ownership of you...

#fanfic #fanfiction #ask #writing #mine #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #16+#no smut #oneshot

223 notes · View notes

anadiasmount · 3 days

Text

missed you - jb blurb

quick sum: coming back from a short work/ girls trip back to your little family where everything seems meant to be.

masterlist | jude’s masterlist

“eva sit still baby,” jude chuckled as he saw his almost one year old kick in her high chair, noticing the plate of food made for her. “we just bathed and dressed you i don’t want you to get dirty again,” he set the food in front of her along with a sippy cup filled with her favorite juice.

jude blew on the food that’s as still hot, making sure it was cool before feeding her. it was exact like this for the past 5 days without you. jude couldn’t denied and he missed you terribly, more than eva. he hated the house without you, that laugh, loud screams from time to time, you next to him in bed. it felt strange and he had been shown what it like when he’s not there.

the first night was rough, eva fussy and it was clear she missed you. she could sense it wasn’t her mommy when jude tried to rock her to sleep, and was awake most of the night waiting for you. yet as the second and third night passed by she accepted and laid in your spot in her daddies arms. safe and sound.

jude struggled. you were his missing piece. the first day he arrived late to training since he was used to you waking him up, and he always forgot something whether it was an items or a belonging of eva. in every phone call you could hear the sadness and tiredness in his voice, which made you feel guilty but jude reassured you to have the bestest fun because you deserved it.

he needed you desperately and he couldn’t wait for you to get home. they both did.

“is it yummy?” he scrunched his nose as eva nodded her head and gave him a kissy face. “it’s not like mommy’s food but i tried my best,” he fed her once again, cleaning the corners of her mouth to avoid it spreading down and getting messy. “you miss her too don’t you?” he loved talking to her. jude was a known yapper, he spoke to eva when she was in your belly and don’t even get started now that she was learning and comprehending words.

“i missed both of you.”

jude snapped his head around quickly, eva yelping and kicking in her chair when she heard you. jude was first to greet you, giving eva her final bite before lunging towards you and pulling you into a messy kiss. he didn’t care, his girl was back in his arms and that’s all that mattered. he held your face giving you kisses on your cheeks, bridge of nose and temple. giving you all the attention you lacked from.

you ushered to eva who gave you a toothy smile as she called out for you. you gently removed her from the high chair, sighing a breath of relief when you held your babygirl, her head finishing home on your shoulder and her chunky arms wrapping around your neck. “oh my. i’ve missed you both so so much,” you walked towards jude hugging his middle, your head finishing home in the crook of his neck.

“we’re so glad to have you back my love,” jude replied, rubbing his hand against your back.

jude advised you to go freshen up, as he packed and cleaned the kitchen from the dinner mess. eva rested on his hip as he gently cleaned her mouth with warm water to remove any excess food she had after eating a small cookie. he prepared her night bottle and changed her into her night onsie. “mamma?” he looked down to see her almost close to sleeping yet yearing for you.

“i’m right here baby,” you kissed jude’s shoulder before going both of them on the couch. eva crawling into your hold and immediately fell asleep. jude asked you many questions about what you did, how it went, wanting to know everything as if he was there. and you made sure to give him every ounce of love because you missed him terribly.

“i see what you go through now when i’m not here,” you heard jude say softly not wanting to wake up eva. jude rested his head on your shoulder, “what do you mean?” you ask looking down to see his big brown eyes staring right into yours. “i now know what it’s like when it’s only the two of you here and i’m away on england break or away games,” was all he said.

“you did an amazing job jude,” you assured him, “i know it can get difficult and you feel the need to give up, but you were killing two birds at once. you had training yet also had dad duties. and that can be alot on your plate...” you kissed his temple, ushering him to lay on your lap, adjusting eva’s chunky feet so her daddy could lay comfortably as well.

“i can’t explain how much i missed you,” jude laughed almost embarrassed because you knew he was being needy. but jude was that attached and in love with you. “it didn’t feel the same without you here. it felt empty, i didn’t have anyone to talk to besides eva, and my mom. i just wanted you here,” jude admitted. you pouted at your man, knowing he was trusting you with his vulnerability.

“i don’t know if it was just me but anywhere i went i was looking for you. you and eva were my only thoughts everyday. i was seeing delulu thinking you were there. i had to cuddle with y/f/n because i’m so used to it,” you joked earring a laugh from him. “we both needed each other,” you sealed. the two of spoke quietly as you finished your tea, watching your soap opera together.

“did any guys come up to you?”

“really jude?”

“what i need to know.”

“yes… many did,” you lied. but not really because there was few who approached you.

“excuse me? what do you mean?”

“relax i told them you were my husband…” you laughed, shushing eva when she twitched her sleep, cuddling closer to you. “good.”

“and that i had a kid.”

“even better.”

“jude?”

“hmm?”

“im messing with you…”

“oh my god.”

#judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb

366 notes · View notes

alk4li · 1 day

Text

“HOW DEEP IS YOUR LOVE—

cyno, thoma, neuvilette, alhaitham, diluc, kaeya

what type of relationships you have with the genshin men? a serious relationship, situationship, fwb etc.

a/n: i rewrote this sm times cus i wasnt happy with how it turned out

SERIOUS RELATIONSHIP—

cyno

✧ ok i see him as such an amazing lover tbh

✧ would want to become a dad bc he thinks dad jokes are the next step towardsa higher level of comedic excellency

✧ tighnari begs you not to let this man have a child

✧ but despite knowing his job could endanger you, he trusts in your ability to protect yourself

✧ would randomly buy you trinkets that remind him of you bc hes usually away for so long

✧ he keeps a little box of momentos that he snagged from dates with you. it consists of things like tickets from events you both went to and seashells from the time you both went to the beach.

✧ will not shut up about invocation tcg

✧ almost went insane when you jokingly told him you didn't want to play invocation tcg with him

✧ when you do silly things he joins you without question

you laid down your living room floor with your hands outstretched towards the ceiling. you shut your eyes as you soaked in the feeling of the ceiling fan gently blowing wind. you heard a pair of footsteps approaching, eventually stopping next to you. you pry your eyes open to see cyno looming over you. "what are you doing?" he asked, gesturing to your limp figure. you prop yourself up on your elbows and stared back at cyno, "i wanted to feel like a leaf." you replied. cyno stared at you for a moment, before walking towards the windows. he reels the curtains back and shoves the window panels open, allowing a gush of wind in. intrigued, you stand up and watched as cyno began making his way back to you. "what are you doing?" you question cyno who was standing behind you now. cyno reaches under your arms and swiftly lifts you up, earning a shriek from you. "pretending that i'm a tree."

neuvilette

✧ probably a little busy for a relationship but tries to make it work

✧ i feel like befriending the melusines is a easy way into his heart lol

✧ you had a small interaction with neuvilette one day, probably bumping into him and he helped you onto your feet

✧ the melusines saw this and their minds started PLOTTING

✧ they bothered you and neuvilette every hour of the day for 2 months straight about a 'blind date'

✧ when you both finally agreed (the melusines lied to both of you that the other had agreed to get you to agree) you almost passed out when you realised who he was

✧ it worked out though, because now you're in his kitchen throwing apples at his head

✧ he gives out amazing advice too

✧ ah, what a man

standing at the entrance of the cafe, the melusines snicker and giggle. they nudge your calves, signalling you to enter. hesitantly, you step foot into the quiet cafe. you looked around, trying to find the guy the melusines have been trying to set you up with for the past 2 months. you nervously searched, looking for a man who was sitting by himself. when your eyes landed on a secluded seat by the windows, you almost fainted. with languid footsteps, you walked towards neuvilette, who had noticed you when you walked in. neuvilette stood and pulled out your seat, "have a seat," you gave him a small smile as he settled back in next to you. "i remember you, i bumped into you a few months back," neuvilette said, eyebrows raised in amusement. that's when an epiphany hit the both of you, "oh." he mumbled. "that's why the melusines kept pestering me," you giggled, taking note of a few colourful animal ears poking out from the nearby window. "well, let's at least entertain their wishes for a little." neuvilette nods at your request, flipping open the menu.

thoma

✧ 10/10 lover boy

✧ he wants a established relationship

✧ when he first confessed he was a MESS

✧ dreams of settling down with kids in inazuma with his lover.

✧ i feel like he would appreciate scenic dates more than dinners and shopping dates.

✧ he wants children in the future

✧ SUCH A FAMILY MAN

✧ he gets insecure about not being good enough for his s/o

✧ but he tries his best to build a future w you!

the streets of inazuma were lively and full of colour, the evening sun settling in the background. your footsteps blended in seamlessly with thoma's, with your hand laid comfortably in his callous palms. "ow-" a quiet voice rang behind you and thoma. shuffling is heard as you turn to see a child laying face down on the concrete pavement. releasing your hold on thoma, you stepped closer to the boy. soft hazel eyes looked back at your own, glistening in the light. a smile etched itself onto your face as you extend a hand towards the boy, he hesitantly takes it as you gently lift him onto his feet. "are you okay?" you ask. the boy shyly nods, a wince escapes his lips just as quickly. glancing down at his limped foot, a small gash on his knee starts bleeding. with swift movements, you grab a napkin to gently dab at his wound. spectating from behind was an awestruck thoma, something felt so comforting about the interaction. without a silver of doubt and unequivocally, "she is the one."

SITUATIONSHIP—

alhaitham

✧ this is a hill i will forever die on

✧ he's so rational.. would make a pros and cons list about dating

✧ definitely tells you "sorry, i love you but this will never work. you need someone who can be there for you."

✧ he thinks that with his work and your life, it would clash and create conflict

✧ whenever you argue about

✧ everyone has no idea what is going on, tighnari and cyno thinks he's dumb and kaveh thinks you're dumb

✧ kaveh doesn't understand why you stay with a prick like alhaitham

✧ he truly likes you but his heart will forever lie in his love for his study and craft.

✧ he wouldn't tell you to wait for him because he's calculated the optimal time for dating and it's undefined

✧ sadly, he will never have enough time for another lover

alhaitham's embrace flushed against your weary skin. his room sat too silent yet too loud. the only sound you heard was the gentle beating of althaitham's heavy heart. his hands cradles your own, "i don't understand why you keep distancing yourself," a raspy whisper falls from your lips. alhatham instinctively draws your body closer to his own, his face moves towards the valley of your neck. feathery light touches grazes your forearm. "this was what i was worried about. you would be unhappy with how absent i am," the words hang coarsely in the air, cold to the touch but burning in your heart. you breathed in sharply. “this is why a relationship would be a bad idea.”

anger rose in your throat, “that's different. you're absent now because you're choosing to avoid me. you’re being selfish.” breaking free from his embrace, you turn and pin your fiery eyes against his emerald ones. however, he could only reply with a solemn look, “the probability this will turn out well is zero,” he replied. alhaitham knows how probability works, it can never truly be zero, but it can also never be ensured that this would turn out well. alhaitham is just a man that wouldn't take that risk.

diluc

✧ this man has no time for lovers (and way too traumatised)

✧ but does the occasional fancy date

✧ the type to leave you hanging for 3 business days

✧ makes it up to you by buying flowers after realising his mistake

✧ all in all he doesnt see this as a long term thing, so dont get too disappointed

✧ but he also can't take the feeling of losing you because he can't stomach the idea of losing someone he loves

✧ it's a hot and cold goose chase

✧ you'll be a happy for a week then he ghosts you for another week

curling in the comfort of your couch, you sulkily wolf down a bag of snacks. it has been officially 72 hours since the last time you heard back from diluc. the red headed man had disappeared without a word three days ago. after a night out, with a promise to pick you up the next day. it has been well over the decided time, and diluc is once again, a no show! a loud knock is heard against your door, there's a silent pause before another loud bang was heard. you pull your weight and drag yourself to the door. in front, diluc stood, a rare display of panic in his eyes, a bouquet of flowers clumsily clasped between his arm. you slant against the door frame, disappointed eyes stare back at his. "im so sorry, i just got so caught up on works and," he uncharacteristically fumbles over his words, guilt eats away at him as he eyes your sunken and tired eyes. you nod, looking at your feet. "i figured," there's a moment of ghostly silence. diluc hesitantly reaches forward, lightly resting his palm on your shoulder, testing the waters. when you don't push him away, firm arms wrap around your head, pulling you into his chest. a chaste kiss on your forehead, diluc gently rubs your back, "i'll make it up. i promise."

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS—

kaeya

✧ bsfr this man is too traumatised for love but would chase the adrenaline of it

✧ he doesn't want something a hassling as a situationship, no strings attached!

✧ he's still really cordial with you tho, treats you well

✧ buthonestly.. don’t get too attached or expect much, mans has been through the wringer of life

✧ lisa suspects something going on between you two but has no evidence to prove it

✧ amber just thinks you both are secretly dating

the feeling of kaeya’s rough arms clinging to your abdomen shakes you awake, suddenly realising that you’re wound up in his bed. again. the movement makes the male beside you stir, he groggily props himself up on his elbows, rubbing his temples, “morning, y/n. slept well?” a grin spreads across his face as he grabs and pulls you back onto the mattress. “great, actually. dreamt about monstadt without kaeya alberich,” you joke. kaeya rolled his eyes, gently punching your shoulder. “how awfully boring, who would accompany you to insufferable events then?” kaeya teases, poking at your sides. despite how domestic it all felt, deep down you both knew that by 12pm, these memories would slip into another void along with the other many escapades.

173 notes · View notes

chosok-amo · 2 days

Text

THE IT GUY : SATOSUGU

one day your boss asks you to keep an eye on an IT guy who is fixing his computer— who knows two young men— 10 years younger than you can fix a lot of things than just a computer

content warning : satosugu! smut, age gap, threesome

you picked up the phone as it rang for the second time. you knew by the sound of the ring that it was an internal call and weren’t surprised to hear your boss’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Can you come through y/n please,” he said.

“Sure, Mr. Kento,” you answered. “I’ll be right there.”

you got up from your desk and walked over to the adjoining door that took you into your boss’s office. you always wondered why he didn’t just come across and stick his head around the door when he needed you, but it didn’t seem to be his style and he always phoned you. you entered the office and walked across to sit on the opposite side of the desk from your boss, Nanami Kento. He seemed to be busy trying to finish writing something and you waited patiently until he looked up.

“I’m off out now and will be gone for the rest of the day,” Mr. Kento started.

“OK,” answered you.

“I’ve arranged for the IT guys to come in and get on with fitting out my office while I’m gone,” he continued.

“OK,” you repeated.

“Can you just keep an eye on what they are doing,” he asked. “Just make sure they keep the PC in the same position on my desk and leave the place like they found it.”

“Sure thing Mr. Kento,” you replied. “Is there anything else I need to be aware of?”

“No,” Mr. Kento answered. “If there are any problems just give me a call. my phone will be switched on between meetings so you should be able to catch me if you need anything.”

“No problem,” you said and getting up from the desk made your way back to your office. you left the door open and eventually heard Mr. Kento leave. around one hour later you were sitting concentrating on your work, when you heard a noise from Mr. Kento’s office. you got up and walked through to find two young men pulling cable wire and computer equipment into the office.

“You must be the IT guys,” said you.

One of the men smiled cheekily. “I can see there’s no fooling you,” he said. his little comment flushed you a little. The man had a handsome face and you could see the way his unsettling bright blue eyes suddenly roamed up and down your body. “OK,” you continued. “My boss told me to keep an eye on you.”

“That sounds like fun,” the man continued. “Is there any way you want us while you watch? We always try our best to keep women satisfied,” he smiled while looking back at you. you flushed a little more. the two young men looked around 10 years younger than you, probably in their early twenties. “No,” you finally answered and watched as the two men got to work. “Try to keep the place tidy,” said you.

“Yes boss,” the man said and turned to get on with his work. “Oh, by the way, I’m Satoru and this is Suguru if you’re interested.” you grinned. “What makes you think I’m interested,” you said as you walked back into your office. with the door open you caught sight of the men moving around your boss’s office every now and again. you had felt a little flash of excitement when the man had been speaking, partly at the cheeky innuendo about keeping women satisfied and partly at his handsome good looks.

every so often you would go through to see how they were getting on and Satoru always threw a few cheeky comments in your direction. Suguru seemed quieter, but you had caught his gaze lingering on you when he thought you weren’t looking. you began to get a little excited by the attention the two men were showing you and they noticed that as the day wore on you were coming through to see them more and more frequently.

finally, as the men had almost completed the work, they called you through. “Did your boss say where he wanted the PC on his desk?” Suguru asked you. you looked around. The cabling was all hidden from view and the place looked tidy. “You boys do a good job,” you said. “Like we say,” Satoru replied with a huge smile on his face. “We always work hard to keep women satisfied.” you smiled, but ignored the cheeky comment. “So the computer,” you said.

“Yeah, we just need to know where your boss wants it on the desk so we can finish the cabling,” said Suguru.

“Keep it in the same place,” replied you.

The two men got to work. Suguru at the side of the desk and Satoru got on his knees and moved underneath. They worked for a few minutes and then Satoru shouted to you. “Could you just sit at the desk and see that you can reach the PC OK.”

you walked around and sat on the chair. you reached out to the new PC. “It feels fine to me,” you said.

“OK,” said Satoru. “There are a few final adjustments, could you just wait a second.” Under the desk he looked towards your legs. your knees were parted slightly and he moved his head to try and see up the skirt to your panties. “Umm…, your legs are in the way, could you just move them.”

“What way?” asked you, not realizing what was going on at first. “Like this,” laughed Satoru. He put his hand on your knees and pushed your legs a little further apart. “Hey,” laughed at you, but felt a sudden shot of excitement as you realized that Satoru would be looking up at your skirt. “Is this necessary for the PC?” you asked.

“No,’ said Satoru, “But the view is really gorgeous from where I am.” you felt Satoru’s hand slide a little further up your leg and your excitement grew. you looked at Suguru. “Go lock the door,” you said and he could hear the excitement creeping into your voice. Suguru quickly moved to the door and locked it. you could feel the fingers running ever higher up your leg and moaned as Satoru worked them onto her panties. you slid down the chair a little and parted your thighs some more.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned as the fingers worked around your panties, your pussy starting to tingle in excitement at the touch. Satoru could feel the damp patch growing on the panties as he played. He put his chin on the edge of the chair and told you to slide forward. As you did you gasped at the sudden sensation of the tongue licking onto your panties. your breathing began to get a little ragged as Satoru went to work with his tongue. It was a little cramped under the desk for his huge body, but he was far too excited to worry about it and licked hard onto the panties.

As Suguru had walked back from the door, you had clearly seen the bulge growing in his pants. As he came to stand beside you he quickly pulled the hardening cock out and grabbed it in his hand. you turned your head and saw him stroking the hard shaft and bringing it closer to your face. you realized what a complete slut you were being, but it was too late to pull back. Not that you wanted to, but you find that acting slutty was a massive turn and you could feel your excitement surging as the two men started to really use your body as a dirty little sex toy.

you closed your eyes as you felt the tip of the hard cock being stroked onto your face. you could feel the little trails of pre-cum being left on your skin as Suguru worked his cock around. you finally turned your face fully to the side and let Suguru stroke the cock over your lips. you pushed the tip of your tongue out and could feel the hard shaft sliding over it as the cock stroked across her lips. Suguru pushed his hips forward a little, moaning as you parted your lips to let him slide the head of the hard cock inside. He could feel your teeth gently grazing over the sensitive head and it sent a shiver up his spine. He slid in and out a little, enjoying the sensation, before pushing forward a little harder to push his cock in deeper.

you clamped your lips around the hard shaft and moaned as they slid along the cock. you kept your head still as Suguru began to fuck his cock in and out. He finally pushed in deep moved his hands to the back of your head and tried to pull you harder onto him. you resisted a little as you felt the cock hitting the back of your throat, eventually, Suguru push his cock all the way in so that you were taking his entire length.

Under the desk, Satoru was getting more and more excited as his tongue lapped at the wetness of your panties. He finally wanted more and moving his head back, ran his fingers onto the panties and worked them below the material. you gasped as you felt the panties being forced to the side so that your naked pussy was exposed. Your gasp turned to a moan as you felt Satoru lick his tongue onto your pussy. The tongue pushed hard against you, opening you up so that you could feel it start to burrow inside. your moans got louder as you felt the tongue lapping at the wetness on the smooth inner walls of your pussy.

Satoru finally felt too cramped at being stuck under the desk and made his way out. As he stood up he was greeted by the sight of Suguru circling his hips as you took his full length in your mouth.

“Fuck,” said Satoru, stopping to watch the sight of the older woman taking cock. He suddenly felt his excitement surge and quickly moved around the desk. He made you stand up and watched as you managed to do it without taking your mouth from the hard cock inside it. Satoru moved behind you and quickly slid the skirt up around your waist. He wasted no time in grabbing the panties and pulling them down to expose your naked ass. The sight drove his excitement higher and he pushed himself forward onto it, forcing his cock into the butt crease and sliding it up and down.

Satoru reached out and grabbing an ass cheek in each hand, pulled them apart so that the underside of his cock was rubbing against the tight hole that had been revealed. The excitement of having your asshole stroked by a hard cock seemed to spur the excitement in you. you started to bob your head up and down hard on Suguru’s cock. Satoru worked the tip of his cock around your tight hole and then slid it down onto your pussy lips.

He could feel your pushing back onto him and you seemed desperate to get the cock inside you. Satoru quickly worked the head of his hard shaft to the slick opening and teased it around. He pushed forward and moaned as the tightness of the wet pussy closed around his cock. He circled his hips, stirring the head of his hard shaft inside the pussy, before he began to force himself forward. you moaned as you felt the cock push all the way inside you so that you could feel Satoru’s body grinding against your ass.

you wanted to be completely filled at both ends so you quickly slid your mouth down the hard shaft you were sucking. Suguru moaned as his cock hit the back of your throat and his excitement surged again as he felt your soft lips against balls. you were in ecstasy at the feeling of two cocks filling your holes and holding them inside you for as long as you could. you finally pulled back from the cock in your mouth gasping a little for air.

“Just fuck me hard,” you moaned and the two men didn’t need a second invitation. They grabbed you and pulled you to the center of the room, forcing you down onto your back. Suguru dropped down between your legs this time and used his knees to push them apart. He slid the skirt up and lowered his cock onto your pussy and you moaned as you could feel him stroke the head against your clit. It was a new experience for you and you lifted your ass up to push harder against the cock.

Suguru worked his hard shaft over the little hard nub for a short while before finally sliding it down to your pussy lips. you could feel the head of the cock sliding around in the wetness, getting coated in your juice. It finally moved to the wet hole and slid inside. Suguru teased it around gently before finally ramming it in, making you gasp at how hard the cock fucked all the way into you. “fuck suguru— Ahh, yess!” you moaned as Suguru began to fuck you.

As you lay being fucked, you turned your head to look at Satoru who had been watching the action. He was stroking his shaft and he finally moved forward. you got ready to take a cock in your mouth again, but Satoru had other ideas. He quickly stripped open the buttons of your blouse and pulled it open. He then slid your tits out of the bra cups and started to play with the nipples, stroking his fingers over them to make them hard. He got up and stood over you, straddling your body just above your tits. He then moved down and you watched as the hard cock closed in on your tits.

you could feel your anticipation rising as the cock neared and let out a moan as it stroked down onto your tits. Satoru worked his cock into your cleavage and made you push your tits together. He moaned as he could feel his hard shaft being trapped between the breasts. your tits were big enough to completely wrap around his cock and it almost disappeared from sight. Satoru sat still for a moment, just enjoying the sensation of his cock being squeezed by the soft tit flesh. He slowly began to rock his hips, trying to fuck his cock into the cleavage. He could feel his cock sliding along the smooth skin and it spurred his excitement. He sped up his movements, feeling the pressure building in his balls as he tit fucked you.

The two men started to work their cocks into you hard and fast and you could feel your excitement growing. It surged when you heard Suguru speaking. “Lets do her fucking pussy and ass together,” he said. “Fuck, good idea,” said Satoru. “I want ass.”

Suguru felt the two men pull off you. Suguru lay on his back and held his cock straight up. Satoru stood and pulled you up. He moved you to straddle Suguru and watched as you lowered your hips to the cock and took it back inside your pussy. Suguru reached up and pulled you down onto him as Satoru moved behind you and got to his knees. He grabbed his cock and slid the tip onto your ass, forcing it between the cheeks to find your tight hole.

“Fuck— ahh..” you moaned in excitement as you felt the cock press against you. This was another new experience for you and you waited for the sensation of your ass and pussy being filled with hard cock. Satoru pushed the tip of his cock hard against the hole, feeling it open up a little under the pressure. you started to squeal as the cock forced its way inside your tight hole.

“Fuck, go deeper,” you moaned and Satoru pushed forward harder. you could feel your ass being spread wide open and the sensation of your ass and pussy being fucked by a hard cock drove you wild. “yes, yes— oh, fuck! me.. fuck me harder!” you urged the two men to treat you like a dirty little cock slut and they began to fuck you. It was so exciting for you that you u quickly found herself reaching an orgasm.

Your squeals got louder and you bit your lip to silence yourself, fearing someone might hear. As the two cocks pounded you, you finally felt the orgasm burst deep inside you. “Shit, y/n! your pussy feels so good,” Suguru moans. The pleasure flowed from your pussy and ass to the rest of your body and you were suddenly shaking hard as the excitement took hold. you bit your lip harder to the point where she was almost drawing blood, knowing that if you didn’t the scream would escape your lips.

you worked hard to remain quiet as your pussy and ass gripped hard around the cocks inside you and it sent you ou to a peak of ecstasy. As the excitement finally started to fade you could feel your chest heaving. you urged the men to give you everything they had and they worked their cocks harder into her holes.

The tightness of the ass around his hard shaft caused Satoru to be the first to lose control. He could feel his balls tingling as they got ready to release. “fuck, fuck y/n, your ass hug my dick so good!” He worked to hold it back as long as possible, letting the pressure in his body build until it was almost unbearable. He finally cracked and let out a moan as the cum suddenly started to shoot hard into your ass. you could feel it being released into your tight hole and pushed back onto Satoru, clenching your ass cheeks to squeeze his cock. He kept pushing onto you, the pleasure of releasing his cum inside you making him moan louder.

Suguru gave up the fight to control himself soon after. He looked up into your face and the expression of pure pleasure he saw made him lose control. He fucked his cock up hard so that it drove all the way inside your pussy and held it as it jerked again and again, releasing streams of sticky cum into your pussy. As the two men finally calmed down again, you collapsed forward onto Suguru.

“So,” laughed Satoru. “Did we work hard enough to satisfy you?”

You was still breathing hard. “Oh fuck yeah,” you said. “I’ll tell my boss you did a real good job.”

182 notes · View notes

haruchi-slit · 2 days

Note

hiii this is my first request ever so i dont know how this works HAHAHAHA

can i request a smutty sukuna fic or one shot whichever fits better about reader getting their nails done with sukunas tattoos and him getting all horny and shit ?

i saw this tik tok and i went feral about it

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMMT14S6g/

my gosh I'm in awe with how gorgeous those nails look awhw this is such good idea, i hope i don't disappoint you with this ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ chi-list

minors dni, 18+ readers only! | sukuna is not in his true form + unprotected sex + cock bulge + doggy style + missionary + modern au uncle kuna and aunt reader! + not proof read

you woke up extra early to meet with your nailtech, nobara. you've been her client since she was not famous because your niece, yuuji introduced her to you, a few years ago. the reason you were at her studio at the first place because you were planning on surprising your boyfriend, sukuna with your nails matching his tattoos knowing how much he loved his tattoos and how they seemed to hold a special power over him- upon arriving on nobara's studio she greets you with a smile,

"hey, wifeyy what are we up to?" nobara giggles welcoming you in before she sat on her nail station, with her face resting on her hands.

"sooo i was thinking of surprising sukuna" you'd snicker as nobara nods profusely, "uh-huh" she murmurs, "and i was thinking of y'know getting my nails done like his tattoos" you giggled as a light shade of pink spreads across your cheeks, "ohh i see you girl, so what color are you gonna get?" nobara asked sheepishly, "so i want this specific color of pink" you chimed, picking up a nail polish displayed on nobara's table "and also I'd like to add some designs?" you added ulocking your phone and showing nobara sukuna's tattoos, "oh gosh i love your idea, shit we should start now"

.... after gossiping and giggling with nobara as she does your nail you were finally good to go,

you stretched out your fingers, admiring the intricate designs delicately painted on your nails. they were reminiscent of sukuna's tattoos, with swirling patterns, bold in black.

"shiiit i love you nobs they're so beautiful" you gagged in awe as you stared at your nails,

"well it is made by me, of course it'll be gorgeous!" nobara bantered, "i'm gonna give you a huge tip nobs, shit it's so beautiful" you swore you almost cried with how beautiful they look, after paying nobara you bid your goodbyes and you drove home eager to show them to your beloved boyfriend, once you reached your shared apartment your heart was beating so fast, as you open the door, you hobbled down to the living room seeing sukuna sitting on the couch scrolling on his phone, he was quick to notice you presence as you entered the room, sukuna watched you as you pattered from across the room, "where have you been, woman?" he asks placing his phone on the coffee table, you giggled " well i went out, i got my nails donee, i left you a text didn't i and i also told you yesterday!" you uttered,

"i suppose you did, i forgot and, i haven't checked my messages my bad" he rolls his eyes, "you're getting old as fuck" you jested, "what's me being old have to do with that, and why's your hands behind you back? are going to shoot me or something?" he jokes back laughing, "fuck no? as if i could the fuckkk, anyways look at themm!" you chuckled as you showcased your newly painted nails to him, spreading them out on the air, "aren't they beautiful?"

"They look good." he murmurs, "we're matching now, yeyyy!" you yelped, "do you know what's the catch?" you add making sukuna knit his brows in confusion, "so y'know i hand picked the color of my nails to match your tip" you giggled, "m-my tip? what do you mean?" sukuna stuttered, "don't play with me, sukuna..." you coed into his ear, your hot breath sending shivers down to his spine,

"I love them," he replied before standing up from the couch with his breath hitching- he quickly latched on to your lips giving you a passionate kiss, you can feel your stomach being filled with butterflies while your heart beats uncontrollably like it was going to explode. sukuna deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands wandered down to your hips. He couldn't help but feel turned on by the way your nails looked like his tattoos. It reminded him of his power, his dominance.

Before you knew it, you were pinned against the wall, sukuna's hands ripping off your clothes. sukuna's fingers traced over your newly painted nails, sending sparks of pleasure through you, you groaned as he nibbled on your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin leaving red hickeys on your neck, like decorations. he could feel your pulse racing under his lips, making him even more aroused, with a swift movement, sukuna had bent you over a nearby table, your nails scratching against the surface. sukuna couldn't wait any longer, his desire for your sweet cunt was consuming him. before even registrating in to you he thrust into you hard, causing you to gasp for air and arch your back.

you couldn't help but moan loudly, the sensation of sukuna's tattooed arms rubbing against your skin driving you wild. you could feel him ram his hard dick in your sopped cunt, "s'kuna ngh-" you pant, gripping on the table hard, leaving deep scratches on it,

hi"y'know i- wasn't -fuck! expecting you to get my tattoos printed on your nails" he grunts in your ear nibbling on it slightly while he thrusts in you hard that you could feel his cock bulging on your abdomen, hitting every weak spot of yours, "you got me so worked up girl.."

he'd keen, placing a hand on your back as he watched your cunt suck him in with every thurst he makes.

he flipped you around before he thrusted mercilessly in your pussy, making you mewl in pleasure, getting closer and closer to the edge, your body was trembling with pleasure.

sukuna's pace quickened, his hands gripping your plush thighs tightly with his callused palms as he pounded into you, your bare your painted nails on his back making crescent wounds, scratching his bare back as he could feel your walls clenching around him, signaling your release. with one final thrust, the both of you reached your climaxes, crying out each other's names.

you both catch your breath, as sukuna pulled you close, his lips brushing against your ear. "you look so cute when you're a pretty mess," he whispered, sending chills down your spine.

you smiled, your fingers running through his hair. "so did you liked my surprise?" you asked, your voice breathless.

sukuna chuckled and leaned in for a kiss, grateful " i f'king love them" he mumurs before kissing you once more.

a/n: sorry it took so long huhu i was distracted in playing roblox and other video games but, i hope you guys liked it! -REQUESTS OPEN-

239 notes · View notes

b14augrana · 10 hours

Note

Hi, would you write a reader x Alessia Russo where reader is pregnant?

‘Little Ladybug’

Before the biggest match of her career, the only thing Alessia needs is to see you.

Alessia Russo x reader

masterlist

Warnings: fluff 💝💝, pretty short but still cute!!

A/N: yeah guys not my best fic that’s for sure x hope u enjoy anyways 😇

“Less,” you whisper-shouted, creeping into the England locker room. You peered around carefully, still a bit scared of getting caught despite knowing you had permission to be there.

You turned the corner into the wide room and saw the blonde sitting in front of her cubby, wrapping tape just below her shin guards. She looked up at the sound of your voice.

“Ella said you wanted to see me?” you added. Alessia nodded, smiling a little bit and patting the seat beside her. You sat down, and the blonde wrapped an arm around you, squeezing your shoulder gently.

The stadium was loud, and reasonably so. Alessia had been looking forward to the final for ages, but you knew how anxious she was about it at the same time. Spain was a tough team, she knew that. You didn’t know much about football, but you tried for Lessi.

“How is she?” Alessia whispered, rubbing your stomach gently.

“She’s good. I think she knows what’s happening, because she’s been kicking a bit,” you replied, laughing quietly. Alessia smiled and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before standing up.

“I’ll see you after the match. I’m sorry I can’t stay longer, I promise I’ll make it up to you later on,” she continued, and you shook your head.

“Hey, don’t worry about it Less. I’m fine.”

You stood up as well, giving her one last smile and squeezing her hand hopefully before walking out of the locker room. You could hear her following behind you, and as you went to take your seat in the stands, your eyes scanned for your girlfriend’s presence on the pitch.

Your daughter kicked against the walls of your stomach again and you put a hand over the bump, smiling gently. Even she was excited for her mama, and you couldn’t wait to tell Lessi just that.

When the final whistle blew, you couldn’t explain how gutted you were for Alessia and the other Lionesses. They were so close, but not close enough.

You knew how much this tournament meant to Alessia. To all the Lionesses, in fact. Everyone could see just how badly they wanted it through the tears in their eyes.

You found Alessia about ten minutes later getting interviewed by reporters. Her cheeks were flushed red and tear-stained, but her sweet smile remained.

“There has to be a loser in every game. We fell short today, but it’s a learning curve. All we can do now is regroup, focus on future tournaments and come back stronger than ever when the time comes,” Alessia commented, sniffling a couple times between words, “I’m proud of myself and this team for getting this far. You know, we gave it our all but at the end of the day, they just had more to give. We did the most we could.”

You stood to the side, away from all the cameras and microphones. When Alessia walked away, she beelined to you quickly and threw her arms around you. With her head buried in the crook of your neck, you hugged her back as tight as you could.

She pulled away, her eyes still bloodshot. “I’m proud of you, Lessi,” you said, holding her face in your hands. She sniffled once more, smiling sadly but whispering a ‘thank you’ under her breath.

“Come on, let’s go grab my stuff and head back to the hotel so I can run you a bath. You and our little ladybug must be freezing,” Alessia said, rubbing your bump and wrapping an arm around your waist, walking you to the locker room.

She drove you all the way back to the hotel and almost immediately after you crossed the threshold of your hotel room, she ran to the bathroom and filled up the bathtub with warm water for you. She took a shower but made it quick so she could make the bed and lay some clothes out for you.

After the bath, you got changed and slumped into bed. Lessi was already there, fighting off exhaustion. “Go to sleep Less. You need it,” you spoke, pulling her hair out of her face.

“Okay,” she muttered. Her hand drifted down the sheets, looking for yours; her grip was gentle, she was barely holding on but still touching you.

Within minutes she was asleep, her soft breathing filling the room. You watched her with a content smile, and her hand moved up to your stomach, ghosting over the skin.

At that moment, your daughter kicked once again. The remnants of a smile played across Alessia’s face, and you could tell she felt the love from her little ladybug.

#arsenal wfc #arsenal #arsenal women #woso #woso community #futfem #woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #woso fanfics #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #x reader #lionesses

194 notes · View notes

sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts · 2 days

Text

𝕿𝖜𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝕿𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘

screencaps and gifs: Pinterest

Pairing: dark!Joel Miller x Fem!reader

Warnings/tags: MDNI 18+, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, BLOOD, Auctioning people, talks of BDSM, talks of virginity, talks of STD and STI tests, Dom and Sub dynamics, underage drinking (20), THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME

Summary: 20,000 dollars in student debt can lead to irrational decisions, like engaging in a questionable discussion when a friend who is knowledgeable about BDSM mentions an auction she's attending.

WC: 3.6K

A/n: the first of the new and improved version of my mister miller fic🫶🏻

Cold and heartless, Dr. Richards, your financial aid advisor, was a stern woman. You had expected that, considering the difficulty of having to inform hundreds of students about whether they could afford to continue their college careers or not. Last week, you discovered an unpaid dues notice from the school when you were looking through your financial reports. You had thought that all your dues were covered by a creative writing scholarship and financial aid.

Dr. Richards set your papers down and sighed, taking off her glasses and looking at you with an unexpected hint of pity. "Would you like me to be kind or blunt?" she asked, her voice steady but softened by the weight of bad news.

Your hand slapped to your forehead instinctively as dread pooled in your stomach. "Blunt," you muttered, bracing yourself.

"You're $20,000 in debt," she continued without missing a beat. "The total cost of your first year was $40,000. $20,000 was covered through financial aid and the scholarship, but if you wish to continue, the remaining $20,000 has to be paid by the start of next semester."

Shock and anger twisted inside you, making your vision blur. "Three months?!" you exclaimed, your voice rising with panic. "How am I supposed to afford that? I can barely afford anything as it is."

Dr. Richards leaned back, her eyes holding a mixture of sympathy and resignation. "I understand this is difficult, but the reality is, you need to find a solution quickly. Perhaps a private loan, more scholarships, or even a part-time job."

The office walls seemed to close in around you, the air thick with the weight of impossible choices. You stood up, feeling the urgency of time slipping through your fingers. "I'll figure something out," you said, your voice a brittle whisper of determination.

As you stepped out into the corridor, the gravity of your situation bore down on you. The campus buzzed with the usual life of students, oblivious to your internal turmoil. Every step you took felt heavier, each echoes a reminder of the $20,000 chain now dragging you down.

Night fell as you wandered the campus, lost in thought. The familiar paths seemed alien, shadows stretching long and menacing under the flickering streetlights. Once you made it back to your cramped dorm room, you opened the door and flopped onto your bed without even glancing at your roommate, Faith.

"Whoa, are you okay?" Faith asked, concern lacing her voice.

You lifted your head from the bed just enough to reply. "Remember the financial notice I got last week? Turns out I'm $20,000 in debt, and I didn't even know. Ugh, I should have read the papers more thoroughly." You sunk your head back into the thin, scratchy comforter on your bed, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on you.

Faith sat down on the edge of her bed, her eyes wide with concern. "That's... a lot. What are you going to do?"

You sighed deeply, the sound muffled by the comforter. "I have no idea. Three months to come up with twenty grand? It feels impossible."

Faith was silent for a moment, the tension in the room thickening. Finally, she spoke, her voice a mix of determination and desperation. "We'll figure something out. There has to be a way."

You nodded weakly, and Faith gently moved your shoulders to get you to sit up. She sat next to you and nudged you playfully. "Maybe a sugar daddy? You're a hot 20-year-old with a banging body," Faith joked, her mischievous grin breaking through the tension.

You managed a small smile, though part of you wondered if she was actually being serious. Faith was always open about her sex life, unlike you. You were a virgin, but the thought of a sugar daddy did sound appealing in your desperate situation.

"Yeah, right," you replied with a chuckle, though the idea lingered in your mind longer than it should have. Faith's laughter filled the room, a momentary reprieve from the oppressive worry.

Faith stood up abruptly before walking to her laptop and bringing it over to you. "A Twilight marathon isn't going to fix this," she cut you off, her tone serious, as she settled beside you.

"I know, I know... but," she hesitated, her expression grave, "well, I might have a solution." With a look of persuasion, she showed you her laptop screen, displaying a website named 'Twisted Temptations.'

"Your BDSM club?" you blurted out, taken aback.

"Okay, okay, listen," Faith hurried to explain, sensing your shock and disapproval. "We're doing this auction... You get 10% of whatever they bid for you."

You stood there, frozen in disbelief, waiting for Faith to continue. "How do you think I paid for college and..." she paused, choosing her words carefully, "most don't even want sex. You should at least look at the application."

You shook your head, doubt clouding your thoughts. "I don't know, Faith. This is so out of my comfort zone."

Faith moved closer, her expression softening with concern and determination. "Listen, I wouldn't suggest this if I didn't think it was safe. The club is strict about boundaries. You set the limits, and they are respected. Plus, I'll be there to guide you through everything."

You glanced at the laptop screen, the application form open and waiting. The prospect seemed overwhelming, yet there was a glimmer of hope—an unconventional solution to your daunting financial problems.

Faith sensed your hesitation and continued, "I know it's a big step, but think about the benefits. You need the money, and this way, you control what happens. You set your limits and preferences, and everything is mutually agreed upon with your partner. Trust me, you'll be safe."

You took a deep breath, considering her words. "But what if something goes wrong?"

Faith smiled reassuringly. "It won't. The club has strict rules and procedures to protect everyone involved. I'll help you with everything—filling out the application, setting your boundaries, and making sure you're comfortable. You won't be alone in this."

The weight of your financial troubles pressed down on you, and Faith's unwavering support felt like a lifeline. You sighed and sank onto the bed next to her. "Alright, I'll do it, but you have to help me. I don't want something to go wrong."

Faith's eyes lit up with excitement. "It won't," she assured you confidently. "Let's get started." She quickly filled in your name, age, and other essential details, then looked at you with a reassuring smile. "Okay, now we need to talk about your preferences and limits. This is really important."

You nodded, feeling a mix of apprehension and curiosity. "What kind of preferences?"

Faith glanced at the screen, scrolling down to the next section. "Let's start with the basics. Are there any absolute no-go areas for you? Things you absolutely won't do?"

You bit your lip, feeling a flutter of nerves. "Well, I'm a virgin, but I'm ready to...you know, not be. I just don't want to do anything I'm not comfortable with."

Faith nodded, her expression serious but supportive. "That's totally okay. You can specify that you're new and what your limits are. Many people in the club respect that and will help you explore at your own pace."

She typed as she spoke, checking off boxes and filling in fields. "What about things like light bondage, sensory play, or role-playing? Have you ever thought about those?"

You blushed slightly, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. "I've never tried any of it, but I guess I could be open to light stuff. Nothing too intense to start."

Faith smiled encouragingly. "Perfect. We'll start with light bondage and sensory play. You can always update your preferences later as you get more comfortable."

She continued filling out the form, asking about your comfort levels with different activities, safe words, and any medical conditions or allergies. You answered as best as you could, relying on Faith's guidance and the snippets of information she'd shared with you over the years.

"Remember," Faith added, "most of what you like and don't like is decided mutually between the dom and sub. Communication is key. You'll discuss your limits and preferences with your partner beforehand, and you can always say no if something doesn't feel right."

Faith noted your availability and reviewed the application one last time. "Alright, I think we're all set. Ready to submit?"

You took a deep breath, nerves, and excitement swirling within you. "Ready."

Faith clicked the submit button, and the screen flashed a confirmation message. She turned to you with a grin. "Welcome to Twisted Temptations. You're going to be great."

As you sat there, a mix of relief and apprehension settling over you, Faith squeezed your hand. "Remember, you're in control. This is about exploring your boundaries and discovering what you're comfortable with. And I'll be here every step of the way."

You nodded, and Faith smiled. “The auction will be held next week. You’ll need to get an STD and STI test done, and you desperately need to get something sexy.”

You gasped at Faith. “I own sexy clothes?”

Faith giggled and walked over to the closet. "Well, maybe not yet, but that's what I'm here for."

She flung open the closet doors and began rifling through your clothes. After a moment, she pulled out a baggy hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, holding them up with a look of mock horror. “Unless you plan on seducing someone with the allure of ‘Netflix and no chill,’ we need to do some shopping.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, okay, point taken. But where am I supposed to find something sexy?”

Faith’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Leave that to me. We’ll hit up the mall tomorrow, and by the time we’re done, you’ll have an outfit that’ll make jaws drop.”

You felt a mixture of excitement and dread. “Fine, but no leather. And nothing with feathers. Or sequins. Or—”

“Relax,” Faith interrupted, still laughing. “I know just the thing. You’ll be sexy, not sparkly.”

As Faith closed the closet doors with a flourish, she turned back to you, her expression turning serious. “But seriously, the tests are important. We need to make sure you’re safe and everything is in order.”

You nodded, the gravity of the situation sinking in again. “I’ll make an appointment first thing tomorrow.”

Faith grinned and flopped down on the bed beside you. “Great. Now, let’s watch a terrible rom-com to celebrate your big decision. It’ll be our last bit of normalcy before you become a sex goddess.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile.

Faith and you decided to Uber to the auction. The city lights blurred past the window as you fidgeted with the hem of your newly purchased dress. Faith noticed your nerves and squeezed your hand reassuringly.

“Alright,” she said, her tone both calming and excited, “let me walk you through what’s going to happen tonight.”

You nodded, trying to focus on her words instead of the churning anxiety in your stomach.

“When we arrive at the venue, we'll check in at the front desk. They'll hand you your papers and auction number,” Faith explained. “Then, we can mingle and meet some of the other participants. It's like a real auction party, so don't be shy about striking up conversations.”

You took a deep breath, feeling slightly reassured. “And when does the bidding start?”

Faith grinned. “Bidding starts at 10 PM sharp. That's when the real excitement begins.

As the Uber came to a stop outside the venue, I looked out the window at the unremarkable building that awaited me. Faith led the way, exuding confidence as she stepped onto the sidewalk.

Stepping into the venue, anticipation swirled around me like a gentle breeze, mingling with the soft melodies of background music. The interior whispered of understated elegance, with dim lighting casting enchanting shadows across the polished floors and plush furnishings. Faith guided you towards the check-in desk, where attendants bustled about with papers and pins. You exchanged a nervous glance, excitement bubbling beneath the surface as you approached the desk.

“Welcome,” greeted the attendant with a warm smile, “may I have your names, please?”

You and Faith exchanged introductions before the attendant handed you each a set of papers and pins to attach to your dresses. With a playful grin, Faith nudged you and held up her pin, wiggling it teasingly.

“Alright, partner in crime,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief, “let’s get these on and make sure we’re looking sharp for the auction.”

You chuckled, feeling a surge of affection for your friend as you both leaned in to help each other attach the pins to your dresses.

With your pins securely fastened, you and Faith made your way toward the main ballroom. The air seemed to buzz with an undercurrent of excitement and anticipation. As you approached the entrance, the grandeur of the room came into view.

The ballroom was a striking blend of opulence and decadence. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow over the space, illuminating velvet drapes in deep, sensual hues that lined the walls. The polished marble floors reflected the ambient light, creating an almost surreal atmosphere. Guests mingled in clusters, their laughter and hushed conversations weaving a tapestry of sound that filled the room.

At one end of the ballroom stood a grand stage, draped in rich, crimson fabric and adorned with luxurious golden trim. The stage was set for the auction, with a sleek podium at the center and rows of plush chairs arranged in front, ready for the evening’s main event.

As you stepped further inside, the scene grew more intense. The guests were an eclectic mix, their attire ranging from sophisticated evening wear to daring, barely-there outfits that left little to the imagination. Leather, lace, and latex dominated the fashion choices, with some attendees adorned in intricate harnesses and collars, their outfits hinting at the BDSM theme of the event.

Faith squeezed your hand one last time before she was swept away by a familiar face, her confident stride never faltering. You stood there for a moment, feeling a sudden pang of anxiety as the crowd seemed to close in around you. The noise, the lights, the sheer number of people—it was all too much at once.

Your heart raced as you tried to navigate through the sea of faces, each one strange and intimidating. The grandeur of the ballroom that had seemed so captivating just moments ago now felt overwhelming. You took a deep breath, attempting to steady yourself, but the sensation of being out of your depth only intensified.

The guests were like nothing you had ever seen before. A man in an immaculate tuxedo strolled by, a jeweled mask obscuring his eyes, while a woman in a full-body latex suit and stiletto heels sauntered past, her movements deliberate and commanding. A couple nearby caught your eye: the woman wore a sheer, flowing gown, her partner trailing behind her on a leash, wearing nothing but leather shorts and a collar.

In one corner, a group of people had gathered around a figure suspended in a rope harness, their intricate knots both artistic and functional. Soft moans and murmurs of appreciation floated through the air as the person twisted slowly, lost in the sensations the ropes provided. Another attendee, dressed in a sharp, tailored suit, held a riding crop, playfully tapping it against their thigh as they chatted with a scantily clad submissive whose eyes never left the ground.

Guests lounged on plush sofas, some openly engaging in power play dynamics. A woman in a sleek corset held a leash attached to a submissive kneeling beside her, while another couple whispered intimately, their hands exploring each other's bodies with practiced ease. The atmosphere was charged with an erotic energy, a palpable sense of anticipation for what the night would bring.

As you continued to weave through the crowd, searching for a familiar face or a quiet corner, the overwhelming nature of the evening began to settle heavily on your shoulders. The mix of luxury and raw sexuality, the boldness of the guests, and the anticipation of what was to come all blended into a dizzying mix that left you feeling adrift.

In that moment, you longed for Faith's reassuring presence, her confident guidance. But she was somewhere amidst the throng, leaving you to navigate this new and intimidating world on your own. You felt a prickling sense of vulnerability, the realization that you were truly stepping into uncharted territory sinking in as you tried to steady your breath and find your footing in the extravagant chaos surrounding you.

So, like every college student in a social bind, you made a beeline for the bar. "Shit," you muttered, realizing you had left both your fake and real ID back in the dorm. Trying to muster some confidence, you approached the bar, hoping your outfit might be convincing enough. You sidled up next to a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair, dressed impeccably in a well-tailored suit. You could catch the faint scent of pine and campfire from his cologne.

Putting on your best flirty face, you addressed the bartender. He was the complete opposite of the man beside you—average height, slightly taller than you, skinny, tattooed, and wearing an ill-fitting button-up uniform top. His head was shaved clean. "One shot of Tito's, please," you said, playing with your hair in an attempt to seem older and more sophisticated.

The bartender chuckled. "ID, please?"

You leaned forward, arms together to emphasize your cleavage. "ID, really?" you said, trying to be as seductive as possible.

The bartender looked tempted but quickly shook his head. "No ID, no alcohol," he said firmly, turning away.

You groaned in frustration, which caught the attention of the man next to you. He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He was older, that was clear, but he looked good. His stubble was neatly trimmed, his curly hair slicked back in a way that seemed both effortless and intentional, and his eyes were large and expressive.

"So, no ID?" he asked, his voice warm and slightly amused.

You smiled back. "No, but a girl can try."

He set down his glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light. "Well, how old are you then?"

"Twenty," you admitted, locking eyes with him.

Before you could continue the conversation, Faith appeared, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the bar. "What were you doing talking to Joel Miller?" she asked, her voice a mix of shock and concern.

You glanced back, watching Joel as he turned back to his drink. "Just chatting. Why?"

Faith handed you a pamphlet and opened it to a specific page. "Page four," she instructed.

As you skimmed the page, she continued, "Joel is... intense. He's someone to shy away from until you're more experienced. Trust me on this."

Your eyes widened as you read the details. "Intense" was an understatement. "So, who's the safe bet?" you asked, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

Faith's face softened. "His brother, Tommy. He's more laid-back and a better choice for someone starting. You'll find him much easier to talk to."

You sighed, glancing back toward the bar. "Guess I dodged a bullet, huh?"

Faith smiled. "Yeah, you did. Now, let's find Tommy and get you introduced. He's around here somewhere."

Joel suddenly appeared as you and Faith navigated through the crowd, stopping you both dead in your tracks. "Tito's," he said, handing you a glass with a wry smile. He glanced at the number pinned to your dress before walking away, leaving you stunned.

"What was that about?" Faith immediately questioned, her eyes wide with surprise.

Before you could respond, a voice boomed from the auction podium. "May all the products please make their way backstage."

Faith turned to you, her expression shifting from curiosity to urgency. "We'll talk about this later. Right now, we need to get backstage."

Your heart pounded as you nodded, clutching the glass of Tito's Joel had given you. You downed it in one gulp, hoping it would calm your nerves, then handed the empty glass back to Faith. She gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. "You'll be fine. Just remember what we talked about. You're in control."

With a deep breath, you joined the other "products" making their way to the designated area. The backstage was a flurry of activity, with organizers checking names and numbers, and participants adjusting their outfits one last time. The air was thick with anticipation and a hint of perfume mingled with the scent of leather.

An organizer approached you, checking your number against his list. "You're number 3, correct?" he asked.

"Yes," you replied, your voice barely audible over the din of conversation and last-minute preparations.

"Great. Just wait here until you're called," he instructed, pointing to a row of chairs along the wall.

You sat down, your mind racing. Faith's words echoed in your head: "You're in control. You decide your limits." The reality of what you were about to do began to sink in, but you steeled yourself, determined to see it through.

As you waited, you couldn't help but think about Joel. His unexpected gesture with the Tito's, the way he had looked at you—something about him intrigued and unnerved you. But Faith's warning was clear: he was intense, someone to be cautious around. Your thoughts were interrupted by a tap on your shoulder.

"Number 3, you're up next," the organizer said.

You stood up, smoothed out your dress, and took a deep breath. As you stepped towards the stage, the curtain drew back slightly, giving you a tantalizing glimpse of the auction room. The ambient lighting cast a soft glow, illuminating the expectant faces of the bidders, their anticipation palpable in the air.

Stepping into the spotlight, you felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. The auctioneer's voice echoed in the room, commanding attention as he announced, "And now, presenting number 3, starting bid at $500."

151 notes · View notes

cobrakaisb · 2 days

Text

call me, beep me, if you want to reach me

summary: percy, annabeth, and grover have some great news about their quest, but something is off about their hypothesis

word count: 2.8k

featuring: reader and annabeth’s relationship, slightly steamy reader and luke scene, more percabeth crumbs, fluff and angst

author's note: IM BACKKKKK...this one took me forever, and i am so sorry about that! between finals, coming home from college, and just dealing with life in general it has been a real struggle BUT we are finally back on the luke train 🤩 and trust, these next few parts are about to get real...anyways, enjoy 💗

series masterlist ||| previous ||| next

you run to the top of the hill, calling out to the three kids before they can cross the protective barrier surrounding camp half-blood.

“i just wanted to wish you guys good luck before you leave, although i’m sure you won’t need it,” you explain, walking up to the trio.

annabeth smiles at you. there’s an excited gleam in her eyes, and you remember how she’s been waiting for this for years -- her chance at glory.

“thanks,” percy mumbles, not really knowing what to say.

“i just…be safe okay?” you whisper, hands gripping tightly at annabeth’s shoulders while you look directly at her.

she nods, “i will. i promise.”

you nod in agreement, lips pursed in a tight line as you struggle to keep your emotions at bay. over the course of your years at camp, the bond between you and annabeth has grown exponentially. you love her like a little sister, one you’d do anything to protect. it scares you to think about her, a twelve year old kid, in the real world with no one looking out for her this time.

she senses your anguish, and pulls you into a tight hug. you freeze at first, not used to the affection from her, but ultimately wrap your arms around her small frame. the two of you stand there for a minute, embracing each other, but break apart when luke calls out to you from the bottom of the hill.

“it’s time to go,” he yells, and you imagine his pointed look and crossed arms. luke was just as worried as you, but he found it necessary to hide those feelings, claiming it was best for annabeth’s sake. you disagreed.

you nod, stepping away from the kids, back towards the chaos of camp, “i’ll see you at the solstice.”

you watch, with your stomach in knots from nerves and a mouth full of anxiety, as the kids step past thalia’s tree and into the world of monsters.

that was almost four days ago, and still no word from the trio. percy, annabeth, and grover were on their quest to find and return zeus’s master bolt, but the radio silence worries you. while you didn’t expect them to call every day to say good night — they needed to save their dracmas — you at least expected some type of update by now. the lack thereof leaves a nervous feeling in your stomach; something isn’t right, you know it, but you can’t quite determine what.

“those are called feelings sweetie,” katrina replies when you explain your current predicament to her.

you suck your teeth at her words, shoving her shoulder as you mumble, “shut up.”

“i’m being serious! since when do you care about three twelve year olds? no scratch that, since when do you care about anybody?” she shouts, throwing her hands up.

you look down at your converse, arms crossing over your bent knees as you sit and look at the rippling water. i care about luke, you think, and all those kids who will never experience a true family thanks to our parents. i care about you, and our friendship. i care about grover, who’s too kind for his own good. the list goes on and on, but you don’t say any of those names out loud.

instead you respond with, “i care about annabeth.”

katrina openly scoffs at your words, leaning back on her palms. “oh please, i’m talking about that little blonde.”

you sigh, looking at her over your shoulder. her short hair rustles in the breeze, and the unruly curls from spending the day in the water makes her possess a childlike innocence. if you didn’t know katrina, you’d think she was a sweet girl who’d chew you out for swearing, but you do know her; she’s anything but, and the constant taunting and teasing proves that.

“there’s something different about percy,” you explain with a shrug.

“yeah, it’s called your need to play mommy,” she mumbles.

“oh shut up,” you gripe, getting up from your spot on the dock. you make sure to kick her calf, not too hard, on your way back to hera’s cabin.

“harder,” luke commands, despite the sweat dripping down both of their faces.

percy groans, throwing his head back in frustration. they’ve been going at it for hours, practicing various techniques and maneuvers with wooden swords. while percy’s claiming was still new, and his slaying of the minotaur with no experience was still the talk of the camp, it was obvious to everyone that he needed to train. there’s an impending war coming, and the blonde boy has found himself right in the middle of it.

but he doesn’t even know what it is, you think, stepping into the dirt of the practice arena.

“give him a break, luke. he needs some hydration,” you exclaim, holding up two refillable water bottles.

they’re dripping in condensation, the ice from the pavilion already melting in the sweltering heat courtesy of long island summers. luke grumbles something under his breath, probably about how he doesn’t need a break, but takes the bottle from you with a squeeze of your hip. he stays close to your side as he drinks the water, and instead of giving him your attention, you’re busy looking over percy.

“there’s a cut on your forehead,” you say, pushing back some of his curls to get a better look.

“yeah, your boyfriend nicked me,” he replies, gesturing to luke with his chin.

“it was an accident! how many times do i have to tell you?” luke defends.

“a lot more. i’m great at holding grudges,” percy announces, and you roll your eyes.

“and that’s why you’re becoming friendly with annabeth?” you tease.

luke raises his eyebrows at your statement, looking over at the smaller boy, whose cheeks are suddenly a very dark shade of red.

“that’s different,” he grumbles, pouring the remaining water on his head.

“uh huh, right. whatever floats your boat i guess,” you reply, patting his cheek in a motherly fashion. percy swerves with an eye roll fit for a teenager.

“anyways, i’ll let you guys get back to it,” you announce, turning to face luke.

you kiss his cheek, and his palm splays across your waist. he gives it a gentle squeeze, a small sign of affection in a hasty moment. you smile at him, leaning into his chest to whisper, “go easy on him.”

“he’s training with the best swordsman in camp, he knows what to expect,” luke replies, cocky as ever, as you pat his sweaty chest three times before walking away.

the training arena is packed when you arrive, brimming with younger kids and blaring noisy chatter. they’re all clad in some sort of battle armor: shields, bronze chest plates, and celestial bronze swords. it takes a minute for them to notice your presence, but when they do they part like the red sea. most of them have the sense to keep quiet, watching you with nervous eyes and wary glances, fueled by the words of their older siblings no doubt. others, the more gutsy of the bunch, have the courage to whisper the exact words they heard from their siblings, warning their friends about you and your anger. you, however, are focused on finding the tallest head amongst the group; the one housing messy, onyx curls.

“he’s up front, helping jimmy with his armor,” a young girl whispers shyly, drawing designs in the dirt with the tip of her sword.

you stop walking, turning to face her. she’s young, no older than eight, and you feel the edges of your hard exterior soften from the sight of her pigtails and pink twinkle toes. you smile softly at her, hoping that it doesn’t scare her off.

“thank you,” you say, “i love your shoes.” she smiles at your words, giggling quietly to herself as a small blush coats her cheeks.

just as she goes to answer, luke appears at your side with, who you can only assume, is jimmy. you smile softly at him, ready to explain why you’re here in the first place, but luke beats you to it:

“let me just give them some instructions, then we can talk, okay?” he whispers, his free hand taking its place on the small of your back.

you hum in agreement, watching fondly as he takes charge of the large group of young demigods. he instructs them to practice the methods he just demonstrated in pairs, explaining that he’ll be walking around to give feedback once he’s done talking to you. as the kids partner up, he leads you to the side of the arena, where he finally meets your gaze with a raised brow.

“what?” you ask, crossing your arms at his confused stare.

“you never come here while i’m teaching lessons,” he answers.

“well, maybe i’m starting to,” you reply.

luke scoffs at your words, “no shot. what’s really going on?”

“i could be!”

“but you’re not. you hate their judgy, beady, little eyes. so, what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours to make you seek me out while i’m in the middle of lessons?” he continues, his fingers playing with the waistband of your shorts.

you take a deep breath, meeting his chocolate brown eyes on the exhale, and state your concerns: “i’m worried. why haven’t we heard from them yet? it’s been days, and it’s not like annabeth to keep us completely in the dark.”

luke sighs at your words, “i’m sure they’re fine.”

you raise your eyebrows at his unexpected answer. this is luke, the same guy who refused to let you and annabeth out of his sight during capture the flag, talking? not a chance.

“so you’re not worried, at all?” you ask, searching for the true reason behind his lack of worry.

luke clenches his jaw at your words, looking away from you as he stares off into the distance. his eyebrows furrow, and you can see something flicker across his face. you don’t know what it is, but you know he’s battling something within himself.

“luke?” you ask softly, resting your hand on his bicep.

he shakes his head, a carefree smile taking over his face as he says, “it’s annabeth. she’s the smartest, most careful person i know. nothing’s wrong.”

you eye him warily, and nod your head slowly, “right. i guess i’m just overthinking.”

luke smiles, a teasing look in his eyes as he nudges your foot with his own. you look up at him, a breathy laugh escaping your lips as you meet his playful gaze.

“you always are,” he mumbles, followed by a loud laugh as you shove his shoulder.

he plants a quick kiss on your temple, hands rubbing up and down your sides before whispering, “i’ll stop by your cabin tonight. once they’re all tucked in.”

you hum in agreement, watching as he departs from your side and heads to the closest duo to provide feedback.

****

the door creaks open, and luke slips inside before the harpies register the noise. you’re already awake, patiently waiting for him on the singular cot in the cabin. the eternal flames of the fire pit burn brightly, leaving dangerous shadows on your face, illuminating the storm brewing inside.

“you’re late,” you quip, not even bothering to look up from your book.

you’re laying on your stomach, propped up on your forearms with a paperback book in your hands. you’re in your usual sleep attire, shorts and a tank top, and luke has to physically hold back a groan. he’s never wanted you so badly in his life, but instead of expressing that desire, he apologizes for his actions.

“some of the younger campers were arguing, you know i had to settle that,” he whispers, burying his face between your neck and left shoulder.

luke kisses your bare skin, slightly warmed from all the sun you’ve been getting recently. your head tilts, giving him access to more skin, and he doesn’t deny that. his lips move to your neck, leaving more than a few marks.

“careful. hera’s watching,” you tease, closing the cover of your book.

“let her,” he mumbles, practically moaning when you thread your fingers through his hair.

“oh you’d love that,” you taunt, tugging on his curls.

luke’s right arm wraps around your waist, flipping you onto your back, while his left pushes your book to the floor. your mouth falls open in shock, and you gasp quietly. he smirks at your expression, feeling satisfied to have you speechless. before you can ruin the moment, he captures your mouth with his.

the kiss is rough, all tongue and teeth. his left hand settles next to your head, while his right tugs your hips closer to his. your fingers are still lodged into his curls, and you use them to keep his face pressed against yours. he pulls back, gasping for air, but keeps his forehead planted against your skin. before he can reconnect your lips, you’re kissing all over his face.

“missed you,” you murmur in between kisses.

luke sighs, relaxing into your arms as the tension from camp counselor duties and other activities leaves his body. he knows eventually he’s going to have to tell you. he thinks it will be something like ripping off a band aid. but, for now, when he has you so eagerly in his arms, and he’s content with baring the brunt of the burden. besides, the kids aren’t even close to figuring out the truth, he’s sure of it.

****

“we know who stole the bolt,” percy announces, nothing but confidence in his voice.

luke falters, but only for a second, before asking, “how do you know?”

immediately, annabeth starts rambling. she mentions an encounter with ares, how he knows who the thief is, but was clearly covering for them. as she talks, luke realize that their suspicions are anything but correct, in fact, they’re so far into leftfield it’d be considered a homerun. yet, he runs with it, not willing to give himself up.

“so who would ares cover for?” annabeth finishes, waiting for luke to answer.

“his favorite daughter. clarisse is the lightning thief,” he answers, making sure to sound shocked by their groundbreaking discovery.

“chrion’s got to arrest her, find out what she knows. there’s more to this than just the bolt, something bigger,” percy explains.

luke and annabeth share a look of uncertainty, one that percy picks up on because he quickly adds, “don't ask me how i know, you’ve just got to trust me.”

as luke is about to assure the kids that he’ll get to it straight away, you walk into the office.

“talking to yourself again, castellan? i knew you were crazy but not this off the rocker,” you tease, stepping closer to his side.

as you approach, you see the faces of annabeth and percy in the mist. you smile at the sight of them. while they look tired, they seem pretty intact and much better off than you expected.

“how’s your quest going?” you ask, hoping to hear some positive news.

“not too bad. between ares, the chimera and medusa, i’d say we’re doing pretty good,” percy exclaims.

your eyes widen at his words, and you look to luke to see what his reaction is, but he’s not even looking at you. instead he’s watching the two demigods arguing about which monster occurred each day. he smirks at the sight of them, gently bumping his hip with yours before saying, “what is this?”

“what?” annabeth answers, confusion written all over her face.

“since when did you guys turn into an old married couple?” luke continues to tease, and you smile at the kids’ shocked faces. percy blushes at luke’s comment, and annabeth makes a point to avoid your gaze.

“not to change the subject, but we need your advice luke. we’re going to vegas and…” before percy can say another word, the iris message cuts out, the connective screen dissipating along with the rainbow that brought it here.

“well that was entertaining,” you joke, turning to face your boyfriend.

you expect him to laugh at your words, but his face is set into a hard line. his arms are crossed and jaw clenched as he stares at the spot where annabeth and percy’s faces were previously occupying. his thoughts are clearly running a mile a minute, and you step into his line of sight, calling out to him.

“they think they know who the lightning thief is,” he grumbles, gaze still distant and cold.

“what? who?” you ask, stepping closer to him. while it’s only the two of you in the room, you don’t want to risk anyone else hearing; this isn’t the sort of thing that should be spread around camp, even if you hate the majority of the people here.

“clarisse,” he starts, “but they’re wrong.”

“how do you know?” you ask, nothing but confusion plastered all over your face.

“because it’s actually me,” luke replies, finally meeting your gaze.

taglist: @percabethlvr @iwantahockeyhimbo @hottiewifeyyyy @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @maraschinocherry3 @used2beee @harrysnovia @cami-is-reading @mxtokko @cxcilla @obxstiles @dracoslovergirl @vanessa-rafesgirl @l1a-pjosversion

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan series #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan angst #luke castellan pjo #pjo luke #all american bitch series #cobrakaisb writing

124 notes · View notes

orbitariums · 2 days

Text

warmth | patrick zweig, art donaldson + black fem reader (pt. 1)

you guys really liked the snippet i posted so it's finally here! this will probably have a second part <3 (let me know if you'd like to be tagged for that!)

content: smut (oral f. receiving, fingering, handjob), childhood best friends trope, patrick and art are acting like high schoolers again, reader is rich bougie conniving hippie writer hybrid ...

reader, patrick and art are childhood best friends who conveniently were all in love with each other, or at least had enough sexual tension to make it feel that way. fast forward almost a decade later, and reader has made it onto the red carpet with her fantastic pen, and patrick and art have gone pro. when she invites them to her house for a star-studded friendsgiving, tensions rise and old doors open, springing forth new possibilities. this is only the beginning.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

warmth

“We should just turn around now, save ourselves the embarrassment.”

Patrick paid Art no mind, rolling down the window and leaning out of it, pressing the buzzer as you had dutifully instructed them in your email invite.

“Too late now. Already threw away about a gallon of gas just coming up the hill to this place,” he replied, the sense of ease in his voice only egging Art on even more.

“Exactly why we should leave. I mean, fuck. Does she have to live on a hill?”

“Residence of [last name], to whom am I speaking?” a male voice rings on the other end.

“Uh…” Patrick starts, Art reaching up over him,

“Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson?”

A silence filled the air. Patrick swatted at Art, forcing him back in his seat.

“Why’d you say it like a question, dumbass?”

Art stammered, already starting to get red in the face,

“I was --”

The gate swung open and both the boys let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you!” Patrick chimed, smirking over at Art, who seemed to be sinking in his seat.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Meanwhile, you were inside the mansion that you call home, flowing around the kitchen like there weren’t about fifty people milling about and mingling amongst one another. It smelled like something out of Hansel and Gretel -- from the fragrant brown roasted turkey sitting in the oven, to the gourmand scent of perfectly caramelized candied yams, to the vanilla musk perfume you dotted on your wrists. A black mini Schnauzer nipped excitedly at your feet as you added half a cherry tomato to the giant bowl of salad you’ve been prepping for the last twenty minutes. You look like a pro, like a party of this magnitude is no big deal to you.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“Do we ring the doorbell? Or maybe… should we knock?” Art questioned, hands tied behind his back as he glanced up at Patrick for answers.

“It’s open,” Patrick retorted, but he too stood stupefied at the door like a weary traveler wavering in horrific awe before the mouth of some epic beast.

“On three?” Art suggested, and when he didn’t hear a response, he started to count, “one… two…”

Patrick stepped in before Art could get to three. Art scoffed, but followed behind him anyway.

The both of them stood there silently, taking the grandiosity of it all in — the sky high dome ceiling, two grand wooden staircases directly opposite one another, the shiny verdant porcelain flooring, the Basquiat painting hanging above the wide bookcase directly in front of them. Mouths open, they looked like they were ready to catch flies.

“Fuuuck me,” Patrick breathed out heavily. Art’s head was stuck staring up at the ceiling, so high he thought it’d never end.

“You made it.”

Both Art and Patrick seemed to stand straight at the sound of your voice, like soldiers at attention. You almost laughed, but instead, you stood there coolly, smiling at them both with your lips and your eyes— in them, a look that was almost knowing, wise beyond your years. It seemed like a lifetime before either of them would speak. They spent half of that lifetime practically gawking at you, drinking you in. And how could they not, when you were practically draped in that baby blue silk dress, the flowy bottom dancing above your ankles. You looked more beautiful than they remembered you, calmer, secure — of course, they hadn’t seen you since they were teenagers. Now there was this air of timelessness about you that was only just poking at the surface when you were in high school, now it surrounded you. Something mystic encompassed your entire spirit, dripping from your head to your feet. They’d spent years seeing you from behind a screen, being interviewed on live TV, attending red carpets for award shows, blending in with the Hollywood mecca — another beautiful twentysomething industry talent. But the glow of the television that seemed to give everyone a perfectly filtered sheen was nothing compared to your beauty here.

“It’s so good to see you,” Patrick broke the silence first, practically lurching forward with open arms to embrace you. His beard scratched against your cheek. You could smell the cologne that was beginning to wear off, mixed with a hint of cigarette smoke. His arms nearly sucked you in.

When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the way he smiled at you so fervently.

“Good to see you too, Patrick…” you glanced over at the mousy boy who didn’t seem to have changed much since high school. “C’mere, Artie.”

Art chuckled: a nervous huff of relief, inching forward into your open arms and nuzzling his chin into your shoulder, closing his arms around your midwaist. You could smell the aftershave that clung to his jaw, and the detergent still fresh on his clothes.

You pulled away, but took one of each of their hands, squeezing.

“My two boys. Man, how long has it been?”

“Oh, just a while—”

“Seven years,” Art interjected.

“Who’s counting, right?” Patrick grinned, making all of you laugh.

You looked at them almost expectantly, eyes wide like a doe, the slightest smile playing at your lips. They looked back with bated breaths. Always, you were in charge, always. It had been like this since the scabby-kneed days of childhood. If you wanted to play on the swings, they were there on either side of you. You were the queen of the sandbox. In middle school, they snuck extra cookies for you from the lunchroom, and they fought over who got to surprise you with the treat every day. Senior year of high school, in the hotel room in London, when you had them perched on either side of you like baby birds waiting for mother’s return— when you had both your hands on each of their thighs inching further and further up, their lips ghosting against your soft skin, had them panting like puppy dogs, only to leave the minute you heard “lights out.”

It had been seven years since then and still, it was the same. Only this time, you were stupidly rich, thanks to the soaring success of your two psychological thriller books turned TV series. It wasn’t that you’d forgotten about them, or didn’t care about them now that you were rich and famous. You’d gotten accepted to study creative writing at Brown, Art went to play at Stanford, and Patrick went on his path to go pro. It was just the process of growing up. You were delighted to see that they were only a click away thanks to the internet, just one click away from reintegrating into your life. Your childhood best friends.

“C’mon, lunch is almost ready.”

Friendsgiving. Who didn’t love the concept? It was a readily welcomed, wholesome idea — friends of all ages and backgrounds coming together to rehash their Thanksgiving with leftovers, stories from the year, and maybe a game of cards. Except your friendsgiving was attended by A-list actresses, Cannes festival attending screenwriters, and the odd Grammy nominated artist. And your friendsgiving was not at all an intimate affair — it may as well have been a club party. Most people were outside, dancing, shrieking with laughter, drinking, and skipping their way to their seats. Your backyard was vast and verdant green, with a pool in the center, the perimeter lined with lemon and peach trees, and miles to explore.

“This is fucking insane, is that Dakota Johnson?” Patrick scoffed. He and Patrick had been left to their own devices yet again, while you flitted around being the hostess with the mostest, easing and gliding about. A laugh here, a clink of glasses there, and a coolness to you that stood in striking comparison with the warmth that stirred deep down inside you. A warmth that could be served with a ladle into goblets, like some elixir with magical properties only you possessed.

“No, you idiot, that’s— oh shit. That might be Dakota Johnson.”

Clink clink clink.

“Everybody, hi, hi! Thank you for coming, please, sit down,” you called out, clinking your glass to get the attention of your guests. Patrick and Art scrambled to find seats, ending up at a table with people who might have been minor celebrities or art critiques or designers -- at least one of those options.

“I wanna thank you all so much for coming, this really means a lot to me. I know these sorts of things can be really hectic, but you guys make this house feel like a home. I’m glad that some of you will be staying with me for the next few days, there’s always room for more,” you glanced over at Art and Patrick. “Some of you are new friends, some of you I’ve known for far too long. But I think it’s incredibly fucking cool that we’re all here together now in this moment, just enjoying each other’s presence. I do this every year, and every year I meet even more amazing, talented, fascinating people and you all are so dear to my heart. And now, what we’re all waiting for… lunch is served!”

A cacophony of cheers rang out as staff rushed about to place plates in front of everyone. You stood giggling, basking in all of it.

The rest of the afternoon Patrick and Art spent attempting to blend in as best they could. They were pro tennis players, but this was another level of stardom that they couldn’t quite fathom yet. They watched you ruthlessly the entire night, unable to squash those rising feelings of attraction and yearning for you that had never quite simmered to begin with. You’d always been cooler than them, but watching you now there was a certain air to you that belonged to a grown woman, someone comfortable and confident and in their element. You were positively swimming in the sunlight the entire afternoon. It was like you had this sort of magnetic pull to all things good, rich, and warm. People wanted to be around you. And god, did this prove that.

By night time, people were finally starting to leave. The sun hung low in the darkening sky, making the fairy lights glow stronger now. The few people that were staying with you for the rest of Thanksgiving weekend had disappeared to their rooms. Besides the waitstaff still milling about, it was just you, Patrick, and Art. The two of them hadn’t meant to stay so long, really. It wasn’t like they were forcing themselves to stick around and be acknowledged by you in a way that felt meaningful. Sure, you’d had your small talk and cracked a few inside jokes, but as much as neither of them wanted to admit it, they needed more. If it was hard to get your attention before, it was nearly impossible now. They were surrounded by so many people who all wanted to network and talk and introduce themselves, they found themselves mingling with your friends, some of them people who they’d seen on screen in the past year, more than you. They’d been dragged onto the dance floor multiple times by multiple acquaintances, only to gawk at you swaying your hips rather than actually dance themselves. It became overwhelmingly clear, in the midst of their increasingly present desperation, that they should’ve accepted your offer to stay in this castle of a house for the weekend. Neither of them had packed a bag.

“This is awkward, we’re the only ones left,” Art sighed, still sitting at their table.

“Let’s just… wait, okay? She might come back out."

"And give us a little speech?"

"Yeah, asshole, maybe she will."

At that very moment, you appeared again, this time clad in a two piece linen pajama set. You didn’t miss the way both their eyes trailed up your legs as you stood in front of them, arms crossed, smiling expectantly.

“I was hoping you two would still be here,” you said. You glanced between the two of them, that awkward silence filling the air once again. “C’mon. Let’s talk.”

You turned and walked back inside, the two of them trailing behind you.

"Your house is fucking sick by the way. I mean holy shit," Art blurted once you got to the main entrance hall.

"Feel like I just walked into a page of Architectural Digest," Patrick added on.

You led them up the stairs. Both their eyes dropped to your ass, which poked out just a bit from under the pair of shorts you wore. Silently watching the way your body curved as you walked.

"Ha, thanks. I think I did pretty okay for myself," you replied.

You led them to the den on the second floor and sat criss cross apple sauce on the lush green couch. Art sat on your left, Patrick on your right. Patrick spread his legs and Art had one foot up on the couch, bouncing against his knee.

“Sorry we didn’t get to talk much. I was so busy being the host of the year that I didn’t pay enough attention to you two. My favorites.”

Art chuckled,

“Favorites? You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m serious! D’you know how much I missed you guys?”

Patrick scoffed playfully,

“All those TV interviews I watched of you? I wouldn’t even be thinking about us.”

You couldn’t help but grin, that warmth coming through once again. It nearly made the two men melt.

“Well I was. I always think about you guys.”

Now came Patrick’s voice again, a heaviness to it that almost made you jump,

“Do you think about anything specific?”

Although it had been nearly a decade since you’d last seen each other, you didn’t miss a single thing about either of them. Patrick didn’t mince words, and he never shied away from not just hinting at, but blaring his salacious intentions every time he spoke. You tilted your head towards him, a cool smile tugging at your lips.

“Just what good times we had.”

A silence, accented with a flood of nostalgia and a pointed reference to those “good times” permeated the air. You took a moment to gaze at the two of them ever so softly — enough for them to feel it, but not enough to make them squirm (though, they were easy to make squirm)— before you decimated the silence by slapping your hands down on either of their thighs and squeezing endearingly.

“So tell me, where’ve you two been? I’m not the only one on TV these days.”

“Ahh, you don’t wanna hear about boring tennis,” Art waved a hand of dismissal.

You chortled, a trademark of yours that Art and Patrick had always poked fun at in school,

“You’re right, I don’t.”

“You still laugh the same,” Patrick said, grinning like he was trying not to but was unable.

You chuckled, this time low in your throat, and turned your head to face him again. You and Patrick were similar in the sense that you were always pushing the boundaries, tiptoeing closer and closer to the line — but the three of you had never quite established where that was. At some point, you were all just too close to even think about “the line” or “boundaries” — all of you appeared clueless to societal expectations of friendship, spurting a sort of cultlike relationship where everyone else was an outsider.

“Do I?” smiling at him like you were warning him not to tease.

“Yeah, that little snort you do,” Patrick replied, unshaken.

“You do do a little snort,” Art chimed in, always chirping like he spoke from a less nefarious place.

“And if I get started on you guys’ little tennis grunts?” you grinned fully now, showing teeth, looking between the two of them and leaning back a bit.

They followed, leaning back against the couch and keeping their heads in line with yours so you were never too far away from them, each of them turning their heads to look at you.

“No way you actually watch us,” Art replied.

“I do!” you insisted. “Seriously, if you’d asked anybody here you would know.”

“Sure, let me just strike up conversation with George Clooney,” Art shot back.

“Ha-ha,” you bleated sarcastically. “I don’t even know him… but I have walked past him once on the carpet.”

“Look at you,” Patrick smirked. “Little Miss Superstar.”

He punctuated his sentence with a hand on your knee. Your eyes flickered over to him and you caught the way his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat when he swallowed, felt the way he gazed up at you. You didn’t miss the desire twinkling in his eyes.

Then Art, always second but not necessarily last,

“She’s our little superstar, you know that, right?”

His hand just gently grazing your shoulder.

You let them revel in the moment for as long as you felt appropriate, then huffed.

“You know you guys can stay for the weekend, right? I mean, you should.”

“Oh… no, we wouldn’t wanna impose,” Patrick said, his hand slinking away from your knee.

Another chortle from you,

“You wouldn’t be. This is a five-bedroom house. It’s fine. Besides, don’t you guys wanna actually catch up? I’ll let you torture me with tennis talk.”

Art started to stammer,

“I-I mean… we didn’t bring anything.”

“Just our idiot selves,” Patrick added.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get Charles to get you guys all set up.”

“Charles?”

“Oh, he’s my assistant,” you said nonchalantly as if it were nothing. “You’re not fighting me on this. I want to spend some quality time with my boys. Don’t make me have to beg for it.”

“We could never make you beg for anything,” Art replied, just a little too quickly.

“I know, Art, that’s why I love you,” you grinned over at him. “So, are we all in agreement? Stay with me. Just this weekend.”

“Yes,” they both replied a little too quickly this time.

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile.

“You know… I really, really missed you guys. And those good times we had.”

You let the memory of that night of almosts in London resurge, let their minds run amuck with whatever teenage fantasy was still left over from that night. A moment so brief it could almost be forgotten, could even be flagged as incidental, accidental. Still, the three of you knew, even as grown adults (especially as grown adults), that it would always stick and remain unresolved, unless someone ran to the rescue with some sort of solution. Once again they held their breaths. You stood up, glanced between the two of them like you were sizing them up, and then smiled as if nothing had happened at all — you let them breath.

“Your bedroom’s the second on the right when you leave here. Charles will help you get set up— I’ll see you guys in the morning for breakfast.”

And just like that, you were gone. The air in the room seemed to clear. Your presence was like a thousand tons of pressure weighing on their bodies and their minds. Finally, they could breathe.

They glanced at each other with the same longing, almost nervous expression — they were just two pubescent boys all over again.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“I think we should just go for it.”

Patrick lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling with his hand on his stomach, speaking aloud as if into the clouds. Art, who had been gazing into the distance, sitting up against the wall on his side of the room, shook his head at Patrick’s words.

“What are you talking about Patrick?”

The two of them sat in the room that you had put together. They had showered and dressed in the pajamas that were waiting for them, just as you said they would be. The house was practically silent, it was the dead of night. Though you’d left hours ago, that same heaviness in the air seemed to remain in their chests.

“You know… I mean, she invited us here for a reason, don’t you think?”

Art glared over at Patrick, his brows furrowed and his mouth twisted in a frown,

“Don’t be a creep. We’re her friends.”

“Who want to fuck her, and she knows it. Pretty sure she wants to, too.”

“That was high school, Pat. Get over yourself.”

“Like you weren’t getting your dick wet just from looking at her. C’mon.”

Art throws a pillow at Patrick. It lands square at his feet.

“Don’t be disgusting.”

“I’m just saying, she’s not innocent. She knows what she’s doing. She’s just as perverted as the both of us.”

“Yeah? So what are you gonna do about it?”

“Fucking — I don’t know, something. We should just both go over there and knock on her door.”

Art couldn’t help but sigh heavily — Patrick was always creating some elaborate plot or scheme, but rarely did he ever actually go through with something unless Art was onboard.

“Patrick, she’s not trying to have a threesome with us. I’m not interested in your porn addict fantasies. Plus it’s the middle of the night, she’s probably asleep. Think she’s gonna wanna sleep with two idiots who fucked up her nighttime routine?”

“So then why are you still here?” Patrick retorted.

“What? What do you mean?” Art tried to sound normal, but his defenses were up, and they both knew exactly why.

Patrick turned so he was on his side, facing Art, making sure his words hit just right.

“You know what I mean. You could’ve just gone home. Could’ve told her that we’ll catch her some other time. But look at you, sitting here, feigning innocence. She’ll think we’re cowards, you know. Seven years later and we still can’t come out and say what is that we want.”

Art swallowed, staring blankly into the distance like Patrick’s words didn’t sting his side. He was right. He almost always was, even if his wording wasn’t the most politically correct or precise. It was just how they were — one too careful, the other one so not. Most of the time, they came together to balance each other out: like fire and ice. But sometimes, like this time, they just threw each other out of whack – an oil spill in a pristine lake.

“I want a friendship. If you want a fuck, go and tell her that. Goodnight, Patrick,” Art spat, rolling onto his side and turning his light off.

Patrick sighed heavily like a petulant little boy who’d just been denied a cookie. Maybe in college or high school, Art would have been all ears, and they would have risen from their beds like triumphant kings, and gone on the hunt for their king. But maybe he was right — that was high school. They were too old now, and it was embarrassing. At least if Art had agreed, even if he didn’t fully believe in Patrick, they would’ve gone in together. And so, swallowing his disappointment, Patrick stared up at the ceiling, ruminated for just a bit, and then turned off his light, forcing his eyes shut so he’d fall asleep faster.

1:10 AM.

That was the time on the clock when Art opened his eyes next. He woke with a start, like there was something he was meaning to do. Then immediately, he was a bit disoriented. This room was far too big. It wasn’t his. He remembered where he was, and just what he had to do. He rose like an automaton and found his feet swinging to the floor. He threw on the Calvin Klein shorts and shirt your assistant had given him (his pair was white, Patrick’s was black), and slid easily into his slippers.

Only once he stood did he really catch his breath, and seemingly also his determination. It was like he knew what he was doing, and he was completely okay with it. He even peered over just slightly, to see if Patrick was still asleep. And by the slow rise and fall of his body on his side, he could tell that he was. He was stuck in this dream state between idiocy and confidence, making for mindless determination as he sauntered out of the room and down the hall. He had intent, his head was screwed on straight. He knew where your room was, and he practically marched down the end of the hall.

As soon as he reached your door, he realized what he was doing, truly realized. He stood there stock still, like a rabbit that had just gotten caught eating a carrot from someone’s garden. He was suddenly confronted by the fact that he was completely alone; your room was at the very end of the hall and completely cut off from the other rooms. Now the heartbeat in his chest was loud and clear, and the slight shifting sound of the fabric of his shorts rubbing against his inner thigh sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Nervous tics settled in, and he felt a rattle go down his spine at the recognition of what he was doing— the sheer arrogance, the assumption he was making. He thought of Patrick, and the betrayal this would be, considering he had just shut him down so profusely earlier. He thought of the fact that it was so easy for him to be so double-sided, to just get up and attempt it on his own, even making sure that Patrick couldn’t possibly be involved. How easy it was for him to be so unfair. He thought of himself, standing there with suddenly sweaty palms and a dry throat. Like a high school boy with blue balls.

What are you doing?

He thought to himself. He almost turned around, but he heard humming from the other side of the door. No doubt your voice, and no doubt you were very much awake. He could hear music, albeit muffled. He swallowed, closing his eyes like he was bracing for impact, and sighed. If he could remember the words to recite Hail Mary, he would have. Eyes still closed, he knocked. He heard the slight pause on the other side and imagined you perking up slightly and looking around the room to make sure you weren’t just hearing things. Despite his embarrassment, the knock was firm. It was clear it was someone else on the other side of the door. And so, a few seconds later, you swung the door open.

“Art,” you said, a hint of both surprise and relief in your voice.

“YN,” he replied, saying your name like it was a period to a sentence.

You were clad in a cream-colored silk slip with a lace trim. A dainty gold necklace adorned your neck, flush against your collarbone. You’d changed again since the last time he saw you, and this outfit did not make it any easier for him to tear his eyes off of you, starting from the necklace, to your breasts, to your legs. The slip was short and nearly see through, revealing your thighs which looked so soft and plush. The pucker of your nipples sheened underneath the thin fabric. The way it clung to your body was almost maddening. You looked fresh as a daisy — like you’d spent hours in the bath, rubbing countless creams and gels against your skin. Art felt suddenly embarrassed like he had interrupted your girl time with his boyish, base desires. You pulled him out of it though, with a slight smile and kind eyes looking up at him.

“You doing okay?” you asked almost playfully, still grinning slightly.

“Yeah, I just uh… wanted to… talk to you,” Art said, not even making eye contact with you and instead very obviously peering inside of your room. You looked over your shoulder like you were trying to see what Art was looking at, then looked back at him. Finally, he was making eye contact with you. He felt like you were scrutinizing him, searching for something to validate this interaction, to validate him. Your warm smile didn’t look all that different from a smirk anymore.

“Well. I am the host. Who’d I be if I didn’t indulge a late night chat?”

You stepped aside, pushing the door wide open with your back. You nodded at him like a coach, beckoning him,

“Come in.”

And so he stepped inside, and you closed the door behind you. Your room was how he’d expected it to be — reflective of your personality as long as he’d known you, but a hint more sophisticated. Everything rested on a plush chenille carpet. Your mattress, adorned with plush, deep red and green linens, sat on a large wooden bedframe, above which posters of your favorite bands and writers hung — Audre Lorde, Led Zeppelin, James Baldwin, Khruangbin. Across from your bed, there was an almost bulky yet fitting antique dresser. On top of it sat a 1935 Remington typewriter. In the corner, a leather armchair sitting beneath a scallop shade floor lamp, accented by a magnificent bookshelf behind it that was positively full. A desk, scattered with papers and pens and a pair of glasses, yet still tidy. And a vanity, where Art imagined you’d been just a moment before he came in. And dim, yet comforting lighting.

“Wow,” Art couldn’t help himself — he truly was an admirer of the details, the little things. And clearly, so were you. It had gotten you this far. He sauntered over to the typewriter on your desk, fiddling with the keys just a bit and tapping the top. You giggled at his nerdy lopsided smile. “This is sick.”

You smiled, placing two hands on your hips, beaming like a proud parent,

“She doesn’t work, but she’s beautiful. That’s honestly my most prized possession.”

Art grinned, truly touched. He turned to face you straight on, feet away from where you stood at the bed.

“I’m so proud of you, you know.”

The veritas in his voice rendered you bashful for just a moment, looking down and huffing an almost dismissive laugh,

“C’mon, Art, don’t go all soft on me now.”

Art rose to his own defense,

“I’m serious, YN! Look what you’ve done for yourself… I mean, I couldn’t expect any less, though.”

You waved your hand with a cheeky eye roll, and he started walking towards you, his footsteps causing the floor beneath to creak slightly. It was almost suspenseful, but you weren’t intimidated or in danger, just deeply intrigued and honestly, excited. You watched him, positively ensnared, as he closed the distance between the two of you.

He took two of your hands in his own like he was putting his life into your hands. That charming smile of his reared its head, accompanied by his blue-brown eyes, sparkling and wet and smiling too,

“We both are, you know. Proud of you.”

You smiled, genuinely at first. Then, it flickered. By the way he faltered momentarily, losing grip of the power trip that he dove into headfirst, you could tell he noticed. Your genuine smile turned slightly smug.

“Both of you? Why is Patrick not here, then, telling me how proud he is?”

Art did his best to keep smiling smoothly, cocking his head to the side slightly as if to say what can you do?

“He’s asleep.”

“Right… it is like, one AM. I’m surprised you’re even up, or that you assumed I would be," you kept on prodding.

“Hmm,” he smirked. He shrugged all too casually, so much so that it was cocky. “Guess I’m not that tired.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, nodding sympathetically.

The both of you relished in this little game you were playing, a game of so few words but oh so much meaning. You held his gaze for just a moment longer, watching as his flickered from your eyes to your lips and back up. Then you sat down wordlessly onto your bed, never tearing your eyes away from his. You patted the spot next to you, and he followed, taking a deep breath that never seemed to exhale. You were sealing his fate in this one moment.

“I spend a lot of my time holed up in here. That’s why I make it as peaceful as I possibly can. Beautiful too, but not too beautiful. Otherwise, I’d just be distracted and a bit disgusted,” you chuckled at the end.

“Beautiful. Right,” Art replied, his gaze burning a hole into you.

A beat.

“So what’d you wanna talk about, Art?”

He knew he couldn’t be imagining the dulcet innocence in your voice that suggested anything but innocence all the same, nor the flicker of desire in your inquiring, wide eyes. All of it, combined with the slight pout on your lips, seemed to come together to create a face that was almost begging. His entire body softened. His eyes went heavy with the confession that was his utter, depraved need to have you. He slowly pulled his bottom lip into his mouth with his tongue and blinked slowly, seemingly unaware of the fact that he was leaning in more and more with every passing millisecond. You stayed put where you were, wanting him to chase you through and through. You kept that poker face, like you didn’t feel your heart racing too. As his face inched closer to yours, his hands started to roam as well, and you stifled a whimpery breath at the touch of those hands against your bare skin. For some reason, you’d always thought he’d have such baby-soft hands, but they were rough and calloused from the weight of the tennis racket that was forever stationed between them. It only made the touch that much better, made you realize how long you’d been waiting for this, his rough hands seeping into your skin like a scar of age.

“I don’t wanna talk,” he finally said, his voice lilted with need, and his lips nearly flush against yours.

Finally, he closed the gap between your lips. The kiss was slow and languid, but not for lack of passion. Years of distance would do that, would amplify the mutual pining. You thought, in this interaction that you knew would happen with one or the two of them, that you might be more calm and collected, still wearing that disguise of cool nonchalance, but you were on fire. Your hands were quick to wander as well, up to his face, gripping his jaw, one traveling up to his hair and finding itself tucked beneath the tufts of slight curls. And then his hands were traveling up from your knees to your thighs, to your waist, practically glued to the expensive fabric. The room was silent bar for the sound of the two of you panting like crazed virgins, and the wet sounds of your kissing.

You needed to gain control back, and quickly. So you pulled away, putting on your best smirk. Deep down, you felt like Art knew it was an act, like he was looking right through you. But at the same time, you knew he was far too ecstatic and anticipatory to call it out or really even notice it in full. And besides, you didn’t care. It was you who held all the glory, both back then and especially now.

“You two place a bet or something? That was quick.”

Art was still breathing heavily, gazing at you like you were the solution to all his problems. His hands were still roaming widely, like your body was an expanse of wild land, his hands gripping your shoulders and caressing your arms up and down. The confidence boost in him was visible and almost amusing.

“No bets… but Patrick was saying…”

“What was he saying, hmm?” you placed a hand on his chest and caressed the warmth there. “Why’d you come here, Art? Thought you should close the gap, huh? Answer the age-old question? Wanting to prove yourself?”

You slipped your hand between his legs, grasping the meat of his inner thigh and glaring into his eyes. You felt how he stilled, how his confidence stuttered. Both because he’d been called out, and because if he wasn’t hard before, he was raging now.

“No…” you squeezed his thigh, your hand ghosting over the erection that sat directly above it, forcing the truth out of him with your touch. He shuddered. “Maybe. Yeah, fuck. Yes. I-I wanted to prove myself.”

“Yeah?” you murmured, slinking towards him like a black cat. You placed one leg over his lap, straddling him. Positioning yourself so your clothed cunt was directly over his erection, which dared to rip through both his boxers and his shorts. You rolled your hips over his cock gently, just once. “This helping you prove yourself?”

You pushed him back, back, back, until his head rested firm on the pillow and you were directly above him, the shape of your entire body clear to him as you straddled him on your bed. He couldn’t speak, only stare up at you in awe, his heavy breaths loud and desperate. You only stayed like this on top of him for a minute before you shimmied down until you were at face level with his crotch. You let your hands explore the expanse of his chest and stomach over his white t-shirt, and then took the bottom of it in your mouth, pulling it up with your teeth in a motion so effortless and tigress-like that Art nearly came on the spot.

“Hmm?” you probed him to answer the question with a demanding hum, the soft fabric of his t-shirt still in between your teeth, gazing up at him from beneath wispy lashes. You let go once he was decently exposed, his tight stomach rising and falling frantically.

“Fuck, yes,” he rattled, his hips bucking up involuntarily.

You pushed his hips back down immediately and like a reflex, he started to apologize,

“Sorry, I’m sorry.”

You ignored him and instead, you practically ripped the shorts off of him and started to palm him through his boxers, admiring the way his cock twitched and jumped beneath the small of your hand. You were attentive, watching as precum started to leak from his tip onto his boxers. You tsked.

“We’ll have to get someone to wash those.”

He squirmed and swallowed a wild grunt in his throat. His head was fully thrown back like he was in the most immense pleasure of his life, and you hadn’t even really started yet. You ground the part of your hand just above your wrist over his erection before peeling his boxers off. You watched as his cock sprung up in the air, thick and red and leaking. A tuft of strawberry blonde hair sat at his mound, but he was still put together. You sat up just a bit so you could place your hand on his cheek lovingly.

“Look at me, Artie.”

Your voice was so enchanting and soft that he almost forgot you were fucking his entire mind up, and he opened his eyes and looked down at you with the shaft of his cock enclosed in your hand.

“Fuck,” he huffed, resisting the urge to throw his head back again.

You maintained eye contact with him as you circled your finger over his wet, pleading tip, spreading the leaking precum around the head of his dick. He glanced away from you and looked at what you were doing, causing his eyes to roll back in his head. It was taking everything in him not to give in completely, and not to cum.

“No- no - I… I wanna make you feel good first. Please.”

Something in Art’s voice nearly made your heart drop — the wholehearted desperation and earnestness in it. It also made your pussy throb around nothing. The whole night Patrick and Art had been desperate, but now it was like you were finally seeing the extent of it. It was somehow endearing, a reminder of the love between all three of you. Art had always been a giver, and he sought out praise any place he could get it. It came as no surprise to you that he was the same now, but still, it made you indescribably horny.

You hardly realized you hadn’t responded. That wasn’t supposed to be part of your act, but Art was still pleading all the same,

“Can I? Can I just… taste you or — f-feel you, I-”

You kept your wrist moving in slow and controlled motions up and down his shaft, studying his face as you did: the way his eyes fluttered open and closed with a pleasured squeeze, his mouth perpetually open in gratification.

“It’s so fun watching you fall apart, though,” you replied, but you found yourself working your way up anyway, sneaking your legs up his body like a snake, one on either side of him.

He grasped onto your hips immediately, groaning at just the sight of you. The moonlight shone through the windows and brightened up the darkness of your room, illuminating your features and painting you under something like a spotlight.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, looking at you with hooded eyes. You steadied yourself, your hand reaching out to grab the bedframe and one of his hands gripped the fleshy underside of your thigh to help you. The more you inched up, the more he could see up the slip, catching a glimpse of your cotton panties, cream-colored with a tiny black bow in the middle. The print of your cunt through them was like an outline, a map to promised land. He sucked in a breath, almost like he was in pain. Your necklace dangled just inches away from your neck, like it was teasing him too.

“Wanna taste me?” you asked teasingly, lifting your hips above his face and hovering there, forcing him to tilt his head back and look up directly at your cunt, still hidden beneath your panties. You rolled your hips, letting your clit brush against the tip of his nose. He was enamored by the scent, had to physically stop himself from taking a deep sniff. “Hmm?”

“Yes, please, fuck,” he groaned, slightly arching his back up off the mattress just to get closer to you. “Please.”

He pressed a closed-mouth kiss to your clothed cunt, his eyes closed. It was such a gentle, delicate touch that you almost wouldn’t have believed how desperate he was if it weren’t for the longwinded moan that involuntarily escaped his lips when he made contact with your core. You bit down on your lip, breathing out from your nose, and started to grind your hips against his face. He kept kissing at your cunt over and over until it was almost indiscernible what was fabric and what was flesh— your panties had gotten so wet from his mouth and your slick. The wet trace made the friction unbearable, and your pussy throbbed through the fabric onto his face.

Through a mouthful, Art mewled,

“You taste so good. Please let me eat this pussy.”

This time, his lips peppered kisses around your inner thighs, soft but quick touches, taking in your musk. You decided to stop torturing him, that enough was enough. You lifted yourself up just a bit, and pushed up your slip. You were about to reach your hand down when you stopped and cocked your head with a smirk.

“Go on, then,” you said. Softly, like it was a suggestion more than it was a command. And Art took it in perfect stride.

He practically ripped your underwear off, pushing them to the side with a brute swipe of his hand that contrasted wildly with the gentle kisses he had given you before. Literally pushing your panties to the side. He looked for a second, eyes glazed over at the sight in front of him, taking in the sight of your dripping pussy. It looked so warm and wet and inviting, if he weren’t a better man he would’ve had to force himself not to bury his dick inside of you. When he felt he’d gotten a good look of it, savored the moment just enough, he wrapped his arms around your waist, smashing your cunt against his face. His mouth connected with your folds and you felt him sucking vehemently, before slipping his tongue in between your slit, pressing the tip of it against you. You cried out as he collected all the slick from your weeping center, keeping a hand on your stomach to stabilize himself, the other against your asscheek, squeezing every now and then.

“Oh,” you moaned, immediately starting to grind your pussy against his tongue, your clit once again nudging his nose each time you moved up. Art kept up, positioning the tip of his tongue just right so you rode it each time you wound up, applying just the right amount of pressure. “Yes, Art, just like that.”

“Mm-hm,” he hummed, the vibrations causing you to clench over his face and around the tip of his tongue. Then he flattened his tongue so he could capture the entire surface of your cunt. This time the grip on your ass grew stronger, and soon enough both his hands were squeezing your ass, supplementing your movements. You kept the time you wanted, Art just assisted you in rolling up. You honestly needed it, the way your thighs were starting to shake.

Art hummed satisfactorily again, enclosing his lips around your clit and suctioning, keeping his tongue out just enough so you could feel both sensations. You nearly squealed, your hand flinging down to push your panties out the way even more. Your back arched in pleasure, creating a whole new angle for Art to lick at and please. His fingers pressed deep into the flesh of your ass, like he was leaving some imprint. Now it was you writhing and moaning, but Art never forgot who was in control. That is, until he took firm grasp of your hips and used that to flip you over so that you were on your back. It was like he never lost contact with your pussy, diving right back down before you could even register what had happened. He yanked your panties all the way down and threw them over his shoulder.

“Take your shirt off, baby,” you panted.

He obliged, throwing his shirt off too, and then leaning back in so he could get to work. His arms wrapped around the inside part of your thighs, spreading you apart for him. Before you even felt his mouth, you moaned at the sight of his back and shoulder muscles flexing as he worked. He placed sloppy kisses against your inner thighs and kissed closer and closer to your mound until finally, he was wrapping his lips around your clit once again, using what he could of his tongue to lap up your juices at the same time. You were nearly trembling in pleasure, your hand flying to the back of his head to keep him secure where he belonged. He moaned in response, and you squeezed tufts of his strawberry-blond hair.

“That’s it, I want you to feel good. Make yourself feel good for me,” he murmured, his nose buried in your cunt, eyes closed in satisfaction and concentration. You glanced down to see that he was grinding his hips ever so subtly into the bed — getting off by getting you off, and you threw your head back.

“Mhmm. So good, Art, you’re so good.”

This seemed to set him off into a frenzy as he placed open-mouth kisses against your pussy, kissing it like it was a mouth. His tongue lapped you up and sucked you in, making precise, timed movements with the close of his lips around your clitoris. He used his hands to gently push your legs back so they were angled slightly in the air, the new angle causing you to whine. He angled his neck ever so slightly so he was licking the lips, a slender finger prodding at your wet, tight entrance.

“This okay?” he asked, just dipping the pad of his finger in and opening his eyes to look up at you, as if you weren’t lost in your own world of pleasure, eyes shut tight. You opened them momentarily, looking down at what he was doing, the sight of his face engulfed in your pussy and his finger slipping up and down your slit now. You could only manage a moan along with a strangled nod, and he obliged, sliding a slender finger inside of you. Your pussy stretched and then collapsed around his finger, suctioning in like a glove, and now he used his tongue and lips to go from your lips to your clit, all spit and drool and your arousal as he worked his finger inside of you.

“Fuck,” a strangled grunt left your throat, your pussy tightening around his finger, which made him moan in response. “Art, fuck. I’m getting close.”

“Yeah?” he replied, muffled as it was. He slipped another finger inside of you with ease, wishing he could watch as he felt your pussy sucking him in greedily. Now the slow thrusts of his fingers became more forceful, pushing deep inside of your walls. You nearly screamed at the addition of his finger and the way he curled them inside each time they came to a stop inside of you.

“Y-yes, fuck, just like that, Art, don’t stop.”

He moaned something incomprehensible, or maybe it was a groan mixed with a sigh, as he continued the expert deft movement of his fingers inside of you and mouth against you, bringing you to rock your hips against his face. You were muttering to yourself now: “so close”, “gonna come” until his fingers finally hit that sacred spot, his lips closed just right around your clit, spit drooling from his mouth, and you fell apart. That devastating feeling peaked in your stomach as Art brought you to your high and you gushed around his fingers and into his mouth. Your moans were girlish and deliciously sweet, momentarily wiping away that facade you’d been playing so good at all night.

“Fuck, I’m coming!” it was like you were announcing it to yourself, squeezing your legs around his head and practically clamping down on his hair with your hand as you released. He helped you ride out that high, not stopping, but slowing his fingers and easing his lips against your pussy to keep you grounded.

When you’d finally caught your breath, Art pulled back, his chin and cheeks absolutely soaked.

“You taste so fucking good, YN,” he said it like it was a fact of life, as simple as “the sky is blue,” trying to ignore the fact that his load was prone to explode any second now.

“C’mere, I wanna taste,” you implored. Shakily, he pulled himself up and above you, letting you cradle him in your arms, one around his back and the other cupping the nape of his neck, as you captured him in an open-mouthed, sloppy, slow kiss. You could feel his cock sticking out of his boxers and poking your leg and in one swift movement you slipped your hand between the two of you and pulled him out, your hand wrapping around him. He couldn’t help but take notice of how your hand fit him perfectly, like a glove.

His hips started to stutter, quite literally, he nearly fell on top of you, gasping desperately.

“Fuck,” he drawled slowly, lips still brushed against yours, pinching his eyes closed. “T-this is s-so—”

He spoke between full-body twitches and spasms of his cock. You pouted slightly, running your fingers through his hair,

“Use your words, Artie. Whatsa matter?”

He chuckled, hanging his head low and shaking it slowly,

“It’s just I’m so — fuck,” his words morphed into a whine when you used your finger to circle around his tip, which was positively leaking with precum. “I… I’m so sensitive right now. I’ve been trying not to come for like thirty minutes.”

You both laughed, genuinely amused.

“You wanna come?” you entreated, gazing at him with a look that almost resembled concern.

His smile dropped as his face morphed into that of desperation, that of need, and he nodded earnestly,

“Yes, please. Please make me come, YN. Make me come h-however you want me to.”

“Yeah?” you implored, the palm of your hand closing over his tip to gather slick and then spreading it all down his shaft. “Want you to look at me while you come. Can you do that for me?”

Art felt pressure building in his chest as his breaths grew more and more erratic and he forced himself to look you in the eyes, responding with an affirmative albeit strangled whimper that was supposed to resemble the word “yes.” You rewarded him by stroking him faster now, your hand a tight grip around his shaft, the sound of his wet skin and your open hand slapping against his balls overwhelmingly lewd. His eyes fluttered closed for just a minute, and his head cocked to the right, his mouth opening while no sound came out. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his hips started to buck up into your hand, supplementing your strokes.

“F-fuck, YN, that’s– fucking incredible, Jesus Christ. Please, I’m gonna–” he stammered, looking up at you like he was pleading with you. You simply returned his gaze and smiled, that warm, all-knowing smile of yours, and he fell apart. His entire body, hot to the touch, seemed to shake uncontrollably as he burst, thick ropes of cum spilling out of him and splashing onto your hands and your thighs.

“Fuck!” he whined almost pathetically, his hips faltering to an unsteady stop as he released.

You kept your hand there, slowing to languid, gentle strokes as he rode out his high until you were sure he’d emptied the last of his cum in the crease between your thigh and hip. He tried his best not to collapse on top of you, but you knew he was weak.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, and he fell on top of you with a limp thud, groaning as he buried his face in your chest.

The two of you lay there catching your breaths, sweaty and hot to the touch. When Art finally got up, he laid next to you on his side. His face was red, and not just because of the exertion.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know what came over me, probably crushed you,” he laughed apologetically.

You replied by using two fingers to gather what you could of his cum, smiling writhely as you licked them clean. He watched intently, absolutely enraptured. You did it again, reaching down to your thigh and gathering up his cum. This time, your fingers prodded at his lips. He nearly rattled with arousal. Easily, he obliged, opening ever so slightly, and wrapping his lips around your fingers, sucking the taste of himself clean off. You smiled at him admiringly. He couldn't help but laugh around your fingers,

"Fuck, that's so hot. I'm so sorry."

“Don’t apologize. You did so well.”

Suddenly, Art sat up.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

You giggled, your eyes twinkling as you looked up at him, amused by this sudden display of responsibility.

“Do I seem that fragile?” you teased.

“Oh, on the contrary. I just, I don’t know. Aftercare is important.”

So you spend the next half hour being doted on by Art as he soaped down your body in the tub. It’s the most intimate you had been the entire night, and he realized now that this was the most detailed he’d seen your body. He wanted you like this forever, being carefully pampered under his adoration, gazed upon by his eyes only. For a moment, you worried that this was somehow crossing a line, but you swallowed those thoughts just as quickly as they surfaced. The line had already been crossed when you reached out to them. Sure, you wanted to see how your two favorite white boys were doing, and you were excited to rekindle the friendship that had molded your life for so long.

But like Art walking to your door, you knew what it was that you wanted, and you knew that you were opening up a can of worms. Besides, you really did love Art, and you loved Patrick too. It was the sort of platonic love that could only be understood by people who had been friends as long as the three of you had. The kind of love that was still there for the taking years later. It didn’t need constant stoking to keep the flame. So, neither of you made this routine— this gentle touch in the water, loofah running across your back and Art’s fingers digging into your shoulders to loosen you up — a big deal.

By the time the water drained, you were absolutely zonked. You didn’t realize how late it was and just how much energy the whole ordeal had taken out of you. Your orgasm was so strong you were surpised you didn’t fall asleep then and there. Art used a towel to dry you off and had to practically carry you to your bed. He was lucky you didn’t see the shit eating, self-satisfied grin on his face — he liked being a caregiver, and throughout all the years that you had been friends, it was rare that you ever let him take care of you like this.

You threw the sheets over yourself, lashes batting as you looked over at Art, who was kneeling on the floor next to you, at face level with you. He was smiling so wholesomely that you couldn’t help but reach your hand out and stroke his face, your thumb resting on his sharp jaw.

“You’re good to me, Art. You both are. I really did miss you two. I keep saying it but I want you to know it’s true. Didn’t just invite you guys here to live out some old fantasy.”

“I missed you so much,” Art could melt from the touch of your hand on his cheek. He tilted his head slightly to kiss your fingers gently, cupping your hand over his. “I know you, YN. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

You yawned,

“I’ve been a rotten friend, though. Don’t know what took me so long to invite you guys to one of these. I thought about it every year, but decided against it every ime.”

Art waved his hand, shaking his head in dismissal of your comments,

“You’re a perfect friend. We’re the rotten ones.”

“See? You’re just the sweetest,” you grinned, your eyes sparkling. “I’d let you sleep with me, but—”

“Patrick,” he concluded.

“Don’t want him to be mad you didn’t tuck him in,” you giggled.

In the back of Art’s mind, he wondered if it would’ve gone the same way if Patrick had been the one to knock on your door. He knew it would, but it was nice to pretend that it was something he had to think about. He wondered what you would’ve done if they’d both shown up. Almost laughed to himself at how little self-control he had, while you were like a rock.

“He’s asleep anyway, but I should be there in the morning so things aren’t weird… things won’t be weird, will they?”

You shook your head, though some part of you knew that Patrick would even out the scorecard soon enough. He always did, competitor that he was. He was so hard to resist, and it’s not like you were resisting him very much in the first place — you’d invited the both of them, it was just a quirk that Art had been the one to do it first. You’d half expected Patrick to show up by himself, if it wasn’t the two of them. But one thing about Art was that he wasn’t some stick in the mud — he could be a wild card, and if he was anything like that ball of energy he was back in high school, you knew he could get shit done.

“It could never be weird. It’s us,” you replied with certainty.

Art leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

“Go back to bed, Artie. I’ll see you at breakfast,” you grinned.

“Goodnight,” he crooned.

“Goodnight,” you replied.

He stood up and walked out the room, though part of him was longing to stay there for just a bit longer, if not the whole night. But he knew this was just a one-time thing, just a way to let out that pent-up tension. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t already thinking about showing up to your door tonight, and the next night, spending each warm summer night here buried inside of you, pulling his name from your mouth in pleasured sobs, making you come undone with his fingers once again. But, dutiful as he was, he walked back to their room, careful not to make a sound as he pulled off his shirt and stepped back into bed— staring up at the ceiling while he replayed moments over again in his mind. Like high school all over again.

#challengers #challengers smut #challengers fanfic #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #art donaldson #art donaldson x black reader #patrick zweig x black reader #x black reader #x reader #patrick zweig smut #art donaldson x patrick zweig #art donaldson x black! reader #patrixk zweig x black! reader

105 notes · View notes

faithshouseofchaos · 2 days

Note

WEREWOLF CARCAR WHERE THEY WONT STOP FIGHTING? 👉👈🥺

This has been sitting in my inbox for WEEKS NOW 😭😭😭 I won’t lie to you Werewolf carcar and I have been fighting for like two weeks now

Werewolf!carcar x reader

Betsy suggestive has smutty tones to it

Reader is a kind of a bitch

Word count 854

Oscar and Carlos wouldn’t stop fighting over the dumbest things lately and it was driving you crazy. If Carlos and Oscar wanted to fight then you’d give them something to fight over. After the race was over you left the paddock and went straight back to the hotel and got ready. Once you knew that they were over with post race Interviews you sent them a message telling them to meet you back at your hotel room where you sat waiting.

As expected both men arrived and soon there was a knock at your door. “This better be worth it” Oscar whispered as he walked in. You smirked. “Don’t worry it is” you replied as you shut the door behind them.

“Well what is it?” Carlos asked impatiently with a pout on his face. Carlos was known to be impatient and a bit spoiled.

“Wipe that look off your face Carlos you look a petulant little boy” you said crossing your arms over your chest with a raised eyebrow. “You boys have been fighting and arguing all week long and it’s driving me crazy your acting like two bitches in heat” you said which was true due to the fact that they both were werewolves.

Both of them looked at each other before they turned back to look at you. They stood together with their arms crossed and a scowl on their face.

Carlos was a bit of a spoiled rich kid, but he was charming and loved to get what he wanted no matter what the cost. He had a strong will and his face often made him look like a man-child.

Oscar was the opposite, he was far more polite and calm. He had a gentle nature and was kind and compassionate.

You couldn’t resist either of them.

Oscar sighed and scratched at his head before he spoke.

“What do you want?” Oscar finally asked. He was far more polite than Carlos and had a calmer demeanor but he could get just as fiery if he needed to, but only if the occasion called for it.

Carlos just gave a low rumbling growl and rolled his eyes at you. He couldn’t hold back his spoiled attitude.

You smirked at their reactions before you walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. “You boys have been fighting like a couple of spoiled brats all week long. It’s driving me crazy” you said with a huff.

They both seemed a bit surprised to hear you speak so directly to them like that but it only seemed to fuel their competitiveness.

The looks of realization quickly turned to smirks before they turned their heads to look at each other once more. They gave each other a mischievous smirk before they turned back to look at you again.

“Oh yeah?” Carlos said as he and Oscar took a step closer to you. They were suddenly much more interested than they had been before. “How exactly do you suggest we do that?” Oscar asked with a raised eyebrow.

You smirked at their sudden change in attitude. “Well I was thinking that the two of you could have a little competition” you suggested.

“I was hoping the two of you could come up with that part.” You shrugged. “It’s about time that two put all those pent up feelings and energy to good use.” You crossed your arms over your chest as you waited to hear their response.

The two men seemed to think for a moment before their lips curled into twin smirks. “Oh I can think of something we can do.” Oscar said with a mischievous expression on his face.

You raised an eyebrow and looked between the two of them. “Oh? And what’s that?” You asked curiously as you leaned back on your elbows and waited to see what they were going to suggest.

“A little game of who can please you the most” Oscar said with a mischievous smirk on his face. Carlos smirked as well as they both stared you down with their eyes roving over your body.

You felt a shiver go down your spine at the thought of being pleasured by these two gorgeous men. "Well don't keep me waiting..." You said with a coy smile.

The two men stepped closer to you and began to strip down, revealing their toned and muscular bodies. Carlos' skin was a few shades darker and his body was more built and defined. Oscar was a bit thinner but had a lean and fit look to him.

Carlos looked at Oscar and gave him a cocky smirk. “Let’s see if you can keep up with the big boys Oscar.” He said with a cocky tone. Oscar returned the look with a scoff and a roll of his eyes. “I never have any issues “keeping up” Carlos.” He replied with a challenging tone. You couldn’t help but chuckle at their banter as you felt your heart begin to race in anticipation. Your body was already heating with desire as the two men stood before you, both of them gorgeous in their own way.

95 notes · View notes

oneluckydumbass · 3 days

Text

Well, hello and welcome to the madhouse. @sock-1574, your wish is my command, here's a quick _v2 for this short. I wrote it at 10pm and it's unedited, forgive me if you find mistakes. Also, f!reader.

In his sleep, Simon turned to wrap an arm around your waist to pull you against his body, a completely casual move that he had done so many times in the past. He just wanted to warm up a little in the chilly room, because despite the thick blanket you insisted on using, he could still use a little help. But his eyes opened when he realized you weren’t there next to him. It was odd.

When he heard something break downstairs, he jumped out of bed, his instincts kicking in right away. It didn’t sound like a window breaking, more like a mug or a glass landing on the tiles. What were you even doing in the kitchen a little past two in the morning? He called out your name as he walked down the stairs several times, but there was no response. He heard a groan, then some soft sobbing, which made him believe something was wrong.

By the time he entered the kitchen, you were sitting on the floor with your head between your knees, a hand gripping the back of your neck as you cried. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Nothing, you didn’t even look at him. “Hey, come on, tell me. What’s wrong?”

“It hurts,” you mumbled through your tears.

“What hurts?”

“My head.”

“Anything else?”

“I’m dizzy, I feel like I could faint any second. I wanted to drink from your favorite mug and I broke it, I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t give a damn about that bloody mug,” Simon said with a nervous sigh as he took your hand. “The hospital is ten minutes away, it’s faster if I take you there myself. Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

He helped you up, but after only a few steps, he felt your body becoming heavier as you lost consciousness. Without thinking, he picked you up and grabbed the car keys from the table by the front door. The hospital was close to their house, he would get there sooner than the ambulance would arrive. It was a miracle that no cop stopped him because he drove like some maniac. He was in a hurry since you were still unresponsive, and deep down he was expecting the worst.

What if you wouldn’t survive whatever this was?

Once he got there and a doctor noticed what state you were in, they quickly took you from him to run some tests on you while someone asked him questions. Questions he didn’t really know the answer to. You seemed fine when you had gone to sleep, all he knew was that you had this terrible headache in the middle of the night.

They didn’t tell him anything apart from the info that they were doing some scans. He bought a coffee and sat in the waiting room, his mind in overdrive from the events of the past hour. And then that hour became two, and just when he was losing hope someone would finally tell him what the hell was happening, a doctor showed up and asked for your relative.

“I’m her boyfriend, what’s happening to her?” he replied when they asked him who he was.

“An aneurysm in her brain. Well, two, but only one ruptured. We will take her to the OR now and see what we can do,” the doctor explained. “It will take a long time, you might want to go home. We will call you once we know more.”

“I’d rather stay. And I’ll call her parents, I’m sure they would like to be here.”

The doctor nodded then left to focus on your surgery. This left Simon alone in the waiting room again with his face buried in his hands as he tried to fight back the tears. He had to be strong. He couldn’t fall apart. He was supposed to tell your parents that you were in there because of a damn aneurysm. He knew those things were deadly, but you were still alive, fighting.

After talking to your parents, he sent Price a message, telling him that there was no way he would leave your side for god knows how long. He was considering writing to Johnny too, but in the end he decided not to. The two of you were friends, he would be worried for sure. At least one of them had to stay sharp, especially if he happened to go on a mission before you got better.

What he wasn’t expecting was Price showing up a bit over an hour after he had sent the message. The Captain greeted him quickly then pulled him into a hug. Simon had no idea how badly he needed that, how much he craved physical contact at this point. It grounded him, made him focus on the present, not on the possible worst outcomes. Because his mind had been full of what ifs, like what if you died, what would he tell your parents and friends? It would mean he failed to do the one thing he promised to do–to protect you from harm.

“You’re spiraling, Simon,” Price said as they sat down.

The lieutenant nodded. “It’s hard to do anything else in this place. She’s been in surgery for two hours now, I don’t know how it’s going, her parents aren’t here yet. What will I tell them?”

With a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, Price took a deep breath. “You wrote me it was an aneurysm. Those things can be hidden for decades. No one knew it was there, there’s no warning sign as far as I know, and let’s not forget that you brought her here in time. She’ll pull through, don’t worry,” he said.

They sat there in silence for quite a while, but it was the sort of comforting silence that Simon truly needed now. And then, just when he was about to go and ask someone if they knew anything, the doctor showed up again. “Mr. Riley? She is out of surgery for now. She will need a lot of rest here in the hospital, and it will take some time to see if there is any kind of brain damage. She is okay now, but I need you to understand that a lot of patients with this problem don’t survive for long. We will do everything we can, and it is a good thing you brought her in so soon after the first symptoms. I am… cautiously optimistic.”

“Thank you, doctor,” he said with a relieved sigh. “Can I see her?”

“Yes, a nurse will soon be here to take you to her, but you can’t stay for long.”

Price patted him on the shoulder after the doctor left. “She’s okay. She’s gonna be fine,” he said with a supportive smile.

Simon nodded. Yes, you were alive. And he would do whatever it took to help you recover.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost #john price #call of duty #modern warfare #mw2 #mw3

121 notes · View notes

maltesejjong · 3 days

Note

Its my first time putting a request so I'll try to sum it up!!

Could you make a bangchan x f!reader? Where yn and Chan have been trying for a child for abt 2 years they've had 3 or 4 miscarriages and after a long time, they have 2 beautiful twins!! (You don't have to do it if you don't want to!! Your health comes first 💗)

OMG ilysm for this. Thank you for being my first request, and thank you for trusting me to be your first request! Before I go any further, though, I want to touch on a few things with this one. First off: this is a very real thing that doesn’t get talked about enough . Miscarriages happen and there is no shame. If you have ever lost a baby before, please know that you are stronger than you think, and that you did nothing to deserve such a loss. Secondly: this is a major fear of mine. I want nothing more than to be a mother. I have had three moms throughout my life and I want to be able to give someone the love and protection the first two didn’t give me. I’m also the mom friend so yeah lmao. Finally, to all the moms out there, or those who would have been moms if not for this loss: thank you for all you do. You deserve more than what you have because you truly do the most unappreciated task in the world. You bring children into the world and give them life, regardless of if you lost the baby, there was still a life force that you created. That is an amazing accomplishment. I apologize ahead of time if any of that seemed insensitive but please know you are loved and appreciated. You are not alone🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

ONTO THE POST!

Warnings: mentions of miscarriages, that’s pretty much it. You’re married to Chan, afab!reader. Pure fluff! Oh, and mentions of girl dad Chan idk bout y’all but girl dad Chan needs a warning because he’s TOO DAMN MUCH ISTG HE IS A GIRL DAD

There’s a time skip bc I was lazy and wasn’t sure what to write as filler lol I’m sorry😭😭

Wc: Idek I didn’t count

Enjoy 😊

꒰ঌ(⃔ ⌯' '⌯)⃕໒꒱

You sigh and drop your head back to rest on the cabinet behind you. It had been almost two whole hours since you laid the damp stick on the counter and slid down to sit on the cool tiled floor. You had been feeling nauseous lately, but chalked it up to something you ate.

Until you realized you’re late.

By three weeks.

Three. Whole. Weeks.

You’re never late.

So, of course, you decided to take a pregnancy test.

While your husband was at work.

It’s not that you don’t want Chan to know. It’s just… after so long, after trying for this long, all the disappointment and heartache that came with each failed pregnancy, you learned to avoid the topic of kids. Specifically kids of your own. As much as you both want kids, the hardship of discovering each miscarriage broke your spirits.

So you’ve learned not to get his hopes up. Which is why you keep a secret stash of pregnancy tests. Because no matter what, you always get your hopes up when you realize what is most likely going on with your body.

You close your eyes, trying to relax your mind when your phone buzzes, bringing you out of your thoughts.

💙channie💙: hey princess. I’m on my way home

You: alright babe

💙channie💙: want anything from the store?

You: ice cream?

💙channie💙: ofc baby. I’ll see you soon love you

You: love you too. Drive safe💞

Sighing, you put your phone down, knowing you need to get this over with before he gets home. You slide your thumb over the diamond on your left hand before pushing yourself up to look at the results of the test.

“Shit,” you mutter. “I knew it.”

Four months later

You let out a sigh as the doctor spreads the cold gel across your belly, which, despite being four months pregnant, has stayed suspiciously flat. Hence why Chan never caught on.

“How’s the morning sickness?” Dr. Kim asks.

“Gone,” you say.

“Any general nausea?”

You shake your head. “Only when I sit or stand up too fast.”

He nods and hums to himself. “Any cramping? Abnormal bleeding?”

“None,” you happily reply.

His eyes flick up to yours. “Have you told your husband yet?”

You close your eyes. “No,” you whisper. “And please don’t hint to him.”

“Like I would,” the doctor scoffs.

Dr. Kim, as he is known at work, is one of your closest friends. The only time you ever call him Dr anything is when you’re in his office. Outside these walls, he’s just Seungmin to you. Your best friend since high school. He’s also the first person you tell when you’ve gotten pregnant in the past… and the first to know when you lost the baby.

“I can’t tell him, Min,” you say quietly.

“Why’s that?”

You feel your eyes start to burn. “What if I lose another one?”

Seungmin stops what he’s doing and grabs your hand. “Y/n, do you realize how long it’s been? It’s been four months. In the past, it only lasted half of that. I think it’s safe to tell him. You’re more than halfway through your pregnancy. Doesn’t he deserve to know?”

You bite your lip. “I don’t want to get his hopes up, though. It would crush him.”

“And it wouldn’t crush you?”

You blink back tears.

“Y/nnie, this is why you’re married. In sickness and in health, remember? You’re with each other through thick and thin. If this is gonna crush him, then let it crush you too. It’s okay to go through that. I understand protecting him, but have you ever considered that he wants to do the same to you, but he can’t? Let him in. Let it hurt if it ends up hurting. But you’ll heal together.”

“Minnie… as a professional… do you…?”

He understands your unfinished question. “Yes, love,” he says, eyes softening. “I think it’ll make it. So tell him.”

You take a deep breath and nod. “I will.”

*************

You feel something tickle your shoulder and sleepily roll away from it. But it returns, traveling up to your neck.

“Mmm,” you groan tiredly.

“Morning, beautiful,” Chan whispers against your skin.

You roll over to face him. “Morning,” you reply, feeling a loopy grin stretch across your face. You sigh contentedly when his hand slides up your waist and rests there, holding you close. You peek up at him, recognizing the glimmer in his eyes. “What?”

His dimples appear. “Nothing,” he instantly replies. “You’re just so pretty.”

You squint at him. “Is that all?”

“What? I can’t call you pretty?”

“Christopher Chan, I know that look in your eyes. Out with it.”

He props himself up on one elbow, half hovering over you. “I was thinking…”

“Oh boy, that’s never good,” you tease, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his soft black hair.

He closes his eyes in bliss for a moment, than takes a deep breath. “What do you think about adopting?”

You go still. “What?”

“Adoption. I don’t know I just think maybe it’s time to add another member to the family?”

You bite your lip. “But… baby. We already have another addition to the family.”

He looks at you, obviously confused off his ass. “We do?”

You nod, steeling yourself. “Well… it might take a bit but… yeah we do…”

“Love, what are you talking about? It’s not a very long process. Did you pick one out without telling me?”

You feel your eyes widen as you realize he’s not talking about the same thing you are. “Channie, what are you on about?”

“I asked you first.”

You shake your head. “Not until you spill.”

“A dog, babe. What else?”

“A… a dog?” You ask in exasperation. “I thought you were talking about a child, Christopher.”

“No…?” You watch his eyebrows join together in thought. “Wait. Back up. We already have another addition? What is that supposed to mean?”

Shit. “Umm…” you start to consider saying you actually did pick out a dog already. “Nothing.”

“No no no no no. Nah-uh. Y/n. What did you mean?”

You shake your head, refusing to answer.

“Fine then.” His hands meet your shoulders and he pushes you into your back, hovering over you. “You don’t wanna talk? Fine. Then I’m not getting up.” And he plops down on top of you, dead weight.

Of course, it hurts. Hurts even more considering you have an extra little someone residing in you. “Shut,” you yelp. “Chan get off.”

There’s something in your tone that makes him shoot up. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head. “Not… not me…”

“Then who…” as his voice trails off, so do his eyes, until they land on your stomach. “Fuck. Wait. No.” He looks up at you. “No. Baby. What?”

You bite your lip and nod. “Yes.”

“Shit. I…” he places a hand on your stomach. “I— I could’ve hurt you,” he whispers, staring down at your tummy.

“Baby, look at me. Please?” He does and you cup his face in your hands. “It’s okay. I’m okay. It’s alright.”

He bites his lip. “Are… are you sure?”

You nod.

“How long?”

“Four… four months,” you whisper.

He blinks. Five times. “What?”

You nod. “I had an appointment with Minnie and he said everything looks fine. He said that I just have a late developing baby bump. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I just didn’t want us to get our hopes up… But Min said that since it’s been so long and I’m already more than halfway there…”

Chan’s eyes light up. “There’s a chance?”

“A very high one. You aren’t mad?”

“Mad?”

“That I didn’t tell you sooner.”

He shakes his head. “Baby. No. I’m not mad love. I understand your hesitation to tell me. Truly.”

You blink. “Why are you so calm right now?” You bury your face in his arm, which is still planted next to your head. “I feel like I’m freaking out and I want to cry and… God I don’t even know.”

He presses a kiss to your hair. “Because I know freaking out won’t help you and staying calm is the best way to process this.”

You sigh. “Why are you so perfect?”

“Just part of the charm. Besides, I have two princesses to take care of; I can’t let myself be anything less than that.”

You turn to face him. “Two?” You ask, raising your eyebrow.

He smiled sheepishly. “I feel like it’s gonna be a girl.”

You hmmm in thought. “What if it’s a boy?”

“Then I’ll still be nothing less than perfect. I’m just saying I think it’ll be a girl.”

“I think you just want to be a girl dad,” you tease lovingly.

He blushes slightly. “Maybe.” He leans forward and nuzzles your neck. “I think id be a great girl dad.”

You kiss the side of his head. “I think you’d be a great anything dad.”

“We got this,” he whispers against your neck. “We always do.”

You wrap your arms around him. “You still want to adopt?”

He chuckles. “Babe, you just told me we’re having a baby, and now you want to add a puppy in the mix?”

You shrug. “Why not? We’re growing our family, right?”

He nods against you.

“So then let’s grow it.”

@linoalwaysknows Tysm again for submitting the request

#bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #stray kids fluff #skz x reader #skz ff #christopher bang

87 notes · View notes

a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 3 days

Text

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 13

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 1.8k

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

When the sun rose and light peeked through the gaps in the curtains, you allowed yourself to rise from bed, savoring the feel of the blankets beneath your fingers as you took deep, steadying breaths. Finally, you pulled yourself up and opened the armoire to find clothes Feyre had given you throughout your stay. At the bottom of the closet, you discovered a rucksack filled with clothing for all climates, fresh skeins of water, and various dried fruits and ready-to-make meals. You dug through the bag, wondering who could have left it for you. Nesta, perhaps? You shook your head, smiling lightly as you dressed, pulling out a cable-knit sweater and layering it over a turtleneck. You opted for green cargo pants and a knit blue wool jacket, then pulled on a pair of hiking boots. You tied your hair into a braid, securing the end with the ribbon Anthea had given you, allowing your fingers to linger over the frayed ends as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

You slung the rucksack over your shoulder and walked into the hallway, knowing you would need to find someone to bring you to the ground or face the many stairs that would have you walking until nightfall. As you made your way down the hall, you heard indistinct chatter behind a closed door in the common room.

“You’re sure?” a deep male voice asked.

“Absolutely,” Rhysand responded.

“How is that possible?” the deep voice asked.

“When my father was High Lord, diplomatic affairs were very different. There weren’t strict border enforcements, and he and my father were quite close.”

A scoff from the deeper-voiced male.

“So you think it’s possible that he’s her father?” Azriel’s voice interjected.

You paused. They were talking about you.

“I would recognize that voice anywhere,” Rhysand responded.

“She was a child. Who knows what she accurately remembers,” the deep voice replied.

“Where else would she know his voice?” Rhysand countered.

There was a pause as you pressed your ear closer to the door.

“So what do we do?” Azriel asked finally. “Do we tell her?”

“What good would that do?” the deeper voice asked.

“For her safety, we can’t tell her anything,” Rhysand responded.

“So we just sit with this information?” Azriel asked, irritation lacing his voice.

Rhysand shot back, “What would you prefer, Azriel? That we tell her and risk not knowing what will happen afterward?”

“What do you think she would do?” Azriel asked.

“I don’t know,” Rhysand replied.

Azriel’s voice grew louder, “She has no other family. Is it not wrong of us to keep this from her? What if she wants to go to him?”

The deep voice responded, “You want her to go live with them? That messed up family?”

“I don’t think that’s for us to decide,” Azriel shot back.

“You know how they treat their females,” the deep voice responded.

Azriel said nothing.

The deep voice then continued, “Rhys, what do you want us to do?”

“I want you to keep this quiet for now. For all we know, he’s still looking for her.”

Azriel, hesitantly but with a touch of frustration, asked, “What about her mate?”

Your heart caught in your throat.

A pause from all of them. “That is not our concern,” Rhysand responded.

Azriel’s voice grew louder. “She’s running from him, Rhys! We can’t just do nothing. Who knows what he might do to her?”

Rhysand, his voice calm and collected, said, “Az, she doesn’t want to tell us anything about him. We can’t do anything unless she asks for help.”

Azriel, almost yelling, responded, “She’s terrified to say anything!”

The deep voice tried to calm him, “Az-”

“No!” Azriel stopped him. “Rhys, he’s in her head all the time. She screams his name every night. She’s been running from him. Who knows what he’s been doing to her?”

Rhysand replied, “Azriel, we cannot overstep boundaries. I’ve already entered her mind without her consent. If we do anything without her permission, we are causing more harm than good.”

“So we let her go? Let her keep running from him?”

Rhysand paused. “It is her choice what to do with her life.”

“She doesn’t want this!” Azriel yelled again.

“How can you be so sure what she wants?” Rhysand responded.

Your mind raced. Why did it matter who this male in your dream was? Why would they care? Your heart nearly stopped as you considered them knowing your mate existed, suddenly fearing they might call him to come and get you. You started thinking through a story to stop them, but then you heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and footsteps approaching. You stepped back, pressing your rucksack against the wall. The door flew open, and Azriel stood before you, his face hot with anger that faded slightly when he saw you.

“Y/N-” he stammered, “Hi, good morning.”

“Good morning,” you responded, taking a step forward slightly.

Azriel looked over his shoulder back into the room and then turned back to you, shifting slightly as he looked you up and down. “What—where are you going?” he asked, his face turning more concerned.

You looked down at your clothes and then back at his face. “I’m heading out. I was wondering if someone could take me down.”

Azriel’s fingers flexed around the door as he seemed to fidget more. “You’re leaving?” he stammered.

“I think it’s just time for me to move on,” you said, shifting slightly in your boots.

As you finished, Rhysand appeared in the doorway behind Azriel, who took a slight step out of his way. “You don’t have to go,” Rhysand noted. “You can stay as long as you like.”

You looked at Rhysand, smiling politely. “You’ve been so generous, but I’m just feeling an itch to move on.”

Azriel started to speak, but Rhysand cut him off. “Of course,” he said. “It’s been our pleasure to have you.”

You looked to Azriel, whose face hardened at Rhysand’s words, but he didn’t speak. From behind Rhysand, another male with Illyrian wings, a much larger frame, and shoulder-length black hair appeared.

“You’re leaving? But I just got here!” his voice boomed.

“You must be Cassian,” you said, smiling at the bright face with a beaming smile back at you.

“So you’ve heard of me? These guys don’t just spend all their time talking about themselves?” Cassian pushed between the two males, coming to stand in front of you, his hand outstretched.

You reached to him, shaking it lightly, his calloused grip hard. “Well, mostly Nesta.”

Cassian smirked. “So you’ve only heard the bad things.”

You chuckled, readjusting the pack on your back. “Just that she missed you.”

“Not that I’m the biggest pain in her ass and that she wishes I’d fly into the side of a mountain?” Cassian smirked back.

“No, nothing like that,” you replied, “just a little.”

Cassian chuckled slightly. “Well, it brings me too much joy to terrorize her day to stop now.”

Rhysand broke back in, “I can take you down. I have to get back home anyway.”

You nodded slightly, noticing how Azriel’s face tightened to the point where you thought his skin might snap.

Cassian gave you a kind smile. “It’s been nice to meet you, even if you’re so rudely leaving.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not my fault you’ve been avoiding me.”

Cassian turned, walking down the hall towards Nesta’s room. “Someone has to work around here,” he threw his hands up and continued through the doors at the end of the hall, calling over his shoulder, “Good luck out there, kid!”

Azriel’s fingers loosened and gripped the doorframe again. Rhysand reached out his hand to yours. “Shall we?”

You looked between Azriel and Rhys before taking a few steps forward and wrapping your arms around Azriel’s neck. “Thank you,” you whispered to him.

Azriel seemed stunned momentarily before he wrapped his own arms around you, resting his chin on your head, one arm coming around your shoulders, pressing his fingers into your shoulder, the other coming around your waist.

“Of course,” he whispered back.

You took in his scent, mist and cedar, breathing him in deeply as you clenched your eyes shut. You couldn’t figure out why, but you felt a deepening sadness when you pulled away. Azriel seemed reluctant to let go. You pushed onto your tiptoes, pressing a kiss onto Azriel’s cheek. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Take care, Azriel,” you said to him.

“You do the same,” he responded, opening his eyes, and letting one hand take your own. He rubbed his scarred thumb over the back of your hand as you stepped back, taking Rhysand’s hand in yours.

When you let go of Azriel’s grip, the world spun in black and gray, and you felt a single tear slip down your cheek.

When you landed, you found yourself standing in the middle of a busy cobblestone street near the large gates to the entrance of Velaris. Fighting off the nausea, you leaned forward, and Rhysand placed a comforting hand on your back.

“Does that ever get less disorienting?” you panted.

“I’ve been doing it for about 400 years. I don’t think I’m the right person to ask,” he laughed.

You took a few more gasping breaths, trying to steady yourself. As you did, the familiar scents of your childhood city filled your senses—the sweet smell of baking bread and the yeasty delight wafting from the baker's square. You stood upright, peering around at the gray stone buildings with the banners of the Night Court flying high above their spires. Your heart felt suddenly full as you envisioned yourself walking through the streets with your mother, seeing the world from so much closer to the ground. You tried not to let your mouth fall open in awe.

Rhysand gave you a light smile. “You recognize this?”

“I spent a few years here in my early childhood.”

“It’s a pretty magical place to grow up,” Rhysand remarked, looking around.

You nodded slightly.

Rhysand’s gaze landed on you. “You don’t have to leave, you know? You can stay here. We can find you a place to live.”

You shook your head, smiling politely while looking at your feet. “It’s alright. Somewhere else is calling me. I just need to find it.”

Rhysand nodded. “I understand. Sometimes we have to carve our own paths.”

You nodded again.

“If anything happens, or you need anything, you will always have a home here,” Rhysand assured you.

You tried to push down the tears and the lump forming in your throat as you smiled at him. He gestured to the gates. “This is the closest I can get you to the exit without putting you outside.”

“It’s perfect,” you replied.

“You have everything you need?” he asked.

“More than enough,” you responded.

Rhysand nodded lightly, reaching out his hand to shake yours, but instead, you took a step forward and wrapped him in a hug. He hugged you back. “Thank you,” you said.

“Of course,” he responded as you pulled back, turning and walking toward the shining steel gates.

“Be safe,” Rhysand called.

“I will,” you called back, before stepping outside the gates of Velaris and into the wilderness, immediately feeling a hole forming in your stomach as you walked farther and farther from that wondrous, shining place.

To my readers, much love. Be prepared for what's to come, we're getting serious out here. @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @405rry @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra

86 notes · View notes