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rafeandonlyrafe · 3 months

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girls night guardian

words: 1.3k

warnings: request!, drinking, partying, violence, college au

“you sure you don't want me to come?” rafe asks, adjusting the strap on your dress for you, wishing it covered up more of your body.

“it's girls night rafey.” you shake your head. “besides, it's just a sorority party. there will barely be any guys there.”

“yeah, alright.” rafe sighs. he trusts you to party on your own without him, its everyone else that he doesn't trust. whether it's a friend encouraging you to drink more than you should or a guy dancing up on you.

“i don't wanna be out super late anyways. will probably head home around 11:30 if you wanna stay up.” you offer, knowing rafe would feel better if he was able to make sure you were home safe before falling asleep.

“definitely will.” rafe cups your face, pressing his lips to yours, smearing the lipgloss you had just reapplied.

“okay.” you smile at him, swiping your thumb across his lower lip to get some of the sparkles off. “love you baby.”

you weren't sure at first when your highschool sweetheart asked to move to the same college town as you. worried living together and attending university away from the outer banks would put too much stress on your relationship, but it's only strengthened.

“i love you so much more princess.” rafe says. you learned not to argue back about who loves who more, rafe will always insist it's him. “you sure you don't want me to walk you there?”

“thanks for the offer, but you know katie only lives three houses down.” you pat his cheek before opening the door, stepping into the cool night, the setting sun casting a warm orange glow among your neighborhood, technically off campus but steps away from the greek life houses, every house being rented by students for the course of their education.

“alright, have fun princess.” rafe says, watching you walk out the door. you close it behind you, but aren't surprised when you hear it reopen a minute later, rafe watching you until you reach katies door.

you raise your fist to knock, but before you can even make a sound, your best friend flings the door open with a squeal.

“i am so excited for girls night.” she says, looping elbows with you and ushering you back down the steps. knowing katie, she's probably been ready to go since lunchtime.

“me too.” you smile. you love rafe and love partying with him, but it's fun to occasionally leave the boyfriends at home and just have a blast with your girls.

you reach the party quickly, it's only about a two minute walk until you see the sorority house, and hear the loud music.

it's a rush of hugs and squeals and greetings when you enter, your friend taylor making it her mission to drag everyone towards the dance floor, which the entire living room has basically been converted into, with a makeshift bar in the corner.

you laugh and dance with your friends, occasionally downing whatever alcohol that is pushed into your hands by katie or taylor.

you aren't too drunk, but your bladder has filled so you tell katie, practically having to scream into her ear, that you were going to find a bathroom. you navigate through the hallways, not surprised that it isn't insanely packed like other parties. the sorority girls don't invite as many people as the frat houses do.

you head up the stairs and use the first open bathroom you find, glad that its so clean unlike some of the other ones you've used at parties.

you make eye contact with a man you don't recognize as you exit, causing you to quickly rush down the stairs. the university isn't that small, so it's strange and almost jarring to see an unfamiliar face.

“hey, taylor!” you call out, looping arms with her once you reach the living room, hoping being with your friend would dissuade the man from talking to you, but it clearly doesn't work when he comes up, a flirtatious smirk on his face.

“hey gorgeous.” he reaches his hand out. “im mike.”

“hi mike.” you say politely, but don't reach out to shake his hand. “i have a boyfriend.”

“damn.” he looks around. “i don't see him though.”

“he's around.” you mumble, not wanting this random persistent guy to think that you're here alone. “just giving me some space to dance with my girls.”

“if he's giving you space for your girls, how about for me too?” mike smirks, reaching out towards your waist, but you manage to step back in time before his fingers graze you, taylor in tow.

“hey, she said she had a boyfriend, why don't you just leave her alone?” taylor pipes up, and suddenly mikes eyes turn from friendly to heated, anger overtaking his expression.

“don't think i was talking to you, bitch.” he grunts out, making both of you gasp.

“what did you just call the lady?” a voice rings out from behind mike, and you let out a sigh of relief as he turns and comes face to face with rafe.

mike goes to respond, probably continuing to argue or to tell rafe to piss off, but before his words can leave his mouth, rafe decks him straight in the jaw.

you expected the punch, so you knew to move out of the way as mike falls backwards. he's an inch or so taller than rafe, but with rafes surprise and muscles, mike has no chance as your boyfriend pounces on him, making sure his face will tell the story of his behavior for the next couple weeks.

you watch with wide eyes as rafe punches him. it's not the first time you've seen rafe beat anyone up, but it's been a while, his behavior so different in college than it is when he's in the outer banks.

“okay, okay.” you pull at rafe when it's clear mike can't take much more. rafe pulls away, his eyes suddenly softening, cupping your cheeks in his warm hands. he presses a kiss to your lips as his thumbs swipe over your skin.

“are you okay baby?”

“yeah.” you nod. “im fine, promise.”

“and you're alright taylor?” rafe asks. he's become the honorary defender of all of your friends, especially the single ones who he considers it his duty to protect just as much as you.

“im alright, thanks rafe.” taylor smiles at him in relief, corners of her mouth only raising higher as mike groans on the floor. you'd be worried about her reaction to him if it wasn't for everyone knowing that rafe only has eyes for you. a few girls tried to get with him when you first moved from the outer banks, but rafe made it very clear that he wasn't interested.

“oh my god, thank god you got here fast.” katie says to rafe, joining the group. “i texted him the second that guy came up to you, he just gave me terrible vibes.”

“you were definitely right for doing that.” rafe says. “now how about i get you ladies home?”

your friends nod as rafe wraps his arm around your shoulder, leading everyone out of the house. he makes polite conversations with the girls as he walks them home before continuing the couple feet back to your house.

the second rafe gets you inside, door locked tight behind you, the tension leaves his body and he lets out a deep sigh.

“it's okay, im home.” you rub your hands over his shoulders. “im safe.”

“i know.” rafe pulls you into his chest, needing to feel you. he presses kisses to the top of your head. “but you know im not gonna let you have any more girl nights, right?”

you let out a giggle. “i don't think any of the girls will mind if i haul you along with me.”

“better not.” rafe smirks as you look up at him.

you grin up at him. “our protector.”

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bowtiepastabitch · 5 months

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Historical Analysis: class and injustice in 'The Ressurrectionists' minisode

Alternate title: why we're tempted to be upset with Aziraphale and why that's only halfway fair

Okay so first off huge thanks to @makewayforbigcrossducks for asking the question (and follow-up questions lol) that brought me to put these thoughts all together into a little history nerd ramble. That question being, Why is Aziraphale so clueless? Obviously, from a plot perspective, we know we need to learn some lessons about human moral dilemmas and injustices. But from a character perspective? A lot of this minisode is about Aziraphale being forced to confront the flaws of heavenly logic. This whole idea that "poverty is ineffable" basically boils down to 'yeah some people are poor, but their souls can be saved just as if not more easily that way, so it's not our problem and they probably deserve it anyway for not working hard enough,' a perspective that persists in many modern religious circles. Aziraphale isn't looking at the human factor here, he's pretty much purely concerned about the dichotomy of good and wicked human behavior and the spiritual consequences thereof, because that's what he's been told to believe. His whole goal is to "show her the error of her ways." He believes, quite wholeheartedly, that he's helping her in the long run.

"the lower you start, the more opportunities you have"

So here's what we're asking ourselves: Why did it take him so bloody long to realize how stupid that is? Sure, he's willing to excuse all kinds of things in the name of ineffability, but if someone in the year of our lord 2023 told me he was just now realizing that homelessness was bad after experiencing the past two centuries, I'd be resisting the urge to get violent even if he WAS played by Michael Sheen.

Historical context: a new type of poverty

Prior to the 19th century (1800s), poverty was a very different animal from what we deal with now. The lowest classes went through a dynamic change leading up to the industrial revolution, with proto-industrialization already moving people into more manufacture-focused tasks and rapid urbanization as a result of increasingly unlivable conditions for rural peasantry. The enclosure of common lands and tennancies by wealthy landowners for the more profitable sheep raising displaced lots of families, and in combination with poor harvests and rising rents, many people were driven to cities to seek out new ways of eeking out a living.

Before this, your ability to eat largely would have depended on the harvest in your local area. This can, for our purposes, be read as: you're really only a miracle away from being able to survive the winter. Juxtapose this, then, with the relatively new conundrum of an unhoused urban poor population. Now if you want to eat, you need money itself, no exceptions, unless you want to steal food. Charity at the time was often just as much harm as good, nearly always tied deeply up in religious attitudes and a stronger desire to proselytize than improve quality of lie. As a young woman, finding work in a city is going to be incredibly difficult, especially if you're not clean and proper enough to present as a housemaid or other service laborer. As such, Elspeth turns to body snatching to try to make a better life for herself and Wee Morag. She's out of options and she knows it.

You know who doesn't know that? Aziraphale.

The rise of capitalism

The biggest piece of the puzzle which Aziraphale is missing here is that he hasn't quite caught onto the concept of capitalism yet. To him, human professions are just silly little tasks, and she should be able to support herself if she just tried. Bookselling, weaving, farming, these are all just things humans do, in his mind. He suggests these things as options because it hasn't occurred to him yet that Elspeth is doing this out of desperation, but he also just doesn't grasp the concept of capital. Crowley does, he thinks it's hilarious, but Aziraphale is just confused as to why these occupations aren't genuine options. Farming in particular, as briefly touched on above, was formerly carried out largely on common land, tennancies, or on family plots, and land-as-capital is an emerging concept in this period of time (previously, landowners acted more like local lords than modern landlords). Aziraphale just isn't picking up on the fact that money itself is the root issue.

Even when he realizes that he fucked up by soup-ifying the corpse, he doesn't offer to give them money but rather to help dig up another body. He still isn't processing the systemic issues at play (poverty) merely what's been immediately presented to him (corpses), and this is, from my perspective, half a result of his tunnel-vision on morality and half of his inability to process this new mode of human suffering.

Half a conclusion and other thoughts

So we bring ourselves back around to the question of Aziraphale's cluelessness. Aziraphale is, as an individual, consistently behind on the times. He likes doing things a certain way and rarely changes his methodology unless someone forces his hand. Even with the best intentions, his ability to help in this minisode is hindered by two points: 1)his continued adherance to heavenly dogma 2)his inability to process the changing nature of human society. His strongest desire at any point is to ensure that good is carried out, an objective good as defined by heavenly values, and while I think it's one of his biggest character hangups, I also can't totally blame him for clinging to the only identity given to him or for worrying about something that is, as an ethereal being, a very real concern. Unfortunately, he also lacks an understanding of the actual human needs that present themselves. Where Elspeth knows that what she needs is money, Aziraphale doesn't seem to process that money is the only solution to the immediate problem. This is in part probably because a century prior the needs of the poor were much simpler, and thus miraculous assistance would never have interfered with 'the virtues of poverty'. (You can make someone's crops grow, and they'll eat well, but giving someone money actually changes their economic status.) Thus, his actions in this episode illustrate the intersection of heavenly guidelines with a weak understanding of modern structures.

This especially makes sense with his response to being told to give her money. Our angel is many things, but I would never peg him as having any attachment to his money. He's not hesitant because he doesn't want to part with it, he's hesitant because he's still scared it's the wrong thing to do in this scenario. He really is trying to be good and helpful. So yes, we're justifiably pretty miffed to see him so blatantly unaware and damaging. He definitely holds a lot of responsibility for the genuine tragedy of this minisode, and I think Crowley pointing out that it's 'different when you knew them' is an extremely important moment for Aziraphale's relationship with humanity. Up until now, he's done a pretty good job insulating himself from the capacity of humans for nastiness, his seeming naivity at the Bastille being case in point.

In the end, I think Aziraphale's role in this minisode is incredibly complex, especially within its historical context. He's obstinate and clueless but also deeply concerned with spiritual wellbeing (which is, to Aziraphale, simply wellbeing) and doing the right thing to be helpful. While it's easy to allow tiny Crowley (my beloved) to eclipse the tragic nature and moral complexity of this minisode, I think in the end it's just as important to long-term character development as 'A Companion to Owls'. We saw him make the right choice with Job's children, and now we see him make the wrong choice. And that's a thing people do sometimes, a thing humans do.

~~~

also tagging @ineffabildaddy, @kimberellaroo, and @raining-stars-somewhere-else whose comments on the original post were invaluable in helping me organize my thoughts and feelings about this topic. They also provided great insight that, in my opinion, is worth going and reading for yourself, even if it didn't factor into my final analysis/judgement.

If I missed anything or you have additional thoughts, please please share!!! <3

#this was a monster of a post to write #in no small part because I was relying more on my own historical knowledge than usual so I had to double check myself constantly #but I had a lot of fun and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did #good omens #good omens 2 #neil gaiman #good omens analysis #good omens meta #the resurrectionists #good omens season 2 #good omens minisode #nerd shit #ineffable husbands #aziraphale good omens

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leclerced · 7 months

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what happens in vegas | mv1 cl16

Summary: Charles and Max finger Charles’s fwb in a limousine while her and Max are standing through the sunroof driving through Vegas

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x Reader x Max Verstappen

Warnings: messily written while high and tired, don’t read if you’re under 18. also this would never realistically happen but i’m a slut for unrealistic fantasies

Author’s Note: idk how i feel about this i wrote it after trying and failing to fall back asleep after waking up, and i wrote this rq then didnt know if i liked it enough to continue so pls if u like it and want more lmk if i should continue!

They were in Vegas, her best friend Charles had invited her to the city for their inaugural race. She had known him since they were kids and her brother karted with Charles and Max, but he gave up racing to be an engineer and she kept attending the local races to cheer Charles on. Max had won the race and Charles had come in second right behind him, so the trio was out celebrating. It was still weird to her that they were friends after their childhood rivalry, maybe because for years she tried to get over her crush and hate him because he was beating Charles and that was enough, except it clearly wasn’t. Now they were older and Charles was his friend, so she couldn’t really hate him for winning, and she never really got over the crush either. Charles had rented a limousine to drive them around the city in celebration and they were squeezed into the sun roof to watch the lights as they drove through the city.

Her back was pressed to his chest and his hands were resting on the roof on either side of her, trapping her in place. She wouldn’t be flustered if it were anyone else, but they had been hooking up since they were eighteen and at this point the only time they weren’t was the rare occasion one of them was in a relationship. The feel of his body against hers was driving her wild, and she wanted to go back to the hotel and have her way with him. She knew that no matter what time they left, they would end up wrapped up in each other but she didn’t know how long she could hold out. They had already gone to two clubs and were on their way to a third when his lips moved to her right ear, “I’ve got a proposal for you, been thinking on it for a while.”

She turned in his arms, barely having enough room in the sunroof, but after a moment her back was pressing against the edge of the roof as she leaned back and tilted her head up to him questioningly. Just knowing he had been thinking about it for a while had piqued her interest. Charles stared at her for a second, eyes flicking from her eyes to her lips and back before he said, “How would you feel about Max joining us?” A shiver ran up her spine and her eyebrows raised, and she’d wondered if he had caught her looking at Max all night.

She giggled and asked, “And what exactly have you been thinking about?”

He grinned and retorted, “That’s for me to know and you to find out, if you say yes.” She thought about it for a moment before nodding, mind running through ideas of what he had been thinking about and she couldn’t form a coherent thought to say yes. He grinned and kissed her his hands moving from the roof to grip her waist and pull her closer, despite the fact they were already pressed together. The kiss didn’t last long as he started pulling away and lowering himself back into the limousine, she stayed in place, not wanting to look Max in the eyes when Charles asked him. She focused on the lights blurring around her, the other cars speeding by and the feel of the wind around her. It wasn’t long before she felt hands on her body as someone squeezed into the sunroof next to her.

Max was suddenly pressed chest to chest with her and she was looking straight into his eyes, “Hi there.” She squeaked out, and he grinned at her.

“Hi,” he said as his hands slid from her hips to her waist and her eyes flitted to his lips as he asked, “This really never crossed your mind before?”

She blushed and shrugged, unsure how much she should divulge. “I won’t lie, I’ve thought about you before, but never both of you at the same time.”

The words sent a shock through Max, he wasn’t expecting her to say yes, assuming she only agreed for Charles. He had crushed on her for years and it only got worse when he got close to Charles once they were older and she was around much more often, only to find out they were entangled with each other. Charles knew Max liked her, they had talked about it before when he drunkenly complained she was mean to him and Charles just said that’s how she is, to which Max said not with you. He couldn’t forget the grin on Charles’s face when he said “Well that’s because we fuck sometimes. She treats you the same as Carlos, or like Daniel.” He had made a face at that remark and Charles teased him about being jealous, then asked if Max liked her and when he didn’t confirm nor deny, Charles knew it was a yes. Knowing that she had been thinking about him made his head spin, wondering if she felt an ounce of what he did for her. He was just about to say something when her eyes widened and she pressed her face into his chest. He thought they hit a bump, but he didn’t feel anything other than her arms grasping for her biceps as she rocked forward. A shudder ran through Max’s body as her heard her moan and her nails dug into his skin. She shifted on her feet and pressed her lips to his neck as she whimpered, and he squeezed her waist, wondering what had gotten into her all of a sudden.

She was waiting for Max to do or say something when she felt her dress lift and Charles’s hand smack her left cheek. Her body rocked into Max’s as she moaned embarrassingly, pressing her forehead to his chest to hide her flushed face as Charles repeated the action on the other side and she gasped, “He just—spanked me.” Charles’s hand massaged her ass where he just spanked it for a moment before he slipped it between her legs. Her mind was spinning as she hid her face in Max’s neck, desperately biting her neck to cover her moans as Charles brushed her panties aside and slipped two fingers inside of her, curling them immediately.

Max couldn’t tell what Charles was doing in the car beneath his view, but it had made her start kissing his neck while she moaned against him so he couldn’t complain. “What’s he doing now?” She whined at his question, embarrassed to answer, but she pressed herself closer and her lips ghosted against his ear as she moaned fingering me. The words made his cock twitch and his right hand left her waist to slot between them, hands slow but curious as they traced their way down her stomach and over the mound of pubic hair until it met Charles’s fingers dipping inside of her. His fingers found her clit and he was rewarded with a moan of his name as she bit his neck.

She felt like she was going to collapse when Max pressed his fingers against her and slid them up to her clit, toes curling in her heels as she succumbed to the pleasure. She knew this was bad, it was very very vwry bad. They all knew it was bad. It was unlikely anyone could get an image or video of her and Max right now with them on the highway, but if they did… She didn’t want to think about the scandal, but it turned her on even more knowing that Charles and Max were so comfortable touching her like this. That Charles had started it while her and Max were standing in the sunroof of a limousine. She wasn’t going to last much longer, her legs were shaking and she was gripping onto Max for dear life. “Maxie, ‘m gna cum.” She whined out against his skin and she felt his fingers press harder against her and she nipped at his skin. “Come on, schatje, cum for us.” Charles curled his fingers as he spoke and she would have collapsed if not for Max’s arm sliding around her waist and holding her against him as she came. Her orgasm rocked through her and she sloppily kissed his neck between moans until she was gasping for air as her orgasm faded and she started trying to get their hands away from her as oversensitivity set in. She had left a hickey on Max’s neck that was bright red when she pulled away, but he didn’t seem to care as he immediately dipped down and kissed her. She could feel Charles fixing her panties and dress as their lips met and she let him kiss her as she basked in her orgasm.

He pulled apart after a moment then sank down into the car again and she quickly followed, sinking down between them and looking back and forth between them before giggling, “What was that?”

Charles shrugged, “I was getting bored all alone down here, wanted something to play with.” She slapped at his shoulder as he laughed and asked, “So, back to the hotel then?”

#max verstappen smut #charles leclerc smut #cl16 #mv1 #my writing #formula one smut #formula one fanfic #formula one #f1 smut #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

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li0nn3stuff · 1 month

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Aemond fingering you in the car with your friends

English is not my first language, be kind.

Modern!Aemond x fem!Reader

You are in a relationship with modern!Aemond

Warnings: fingering, kissing, oral sex (male), getting caught

It was a long trip with an old car. It was such a stupid idea. That car was consuming gas just like a thirsty person would drink water. Your friend Creagn had the great idea to rent an old Chevrolet of the ‘60, and it was even a cool idea, just to try something different, and it wasn’t even that expensive, then you found out why.

“There should be a gas station 5 kilometers away.” Maris said, looking at the map on her phone. Aemond hummed as he kept driving, keeping his hand on your thigh during the drive. The seats were bench-like, so you sat closer to Aemond.

“Could get something to drink too, I’m thirsty.” Cassandra suggested, and Maeis nodded along with her.

“Oh, you’re thirsty girl?” Cregan joked as he raised his eyebrow, and Maris and Cassandra were quick to roll their eyes and start a little argument about Cregan’s flirtiness. You chuckled and kept loving at the road, then your phone to indicate to Aemond the way to the gas station that Maris found. You were just checking the next exit as you felt Aemond’s hand dig between your thighs, and you were quick to shut the close, glancing at Aemond. He kept staring at the road, his expression as usual, emotionless. He glanced at you and squeezed your thigh hard, digging his fingers in old bruises. You squeaked and barely widened your thighs, and Aemond didn’t waste a second to slip his hand between them. You quickly grab his wrist and give him a warning glance.

“Aemond.” You warn him, and you give a quick glance behind you, as your friends keep on bickering.

“Just sit and look pretty, baby.” He smirks. “This ride is getting boring, let me have some fun.” He murmurs, giving you a glance, and you don’t know what it was, but you just melt, and widen your legs a bit more. Aemond quickly slips his hand under your skirt, and you were so thankful for this bench-seat, so your friends behind couldn’t see much of Aemond’s movements. He passes his fingers over your covered slit, and you bite your lip, clenching your hand on the edge of the seat. You look at Aemond, but his gaze is back on the road, his expression giving nothing away. He slowly moves your panties to the side, and you keep your legs wide, not to make anything harder for him to keep going with his ministrations. He smirks as his fingers finally touch your wet cunt.

“What happened here, baby?” He murmurs again, leaning towards you to keep his voice lower as he gathers the wetness of your cunt with his fingers, a barely wet audible sound coming from the movements of his fingers. “Is it me, or the idea of getting caught, uh?” He keeps on talking. “Maybe both.” He leans back up, thrusting his fingers, knuckle deep, inside your tight hole. A little whimper escaping your mouth, making him chuckle. You wanted to moan out loud, the feeling of him inside you in such a risky situation turning you on incredibly. He crooked his fingers slowly, searching for that spot inside of you. You take a deep breath and lean your head to his shoulder.

“Aemond..” You whisper, whimpering. “Please… Oh, please no…” You try to suffocate you grunt as you feel his fingers finding that rough patch, caressing it slowly, only making more moisture coming out of you. You look down at him, seeing a slightly visible bulge in his pants. You move your hand over his crotch and squeeze lightly his cock, and suddenly the car speeds for a moment. Your friends behind gasps.

“Dude, you trying to kill us?” Cregans exclaims, not really that worried.

“You were getting annoying with that bickering.” Aemond says casually, shooting you a smirk with a proud glance. Cregan sighs and shakes his head, amused.

“Aemond, take the left road, there is an Autogrill there.” Cassandra says, snapping you out of the ball. You take a deep breath, as Aemond’s fingers stop and pull out of you, you immediately clench your legs close. You look down at his hand and you see his fingers glistening, wet. He raises that hand and points to a road, seriously, the only one possible.

“That one?” He asks with a smirk. Your face turns red tomato.

“Yeah.” Cassandra conferms, and Aemond takes the turn and gets in the autogrill parking spot. It was full, so he had to park in a hidden, not completely legal, spot.

“We’ll wait for you here.” Aemond says, as your friends behind nod and get out of the car. As soon as they’re out, Aemond doesn’t even wait for them to be out of hearing range to grab you by your neck and pull you into a heated kiss, devouring your lips.

You whine and turn on your seat, so your side is against the backrest of the seat, as you lean to Aemond, getting him closer. He groans in the kiss as he slips his hand back between your thighs, caressing your clit. You moan and you pull back from the kiss.

“Aemond, wait, someone…” You wrap your hand around his wrist as you look around, but he grabs your cheek in his hand and leans your head back to kiss your neck.

“Cregan and the sisters always fight over everything, it’ll take a long time for them, and, there’s no one around, they’re all inside. No one's gonna see us.” He slaps your hand away and he moves you so you sit on your haunches, then, he slips two fingers inside you cunt again, making you gasp out loud. He quickly finds that patch again, and he quickly starts abusing that spot again, rubbing aggressively there, and you clench your hand on his shoulder and press your face against his neck to shut yourself up. Your body is moving repeatedly due to the harsh movement’s of Aemond’s hand and arm.

“Fuck… Aemond, ‘s too much…” You cry out, as he keeps stimulating that delicate spot harshly, sending a mix of pleasure waves and slight pain.

“It’s your fault princess.” He grabs the back of your neck with his other hand and pulls your head back to look at your face, red, puffy, big eyes with a pleading expression. “You turned me on so much.” He clashed your lips together again, but you have to pull away when you feel the orgasm building, and you know it’ll be devastating. You press your head against his as you close your eyes shut, feeling the pleasure raising, you moan out loud.

“Look at me when you cum.” He growls. You shake your head, too lost in pleasure. “I’ll stop, do you want me to stop? Mh?” He smirks as you immediately open your eyes,

“No! Holy fuck- Aemond please…” You moan out loud as you finally feel the orgasm at its limit as he barely slips out his fingers only to add a third one.

“Come on, baby, cum. I want to see you cum on my fingers.” He watches you, continuously switching his gaze from your cunt to your face, undecided where to look at. You raise slightly your hips, jerking them unconsciously as you finally feel your orgasm explode, hot, strong waves of pleasure going through your whole body,

“Yes, Aemond please, don’t stop- Ah, yes- Yes-” You whine out loud as Aemond keeps moving his fingers more gently, riding out your orgasm, as your whole body convulses. You fall back on your haunches as Aemond carefully slips his fingers out of you. You look at him in awe as you breath heavily, watching at his fingers, wet and covered in your moisture. You lean forward and put your hand over his evident bulge, and he groans.

“I almost cummed in my pants just at the sight of you, baby, careful with that soft hand of yours.” He says as you massage him gently, making him breathe heavier. You quickly unbutton his pants, tugging them down along his boxers, just enough to let his cock spring free. Long, thick, pale, with veins on the underside. Just beautiful. You look at him with innocent eyes.

“Hand? Who talked about my hand?” He watches you instantly as you speak, groaning when he sees you bending down, ass in the air as you lick the underside of his cock, tracing the veins there, going up to the tip, and sucking it in your mouth, making his finch at the intense pleasure.

“Shit, baby, fuck-” He grunts as you put your arms on your back and you just take him all in your mouth, gagging on him, but you stay there, as Aemond groans out loud, throwing his head back, putting his clean hand on the back of your head, as he licks the fingers of the other hand, tasting you. He clenches his hand on your hair to keep you firm as he planted his feet on the ground to thrust his hips up. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat again and again, but you do your best to not move your hands from behind you and keep your head firm, hollowing your cheeks to make it more pleasurable for him.

“Good God, so lucky to have such a good girl, am I?” He grunted, sucking his fingers again, savoring the taste of your cunt again. “You know how good you taste on my fingers, baby?”

You moan out loud as you understand that he has been licking his fingers as you kept sucking him off, to be both with the taste of the other in your mouth at the same time.

He grips your hair tighter, as the other keeps your wrists together on your back,, his hips pushing harder in your mouth, choking you and causing tears of effort to spill from your eyes.

“So pretty with my cock in your mouth, baby…” He growls, feeling that with a few more thrusts he would cum. He closed his eye as he felt his orgasm approaching.

“Swallow. Fucking swallow it all.” He hiss as he cums hard inside your mouth, panting heavily as his cum squirted into her mouth. He moves in your mouth for a bit more, wanting to prolong his pleasure.

“That’s it. Good girl.” He purred in delight as you swallow one last time and let his cock out of your mouth with a wet slap.

You lick your lips, sitting straight and looking at him proudly.

Aemond passes his thumb on her lower lip and chin, gathering what spilled out of her and slipping it inside your mouth. you lick him clean he pulls you to him and gives you a sweet kiss, smiling proudly at you.

You both roll down the windows of the car, hoping the smell of what you did would go away in time and get outside the car as Aemond grabs a cigarette to smoke.You stay seated on the driver seat, facing outside, swaying you feet in the air, as finally, you see Cregan, Maris and Cassandra coming back with a bag of snacks and drinks.

Maris looks at both of you with her eyebrows furrowed.

“Are you guys okay? Y/N your face is red.”

Aemond shoots you a knowing look, smirking as he takes another drag of his cigarette.

“Y-yeah, it’s just the sun.” You mutter embarrassed. Aemond chuckles and bends down to give you a quick kiss.

“Ready to go?” Cregan asks enthusiasts.

“More than ready.” Aemond states as he finishes his cigarette and throws it away. You scoop back on your seat as they all get in the car. Cregan smells the air, before saying:

“Smells funny in here.”

You turn red tomato as Aemond smirks, and turns on the engine to drive off.

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cloverthebarbearian · 5 months

Text

Do You Think Of Me...?

Rolan x AFAB/OC, NSFW, 6,034 Words

A fic inspired by an incredible piece of fanart by @sammakesart, the full image of which is a patreon exclusive that is well worth the money and has been living in my head rent free for weeks. For WEEKS. (Ref Sheet for OC)

"I mean. We live in the tower now, yeah? And its Big and all, but we still like to have rooms near each other. I don't know, it feels safe… comfortable, after everything. To know we're close by. But it also means, sometimes, things aren't always… private…" Clover slowly took sips from their pint, eyes still locked on Cal's darting gaze. Biting his lip, knuckles white in his lap. Clover's eyebrows raised, "Okay? And?" Cal lowered his head, "Pleeease don't make me say it…" Lia threw her head back and nearly yelled out in exasperation, "GOOOODS Cal you're such a BABY sometimes. Listen, Clover… Clover. We know," she shoots Clover an intense stare, "We knoooow things. About Rolan. Things no siblin's should know," her hand reached out to grab their arm, "An' Rolan? Reeeeeeaaally misses you…" a knowing smile crept up on her face. Clover's cheeks felt warm, but they weren't even sure why. The gears in their head not fully turning as the alcohol worked through their veins. "What… what do you mean?"

It was a lively evening at the Elfsong. Swarms of friends deep in drink and song flooded the tables of the tavern, the Hero of Baldur's Gate among them. Busy catching up with Cal and Lia, Clover took a healthy chug of their pint amidst the laughter around them.

"And THEN he tried to tell us 'an unseen servant would be more useful'," Lia continued her ranting, "Like, sure Rolan. Good luck gettin' an invisible jester ta' help with your customers."

Apparently, Rolan had been particularly difficult to work with this past week. Between drinks, Lia was busy retelling all of his criticisms and complaints over his siblings earnest attempts to help him run Sorcerous Sundries. Now that he was the Master of Ramazith's Tower, he had to learn all of said Tower's secrets - on top of learning to run an already successful business. Admittedly an overwhelming task as is, and likely even more so for a perfectionist like Rolan.

Cal followed Lia's complaints with his own, "I get that it's been a lot as of late. But you'd think the man would be grateful to have the extra hands about! And it's not like the patrons are complaining. Hells, some bloke even tried to ask Lia on a date after shift!"

Clover raised an eyebrow to Lia at that, who simply shrugged and sipped her own drink, "He was like, 60 years old at least. Or maybe 600. I think he was an Elf? Besides, if anything, its Rolan who needs someone to ask 'em out. Hopefully someone to help yank the stick from 'is arse." Clover snorted out a laugh in response.

"You really think that would help?" They pondered aloud, "Gods, I can't even see Rolan out on a date. Let alone finding someone attractive. That man only seems to care for Tomes and the Weave," Clover chuckled to themselves, "I mean hey, Mystra's single now, maybe I could set them up..."

Cal and Lia shot each other knowing glances, poorly hidden smiles curling at the corner of their lips. This was a look that Clover recognized immediately. That token Sibling Telepathy. Clover dropped their pint on the bar with a thud and planted their palms on the counter, shooting them their own knowing glance.

"Okay," they pointed between the two of them, "What's all this?"

The siblings eyes darted at Clover and then each other, trying to hide their bubbling laughter.

"Us?" Lia said sarcastically, hands raising up in feigned innocence, "Nothin'! Nothin', honest."

"Y-yeah," Cal said with a lilt in his voice, "You're totally right that Rolan doesn't even find anyone attractive, even. The mans practically a… a Eunuch!"

Lia groaned, "Cal, ew."

Clover rolled their eyes, "You two clearly know something. Some weird secret that I guess I'm not privy to," They folded their arms across their chest, "Very rude to withhold information from the person who's saved your lives on probably, Seven different occasions at this point?"

"Oh c'mon Clove, you can't hold that against us forever," Cal groaned.

"I actually think I can," Clover retorted, "Until you've saved my life seven times, at least." They picked their drink back up and finished the final gulp, tapping their mug against the counter with a wink in request for the barmaid to top them off once more before turning back to Cal.

"Alright Bud, I know you can't keep a secret. So, what the Hells are you two keeping from me?" Cal suddenly turned a bit pale, eyes wide.

"Clover, y-you know I don't do well under pressure…"

Clover leaned in closer to him, their barbarian eyes narrowing, a bite in their voice, "Exactly."

Lia, now tiptoeing between drunk and utterly sloshed, ran her finger around the rim of her cup, giggling to herself, "Clover… you're gonna make'm piss 'imself."

Cal groaned, "Listen, I'll tell you. But it's just. It's weird! It's weeeeeird, Clove."

The dwarf grinned to themselves in victory, "Alright, then. Spill." Lia stared at Cal with a sly grin.

"Yeah Cal. Tell 'em Rolan's little secret~" Cal groaned once more, shoving his face into his palms.

"Okaaay," Cal relented, "Gods above, I… Auuugh, so. How do I even…" he was struggling to find his words, "I mean. We live in the tower now, yeah? And its Big and all, but we still like to have rooms near each other. I don't know, it feels safe… comfortable, after everything. To know we're close by. But it also means, sometimes, things aren't always… private…"

Clover slowly took sips from their pint, eyes still locked on Cal's darting gaze. Biting his lip, knuckles white in his lap. Clover's eyebrows raised, "Okay? And?"

Cal lowered his head, "Pleeease don't make me say it…"

Lia threw her head back and nearly yelled out in exasperation, "GOOOODS Cal you're such a BABY sometimes. Listen, Clover… Clover. We know," she shoots Clover an intense stare, "We knoooow things. About Rolan. Things no siblin's should know," her hand reached out to grab their arm, "An' Rolan? Reeeeeeaaally misses you…" a knowing smile crept up on her face. Clover's cheeks felt warm, but they weren't even sure why. The gears in their head not fully turning as the alcohol worked through their veins.

"What… what do you mean?"

Lia's smile turned even cheekier as she threw her head back - fake, exaggerated moans falling from her lips, "Ohhh~ Fuuuck, Clover- Yes Clover, please! Take me jus' like that," her speech slurred as she rocked her hips in frantic thrusts. Cal lowered his head onto the bar's tabletop as Clover's eyes went wide and their face went fully flush.

"Oh, my Gods…" they muttered to themselves, lifting their pint back to their lips. Lia's mocking cries turned to raucous laughter.

"I'm jus' saying. If anyone could get that man to relax…" she lifted her cup in Clover's direction before taking another hearty swig.

Suddenly, the gears in Clover's skull decided to start working. Frantically.

"Well, then," they announced, hopping off of their bar stool, "maybe I should go get the job done."

Cal and Lia once again exchanged wide eyed stares with each other, "What, like… like, right now?" Lia asked, as if shocked into a sudden sobriety. Clover chugged their nearly full pint in a handful of large, thirsty gulps. The final drops of liquid courage they needed before slamming the glass back onto the counter.

"Yeah, I guess like, Right Now. Y'all've had a hell of a week, right? If I can help…" Clover smiled to themselves, "It's kind of what I do," they gave Cal a cocky grin, "I will count this as saving your life, again. Mark me up to eight."

"Gods dammit," Cal let his head fall back onto the bar. Lia began laughing, clasping her gut as she bellowed.

"He should still be closing up at the Sundries!" Lia started hollering after Clover as they began to leave the Elfsong, "We'll stay here tonight, so take your time!"

Clover heard Cal stammer out, "Lia, that's disgusting!" Before walking into the cool night air.

Sorcerous Sundries was but a brief walk away. And Clover couldn't help all but skipping towards their unknowing wizard, his dirty secret at the forefront of their mind...

The open doors of Sorcerous Sundries allowed a pleasant breeze to flow through the lobby. Rolan took in a breath of fresh air, busying himself balancing the account records of sales for the evening. A small crew of mage hands floated around him, carrying stacks of sales records, tomes to be organized, sorting through everything from profits to taxes to local investments.

He'd typically give himself the time to pat his own back at his creative means of multitasking. If only his mind weren't so overcome with the newfound pressures being Ramazith's Master have brought him. Yes, the Sundries was a success trade business. Yes, the tower held treasures and secrets and power aplenty. But Gods, had Lorroakan ever opened a checkbook in his life? The debts this man owed, the back taxes and unkept promises Rolan was now forced to follow up on. Though grateful to not have a cane to his jaw, the stress of picking up his former Master's mess was taking its toll.

The faint footsteps of a guest entering the building could be heard across the tiled floors.

"Ah, terribly sorry but we are closed for the evening- Oh," he glanced up from his busy work to see the Hero of Baldur's Gate approaching the Sundries counter, "it's You," he mumbled, the voice of customer hospitality lost in his tone, "What do you want?" He questioned, adjusting the pair of reading glasses sat atop the point of his nose, glancing back down at his records.

Clover hesitated a moment, "Ouch, not the warm welcome I was anticipating. Is this how you treat all your customers?"

"I don't anticipate you're here to purchase something," Rolan remarked, focus fully back on his paperwork. The mage hands organizing the storefront flitted around Clover's head as they continued to approach the counter. Rolan just barely took his eyes from his work to peak up at the dwarf in front of him. He paused, "Did you need something?"

Clover slid their hands across the countertop, "Oh, what? I can't just… happen to be in the neighborhood, dropping by to say hello to an old friend?"

Rolan rolled his eyes back to his work, "We're friends now, is it? And here I thought you were nothing more than my siblings overpaid babysitter," Clover's head cocked to the side.

"You don't pay me."

Rolan flipped to a new page on his countertop.

"I know."

Clover rolled their eyes, strumming their fingers against the polished wood, pondering how to get to occupied wizard's attention. He was dressed so casual - his robes gone, wearing just his loose undershirt and fitted trousers. Emboldened by the alcohol still buzzing through their bloodstream, and their newfound knowledge of Rolan's secret desires, they decided to walk themselves behind the Sundries counter.

"This space is for employees only," Rolan commented, without looking up from his records. Clover paid him no mind, walking up to him and lifting themselves onto the counter directly in front of the Wizard, who responded by sighing. Exhausted and irritated, he hung his head, laying his palms down on the counter before him, "Would you kindly be an utter inconvenience somewhere else? I'm trying to work here," he gestured to his documents, but couldn't seem to look the barbarian in the eyes.

"Oh, Rolan, I'm hurt," Clover responded, "Is that really what you think of me? I'm just an, 'utter inconvenience'?"

"Right now? Yes!" Frustrated, he finally found himself looking at Clover's face. But rather than maintaining his building rage, his breath caught in his throat.

They were much closer to him than he initially realized. He could see their mismatched eyes so clearly. Clear enough to see - no, smell - the magic enchanted in the blue glass eye to his left. He could also smell the heavy alcohol on their breath. Though their dwarven fortitude kept them composed, the sour wheat smell of beer was unmistakable. He found it mixed beautifully with their natural sent of musk, the sugar plum soaps he knew they preferred, and that faintest whiff of copper, from all the blood that often soaks their body after battle. Caught in the sheer aura of them, he nearly didn't register as Clover's hands gently gripped at his forearms resting at their sides.

"I'm sorry," they lied, "I must be a real bother right now. I'm sure you're thinking of a million different ways to get me out of your hair," they made a point of dragging their right hand up his neck and tangling their fingers into the hair on his nape. Without even thinking, Rolan's hands moved from the countertop to hesitantly reach for their thighs. Fingers hovering, as if touching them in earnest would cause them to vanish.

"Don't you just wish there were some way you could… shut me up?" Clover's heavy gaze flitted between his eyes and his lips. Rolan swallowed a lump building in his throat, and (unsuccessfully) tried to will away the growing pressure in his pants.

"C-Clover, what are you-"

"Tell me something Rolan," they interrupted, using their free hand to remove the glasses from his face. Their noses brushed against each other as warm breath mixed in the air between them.

"Do you ever think of me when you cum?"

Rolan's entire body shuddered, from head to toe to the tip of his tail. His fingers clenched around their thighs as he pulled their bodies flush.

"I…" He choked, holding his breath for a second that felt like an eternity, before letting himself go.

"Yes," was all he managed to say in response. Spoken in a heavy breath - a whisper, a moan, a prayer. They were already so close, neither one knew who moved first. But as soon as the word left his throat, their lips crashed together in a frenzy.

There was no patience, it was not gentle. Clover fueled by liquid courage and Rolan fueled by sheer desire. Tongues tangled as shared saliva slowly dripped from the corners of their mouths. They kissed each other as much as they breathed each other in, only pulling apart once Rolan bit Clover's bottom lip. Tugging at it gently, just barely breaking skin with his sharp incisors. Chests heaving as they both took a moment to collect themselves. Rolan lifted a hand in the air, eyes lidded and unfocused. With a flick of his wrist, Clover could hear the doors to the Sundries closing and locking shut, as the lights inside dimmed to the gentle flicker of that magical blue/green glow of enchanted flames.

"Well, someone sure knows how to set the mood," Clover quipped, draping their arms around Rolan's neck and leaning back in for a kiss. Which he returned, deeply, but briefly, before breaking away from them again. Clover whimpered in disappointment, trying to pull him back towards them. But Rolan's hands reached up to their arms around him, stilling their movements for a moment.

"Clover…" he whispered, his voice deep and aching, "Why are you here?"

He looked confused, almost scared, his burning yellow eyes glowing in the dim lighting, unwilling to look at them. It hurt Clover enough to not laugh in response, but they never thought Rolan capable of being so dense.

"Is it… is it not obvious?" Their fingers played with his hair. Rolan scoffed, smiling weakly.

"It just feels, surreal. It feels like I'm dreaming…" Clover lowered their head to catch his gaze.

"Well, you're not," they said softly, "but let's pretend that you are. Let's pretend this is a dream," they nudged against his nose with their own, trying to catch his lips, "You're dreaming. And I'm here," they whispered, "What do you want to do with me?"

Something stirred in Rolan's chest. Without looking at them, he captured their lips again, sliding his fingers beneath the hem of their shirt. He began to lift the cloth upwards, but stilled himself, pulling his lips away just for a moment. Clover smiled, whispering approval to continue before catching his lips again. Rolan pulled their shirt up, the hem resting on his wrists as his thumbs traced the shape of their skin, cupping their breasts as he passed over them.

Clover stilled their kiss briefly to let out a moan, and Rolan took the opportunity to remove their shirt completely before returning his kisses to their lips, down their chin, down their neck. Clover's arms wrapped tightly around him, hands holding the back of his head as his tongue traced a wet line from their neck downwards. He explored their skin, finding the shallow dips between their collar bone, kissing down lower until his tongue and hands met their puckering nipples.

"Fuck, Rolan..." Clover moaned, gripping his head by his hair and pushing his face into their chest. Rolan responded in kind with a deep, purring moan. His lips fully encompassing their nipple while his tongue traced around it. Quick, frantic flicks of his tongue followed by desperate sucking left Clover's chest bruised and swollen. When Rolan lifted his head up for a breath, he kissed Clover once more, then returned his focus to their other breast, making sure he provided both with equal pleasure.

The sounds leaving Clover's mouth were bordering on sinful. They had their legs wrapped around Rolan's body, kicking their shoes off their feet and rocking themselves into him. They could feel their own arousal pooling between their legs. Their hips bucked aggressively as Rolan took the stiff bud on their chest between his teeth, and pulled. Clover threw their head back and whined in pleasure.

Rolan smiled, his hands leaving the curve under their breasts and traveling down the soft skin of their torso. He hooked his fingers under the fold of their waistband, tracing his sharp nails across their skin towards the center of their pants. He began to deftly untie the laces of their trousers. Clover unhooked their legs from behind his back so he could pull the rest of their clothes from their body.

Rolan ran his hands along Clover's thighs as he removed one pant leg after the other. Fully exposed, Rolan took a step back to appreciate the creature in front of him.

Clover's chest was heaving, their pale neck and chest marked red from all the kisses and bites Rolan left on their skin. Their legs were spread wide open for him, the folds of their cunt dripping and twitching in anticipation. They had one hand propping themselves up on the countertop, but the other was dancing across their skin, tracing the ghost of Rolan's own fingers in his absence. They shivered, the chill of their bare skin mixed with anticipation.

"I know you're enjoying yourself," Clover mumbled, breath heavy with lust, "but if you don't come back over here and touch me, I'll-"

Rolan nearly tripped over himself returning to their embrace. He grabbed behind their ear with one hand, pulling their hips into him with the other, kissing them so deeply Clover could feel him shaking against them, before pulling away from them abruptly.

"What are you limits?" He asked in haste. Clover's response was hazy and confused.

"My… what?"

"How far are you willing to go with me? Do we need a… a… a signal? A safeword? To tell me to stop, or…" His hand tightened against their waist.

Clover smiled. Even in a situation like this - sat here completely naked, their body visibly yearning for him - he was so nervous. So mindful. They reached their hands under his chin and kissed him softly.

"We can do whatever you want," they kissed him again, a gentle laugh escaping their lips before saying, "though I wouldn't mind being thoroughly ravaged by you."

Rolan let out a sharp, sudden laugh. Or perhaps a grunt, even. Something almost animal.

"Then I hope you'll allow me to indulge myself," he responded, before quickly dropping to his knees. Hooking his arms behind Clover's thighs, he pulled them to the very edge of the counter, letting their legs drape over his shoulders. A wild look flashed across his eyes before he began planting kisses along Clover's inner thighs. Kisses, and bites, not shying away from biting hard enough to draw blood between their legs. Clover gave a sharp inhale, causing Rolan to glance up at them, an unspoken question.

Clover ran their fingers through his hair, clenching their legs a touch tighter against his back, nodding for him to continue. He purred again, a sound Clover's core was beginning to respond to in kind, before biting their soft inner thigh once more, creeping closer to their center. They smiled and shuddered, letting their head lull back, "Do all tieflings purr like that?"

Rolan licked the blood from their thigh, kissing their skin ever inwards, "Only when we're excited," he responded, before sliding his thumbs up between the folds of their cunt, spreading them open for him. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of their desire, and ran his tongue up their dripping arousal. He sucked their clit into a kiss, rolling the sensitive nub against his tongue.

Clover's hand immediately went from a fistful of Rolan's hair straight to his horn, pulling him in closer, "My Gods, Rolan - Fuck!" They nearly screamed as his mouth explored them. Thighs gripped tightly against his head, their hips rocking with a sudden urgency. Rolan could hardly control himself as he moaned, and gasped, and devoured their cunt. The nectar dripping from their swollen lips worth more to him in this moment than air to breathe.

He slid his tongue inside of them, holding the lips of their pussy open between two fingers with his left hand, and carefully massaging their clit with his thumb. Rolan could feel the inner walls of Clover's sex trying desperately to clench around him as he ate them out, and lulled his eyes up to look into theirs.

Clover was putty under his touch. Their chest was heaving, sweat building on their brow. Their cheeks were flush, their eyes were watering. Seeing the way their body responded to him made Rolan's dick twitch painfully beneath the restraints of his pants.

He slid a hand around Clover's thigh. A feeble attempt to loosen the barbarian's grip, which they thankfully understood. Rolan leaned back a moment for a breath of air before standing tall and crashing their lips together, allowing Clover to taste their own sweet musk of arousal. They had draped their arms around Rolan's neck, while the wizard frantically attempted to remove his own garments. Clover caught on to his movements and began assisting in removing his shirt as he wrestled with his own trousers. Both parties having a difficult time as they refused to let go of each other's lips in the process.

"I hope - it's not - to forward," he said between kisses, "But I - I," he grabbed Clover's face and held them in a deep, steady kiss, before pulling them away, "I think if I - If I don't have sex with you this instant, I may - I may go mad."

He took Clover's hand and brought it down to his throbbing member, though he let them take their own time in touching him.

They looked into him, a coy smile and devilish gaze behind their eyes. They gingerly took the tiefling's erection in their hand, and Rolan's knees all but buckled in response. He had to grip onto the countertop to stop himself from collapsing. Clover laughed quietly under their breath, stroking his cock with increasing fervor.

Rolan kissed them again, quickly tracing his mouth from their lips to the crook of their neck. Clover wrapped their legs around the small of his back, guiding the tip of his dick towards their desperate heat. They rocked themselves against him, sliding the length of his shaft between their slick folds. They could feel his entire body tremble against them, hearing the sweetest whimpers escape him as his face remained buried in their shoulder.

Barely audible, he tilted his head toward their ear and weakly begged them, "Clover… please…"

They traced the end of his cock back to their pulsing entrance and rolled their hips against him, allowing the tip to gain entry. They could feel Rolan's breath catch. His hands found their way to Clover's hips once more, holding them steady at the edge of the counter as he slid his entire length inside them with ease. The complex curves and ridges of his infernal features could be felt within Clover's walls.

"Rolan…" His name fell from their lips in a desperate moan as the tip of his cock reached the deepest parts of them.

Rolan stilled once fully sheathed, Clover's cunt pulsing and throbbing against him in pure anticipation. They rolled their hips ever so slightly. Rolan cursed in response, his voice shaky and low.

He began to drag himself out of their pussy once more, almost reluctant to leave them, until just his tip was teasing the entrance of their hole.

Rolan slammed his cock into them, hands fixed upon their waist so firmly his nails were threatening to break skin. He gave Clover a few long, powerful thrusts like this. Dragging himself out nearly in full before burying himself within them.

Soon enough the long, drawn out strokes were replaced with closer, more frantic thrusts. Rolan's hips barely leaving the embrace of Clover's own as he humped them like an animal in heat.

Rolan lifted himself from the shallow curve where Clover's neck met their shoulder. He pressed his forehead to theirs, grunting hard as he fucked them. Clover's hand gripped the back of his neck as they held his wanton gaze.

"How long have you wanted this?" They asked, panting, their hold on his neck tightening, "How long have you wanted to fuck me like this?"

Rolan's pace picked up, keening under his partner's commanding presence.

"Since - Since Last Light," he stuttered between his heaving breaths and desperate thrusts, "S-Since you saved - saved them. Since you s-saved us. Since you - Ah - since you freed me of - of my tormentor - and made me Master of this Tower," his movements grew sporadic and urgent as he spoke.

Clover laughed as they moaned, "Oh fuck, Rolan, that's right. You're the Master of this Tower now," They gripped him by his hair and gently yanked his head back. The whimper that escaped Rolan's lips at their touch was pitiful. Clover began running kisses up and down his neck, before tracing their tongue below his ear.

"Fuck me, Master Rolan," the lust dripping from their voice was intoxicating. Rolan's hectic and rhythmless thrusting sped up, his moans entirely debauched. Clover could feel their cunt clenching around him as they inched towards their own release.

"Yes, Clover - Fuck!" Rolan moaned and whined as he felt them on the edge, "Take your Master's cock. Take me just - just like that," Clover's grip on his hair tightened as their mouth opened against his neck.

"Rolan!" They nearly wept as they came over his thrusting cock, juices spilling out of them with every shallow plunge.

"Gods, Clover, I'm - I," he could barely finish his attempted warning before Clover caught him completely by surprise, pushing him out of them and dropping onto their knees. They gripped his cock as the shaft pulsed beneath their touch, laying the head of him against their tongue. They stroked him frantically, his member still sticky and wet with their juices.

"Fuuuuck!" Rolan's hands fell to the counter as a powerful orgasm ran through him. His legs shook as thick lengths of cum released into Clover's mouth. Strings of his spend so long they reached across their cheeks and nose. Clover smiled as they rubbed him through his release, sucking on his head to milk every last drop of him.

Once the last of the aftershocks finished running through him, Rolan dropped to the floor to join his equally exhausted partner. Their backs resting against the counter shelves. Slick with sweat, heaving chests, swollen lips, both covered in marks from each others touch.

Clover leaned their head against the wizards shoulder. Rolan placed his head atop theirs, turning and planting a kiss in their hair. Clover ran their fingers on the floor absentmindedly. Rolan took notice, and slid his own hand across the floor a touch, gently nudging his sharp claws against the dwarf's rugged, calloused hands. They responded immediately, interlacing their fingers with his own.

They turned to look up at the man who had just well and truly fucked them near senselessness. They had never seen him so disheveled. His hair was loose and curling with is sweat. He was still panting, this likely being some of the hardest physical work a magic user like him has had to do in quite some time. Still naked, Clover took the time to examine the man's infernal features. The spikes and grooves on his chest and shoulders that so starkly contrasted their own soft and squishy stomach and thighs.

They took their free hand and ran it up his chest, tracing the bumps under his skin. Rolan jumped at the unexpected touch and looked down at his partner, equally debauched. He laughed as he attempted to wipe some of his now drying spend from their face, instead opting for a quick prestidigitation. Clover smiled.

"How are you feeling?" They asked. They weren't really sure what to say, now that the deed had been done. But they were here to help him relax, after all. They should at least find out if it worked.

"How am I feeling?" Rolan responded, almost in disbelief, "That's a rather loaded question, I mean... I still feel like I must be dreaming -"

"But you're not," Clover interrupted, planting a kiss on his shoulder.

"I… yes. Okay, yes, but I'm not," he sighed, resigning to the truth of the situation, "Then I feel like… I feel like I just, um…" He cleared his throat, "I feel as though I just bed the most beautiful creature in all the realms. Gods, in my place of business, no less. I hate to see the mess we've made in proper lighting," He trailed off into his thoughts, almost embarrassed by circumstances.

Clover climbed onto his lap, straddling him in an attempt to get his full focus, "Thank you ever so much for the very literal explanation of our current situation," they expressed with a playful mocking tone, their hands running up and down his arms, "But I do in fact mean how are you feeling, emotionally. Do you feel okay?"

Rolan sat still for a moment. As if he truly needed to consider whether or not he felt okay after all of this. Clover's heart was pounding, suddenly worried if this was a bad idea. That is until Rolan reached up for their face, pulling them in for a tender kiss. When he let them pull away, he held both their hands in his own.

"Clover, I feel incredible. And I feel… confused? But the incredible aspects outweigh the confusion. And perhaps we can discuss the confusion some other time, because right now, I… I'd really like to bask in the incredible."

Clover smiled, and nodded, leaning into Rolan's chest. He wrapped his arms around them, breathing deeply of their scent, committing it to memory. As exhaustion fully took its hold on them, they melted into each other's embrace.

The morning light crept through the stained glass dome of Sorcerous Sundries in a dance of rainbow prisms. The twinkling causing Rolan's dreary eyes to squint tight before slowly opening.

He was sat on the floor behind the Sundries front counter, still undressed, with an equally bare dwarf sleeping soundly against his chest. The memories of the night before washed over him. Clover's body flush against him, calling out his name as they came with him inside them. It all sent a renewed wave of arousal crashing through his body.

That is, until he heard a shout from the busy streets outside, and the reality of his current predicament crashed over him even harder.

"Oh Gods," he glanced around himself. Papers strewn across the floor. Various bobbles lay in disarray, likely dropped by the mage hand assistants last night once he lost concentration on the spell. Drops of his own errant spend now dry on the shelves. Stains of sweat and what other fluids he could only guess marking the floor beneath them. He palmed his face, rubbing his temple between his fingers before rousing his partner from his arms.

"Clover, get up," he started to lift himself from the floor as his companion groaned, "Get up, damn you! We fell asleep," he was whispering, as if someone outside might overhear them. Clover sat themselves upright, eyes still closed.

"Yeah… We fell asleep. People tend to do that when they're tired…" Clover mumbled.

"We fell asleep in the Sundries you idiot!" Rolan was trying to dress himself while cleaning up after last night's… experience, "We have to leave - No, you have to leave. I have to finish cleaning up before I open," his movements were frantic. Clover watched him dart around, still sat on the floor. He conjured a quick bust of himself - a modified version of mirror image, perhaps? - swearing as he attempted to fix his hair. Clover yawned, lazily picking up their own clothes and dressing themselves at a snails pace.

Still sat on the floor, Rolan found himself tripping over them as he aimlessly paced around the counters. Stacks of paperwork flew from his arms as he fell. Clover tried to reach out and break his fall, though it did little help.

"Bugger it all!" Rolan slammed a fist against the tiled floor, propping himself to his knees, "Could you PLEASE get up and either help me, or leave!" He shouted in Clover's direction.

They both froze, Rolan held his breath.

"Y'know…" Clover slowly stood up and walked over to the wizard kneeling on the floor. At this height, they were at eye level with each other, "Calling someone an idiot and demanding they leave the morning after you've fucked them silly? Not exactly the best impression one wants to make," they tried to joke, lifting a hand to his cheek. Rolan didn't comment, his gaze locked onto the floor.

Clover sighed, pulling his head to their chest as they held him. Their strong arms felt both soft and secure, the rhythm of their heartbeat providing a sense of grounding Rolan didn't even realize he so desperately needed. As Clover spoke, their voice reverberated against his cheek.

"I'm no mage, Rolan," they started, one hand gently stroking his head as they spoke, "I can't detect your thoughts, or calm your emotions with a spell. I can't compel you into a zone of truth and force you to be honest with me. But I can tell when someone is overworked, and overwhelmed," they squeezed his head tighter for a moment before releasing him and holding his face in their hands. He looked up at them, his eyes glossy with tears he refused to shed.

"You need a break, you stubborn jackass," Clover said with a smile, "There's nothing wrong with that. I think the city will survive if the Sundries is closed for a day or two. And if you're truly that worried I'm sure I could convince Gale to come visit and-"

"Absolutely not," Rolan interjected sternly, clearing his throat, "Forgive me, but that man has no idea how to speak to patrons without coming across as a pretentious, pompous, know-it-all."

"Oh, but you do?" Clover retorted with a grin. Rolan seemed shocked at first, then smiled back. Chuckling to himself, he reached up to hold Clover's hand, pulling it from his cheek and planting a deep kiss against their palm. Taking a deep breath, he stood up, still holding Clover's hand.

"I'll set up the portal upstairs to take you to the washroom of the tower. Let me finish with what I had started last night, then I'll come join you," Clover cocked an eyebrow.

"You'll come join me, eh? In the glorious, magical washroom of Ramazith's Tower?" They tried to tease him, but he simply turned to them with devious look in his eyes.

"Yes, I'll be joining you. After I finish cleaning up the mess you made," he leaned down to their ear, "Be grateful I'm not forcing you to help," he said sweetly, kissing their cheek. He raised his hand and flicked his wrist, the familiar sounds of a transportation portal wooshing to life on the floor above them, "Now, off with you. I don't need any more distractions, especially if you'd like me to get this finished quickly."

Clover smirked as they began to walk off, "Whatever you say, oh great Master Rolan," a shiver shot up his spine as they dragged out his title across their tongue. He tried to compose himself, but his tail flicked with excitement as the dwarf ascended the staircase.

"I'll be waiting."

#rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #rolan x tav #tav x rolan #I am holding a delicious beautifully frosted cake with 12 bags under my eyes bloodshot & weary please accept this humble gift I made

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luneariaa · 6 months

Note

Found your Mike content and saw your ask box is open so....mike x reader one bed trope??

alright so i tried my best with this, and i hope this is still okay! 💜 kindly tell me if there's any writing errors.

. dividers by @/cafekitsune !! 🌻

Recently, you got kicked out from your own apartment due to financial issues and stuff; unable to pay the rent due time. Also with how the current job pays you, it makes perfect sense with how low the wage is.

Fast forward as to where you are right now, Michael understands your situation very well, so he lets you stay at his place for the time being. He has no problems with it at all.

But the thing is-- knowing how he's also struggling with himself and his own job income in general, he only has one bed. Aside from Abby's of course.

"Mike, that's okay! I can just sleep on the couch, you know." You already feel slightly guilty enough for staying over his place; lowering your voice a bit as Abby is already asleep around this hour. "You can use your bed."

"No, no."

"You are going to use my bed, and not the couch, okay?" He remains firm as he spoke those words. Considering he clearly knew about your current situation, he wouldn't even let you sleep on the couch. Mike would sacrifice his bed for the sake of you.

"Nope. You should be in bed." You didn't back down, pouting a bit at his insistence.

"Am I hearing a challenge now?" This time, a small smirk of amusement is plastered across his face, crossing his arms as he still stands by his own resolve.

"No, it's not even a debate."

You sighed tiredly, smiling a bit at him. "Mike, you can use your bed. I can just sleep on the couch."

".. I swear I have to pick you up and place you on the damn bed instead. So please.."

"Oh?" You raised a brow at his statement, "I would love to see you try-"

Mike cuts you off by suddenly lifting your form with ease; hoisting you onto his shoulders like a child, before putting you on his bed. Surprisingly strong even with his height.

"Okay that's--" You huff out as he finally puts you down on his bed. "--no fair."

"I warned you." He sighs, standing up straight once again. "I insist, just use my bed. I'll be fine on the couch."

"If that's the case-"

"Sleep with me tonight instead of the couch, please." It's a rather bold move, but you refuse to give up. If none of you allowed each other to sleep on the couch, then this is the only way.

He falls silent for a while there, before finally giving in, knowing that you refuse to give up anyway. Besides, you both knew each other for some time now-- what could go wrong?

"Alright, fine."

"Just-- don't try anything while I'm asleep." He dryly states, but there's also a hint of playfulness within his words as you send him a fake hurt look.

"Huh. Could say the same to you."

You huffed, rolling your eyes as you left some needed space for him, before lying down and facing the other way. He also did the same-- placing his arm over his eyes.

The lights were off and the room was silent soon after; the only sound left being the hum of the fan.

"Good night."

𝗔 𝗟𝗜𝗟 𝗕𝗢𝗡𝗨𝗦 𝗘𝗡𝗗 : -

Michael, completely deep in sleep like he never really was before, was cuddling you close from the back without even realizing it. The blanket covers up your chin comfortably; fitting onto his loose hold nicely.

He looks stress-free and more calmer like this. Guess he broke the rule first.

When you stirred awake for a bit, your eyes widened slightly in surprise, but didn't even make any attempt to move yourself away from his hold. It feels nice, actually.

Thus, with slow movements, you turn your body around and make sure that he's not awakened at all. You didn't know why you were doing it, but you gently brought your hand up to his face-- tracing his face with your fingertips before lowering it a bit to his jaw, before you hugged him to try going back to sleep.

You couldn't help yourself, especially when he looked very much at peace at that moment.

And as you start to drift away into your own peaceful slumber, the soft mutter from him in his sleep goes unnoticed by you.

".. love you.."

#fnaf #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy’s #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt x you #michael afton #fnaf x reader #fnaf x y/n #fnaf x you #aria's post 𖥔 ݁ ˖

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

Text

Called to Duty 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, abandonment, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Summary: You struggle to move on from the biggest mistake of your life but find it hard to forget among the whispers of a small town.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You shift on your feet. Your arches kill and your hips feel like they're splitting apart. For all you know, they are. Every day is a new fun side effect.

You lean on the counter, standing vigil at the customer service till. Unlike the pharmacists and their assistants in the back, you don't get a chair. You refuse to complain, you know it would only add venom to their gossip. Even here, you're not safe from the whispers.

The break room is a nest of snakes. You learned that one day as you walked in on a conversation that couldn't stop soon enough. You know they talk about you, there really isn't much else to do around Hammer Ford. Even if it's only borne of boredom, their words still hurt.

The pharmacy is quiet but for the fuzzy noise of the overhead speakers playing outdated songs on repeat. You reach to rub your lower back. You’re not that big. Not as big as you will be but you don’t know how much longer you can stand in the same spot for eight hours.

You stare at the till, the blue border on the screen blazing into your vision. You can’t help but drift into you even less glorious future. This won’t change. You’ll be stuck here, working hour after hour, only you’ll be poorer and more tired. You’ll have a whole other person to take care of and look how you’ve done just taking care of yourself.

Your chest rents and you let out the breath trapped beneath your dread. Something clacks onto the counter and shakes you back to reality. You face, the customer, your vision slowly narrowing back to focus.

You glance at sigh then down at the bottle on the counter. He has one of the novelty stuffed rabbits in his hand and a jar of cream. He puts those down too and you squint at them curiously. You take the bottle of vitamins and wave them towards the scanner.

“I read you should take iron and folic acid. Those have both,” he says, “you also should be sitting down.”

“What?” You frown, the bottle still in your hand, and stare at him.

“This cream should help with the dry skin. The book said as you grow, you’ll get itchy--”

“What are you talking about?” You put the bottle down and cross your arms.

“Do you have a belly belt?”

“Sy,” you say his name firmly, “are you... are you trying to give this to me?”

He huffs and pulls out his wallet, “you need it.”

“How do you know I don’t have it already?” You ask, thoughts scrambling at his kind, thought it edges along presumptuousness.

“Do you? What do you need then? Stuff for the nursery?” His eyes roll upward, “not much room up there for a baby.”

You want to shrink into nothing. You straighten your arms and grip the edge of the counter, “I know. Sy, this is a nice gesture but... I barely know you. It's too much. Not your responsibility.”

“Mm, and where’s the man who should be taking responsibility?” He reaches to pluck up a chocolate bare from shelf on the other side of the till. He drops it on the counter, “you got cravings too?”

You shake your head. Ugh, you hate how quickly your hormones have your heart racing and your eyes misty. It’s so nice of him despite being completely off putting. No one else, not even your own mother, even tried to help you.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, “sore? Tired? You got morning sickness?”

“Sy, please,” you raise a hand and set your tone, “really, I can’t... I can’t. Okay, it’s not... it’s not right.”

“Isn’t. He should be here--”

“Please,” you pull the stuff towards you, “I’ll put all this back on the shelf and you can just go--”

“I got money,” he slips his thumb into his wallet, “I wanna buy it.”

You blink at him. Daye, the manager, watches from down aisle. She looks less than impressed. Shoot.

“Okay, do you want a bag?” You ask as you ring in the items.

“Be easier for you to carry,” he says as he offers a hundred dollar bill, “not too heavy.”

You cringe and take it, stretching it out and checking with the marker. All larger bills have to be throughout vetted. You put it in the drawer and count his change and hold it out to him.

“That’s for dinner. Get some protein--”

“No, take it,” you insist, “what are you doing?”

His forehead lines and he looks back and forth, “what he should be doing.”

He doesn’t take the money so you put in on the counter. You unfold a paper bag and put the items inside and push it towards him. Your skin is hot with embarrassment. Worse than any judgment is pity. Does he think some vitamins and stuffed bunny is going to solve your issues?

“I want you to take it and go please,” you say quietly as you notice another customer coming towards the counter.

It’s old Ed Parriser; his wife, Ginny, is in line with the town gossip, Lynette. He has a bottle of advil and heartburn medicine. You wonder if those are symptoms of his marriage.

“There you are,” you shove the receipt in the top of his bag, “I need to help the next customer.”

He lingers then reluctantly grabs the bag, crumpling the top in his large hand. He gather up the money and closes it in his fist. Reluctantly, he backs away, looming just at the end of the counter as Ed puts down his haul.

“Hello, sir, how are you today?” You ask.

“Eh, I’m doin’ okay,” he answers in his wheezy way, “ha,” he scoffs as he watches you scan, “I thought Ginny was tellin’ one of her stories again.”

“Oh yeah?” You look up curiously, putting on a sunny smile, “what did she say?”

“Said you got yourself knocked up like a floozy,” he chortles, “maybe I’ll just start listening to her--”

Ed grunts as suddenly he’s grabbed by the collar of his plaid shirt. Sy has him in a death grip knuckles rolled into the flannel as he snarls down at the man, “keep talking and you’ll need those pills. I’ll split your fucking head open.”

You stand, dumbfounded by his surge of anger and his threat. He’d only ever been soft spoken, even if he was huge, but he’s rabid like a wolf in that moment. Ed smacks his forearm and wriggles.

“Let go of me, you lump--”

“Sir, excuse me,” Daye’s smoker’s creak rises from her throat, “is there a problem? Do I need to call the sheriff?”

Sy puffs through his nose, chest rising and falling as you watch him weighing his options. He wants to keep going. His blue eyes flick over to you and he lets go, raising his hands.

“Nothing,” he grits out.

“That’s right, nothin’,” Ed rubs his neck with a cough, “he just protecting this--”

“Keep going,” Sy’s rolls dangerously low as he towers over him. The old man snaps his mouth shut so his jowls tremor. He looks at you then Daye.

“Know what,” Ed clears his throat, “I think Ginny was here yesterday. I don’t need all this.”

As Daye nears, the old man hobbles around Sy’s fuming form. The larger man sneers at the manager as she nears, her phone in hand. He points it at him, “leave. Now.”

He sends you one last look, his cheek ticking. He spins on his heel and marches out. You bite your lip and look down at the two bottles in front of you. You grab them and gulp.

“I’ll just put these back,” you offer.

“You keep your drama out of this store,” Daye warns, “or I’ll talk to Willard.”

You sniff at her threat. Willard gave you a good deal on the upstairs apartment but people weren’t happy about. Even if the faucet is leaky and the fridge rattles.

“It wasn’t--”

“Keep it out,” she snaps and snatches the bottles from you, “if you can lean, you can clean.”

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #drabble #backwoods #au #series #sandcastle #called to duty

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dumplingsfordays · 6 months

Text

patching you up

blade x injured!gn!reader

genre - fluff

summary - blade patches you up after you got injured while fighting mara.

cw!: mentions of blood + injury, soft-ish!blade, ooc blade?, mention of blade's past life which idfk how it works lmao I should be paying attention to the storyline asjdnb, swearing, mutual pining

note - god damn. soft!blade is living in my head rent-free fr, can't get enough of him <33 I'm not usually an edgy-emo-boy fan but ig blade's just built different 💪💪

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

With each painful cough, more and more thin splatters of blood painted your mouth crimson.

It hurt. A lot. You didn't expect it to hurt nearly as bad as it did when you charged in to fight the Mara that was attacking some people that were making their way through Cloudford, but the spear that their captain had used to stab through your side was probably coated in some sort of poison, because with every sluggish step you took, you felt your body break little by little. Eventually, you collapsed onto the cold ground - your torso was numb and soon your arms and legs would be as well.

Well, at least you were going to die somewhere pretty. The sunset glimmered through the leaves of thin trees growing from large pots, which were scattered across the various bridges of the district. Starskiffs drifted lazily across the sky like regal ships on the high seas and the last thing you heard before you closed your eyes for a while was the sound of crickets and footsteps fading in.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"Finally fucking awake."

A harsh voice came from your side as you opened your extremely tired eyes, which were met with dim but warm lighting and a dark wooden ceiling.

"Can't believe you got into this mess," the voice continued as you felt something tightening around your waist. "Didn't think that you'd be so stupid."

His face flashed in your hazy mind and you tried to sit up. "...Blade, I-"

"Don't move. You'll make it worse."

Hands. Ice-cold, gruff, but gentle hands pushed you back into your previous position by your shoulders, and you felt the tightening feeling again shortly after.

"What are you doing?" you whispered, then coughed again. Your throat was so dry - it felt like you haven't drank in decades, and with each cough you swore that your lungs were going to fly out of your mouth at the sheer force.

"Fixing you, obviously."

You raised your neck to try and catch a glimpse of your wounds but saw only the top of Blade's head, his raven hair tied back in a low ponytail. He was bent over your side, and just as you lowered your head back to the pillow a sharp bolt of pain shot through you, making you hiss and wince.

"That hurt!"

"It'll pass," he replied almost too casually. "Deal with it."

An uncomfortable pause ensued, during which you finally figured out that he was bandaging your torso up. You'd never expected anyone to find you back there, much less a Stellaron Hunter that you'd only interacted with five or six times, but thank the Aeons that at least someone did. But you did think it was strange that he was doing this for you, because from all your two-or-three-word conversations, you were sure that he wasn't the type to help an almost complete stranger. In fact, you'd think that he would be the one to cause these injuries in the first place.

While you were staring up at the ceiling in deep thought, Blade was lowkey kind-of admiring your skin. You weren't going to look down at him again anyway, it seems that you'd learned your lesson, but that just allowed him to eye your softness in more detail. This was his chance - he'd been admiring you from afar ever since you first met, and he wasn't about to let this opportunity to see what you looked like close-up pass.

Before he knew what he was doing, Blade's fingers reached out to lightly press onto skin that was near your wound, at which you hissed and leaned away from his touch.

"You sure that you're actually healing me?" you asked.

"Yes. I know what I'm doing, trust me."

He continued to press curiously but gently, making sure not to hurt you on purpose. Your skin was fascinating to him - it was soft, warm, while his was unforgivingly cold; yours had a fascinating shade of life about it and his didn't. This contrast was what made his eyes widen a little everytime he made physical contact with you, and he found small differences like these to amount to vast ones overall. Maybe this is what always made him think that you came from a different world entirely.

Blade then noticed that your hand was trembling by your side - the painkillers must be wearing off. He stood up from the chair beside the bed on which you were resting and reached for a couple pills and a glass of water on a nearby counter, moving them to the bedside table. His hands felt your back as he sat you up to administer the medicine.

You now saw where you were - from what you could tell, it was a small house or apartment somewhere. Dark wood covered the walls, ceiling, and floor, and tapestries and thriving plants littered the environment. You didn't know that he had a green thumb, but now that you did, you felt safer somehow - what if this cold, distant man was more human than you'd originally thought him to be?

His lithe, cold fingers brought you back to reality as they rested under your jaw, pulling it open gently, and your eyes focused on his admittedly quite handsome face again. Crimson eyes, the color of a blood moon, stared intensely at yours in avid concentration before travelling back to his other hand, which was now lifting a glass of sparkling golden liquid to your lips. There was a certain reverence of sorts glimmering in his expression, and this was accompanied by the fact that he was treating you like he would a glass flower. Your lips finally met the rim of the glass and when you finally tasted the elixir, you sighed.

It was cool and sweet, a refreshing sensation that battled the humidity of the room and the pain in your side. You drank the entire glass with ease and after Blade set it down on the bedside table, he wiped away some stray droplets of the shining liquid with a rough thumb.

That was it - Blade had become an entirely person just now. You could see it in his eyes and feel it as he breathed: this was not the same person who happened to be walking by a person on their deathbed and had enough pity in their secluded heart to heal them. He treated you like an old friend or a partner, perhaps, by taking you in.

"You'll experience drowsiness soon," he mentioned, "don't feel like you can't sleep. I won't leave you."

You laughed lazily in return, already feeling the effects of the painkillers. "So you can murder me in my sleep?"

"...I can leave-"

"No, no, I'm just kidding."

You sigh and relax into the pillows beneath you as Blade lowers you onto your back again. His gaze lingers on yours for maybe a second too long but he pulls away, preferring to sit down in a chair by the bedside and stare out at the scenery surrounding the house.

Once your eyes close and your breaths become quiet, he gives it a couple seconds to make sure you're asleep before softly starting to hum. It's an old tune from his past life, one which he used to smith to, and as midnight moonlight begins to stream in through the window, it veils your calm face in a hazy, shimmery glow that rivals even the smoothest of satins. He reaches a hand towards the apple of your cheek, cradling it in his palm as he sighs, a faint smile dancing on his lips.

"You're gonna kill me someday."

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai #fluff #blade #hsr blade #blade hsr #blade x reader #star rail blade #blade x y/n #blade fluff #blade x you #hes so babygirl for some reason like???

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split-spectrum · 6 months

Text

Water and Rock

Chapter 11

Pairings: Obi Wan/FemReader

Warnings/Tags: slow burn, explicit content, SMUT

Chapter Length: 6K

Description: There are only so many excuses a master and padawan can make to kiss under "extenuating circumstances" before circumstances stop arising and start being created. You are an expert at your craft - a Jedi knight in service as a spy for the Republic. When your former master Obi Wan joins you on a mission, it's clear things aren't the same as they once were. The trials you face together may break your bond, or turn it into something else entirely.

☆☆☆

You stare at the door for a long time after it closes.

When the shock starts to wear off, the regret seeps in. There's so much more you should have asked him; so much you should have told him. Instead of almost silently accepting the end of your friendship, why hadn't you tried to make him slow down and talk to you?

Your eyes drift downward as you feel the truth settle into the pit of your stomach: You'd known as well as he had, saying anything more would only have led to further pain.

As you turn away, your blank gaze slides from the door and falls to the small table nearby. On top of the table, you keep a little bowl with trinkets and a few scrap pieces for your speeder bike. Beside these items sits a heap of cloth, which you don't recognize. You draw nearer, noticing that it's wrapped neatly around a cylindrical object. Picking it up and pulling back the cloth, you're taken aback to see the hilt of a lightsaber. Your lightsaber.

You slide it out of the fabric, feeling the weight of it in your hand for a moment, then place it delicately down on the tabletop just to stare at it.

You'd been facing Dooku when you'd lost it, completely on the opposite side of the outpost from where you'd been rescued. He would have been the only one there to retrieve it. And yet, he'd told you at that time he'd believed you were dead.

Your chest suddenly aches.

You tell yourself not to think about him, fleeing for his own life, half-dead himself, but stopping to pick up the only remnant he'd thought he would have of your existence.

Facing away from the table, you shut your eyes and do the same thing you've been doing for the past two days - immersing yourself in the force with a fervent determination you've never known before.

Your eyes flutter open again. You look out the window. The snow whirls.

Despite your better judgment - despite the fact that you know he'll feel it - you reach into the force and try to sense him. His speeder should be halfway back to base by now. You might not sense him at all. But you want to try.

To your immense surprise, you feel him instantly, his presence not halfway back to base as expected. In fact, he's not far away at all.

Pacing back to the door as quickly as your legs can carry you, you pull the handle and wince as the spray of icy wind crashes against your face again. His figure emerges slowly from the white abyss, one of his arms upheld to break the lashes of snow whipping around him. He's only a few feet away, but it's still hard to make out the shape of him through the dense flakes of ice.

"I don't suppose," he shouts over the rising gusts, "I could trouble you for a ride back to the main base?"

You wrap one arm around yourself, shivering and leaning out of the doorway to wave him in. "Come inside!"

He finishes his trek, entering your house once again, and you swiftly close the door behind him. After catching his breath, he lowers his hood again and sighs.

"I'm sorry to impose. I didn't realize the storm would be so..." He gestures to the window to indicate the ferocity of the wind beating away at your home. "The speeder bike I rented can hardly lift off the ground."

You give a shake of your head. "You aren't imposing. I don't think anyone expected it to be this bad. But I can't give you a ride back to base. I loaned my ship to a friend off world."

When he raises a brow, you shrug. "They needed a ship, and I didn't expect to be leaving anytime soon. My speeder is all I have at the moment."

Brushing a hand through the front of his snow-dusted hair, he sends a worried look off to the side. You stand, a bit stiffly, not quite knowing what to do or say. You try another solution. "I suppose you'll need to call someone at base for a pick up."

He doesn't answer for a few beats. Then he shrugs off his coat again, placing it gently on the bench. He seems to hesitate when looking downward, and you realize he must have noticed that you'd found your lightsaber.

He flicks his gaze back up to you. "I would prefer not to. This trip wasn't exactly... above board."

You'd started to back toward the kettle you'd had boiling before his arrival, but that makes you stop in your tracks. "Oh?"

You pose it half as a question, half as a statement, not wanting to force an explanation. He clears his throat, though, correctly reading your tone as curious.

"I was meant to deliver a mission report on Coruscant, then return to the Gaulus sector for further duties. But I left my duties in the hands of Commander Cody for the time being, and I... took a short leave. For my health."

"I... see," you answer, turning away and walking to the stovetop, fiddling with the knobs while you process his words. His second lie of omission to the council. You consider this, not saying anything in return.

He hovers at your home's entrance, and you both listen as the long-range holocomm goes off again, detailing the inclement weather. The storm is worsening.

The kettle is warm again by the time the report ends, and when you turn back to him with a reheated cup of tea, he gratefully accepts it, taking a seat in your kitchen when you motion for him to do so.

"Isn't there a friend you could call?" you ask, sitting down across from him at the small table. "Someone you trust not to share your... change in plans?"

He strokes a hand down his chin just once, shaking his head. "Anakin is on assignment, several days away."

It's been a long time since you'd heard mention of Mace Windu's former padawan. The young war hero had very nearly become Obi Wan's padawan when they'd first met, but the council had seen the bond between the two following Qui Gon's untimely death and had thought it better not to encourage their closeness, placing him with Master Windu instead. An unlikely friendship had still unfolded, despite their efforts, and you'd often joked that the Skywalker boy had always been Obi Wan's second padawan.

You want to ask more about Anakin, but that sort of lighthearted talk doesn't seem relevant at the moment. Instead, you sip your tea and think.

You try to keep your eyes locked onto the drink in your hand, instead of roaming across the lines in his face. His features are drawn down, stern and contemplative, and you want to paint over every inch of him, getting a second chance at your last encounter.

Clearing your throat, you try to force nonchalance into your voice. "Well, these storms don't usually last long. A few hours, or a day at most. You're welcome to stay until-"

You quiet down on the word "until", both of you listening as the holocomm goes off again, this time with an even more severe warning. The storm is now expected to last nearly a full rotation. Neither of you makes a comment right away, though the shift in energy is palpable. Ilum's rotations are sixty-six hours.

When the broadcast ends, Obi Wan's eyes flicker up to yours with a far-off look. They're a little dulled, his expression restrained and distant. It's the look he often holds when giving orders. The look that duty brushes over him.

"Perhaps I will make a call, after all."

Standing up, you start to make your way over to the holocomm to help him dial out, but you freeze in place when the lights cut out, and the low electronic hum throughout your home suddenly drops into silence. You look around the darkened room, then back at him, catching only the faintest outline of his expression in the soft light coming through the window.

"Don't worry," you assure him, once the initial jolt of susprise has worn off. "I have a generator."

"Oh," he answers, the shadow of his face peering around your dim surroundings. A few seconds later, he adds, "good."

A few seconds after that, he gives you a mildly concerned look that has you crossing the room to check the fuse panel.

"Which definitely should have started up by now," you say, opening the cover. The normally illuminated buttons are completely dark.

"Damn," you whisper to yourself. Then you turn back to Obi Wan, who's also now standing.

"I'm sure it's just a loose connection somewhere," you tell him, reaching for your own jacket and pulling it over your robes. "I'll have it fixed in no time. Don't worry."

He gives you an uncertain look. It's the same one he always employs when you're failing to sell him a lie. But he doesn't argue as you finish dressing and head back to the door.

After he's followed you into the small maintenance shack behind your home despite your insistence for him to stay inside, Obi Wan finally gives his opinion.

"That does not look good."

You glance up at him from your kneeling position on the ground, flashlight fixed on the gnarled remnants of the main rotor. "No, it's-"

You're interrupted by the sound of skittering feet, and you jerk the light to follow the movement, catching the barest glimpse of grey flesh along with a flash of multiple eyes. Yelping at the sight, you tip back onto your feet to stand up.

Before you can so much as bend your knees, a pulse of energy rips you backward, and the creature on the opposite side of the shed crashes into the wall with a dry slapping sound. Obi Wan lunges in front of you, lightsaber brandished, and you belatedly realize he's force-pushed you to the ground.

"Obi Wan, it's a lisk!" you tell him, getting up to stand beside him. "It's just a lisk."

You've managed to pin the reptilian-looking thing under the light, finally, and you both watch as it drops from the wall and scrambles out of the maintenance shack, through a hole in the corner. The animals aren't dangerous, or at least, certainly not a threat to a Jedi. You find them creepy, but they aren't really more than a nuisance.

Obi Wan would have - should have sensed this. But he hadn't responded to the danger. His response had been to your yelp of surprise. As you look at him, a loose lock of hair threatening to dip into his eyes, his teeth jutted in what you'd very nearly call a snarl, snd his body held in a distinct Ataru pose, the meaning of what he'd said earlier - about not working together - is suddenly ringing out to you with crystalline clarity.

And he knows it. He silences the hum of his weapon, deactivating it and clipping it back to his belt with one smooth, hurried movement.

"I didn't realize it was- " He starts and stops, tenses his shoulders, then drops them. "I'm not familiar."

Neither of you addresses the fact that he'd thrown you to the ground. Neither of you says anything about his taking an offensive attack position that he hasn't used since before you'd met - since before the death of his master.

You gather yourself, trying to move past the discomfort of the moment by looking back down at the torn mess of metal on the ground. "They're common, here, but not dangerous," you tell him. "Not unless you're a generator."

Obi Wan's gaze follows yours. "Evidently."

"They like the warmth, I think. But they've never caused this much damage." You back away from it, sighing. "I don't suppose you have a long-range commlink you've been keeping secret?"

He shakes his head. "I'm afraid not."

A particularly loud gust of wind wails through the small crack between the open doors of the shed, widening the opening with drifting snow.

A full rotation. Sixty-six hours.

"We'd better get back inside," you tell him, turning off your flashlight. "We'll need to keep all the warmth we have left."

First Hour

"And how much is left, exactly?"

You swiftly close the small door of the wood burning stove, having tossed in another log. "Enough to get through about two standard days, comfortably. Or four... uncomfortably."

"I take it we're rationing, then."

You stand up, brushing the splintered wood from your leggings. "To be safe, yes. I can't heat the whole house, either. We'll have to close off the two other rooms."

He nods, firelight flickering across his face. He seems to hesitate, and you've turned back to the stew hanging in an old-fashioned durasteel kettle above the fire before he speaks again.

"I suppose it doesn't serve much purpose for me to mention it now, but, was it wise to keep such a small stock of emergency supplies?"

You stir the food, looking over at the paltry woodpile. "I don't, normally," you answer, mouth closing in an 'M' shape that nearly became the word 'Master'. Old habits die incredibly hard, it seems. Especially when he takes that tone with you, thinly veiling his judgment.

"There was a storm recently before this one, and an outpost on the southern quadrant needed urgent resupply. I split my stockpile in half, and I meant to replace it. A few days later, I was called away to an emergency mission," you look at him pointedly. "Never got around to it."

"Yes, well," he absently runs the back of his knuckles down the side of his beard. "Your ship is loaned to one friend, your supplies to another... it's a shame I made my visit after you've run out of favors to give."

You smirk a little, dishing some of the stew into a bowl and handing it to him. "I don't know about that. Here."

He takes it with a curious look and follows you when you close the lid on the kettle, leaving the main room and heading back to the seating area in the kitchen. Sitting down across from him again, you invite him to eat with a gesture, while pouring two drinks. He's taking his first bite when you open your cupboard and take out a couple of small cakes, placing one down next to him and taking a bite of the other.

He raises his brows in surprise. "Is that..." He bites into it, politely finishing his chewing before starting again. "Where in blazes did you find yalo cakes?"

You give a genuine smile. "Made them myself."

"Very impressive," he says, bringing warmth to your face with the compliment. "They're delicious. Where did you get the yalo root?"

"Picked it up on a supply run on-" You stop yourself, then look up at him. There's no point in not finishing the sentence. He knows where to get yalo root. It's his favorite. That's why, on some level, you'd wanted it on hand. It brought you back to those days in the temple, with him. "... on Coruscant."

There's a long silence and it's obvious he's deliberating on whether to say anything. But you both know what he would say, and you both know there's no point in posing any questions. Eventually, you say something anyway.

"I would have visited, it's just-"

"Of course," he interrupts. "There's no need to explain. I would have likely been away on duty anyway."

You drop your gaze down to the table. You wish you could just... tell him. Seeing him would have only made things worse for you, and you dealt with it the only way you knew how. You want so badly to just tell him, so that he can understand.

So you do.

"I wanted to see you more than anything," you say quietly, and his spoon clinks against the side of the bowl as he sets it down. You can't bear to raise your eyes yet. "But I thought if I did, it would make thinking about you... harder."

You drag your gaze up to him, forcing yourself to look. "You know what's funny, though? I don't think it made any difference."

His blue eyes are set, wide, unflinching. His mouth is tightly closed, and his expression is indiscernible.

You let the silence drag on, finally breaking it again when he doesn't say anything. "I'm... going to go shower. Before the water in the tank freezes."

He watches you go, not saying a word.

Third Hour

You've both spent some time in the refresher, your hair still a bit damp as you begin to light a few candles. You don't have many, so you've rationed them as well, placing them together in the middle of the room, on a table.

Obi Wan is sitting in a chair, holding a book, one leg crossed over the other. His hair is dark, the ends sparkling with water in the dim light when he shifts in his seat. You're both wrapped in tunics and full robes, thick socks bound high above your ankles, and yet, you can still feel the chill in the air.

He'd asked your permission to borrow the book - a high fantasy novel set on the seas of a fictitious planet - and to your amusement, he seems rather engrossed. You sit down in the makeshift sleep roll you'd created out of blankets on the floor, looking up at him. "I didn't expect you to enjoy that one so much."

"Hm?" He glances over the page. "Oh. No, I- it's quite, uh, interesting, but..."

You raise your brows, imagining he's feeling caught out for enjoying something so childish, but he surprises you.

"I'm having trouble seeing the pages, in this light."

"Oh," you say, understanding now why he'd been staring so intently. "Well, it's much better near the fire. Come sit down here."

He gives an uncertain look through the grated door on the wood stove, and then down to the floor, next to you. "It's alright. I can see well enough, thank you."

You bite your lip, then decide to let it be, picking up a book of your own.

Ninth Hour

"Before I had studied the ways of the Force, the mountains were mountains and the waters were waters. When my knowledge of the universe became more intimate, I saw that mountains were not mountains and waters not waters. But now I have come to know the truth and can be at peace. I see that mountains are mountains again and waters once again are waters."

You blink at the page of the copied Jedi text before you, eyes growing heavy. Obi Wan is lying above you, now, spread long and lean over one of your couches. Actually, it's more of a chaise lounge. He'd dragged it over, closer to the light of the fire, and you'd sat down in front of it.

You turn to look at him, finally looking a bit more relaxed, one arm behind his head as his eyes slide down the page. You're close enough to hold your book up for him to see.

"Have you read this one?" you ask, indicating the first paragraph of the longer text.

He turns his head a little, angling himself to see the page. "I think it's safe to say I've read all of them, young one. I was assigned to the archives more than most padawans." He finishes reading, then flicks his gaze to you. "And perhaps I should have assigned you there more often. That passage as well known as the 'empty cup'."

You're sorely tempted to roll your eyes. "I'm aware. Just trying to be polite. I just really like that one."

He's quiet for a beat. "It's a good passage."

"Yes, it is," you say absently, turning the page. "One of my favorites."

You go on reading for a while, then speak again without looking up from the page. "Perhaps you'd care to share one of your favorites?"

You turn back to look at him and he places the book he'd been reading down on his chest. "Alright," he says, reaching out as you hand him your book. "Which one is this?"

"Poetics IV, Farseeker," you tell him, handing it up. "...but I thought you might have known that, Master."

He lifts his brows just a bit at your smirk, then turns his attention back to to book, paging through it, skimming for a few minutes while you sink into the comfort of the blankets surrounding you.

"Ah, here. I've always thought this one interesting," he says, and you feel him shifting on the chaise behind you to get into a better position.

"A single bundle of thread is made up of innumerable strands..." he begins, voice a bit smoother and deeper than it had been before. "but, if they are joined in a rope and laid down on a plank, they can easily be cut with one stroke of a sharp blade..."

The rich lull of his voice pushes you deeper into the blankets, and soon your eyes fall shut. His softly spoken words interspersed with the crackling of the fire is almost melodic.

"...as many as the threads may be, they can not resist the singular blade. So we come to the truth: the threads of selfishness, of mistrust, of passion, are cut by the diamond of wisdom..."

Fourteenth Hour

You stir, pressing your nose into the warmth of his robes. He makes a humming sound deep in his chest, breathing softly into your hair. The warmth of it tickles your neck, and makes you open your eyes.

You flinch, breath stuck in your throat as you pull back.

You sit up, shivering in the darkness. The fire is almost out. You stand up to stoke the embers and feed a few logs back into the stove. The sound of the door closing makes Obi Wan roll over to his other side, his breathing soft and steady.

You look down at the floor, realizing you'd had to cross over several feet to get into his bedding.

You must have been very cold.

You drag your blankets a little further away, then crawl back into your makeshift bed.

Thirty-Second Hour

It's pitch black outside, now. The day cycle has turned fully to night, and after spending the morning eating, talking, and cleaning out your kitchen, and the evening mediating, there's nothing left to do but read until you're tired enough for bed. Obi Wan is lying down on his back, in front of the fire. You light another candle, then join him.

The smell of him mixed with the smoky scent of the fire is... making it difficult to concentrate on your book. You're starting the same paragraph for the fourth time when he clears his throat softly.

"Perhaps tonight, we should take shifts, to watch the fire. It nearly went out last night."

You freeze. "That's a good idea."

He says nothing more, and you lie still while your heart races. If he'd known the fire was low, he'd been awake. How much had he been awake for?

"You... noticed that."

"I did," he says slowly. "By the time I noticed it, though, you'd already gotten up to fix it."

You're certain he can hear the blood thrumming in your ears. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were awake. I didn't mean to... to..." You start over, totally unsure what to say, but knowing you have to say something. "I was asleep when I must have rolled over, and...gotten into your bed."

He'd been watching you struggle to speak with a curious look, but finally, understanding seems to dawn on him. "Oh. I... had thought it was intentional."

The thoughts in your head run over a cliff.

"It was cold," he offers.

You have no idea what to say, blinking in embarrassment. "It wasn't intentional."

You'd found it difficult to concentrate on your book before, but now it's nearly impossible. You turn the pages a little longer, finally giving up and deciding to meditate instead. You close your eyes.

When you open them, you feel warm, and you feel safe, and once again, you realize you've curled into his arms.

But you don't pull away this time. This time, you just... stay. You rest your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, shifting your fingers in his robes. Feeling the heat between your bodies.

It doesn't matter, you tell yourself. None of this matters, because in two days he'll be gone from your life.

What's the difference whether you dream of holding him like this, or if you simply let it happen? He'll plague your thoughts either way.

You feel the rise and fall of his chest change its rhythm. He swallows, and you realize he's waking up. You lie still, then tilt your head up to look at him.

"Cold again?" he asks, and it hangs between you. An open invitation for you to move away and pretend it's all been a misunderstanding. But you don't.

"No."

The howling wind outside is the only sound, distant and ominous, as you stay motionless against his chest. Then he softly brings a hand to your face, gliding the back of his thumb down your jawline.

You could cry, the way his skin meets yours with such tenderness, without hesitation. You can feel the tension in his force signature, bleeding through although he's suppressing it.

"Go to sleep," he tells you. "We will get through this. It will be over soon."

"I know," you say immediately, his hand leaving your skin and making you give in to boldness. "And when it's over?"

"We've already discussed it," he says tightly, and you can feel the muscles of his arm behind you tense. He's not quite lying it down, not quite touching you. "We agreed, didn't we?"

"Yes, we did. After this, we won't see each other. So," you whisper into the thick fabric covering his undershirt. "I want to be honest. I don't want to lie to you anymore."

"Is this wise?" he asks, his words gentle but his gaze intense.

"There is always wisdom in truth," you answer, knowing he'll recognize the words he's told you many times.

"I want you. It's terrible how much I want you. But I think it could be easier if I didn't have to pretend that I don't."

He doesn't say anything for a long time, but the shifting emotions in his eyes speak for him. "Then you should not pretend. Not for me."

You desperately want him to reach down and kiss you, but he stays still, as you knew he would. You let out a silent sigh, resting your ear to his chest. His signature is mostly hidden from you, but he can't disguise the rapid beating of his heart. "I think it's been more for me."

"There is no need to hide your feelings," he murmurs. "But there is every need not to act on them."

You know he's right, but hearing him say it just makes it so much worse. And in some ways, it stokes the heat inside you even higher. Your leg is already nudging against him, and some depraved part of you is dying to lift your knee and hook it over him, to spread yourself open, to touch him in any way he'll allow it.

But the larger part of you, the part that knows right from wrong, tells your body to roll onto your back, and you do.

His arm lifts around you to let you separate, and you both stare upward, listening to the fire and the storm.

After so much time passes that you're not sure if he's asleep, you whisper one last thought that's been tormenting you for a very, very long time. "It's just a shame. For all we've been through, even the pleasure of breaking our vows... we didn't even get that."

He stirs beside you, head turning slightly, but he doesn't answer.

"If we had to break our vows, I'm just sorry we didn't even get to remember it."

Carefully, you turn to read his expression. His eyes are downcast. "I seem to remember much more than you do."

"I know," you whisper, a thrill that you know you shouldn't feel running through you. You're on edge, like you're trying not to frighten off a wild animal, with every word you shouldn't be saying.

"If you wish," he says, voice forcedly calm, "I could show you."

The words hang in the air; low, heavy, dangerous. You part your lips with some effort.

"Show me."

He rolls to his side, facing you, and wordlessly places a fingertip to your temple. It isn't necessary to form a bond through the force, but it helps.

Before he closes his eyes, and before you close yours, you feel it passing between you - an unspoken acknowledgement. What you're doing is precisely on the edge of sin and salvation, just teetering on the illicit line; a line which has been crossed and uncrossed so many times between you that you've lost count.

You close your eyes anyway.

The image is pristine. So real between sight and sound that you can hardly distinguish it from reality.

Your skin is on his skin. Sweaty, brazen, unashamed. You're lying naked on your back, and he's beneath you, pants unfastened, inside of you.

You squeeze your eyelids tight, overwhelmed and instantly aching between your legs.

He drags his cock slowly from you, one hand splayed across your stomach, holding you steady on top of him. Your body shudders involuntarily, imagining the pressure of his head moving from deep inside to pressing shallowly within you.

"Tempted me for too long," the Obi Wan in the vision growls, voice surrounding both your ears as if he's speaking from everywhere at once.

Then he pushes back in, hot and slick. "So tell me," he says, pulling out and sinking into you over and over, "Now. Tell me how you wanted this."

"I wanted this," your voice comes - bare, powerless. Like you're clinging to him, adrift and keeping yourself afloat by saying anything he asks.

He gives a long, tortured groan. "No, not just this." He drives into you, pulls out, coated and sliding so perfectly between your legs. "Say it."

"Oh, fuck," you moan, trembling against him, sounding too distracted to answer.

"Young one," he warns, quickening the pace just slightly as he wraps one hand around your neck, tilting your chin upward as he spreads his fingers out, feeling your pulse skyrocket as he tightens. "Do as you're told."

"I wanted this, Obi Wan. Wanted you inside me. Wanted you to fuck me," you answer him, words spilling out of you without pause. "Wanted this forever."

The hand on your stomach has moved to your hip, now, gripping you to stop you from moving. He's writhing beneath you, and even from this perspective, from the catch in his breath, from the wet sounds in the room, you can tell he's gone from fucking you to pounding into you.

"You've done this to me," he rasps, the muscles of his arm flexing between your breasts as he squeezes your neck tighter. "Do you understand that? You will answer for it."

You nod against him and he sinks his teeth into your neck, burying his moan in your skin.

He's about to fucking cum, you realize.

Why had he started the vision here, of all places? Was he trying to make you lose your mind?

His thrusts are getting deeper, harder, staying buried longer, and, there- you hear it in the open-mouthed choke of his voice. You see it in the way he drives up into you and stays there. He's-

Obi Wan breaks the bond, bright and vivid imagery bursting into nothingness, fizzling right before you.

You blink, eyes falling open to meet his own. His lips are parted, his face as flushed as yours must be. You take in a breath, and it occurs to you how empty your lungs had been.

He straightens his shoulders, but he doesn't move away. His eyes dip down to your lips, then swiftly back up to your eyes. "I must tell you that what I said..." he pauses for far too long. "It wasn't true, of course."

"I know," your response is automatic. You're unsure precisely to what he's referring, but you want to reassure him.

"Shall I stop?" he asks the question softly, but his voice is too rough for him to feign innocence, now. "Or would you like to keep going?"

There's some shame in your breathless answer, and no doubt he hears it. No doubt he feels it, too. But it's outweighed by scraping, seething, agonizing want that's been buried for so long.

"More," you tell him, never more certain of anything. "Don't stop."

There's conflict in his gaze, but the same animal you've been fighting wins out within him, too, and he closes his eyes once more.

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multifandomsw · 10 months

Text

Apologies

Harry Styles x Reader

summary: After an encounter with your old best friend, she gave you her number to catch up. When you decide to send her a message, someone else replies. Was it destiny?

warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of alcohol, Harry himself

author’s note: I feel like you’ll either like this or hate this. My writing is quite shitty, but who cares? Once again, a big thank you to @manrocket-mo who helped me out SO MUCH. I love our chats 🤭

Part 6

Apologies masterlist

“London is so beautiful.”, you breathed out as you and Lucy walked through the city, your arm linked with hers. You were absolutely mesmerized by the buildings and their architecture. London just felt different. Different in a good way. A deep contrast to the small town where you were from. It felt like the minute you landed in London, you were already feeling better, happier and safer.

“It is.”, Lucy smiled. You had met up with her a few times and got quite close to her. It was mostly her who spoke, but you began to open up to her too. She was really nice and seemed like a person you could trust.

A real friend. For once.

You had learned quite a bit about Lucy. She worked at her parent’s firm and earned very much money. She loved to spend said money, especially on clothes and bags. Lucy had just broken up with her boyfriend of four years a month ago and was currently living alone. She was an extrovert and loved the attention, but also liked staying at home and watch Netflix. Most importantly, she was a great friend. Lucy always listened to you and had never once interrupted you. She already cared about you and had even offered you to stay at her apartment.

You stayed at an old and cheap Airbnb until you found an apartment in London, which turned out not to be easy at all. They were either too expensive or way too small and nothing seemed fitting.

“Did you think about my offer?”, Lucy raised her eyebrows expectingly while you just sighed. “I wouldn’t even be able to pay the rent. It’s a very kind offer, but-“

“There’s no rent to pay.”, Lucy grinned at you. “It’s my apartment, I inherited it from my grandparents.”

“Lucy-“, you began, but she interrupted you quickly. “You need a place to stay at and I’d love to have a roommate. It’s been very lonely lately.”, she admitted and lowered her head.

How could you say no to that?

“Okay.”, you gave in. “But I’m gonna pay you. Somehow”

Lucy only rolled her eyes. “If you say so.”

You: I found a place to stay at

H: You did? Finally!

You: Lucy offered me to stay at her place

You: After she begged me for days, I finally gave in

You: She’s a really great friend

H: I’m happy for you

H: How’s London?

You: You should know, don’t you live here?

H: I do, but I travel a lot with my band. I wish I could be in London more often

You: I wish we could meet up. Someday.

H: We will, I promise.

H: After finishing this tour.

You: What’s your band called anyway?

H: I’ll tell you soon enough

You: That’s so unfair! You’re always so secretive.

You: You even know what I look like

H: I promise you’ll find out

H: The time’s just not right yet

You: If you say so.

H: Cherry

You: No, I trust you. Like you said.

H: Thank you

H: So how’s London truly?

You: Absolutely mesmerizing!

H: It is :)

H: I have a few favorite places that I feel like you’ll like

You: Ohh that sounds promising, H

H: You should definitely go to Columbia Road Flower Market

H: It’s one of my favorite places ever

You: I didn’t know you like flowers

H: I love flowers, they’re beautiful

H: But I have to warn you

H: None of them will compare to your beauty

You: STOP

You: You’re making me blush

The first thing that you noticed as you walked into Lucy’s apartment was its smell. The sweet scent of vanilla filled your nose and immediate comfort washed over you.

It smelled just like Lucy.

You looked around and observed that the apartment was giant, yet the first word that came to your mind that would perfectly describe it was cozy.

The living room with its big windows was well lit and you noticed the sun peeking through the curtains. When you stepped forward, the sun hit your face and warmth spread through your body. You pushed the curtains aside and your eyes widened as you came into view with Big Ben. “Wow.”, you let out and took a picture.

“That’s not what I expected.”, you chuckled as your gaze moved to the piano in the corner of the living room. “Is this yours?”, you questioned, but Lucy only shook her head. “They are-“, she began, but stopped mid-sentence. “A friend of mine used to live here for a while. He never took his piano with him.”

You snorted. “Did you think about giving it back to him?”, you asked. “No, trust me when I say he has enough money to buy a new one. He probably doesn’t even realize it’s still here. Besides, I love practicing on it.”

“You play the piano?”, you wanted to know and Lucy chuckled. “I’m trying my best.”, she explained and led you to the guest room. “Here’s where you will stay.”

You grinned at her. The room was plain and only consisted of a twin size bed and a closet. But you would make it yours. Eventually.

You: 📷

You: You can see Big Ben from her apartment!

H: What a great view

H: Which reminds me..

H: 📷

H: This is the bookstore you told me about, isn’t it?

You: No way! I’m so jealous! I’ve been dreaming about visiting Shakespeare and Company FOR YEARS

You: Why are you in Paris??

H: My band has a small concert here today

You: Oh! Good luck!

H: Thanks, Chérie

You: Aww

You: Is Paris as beautiful as people say it is?

H: Even more beautiful

H: Everything reminds me of you

You: I’m smiling STOP

H: Then I’ll never stop

You: La ville de l’amour

H: The city of love indeed

You: And have you found love yet, H?

H: Yes

H: But not in Paris

You let out a giddy laugh, but clasped your hand over your mouth only moments later, hoping that Lucy hadn’t heard you as you had yet to tell her about H.

You looked around your new room once more, before you decided to put your clothes in the closet.

You opened the closet which was filled with some old clothes. One sweater in particular caught your attention. You almost let out a snort as you saw that it was an old One Direction sweater with their faces on it. “I didn’t know you were a One Direction fan.”, you laughed.

“What?”, Lucy called out and made her way to your room. Her face was filled with confusion, but when her eyes landed on the sweater, realization washed over her face. “Oh. I used to be a fan. Not anymore, though.”, she admitted shyly.

You only giggled in response. “I like it.”, you admitted and Lucy simply shrugged. “You can keep it if you want, I don’t wear it anymore.”

You grinned at her. “Great.”, you let out and buried your nose into the sweater. The scent instantly hit your nose. It smelled like a forest in spring after it had just rained, like fresh flowers and grass. It smelled like home.

And it most certainly didn’t smell like Lucy.

“He called again.”, Lucy complained and you looked up from your hot chocolate. You were sitting in a small café that H had told you about and you absolutely loved it. It was not too crowded, very cozy and affordable. You’d have to thank him later.

“Who?”, you raised your eyebrows and it was clear that you had not listened. “My ex!”, Lucy groaned and realization hit you. “He’s still calling you? That means he must care for you.”

Lucy let out a brutal laugh. “If caring for me means cheating on me with one of my closest friends, then yes.”

You pressed your lips together and lowered your head. “Oh.”, you let out. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know-“

“No.”, Lucy interrupted you. “Not your fault-“, her sentence was cut short when a girl came up to you. She smiled at you and her eyes lit up. “Hey, aren’t you y/n? Can I take a picture with you?”, the girl asked sweetly and you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. When you looked at Lucy, she only shrugged her shoulders. “How-“, you gulped. “How do you know me?”

The girl giggled. “You’re jesting. You’re all over the internet!”

“What?”, you let out and the girl looked at you quizzically before pulling out her phone and showing you some Tweets.

They were all about you. About the conversation you and Harry Styles had at his concert. Pictures of your face were all over Twitter, some were making fun of your appearance while other were speculating whether you and Harry Styles-

You couldn’t even finish the thought because it was so ridiculous. There was no world, no universe and no galaxy where Harry Styles, one of the most famous singers of your time, would like you. The people were jealous for no reason. It was so ridiculous that you almost let out a hysterical laugh.

Almost.

Because this was your worst nightmare. Your face was all over the internet. Everyone knew how you looked like, everyone saw your flaws, your insecurities. You hated it, you absolutely hated it and almost smashed the girl’s phone into the wall.

Almost.

“No, no. I don’t-“, you tried to stay strong, but the way your voice cracked at the end gave you away. “He just talked to me. I don’t even know him.”, you clarified and watched as the girl’s face fell. “Oh.”, she let out and left.

You tried to blink away the tears that were almost leaving your eyes.

Almost.

Before Lucy could even say anything, you packed your things. “Hey.”, Lucy began and you shook your head. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”, you let out, trying to convince yourself more than her.

“What just happened?”, she desperately wanted to know and your eyes locked with hers. She watched you with a concerned look on her face. “Harry Styles talked to me at the concert I was at and told you about. Which is, as a matter of fact, nothing special, he always interacts with his fans. But somehow, my interaction with him and my face is all over the internet.”

“Which is your worst nightmare.”, Lucy added and you nodded, letting a tear fall freely. “I hate the attention, the criticism.”

Lucy reached out and grabbed your hand. “The internet will forget, I promise. You have nothing to worry about.”, she tried to console you and you almost believed her.

Almost.

You didn’t leave the apartment for days. Because you were afraid. Afraid that people would recognize you and try to talk to you on the street, afraid that people would make fun of you.

Afraid of people.

It was quite lonely, but the Netflix shows and the smell of Lucy’s sweater, that you hadn’t taken off for days, distracted you and calmed you just a little.

You hated it. You hated that you were afraid. You hated that you cried yourself to sleep everyday. You hated that you even cared about it.

Sometimes you wished you could be just like Lucy. She wouldn’t care about those Tweets, she would be able to ignore them and never think of them again.

In your case, however, the Tweets were imprinted on your brain and would never leave it, regardless of what you tried.

Suddenly, your door opened and revealed Lucy with some clothes in her hand. “Hey.”, she greeted you. “Let’s get you out of bed.”

You groaned when she switched on the light. “What?”, you asked and she smirked at you. “We’re going out. I can’t see you moping around in your room any longer.”

“Going out where?”

“To the club.”, she explained as if you already knew about it. Lucy held out a black dress that you could already tell was quite revealing. “Do you like it?”

“Oh, no, no. We’re not going to the club.”, you refused, but Lucy looked at you with pleading eyes. “I haven’t made out with someone in ages. I need to get my mind off of my ex.”, she began, but you were not convinced yet. “Besides, the alcohol will make you forget about what happened.”

This. This sounded better. “It will?”, you raised your eyebrows in suspicion. “If you drink enough. Please. I can’t see you all sad anymore. I care bout you.”

This. This is where she had you. “Okay.”, you agreed and almost laughed when you saw the smirk on Lucy’s face.

“Stop fumbling with your dress!”, Lucy laughed and you simply groaned in return. “This can not be considered a dress anymore. It’s so short!”, you complained and Lucy shrugged her shoulders. “Might get you some attention. I don’t even know much about your love life.”

“There’s nothing to know. It’s non-existent.”, you explained as you both made your way to the bar and asked the bartender for something to drink. “We could change that.”, she giggled and you only rolled your eyes. “What? I mean look at you! You look great.”

You had to admit, you did look kinda good. She had put much effort into applying your make up and curling your hair. The outfit also did certainly not look bad on you.

Still, you felt ridiculous. This wasn’t you and you just didn’t feel confident in your skin, not like Lucy.

“Only because you want to get laid tonight, doesn’t mean I do.”

Lucy let out a gasp. “I never said-“, she stopped mid-sentence. “Well, I might have said that. But I wouldn’t leave you alone.”

“You can. I understand that you want to forget your ex.”

You looked around and were reminded why you hated clubs so much. For once, it was filled to the brim and very hot. People were dancing on the dance floor without caring about the others. There was a lot of pushing and pulling and the air smelled like sweat. Just sweat.

The music was so loud that you could hardly even hear what Lucy said, or as a matter of fact what you said. But maybe Lucy was right. This would at least get your mind off of everything that had happened.

It was after your third drink that you felt the alcohol pumping through your system. The room seemed to be spinning and your giggles started to last a little longer than usual.

“I just- I’m so thankful that you took me out. I love getting drunk!”, you let out a giddy laugh and talked a little faster than usually. “After everything that happened. Especially at the concert.”, you continued and let out an exaggerated sigh.

Lucy, who was definitely not a light-weight like you, watched you in amusement. “What happened at the concert?”, she questioned. She knew that something must have happened, at least that’s what Harry told her. But he didn’t know what exactly took place.

“My old best friend and her boyfriend tricked me. He pretended to like me, and I didn’t know it was her boyfriend and asked me if I want to go to a concert with him. I agreed to, of course, because he even called it a date and who wouldn’t want to go out with a handsome guy, I mean how often do you get the chance-“, you were interrupted when Lucy cleared her throat. You were ranting.

“Right. Yes. Well, they showed up together and Lucy told said some mean things to me, like that Harry only talked to me because I’m so ugly and I even believed it, well believe it, because look at me? Why would Harry Styles talk to me? Well she said no one would ever like me and I kinda believe her because no one has ever liked me.”, your heart suddenly clenched in your chest at that memory. It all came crashing down again, your heartbreak, your insecurities, the feeling of not being good enough. The alcohol had made you happy, but you realized it was not enough yet. Before you continued, you took another large sip of your drink.

“I’m sorry-“, Lucy began, but as you felt the alcohol in your system again, you giggled. “No need to be sorry. I think someone likes me, well at least I like him. Funny story actually, I met this guy by accident because Jules gave me the wrong number. He’s so mysterious, it’s insane! I don’t even know how he looks like, but we’ve been writing for months and I really like him. Like like him. Maybe even more than liking him, I kinda have feelings for him and don’t say anything! I know that I don’t even know how he looks like, but he’s just so sweet and caring and he always send me pictures of things that remind him of me.”

Lucy bit her cheek and tried not to say anything, at least she had promised Harry not to. But this was good. Lucy now knew that you liked him too. Maybe not as much as Harry liked you, because he was basically obsessed with you, but quite a bit. She grinned at you. “That’s good. I’m happy for you.”

Harry was exhausted. He wasn’t exhausted because of his flight to London, though, no Harry was mentally exhausted because of you.

Well, not particularly because of you, but because of the fact that he felt you drifting away. It was Lucy that told him about a girl recognizing you, it was Lucy who told him that you stayed in your room for days, it was Lucy who you seemingly trusted more than him.

He wished it was him. He wished you would have told him all the things. Instead, you had pretended and acted like everything was fine, even after he had asked you multiple times.

Harry just wanted to help you, just wanted you to trust him. He wanted to call you his.

He began to resent his life, if he wasn’t Harry Styles, if he wasn’t one of the most popular singers, he could love you properly. He wanted to, so desperately wanted to tell you the truth. He even gave you a few hints here and there, but he was afraid. Afraid that you wouldn’t forgive him for lying to you.

“Harry?”, a voice interrupted his thoughts and Harry raised his head, shooting Sarah, who was sitting on Mitch’s lap, a confused look. “Hm?”

He could barely look at them. Not because he wasn’t happy for them, no, he was beyond happy for his friends, but because he craved what they had. He craved that deep, real and unconditional love they had.

“Your phone is ringing.”, she pointed to his phone that was lying on the table in front of him.

Harry only shrugged his shoulders, not even looking at the name on the screen. “Can’t be that important.”

Sarah shot Mitch a knowing look, before she spoke again. “This one might be.”

Harry sighed, but when he glanced down, his heart almost stopped.

Cherry.

You. You were calling him. Before he could even think, he picked up the call and held his breath for a second.

“Cherry?”, he whispered, keeping his voice down.

“H?”, your sweet voice answered and Harry’s heart surely stopped for a few seconds. He turned to Sarah with wide eyes, who only offered him a smile in return.

Before he could realize what he was doing, he was bolting out of the room and standing in the hallway of his apartment. “What- are you okay?”

“More than okay.”, you giggled and it was now that Harry noticed the loud music and people chattering in the background. “It’s just so unfair, H, I mean, I don’t know what you look like and I- I like you. It’s insane, you could look like a gorilla and I’d still like you.”, you slurred and Harry’s feelings were all over the place. For once, his heart was speeding in his chest at your confession. You liked him. You liked him. However, concern quickly overpowered the feeling of happiness shooting through his body.

“Are you drunk?”, he asked in distress.

“God- even your voice sounds hot.”

“Cherry, stop.”, he warned, his voice getting lower. You couldn’t distract him. Not now. Not when you were drunk and probably alone somewhere in London.

“Where are you, Cherry?”, he demanded, already running up to his room and putting on a black hoodie and sunglasses.

“Cherry?”, he tried again. “At a club. It’s so cool here! Lucy said it’s her favorite club.”

Harry let out a breath of relief. You were with Lucy and he knew what Lucy’s favorite club was. “But she’s away making out with a guy right now.”

Oh no.

No. No. No.

Harry quickly grabbed his car keys. “It feels so good getting drunk. Wait, let me order another drink!”

“Cherry?”

“Cherry! Hear me out. Stay were you are. I’m picking you-“, before Harry could finish his sentence, you hung up.

“Fuck!”, he let out before he stepped into his Ferrari.

The moment he stepped into the club, the hot air hit him. For a second, Harry regretted wearing a thick hoodie. But then he remembered that he had to. He didn’t want to get recognized, especially not today.

Harry scanned the dance floor for you, suddenly reminded of when he did the same thing at his concert. Searching for you in a crowd of people. He had found you back then and he was confident that he would find you today.

His eyes trailed to the bar where he saw a figure talking to the bartender-

The moment he saw you, everything else suddenly didn’t matter anymore. He forgot about the people around him, about the loud music, about the way he was sweating furiously.

Harry could only stare at you. You were wearing a black dress that was hugging your body perfectly. Your hair was curled and god-

Your smile. It was contagious. He let out a small laugh himself.

Until he realized who your smile was directed to.

Before he could even realize what he was doing, he was walking up to you and gently grabbed your arm, instantly gaining your attention.

You turned around to him quickly and Harry was absolutely mesmerized. God, he was so enraptured by your beauty. Your eyes were a bit glossed over, but shining nonetheless. Your cheeks were a slight pink color and he had to fight the urge to cup them with his hands. His eyes moved down to your lips, only once, but it was enough for him to know that he wanted to kiss you. Right then and there. He wanted to feel your smooth lips moving against his-

“Hi!”, you giggled and Harry could swear it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He had to shake his head and gather his thoughts again, remembering the reasons why he was even here.

Harry gulped. “Hey.”

“Are you my boyfriend?”, you tilted your head to the side, admiring his features.

Harry bit his cheek, hard. He wished, with every fiber of his being, that he could say yes. He wished that you were his.

“No.”, Harry admitted defeatedly. “Not yet.”, he added quickly.

“Oh.”, you answered and reached out to take off his sunglasses. The moment your fingers touched his face, Harry could feel a spark.

Your eyes met his and he saw how your face changed into something different. Adoration maybe?

“I’m sad you’re not. You are so beautiful.”, you breathed out and it was the end for Harry. He wanted to fall to his knees and ask you to marry him right then and there.

No one had ever called him beautiful before. Not to his face.

He let out a chuckle and lowered his head as he felt the blush creeping up his face. You would be the death of him.

Harry shook his head, trying to get rid off his thoughts.

His eyes moved away from your face and to the drink next to you. He could practically feel the men watching you and he was more than happy that no one had approached you yet. “Hey, you should keep your drink in your hands and don‘t look away from it. There are many vile men who would take advantage of that.”, he explained and you nodded. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.”

“Sorry.”

Harry sighed. “Where’s Lucy?”

“Oh.”, he watched as your face lit up. “You know Lucy?”, you squeaked out. “She’s great! Well, she’s probably in one of the bathroom stalls having sex-“

“Okay. We’re gonna stop right there.”, he interrupted you and bit his lip. “How about this: you’re gonna stay right where you are and I’m going to find Lucy. Then I’ll bring you home. How does that sound?”

He watched as you hesitated for a second, but then gave in. “Okay, stranger.”

It was minutes after that he found Lucy in a quiet corner making out with some guy. “Lucy.”, Harry called out and Lucy stopped kissing the guy. “Hm?”, she let out and her eyes widened when she saw Harry.

“Harry? What are you doing here?”, she wanted to know as the guy kissed down her neck. “This is not a good time.”, she continued, but when she saw Harry’s stern face, she knew she was in trouble and who this was about.

“Why would you take her to the club and leave her alone completely drunk? God knows how many drinks she had.”, Harry argued.

“She can take care of herself.”, Lucy shrugged her shoulders.

“Lucy.”, Harry repeated. “She hates clubs. She absolutely hates them. You should know this. How did you even get her to go with you?”

Lucy smirked at Harry. “I told her she could forget her troubles if she gets drunk.”

It took a lot of self control for Harry not to shout at Lucy.

Harry’s delicate heart, though, squeezed in his chest. You’d rather get drunk than talk to him, to H, about what had happened?

You meant so much to him, but Harry started to doubt if you even liked him back. “She could have talked to me!”

“I can’t believe you left her alone at the club! You should’ve stayed at her side instead of-“

“Harry.”

“No, you should’ve-“

“Harry.”, Lucy repeated and it was only then that Harry stopped, his eyes following hers.

Great. Someone was trying to talk to you.

“This is not over.”, he hissed out, before he made his way to you. A guy, probably a head taller than him, was leaning dangerously close to you.

Harry softly called your name, your real name, before he put his arm around you. “Stay away from my girlfriend.”, he warned and the guy put his hands up in surrender before leaving. “I thought you weren’t my boyfriend.”, you acknowledged as your eyelids grew heavier. “He simply wanted to talk to me!”

“Oh, trust me, he didn’t.”

“Can you stand?”, Harry asked and you nodded your head confidently. “Of course I can! Why wouldn’t I-“, as you took your first step, your body swayed and you fell into Harry’s arms.

Harry laughed and slung his arm around you. “Doesn’t look like it.”, he chuckled as he led you to out of his club and to his car.

“I promise you can trust me. I know Lucy. I’ll bring you home safely, okay?”, he stated. “Okay.”, you answered tiredly as you got into the passenger seat. Harry leaned over you, buckling you up before he got into the driver’s seat and started the car.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

Harry glanced at you and saw how the moonlight perfectly illuminated your face. You looked like an angel. It was hard. So hard to keep his eyes on the road when he just wanted to look at your face.

“No.”, he scoffed.

“Why not?”

Harry hummed. “It’s complicated.”

“Soooo..”, you began. “Are you in love then?”, you asked and Harry grinned, his dimples very much evident on his face.

“I think I am.”, he started, but found the statement not quite fitting. “I know I am.”, he continued. “Are you?”

“It’s complicated.”, you mimicked his earlier words and Harry only rolled his eyes.

“Oh, complicated?”, he raised his eyebrows and reached out to turn on the radio.

He stopped breathing when he heard the first tunes of his own song, of Cherry, starting to play.

“No, not that song. Can you switch channels?”

His heart broke right then and there, but he changed the channel nonetheless. “What’s wrong with the song?”

Harry spared you a glance and saw that you were at the brink of tears. He reached down to hold your hand in his, but you quickly pulled away to wipe away your tears.

“It just reminds me of bad things. Everything Harry Styles related does. I mean he’s a great singer but I can’t stand to listen to his music anymore- hey! Did you see the bird?”

Harry let out a shaky breath, his heart squeezing in his chest. No, no, no, this couldn’t be happening. Cherry used to be your favorite song, he added it to the set list because of you. It had slowly become his favorite song, too.

“I’m so exhausted.”, you whined, but Harry let out an annoyed sigh. “I know, but you need to change. Sleeping in this dress will be so uncomfortable-“, he began, but stopped mid-sentence when he saw that you were slowly closing your eyes.

“Great.”, he whispered, not sure what he should do. “Okay. Breathe, Harry. Pretend this is one of your friends.”, he tried to assure himself, looking at your sleeping face while he unzipped your dress. He slowly pulled the dress down, keeping his eyes on your face and not looking down once. Harry took off his hoodie and the shirt he wore underneath it before he helped you put on his shirt. The way Harry tried to put on the shirt without looking down would probably be a bit awkward to watch, but Harry managed to do it anyways.

Harry draped the blanket on you and tucked you in properly before he sat down next to your bed and let the breath he had been holding out.

He felt like his insides were being squeezed together, like someone had taken all his air and he could barely breathe. His heart was beating impossibly fast and he was aware of his sweaty palms.

“H.”, you mumbled and Harry’s eyes widened. “Y/n?”, he whispered, but your eyes were closed. Were you.. dreaming about him?

Harry knew that he couldn’t watch you forever, that he’d eventually have to go, but he didn’t want this moment to end. He wanted to watch you forever.

He brushed some of your hair out of your face before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to you forehead, his lips lingering maybe a bit too long. “I’ll always take care of you, I promise.”

taglist: @st-ev-ie @hsstylesrings @bubblespower101 @ravisinghs-wife @mopeymousey @shishcabobsworld @stylesfever @valntynebaby @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @harryspirate @xxlunathewitchxx @hannah9921 @fingermonkey101 @amateurduck @babyiamperfectforyou @ravisinghs-wife @creativelyeva @fanficismydrug @manrocket-mo @crimeshowjunkie @lomlolivia @pagesfalling @harryssky1 @buckybarnessimpp @melancholy-help @annesauriol @tea-and-toast463 @sheslikeacurse @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @white-wolf-buckaroo @itsgigikay

#harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader

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prettiestboytoy2 · 3 months

Text

You know what is hilarious? Pretty much since Covid there is silent crisis in commercial real estate. Those are offices and shops mostly.

In most metropolitan areas vacancy of those spaces is either close to 50% or already exceeded them. Despite that, prices of those spaces somehow increased and despite falling demand keep rising.

Such scenario is only possible due to the fact that people who own and menage those spaces, think that "Price-Demand" relationship should only apply to poor people and by that they mean that you should work for less when times are hard (they are one's causing hard times). Those particular landlords have no way to terrorize thier customers the way regular landlords do because thier customers are other corporations and companies.

This crisis could be solved overnight by decrease in price but this simply does not register to those people as an concept because they've been raised to belive that thier profits and assets can only go up and everyone but them should take a hit. But now economy is booming while they are left behind. Many urban areas in USA are becoming commercial deserts because no one can afford rent there.

And what is arguably even worse is that there are usually multiple regulations in place to prevent anyone from changing those office spaces into residential ones to prevent prices of housing from going down too.

If you noticed push by corporations to "bring workers back to the office", its because shareholders who are often balls deep in that commercial real estate make it happen. Hoping for increase of demand. Not realizing thier entire business model is completly outdated (and parasitic). So they keep accumulating the debt instead of lowering the prices because they will go bankrupt before they allow anything to become more affordable.

#late stage capitalism #economics #real estate #finance

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 1 year

Text

The Other Half Part Six

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Notes: This is going to feed into an ask that was sent to me. Just needed to build that bridge, ya know.

Warnings: Some fluff; mostly angst. Soz. Whoops. Not beta-read.

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Minors interacting with this work will be blocked.

Summary: You can’t know what he does—you can’t ever know. You could be in enough danger as it is if you’re ever connected to Bruce Wayne; he can’t imagine the repercussions if you were somehow associated with Batman.

“So, who is she?”

Liz asks it with a knowing, cat-like smile on her lips, brow arching. The question raises Bruce’s hackles, but he manages to keep a calm, serene smile on his lips.

“Who’s who?” He bats back unblinkingly. It takes everything in him to hold still, to keep his gaze on Liz’s, his hand steady on his glass of wine. She doesn’t blink first; she doesn’t laugh it off or change the topic. She waits. For ten long, uncomfortably quiet seconds, they both wait—until her boyfriend asks Bruce to pass the bread, and the date that Liz arranged for Bruce comes back from the bathroom, asking what she’s missed.

“Why are you still up?”

“Why are you calling if you didn’t want to talk to me?”

Bruce can’t help but smile. Sure, he’d asked a stupid question, but you sound so damn sleepy and soft. He can just imagine you at his place, curled up in his bed, wearing another one of his borrowed shirts. He leans against the wall of one of Liz’s bathrooms, eyeing the door.

“I want to talk to you,” He murmurs. “But I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t. I was just watching tv.”

“You sound like you were sleeping.”

“I was just resting my eyes.”

“Sure you were.”

“Don’t get sassy with me, Bruce Wayne. I know where you live. Hell—I am where you live.”

“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything. If you do, tell Alfred, he’ll—”

“It’s late. I’m not makin’ Alfred do anything. ‘Sides, if I want anything, I’ll get it for myself.”

“So stubborn.”

“Stubborn?”

“Stubborn, yes you are.”

“This from a man who rented out an entire restaurant and then took me to Burger King because I said he wouldn’t.”

“That’s not stubbornness. It’s being decisive.”

“Well I have decided that if I want anything, I’ll get it myself, and I won’t ask Alfred.”

Bruce chuckles softly, scrubbing his hand over his eyes.

“Alright,” He concedes, nodding and looking down at his feet.

“Are you having a nice time with your friends?”

Bruce glances toward the door, pursing his lips and considering.

“Yeah,” He says, “Liz’s boyfriend is nice.”

“Mind telling the paparazzi that?”

Bruce smiles. “I’ll send out an email.”

“Perfect.”

“‘Liz Wyatt is unequivocally not dating Bruce Wayne’.”

“Should be enough to satisfy Mich.”

“Is that what matters to you?”

“No, of course not.”

He tries not to find the way you rush over your words so precious.

“I was teasing,” He offers before you feel the need to explain yourself.

“Ugh—That is not nice, Wayne. Wake a girl up and you start teasing her.”

“I thought you were just watching tv.”

“...I’m hanging up now,” You grumble. “Go—Be fancy-schmancy and rich and attractive with your fancy-schmancy and rich and attractive friends.”

“Text me if you need anything before I come back. ‘kay?”

“Not Alfred?”

“Not Alfred.”

“I will. Keep it down when you come in?”

“Sure,” Bruce smiles, shifting from foot to foot. Then, against his better judgement, “Get some sleep, sweetheart.”

“Don’t tell me what to do…Mwah.”

Bruce chuckles before he hangs up, lowering his phone. He looks down at your contact, and the little photo he has of you there. He draws in a deep breath before he reaches down, unlocking the door and opening it.

“Shit—” He hisses, jumping as he catches sight of Liz standing there, waiting. “This apartment is huge. Do you not have any other bathrooms?”

“So who is she?” Liz plies.

“How thin is that door?”

“Bruce.”

“...Just someone I’ve been seeing.”

“Who is…?”

“What’s it matter?”

“Explains why you didn’t so much as glance at Cici at dinner.”

“That’s not true. I glanced at her plenty.”

“C’mon, Bruce, you know that that’s not what I mean.” She glances over Bruce before proclaiming: “I wanna meet her.”

“What for?”

“Because when was the last time you ever dated someone? You didn’t even do that in college. Besides, you’ve met my boyfriend.”

“And that was your choice.”

“Are you ashamed of her or something?”

The question punches him in the middle of the chest, his expression hardening. He’s taken hits from crowbars, guns, and baseball bats that have hurt less.

“Of course I’m not.” It leaves him with a thread of steel that he’s never heard in his own voice—not outside of the suit, anyway.

“Good,” Liz’s smile is as bright and as steady as ever. “I wanna meet her. Bring her over here for dinner, we’ll double.”

“If I bring her, I don’t want this to be an interrogation.”

“It won’t be an interrogation. It’ll be dinner.”

Liz is still pointing that smug, satisfied little smile at him. She knows he won’t back down from a challenge, not like this.

He’s too damn stubborn.

Dawn is just beginning to creep over the city as he climbs into bed with you at the penthouse. The room is pitch-black; he can hardly make out your form under the sheets. He feels your warmth as he lifts the covers; he cuddles in close, curling his body around yours. He smiles as you stir, as you press back against his chest and rest a hand on his.

“Bruce?”

You're mumbling, and your voice is a little rough in a way that it wasn't on the phone last night. Maybe you had only been resting your eyes when he called, just on the edge of sleep on his couch.

“Mhm,” He hums, gently wiggling his fingers against yours.

“You just gettin’ in now?”

Bruce rests his head between your shoulder blades, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck.

“Of course not.”

The lie is as blatant, as plain to him as the nose on his face. But you can’t know what he does—you can’t ever know. You could be in enough danger as it is if you’re ever connected to Bruce Wayne; he can’t imagine the repercussions if you were somehow associated with Batman.

“Just got up to use the bathroom,” He tacks on. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay,” You murmur, pushing back against him again.

“Go back to sleep.”

“Mmmkay.” Your grip tightens on his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. Bruce smiles, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. He’ll worry about Liz and everything else in the morning…Well. Later in the morning.

“You busy tonight?”

“You sound like you’ve been gargling with rocks,” You laugh, glancing up toward the door of the stockroom. “Are you just getting up now?”

“No. No, been up before, and then uh…Down again. What time is it?”

“It’s almost two in the afternoon.”

“Oh, that’s not so bad.”

“Frickin’ billionaires,” You mutter, scrubbing your hand over your face.

“So?” Bruce pushes on, “You busy?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“What you have in mind.”

“Dinner with Liz?”

You blink slowly, stunned. Dinner with her? Why the heck would Bruce want to bring you to dinner with Liz Wyatt? She’s all glamorous, and cool, and you’re…You. You work in a store, you’re not like Liz. You’re not even like Bruce. You don’t realize how long you’ve been in your own head until Bruce says, “...Hello? Are you—” The words drift away, like he's looking at his phone, then back in, “Are you still there?”

“Yes! Yeah, sorry, I was, uh—” You clear your throat. “I got distracted.”

“So? You busy?”

“Uh…” You glance around the room, like there’s a good answer scrawled on the wall somewhere. Your mouth works wordlessly for a moment before you manage, “N-no. I mean, no, I’m not busy.”

“Great. I can pick you up from work?”

“I should get changed after work, not, uh—My place? I mean, what time does she expect us over? Should I bring something? I can get a—”

“Okay,” Bruce chuckles on the other side of the phone, halting your panicked questions. “We don’t have to go.”

“No, we can go, I just—”

“Take a deep breath, sweetheart.”

“I’m breathing just fine—”

“We’ll do it another night—or not at all, if you don't want to.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t wanna go, I just—You know, I’m processing.”

“Sounds like you’re freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out! I’m asking questions. I am asking relevant questions.”

“You’re also repeating yourself.”

“...We can go,” You insist. “I just need to get ready.”

“Alright.”

“How fancy should I dress?”

“It’s just dinner at her place, you don’t have to get all…you know.”

“Well, what are you wearing?”

“Right now? Not much.”

“Bruce.”

“You should come back.”

“What, right now?”

“Mhm.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I’m hanging up now. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Alright—Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“...It’s gonna be fine.”

You nod, though Bruce can’t see you.

“I know,” You agree. “I wasn’t worried. I’m not worried.”

“You’re doing that repeating thing again.”

“Really hanging up now.”

You draw your phone away from your ear, peering down at it warily for a moment. Dinner with Liz Wyatt. What do you wear to a model’s house? What do you bring to a model’s house? Oh, there’s gotta be answers for this all over Quora.

“You look beautiful.”

“...Well don’t sound too surprised,” You grumble, straightening your sweater before turning to go back into the apartment. “I need like two more minutes, I just have to get on my earrings and my shoes.”

“Those flowers for Liz?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nice choice. She loves carnations.”

“I know. I did some googling,” You admit guiltily, taking up one of the earrings from the table and putting it in.

“Are they in a vase?” Bruce tacks in, tapping his finger against the glass of it.

“Mhm. Keeps her from having to go and find one when we get there.”

“Clever.”

“I’m very smart.”

“I know that.”

You smile as you raise your other earring, fastening it. You glance back as Bruce cuddles up behind you and pressing a kiss to your neck.

“...We really don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

You’re quiet for a moment, brow furrowing.

“...You’re making me think that you’re the one that doesn’t want to go,” You manage after a moment, glancing back at Bruce. He shakes his head, resting his hands on your hips.

“I’m just making sure...Guess it’s time you met a couple of my friends, anyway. I’ve met yours.”

“You’ve met one friend,” You argue, chuckling.

“Mm. Where is Michelle?”

“Work.”

“She know where we’re going tonight?”

“Nope, I just said we were getting dinner.” You reach out, taking up your jacket from where it’s hung over the back of your kitchen chair. “If Liz is amenable, I’ll send Mish a selfie later, maybe surprise the shit out of her.”

“All set?—I’ve got them,” Bruce reaches out, taking hold of the flower vase before you can pick them up.

“Thanks. Is Alfred downstairs?”

“Nope, I’m drivin’.”

“Fancy.”

“...Is Liz’s apartment like yours?” You ask, shifting in the passenger seat.

“What do you mean?”

“Just, you know…Big, and…Nice.”

“Yes, it’s both of those.”

“Okay.”

“Why?”

“Just—Need to prepare myself so that my jaw doesn’t drop when I get inside.”

“Your jaw didn’t drop when you got to my place.”

“It was frozen shut at that point...Speaking of which,” You tack on, “Power’s fully up and running again, so I’ll get out of your hair.”

“...You can stay if you want.”

“In your hair?”

Bruce casts you a side-long smile. “I just mean you can stay over whenever you like.”

You smile, sliding down in your seat a little. “Noted, thank you…And you’re always welcome at ours, though it’s not as nice.”

“Your bed’s comfy.”

“That’s true.”

You glance out of the tinted window, watching the swankiest skyscrapers in Gotham fly by. You feel Bruce take your hand, and a smile unwittingly grows on your lips.

“Shouldn’t you have both hands on the wheel, Mr. Wayne?”

“I’ve got it,” He reassures. You hum in concession, grasping his hand with both of yours. You close your eyes, drawing in a deep breath.

“We can—”

“Don’t say we can still turn around,” You warn.

“Alright.”

You open your eyes, tipping your head to the side and watching Bruce.

“Do you want to turn around?” You offer.

“No.”

“Okay, so…We’re agreed.”

You loosen your grasp on Bruce’s hand, sliding down in your seat a little more and resting your head on your hand. It’s a moment before Bruce pats your thigh, then draws his hand back. You’d actually managed to shake some of your nerves, but Bruce’s repeated insistence that you don’t have to go to dinner is making you more and more nervous. You draw in a deep breath and hold it for a few moments before you slowly push it back out.

“Okay,” You hear Bruce mutter. You frown as he pulls into a street space, and glance around.

“We can’t be here already,” You frown as he puts the car in park.

“Listen,” Bruce turns in his seat to face you. Your stomach flips with nerves, and you brace yourself. “I’ve never introduced anyone to Liz—Or, to most of my friends. Not anyone that I've been more serious about.”

Your brows raise at his admission. He's serious—about you? Bruce reaches out, taking hold of your hand again.

“I’m sorry if I’m freaking you out," He adds, "But I don’t know what we’re in for, either.”

“...You’re nervous?” You realize, stunned.

“Am I not allowed?”

“Come on, you know that that’s not what I mean,” You mutter. You sigh, looking down at his hand again, turning your hand over in his, intertwining your fingers.

“...I didn’t even consider the fact that you might be nervous,” You admit. You raise your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. Your nerves flare as Bruce slips his hand from yours, but he takes hold of your jaw, turning your head and leaning in. He gives you a gentle kiss, thumb sweeping your cheek. You smile, patting his cheek as he draws back.

“We’re gonna be fine.”

Dinner’s not bad—in fact, it’s quite nice. It’s catered. You’d typically ask if there’s anything that you could do to help with prep, but there’s an officious staff of three flurrying around Liz’s restaurant-grade kitchen. Liz is quite nice herself, but she and Bruce can sometimes make you feel a little on the outside. You don’t think they’re doing it on purpose—they have a shared history, a longer history than you have with Bruce.

On the other hand, Liz’s boyfriend is lovely. He gives you smiles when the two of you are in the same conversational boat, watching as Bruce and Liz chatter on on topics that neither of you are familiar with. He lobs easy questions at you, backs Liz down from touchier questions, and keeps the wine and conversation flowing. You actually start to enjoy yourself, until—

“So you two are going to the gala together, of course.”

Liz’s boyfriend grimaces, eyes flicking to you apologetically. It seems he can’t back her down from that one quickly enough. Your brow furrows, a smile frozen on your face as you repeat, “Gala?”

“For the Wayne Foundation! Oh, don’t tell me Bruce didn’t tell you,” Liz glances between you and Bruce chastisingly. You turn your head to look at Bruce. He still has a smile on his face, but it’s that plasticized smile he gave your manager, and accompanied by a tight jaw. He won’t even meet your eye—hell, he’s not meeting anyone’s eye.

“Bruce,” Liz tacks on scoldingly, “You haven’t even given her time to prepare. She’ll hardly have time to get a dress now—Leave that to me,” She adds, leaning in and resting her hand atop yours. “I know all the designers in Gotham, I’m sure they can rush something by the 21st.”

“Oh,” You force yourself to laugh, shaking your head, “You know what—He did, but I’ve got work that night.”

“Surely you can take off.”

“I really can’t,” You insist. “My manager doesn’t like me very much. She barely forgave me for disappearing with Bruce for my lunch hour.”

“What!” Liz’s eyes brighten as she leans back. “Oh, I have to hear that story.”

It’s a safe enough diversion. You feel Bruce watching you; you don’t dare turn to fully meet his gaze, though you glance at him every now and again. Your mouth works on autopilot, but your mind is racing. Was Bruce even going to tell you about this? Or was this going to be one of those things that he does—those nights when he just goes off and acts like Bruce Wayne at before crawling into bed with you just before dawn?

Frankly, you’re not sure which you’d prefer.

Next Part

#Bruce Wayne x Reader #Bruce Wayne x You #Bruce Wayne/Reader #Bruce Wayne/You #Bruce Wayne fic #Bruce Wayne imagine #The Other Half

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the-au-collector · 3 months

Text

So I’ve realized that the only way I’m going to get my AUs out there is by being annoying about them.

So have this scenario that’s been living rent-free in my brain for months:

Kids

(Wild, Four, Warriors, Hyrule and Twilight are in Legend’s era. They are searching for their kids, who have previously been established to be kidnapped by time-traveling Yiga. The Links have been traveling across Eras, slowly reuniting to let each other know that their kids are lost across time, and are teaming up to find them. Wild, Four, Wars, Hyrule, and Twilight have just reunited with Legend, and are en route to Legend’s house.)

The Links have been discussing various topics, like their kids, and are assuring Legend that his house won’t be too crazy for them to stay at overnight when Legend realizes something.

Legend: Wait how many kids do you think I have?

Wild: well you said kids so, like, two?

Legend: …

Wild: I could see three I guess?

Legend: …

Wild, who has one kid: *with increasing horror* Four?

Legend: …

Wild: *still in horror* higher or lower?

Legend, who really isn’t sure if he should tell them he has 6 kids or if he should let them figure it out for themselves: higher

Wild: Five?

Legend: … higher

Four, unperturbed: Seven?

Legend, who also isn’t sure whether he should tell them he and Ravio will be adopting another kid within the next year: Not yet

So yeah.

During Relinked, Legend and Ravio have 6 kids. They’re all adopted. Knowing what he knows about Hyrule’s era, Legend doesn’t feel right bringing more kids into the world. But if they’re already here and need a place? Well, his Uncle raised him to never turn someone in need down!

Got abandoned by your parents? Come on in! Family slaughtered by wolves? Here’s a home for you, completely safe 100% no wolves at all! Your parents were abusive shitheads? I’m your dad now. Your parents died? Well I know a thing or two about mentors dying I guess, come on in. Parents can’t take care of you? Hell, I have more than enough resources to spare.

#Legend is the only one with this many kids #i swear I only wanted him to have 3 max then like 4 other OCs popped up and said he’s their dad so #relinked AU #linked universe #lu legend #lu wild #lu four #not tagging the others since they don’t speak #ravioli #ravioli ship #they have 6 kids y’all

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kidney9-9 · 11 months

Text

Bad Day - Tom Holland

Hi guys, hope you enjoy this little blurb of Tom Holland taking care of Reader after a bad day at work!

Tom Holland x Reader [Fluff and Smut] Warnings: Smut, oral fem receiving, cursing Word Count: 780

When you got home, you were exhausted. The last few days at work have been horrible for you. The only sanctuary you got was from being at home and relaxing but the last few days, ever since you’ve been getting home, you’ve been going straight to bed. You needed something a little more to relax now.

That’s what Tom noticed too.

So, he decided to do his best and help you out. He lowered the lights a bit, so you didn’t get a headache from the blinding lights, made your favorite foods, and bought a few of your favorite snacks, and rented out your favorite movie.

“Hey baby, sit down and relax, I’ll make you some food.” Tom spoke up once you walked into the kitchen. Your eyes softened and you nodded back to him.

“Hi, thank you…” You trailed off, tired from your day. You slowly walked to the couch and sunk into the cushions, moaning out loud from the comfort. Tom chuckled from the kitchen when he heard that but felt back for you.

He brought out some food including some of your favorite snacks to the living room and turned on the television. Then he set the DVD player on and put in your favorite movie, noticing you practically had fallen asleep on the couch. He chuckled at that and quietly sat back on the couch and poked you awake.

“I made you some food and put on your favorite movie if you’d like. It’s okay if you want to go back to sleep though.” He whispered into your ear. You shifted in your seat and woke up, smiling softly at him.

“You’re the best.” You mumbled back to him and laid your head on his shoulder. After a few minutes into the movie started, you started to eat some of the food, groaning about how good it was.

Tom smiled back at you, happy that he was able to make you feel relaxed.

He had an idea that could make you relax even more though.

“Hey babe, I can make you feel even better if you know what I mean.” He brought it up, nonchalantly. You instantly looked at him with wide eyes.

“Oh really? You would do that for me?” You asked.

“Of course, I would, come here I’ll do it right now.” He laughed, causing you to roll your eyes at him.

“Oh, hush, I should have known you were joking.” You huffed out, making him shake his head at you. He was serious about it. He stood up in front of you and pulled your pants off abruptly, making you gape at him then he pulled your panties off, snaping you out of your shock.

“Tom! Oh god, you were actually serious?” You laughed loudly in surprise. He nodded back at you with raised eyebrows, then he bent down on his knees, spreading your legs open.

“Yeah, I am.” He replied.

And with that, he leaned down while you continued to look at him and the screen with wide surprised eyes. He kissed your inner thighs, each with an equal number of kisses and he slowly started to lick them, massaging you with his hands as well.

“Oh, fuck.” You whimpered as he slid his tongue to your pussy. He lapped his tongue over your pussy over and over again, then circled around your clit. You slid your hands into his hair, pulling him tighter against your pussy.

He gripped your thigh hard with one hand and licked you aggressively, making you moan loudly. He started to thrust one finger into your vagina quickly, surprising you and making you gasp his name.

“Tom…Tom! I’m so close already.” You cried out, grasping his hair in your hands harder.

He hummed against you, causing a choked-out moan to fall out of your mouth. “God, you taste so good.” He groaned, sucking in your clit, making you even closer to your orgasm, and you cried out again at his actions.

He pumped in another finger and that did it for you, pushing you over your edge and causing you to orgasm. You fell quickly into your orgasm, gasping out his name over and over again as he continued to pump into you and lick your clit harshly.

He reluctantly pulled away after he licked all of the cum away. He sighed as he pulled away and looked up at you, smiling when he saw that dazed out fucked look on your face. He waited a few moments for you to come back as he slowly smoothed a hand over your thighs, going back and forth.

“That was fucking good.” You finally spoke up, murmuring it. He chuckled softly.

“Then let’s go again, right?”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland smut #thank you for reading

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mythicamagic · 2 months

Text

Sukuna's Roommate (a Sukuna x reader fic) Chapter Nine

The rent is cheap, that's the only reason you're moving into apartment 167 on such short notice. The rent is cheap, you remind yourself again, staring up at the four-armed monster you would be living with. (Female reader x Sukuna) Roommate AU.

Warnings: some dubcon moments and general Sukuna stuff i.e: murder.

This chapter features smut.

Chapter One: link Ao3 here: link

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AN: Sorry for the long wait, been busy at university. This is the usual self indulgent schlock, but I'm sorry if its more messily written than usual ^^

oh and I should probably mention beforehand that no matter what Sukuna and MC get up to, she won't get pregnant. I'm not interested in writing that despite some of things mentioned here possibly being misconstrued as symptoms.

@my-anime-garden (because you mentioned you wanted to be tagged)

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~ Chapter Nine ~

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It was difficult not to feel overwhelmed in Sukuna’s presence. His skin felt blisteringly hot to the touch, warmed by the lapping steam from the hot springs. That molten flesh was everywhere. On me, under me, in me.

Despite my best intentions, I was only human. I gave myself up to control in much the same way I always had- and loathed the reaction. If I were braver, daring, perhaps I could command his attention more firmly. Admittedly, Sukuna probably wasn't the man to test out any newfound desires of domination or control at that moment.

I felt my head be tugged back- a hand gripping my hair tight. Another mouth occupied my own after just a moment. I’d never been involved in a threesome or gang bang but I imagine this must feel somewhat similar. There was just so much of him at once. So many mouths sucking, licking, kissing and biting. So many hands grabbing, kneading, stroking.

Most overwhelming of all was the stomach mouth swallowing my lower-half almost completely. I felt like a sock-puppet. Every time the thick tongue buried inside my cunt would rove or undulate- my body would jolt and sway with it, held upright by a few greedy hands tugging my hips or breasts. I’d long become an incoherent mess and lost track of the orgasms- another rocking sharply through me, my toes curling in delight as it speared straight through my spine, sending me ramrod straight. I wailed into the mouth covering mine.

“Agh! Mmphfffmmnn…”

Sukuna chuckled from where he sat beneath me, occasionally just sitting back and watching me squirm. He removed the hand-mouth from my lips, my tongue still subconsciously reaching out for it.

“You’ve become a wreck. A nice sight. Bite-marks become you.”

Even in my dazed state, I knew to suck in as many breaths as possible, trying to recollect myself before he shoved another mouth somewhere. That thick tongue grew mercifully still inside my cunt and I couldn’t help but whimper, steadying myself on his chest.

“Was that a cry of loss? Want more already?” he teased.

“G-give me- a minute-“ I panted, touching my damp, bruised mouth. Saliva coated my chin. Fantastic. It took all my effort to refocus on the here and now. It felt important not to get swept away by my own pleasure for too long. The worry of making him bored lurked in the far corners of my blissed out mind.

Sukuna just grinned as he always did. Patronizing and entertained. He gave me a hearty pat on the ass.

“You're really giving this your best! Good job. Want a snack break?”

“…with you still…inside?” I asked weakly. He cut his eyes to the heavens and rolled his hips in answer.

“You’re lucky I’m this generous about prepping you.”

I almost asked what he was prepping me for- but luckily I hadn’t lost the full functionality of my brain yet, casting a furtive glance at the two dicks sitting snugly behind me.

Right.

I wasn't sure how he'd acquire 'snacks' without moving but he raised a clawed hand and waved it in the air.

"Uraume."

His white haired chef appeared in an instant, standing on the sidelines of the pool. "Yes, Master Sukuna?"

I choked, eyes flying wide. With a shriek, I tried to pull myself off Sukuna and hide- but he held me effortlessly in place.

"Bring something to snack on. Ah, and more sake- I've run low."

Uraume inclined their head, not even sparing me a glance before disappearing again.

I was quick to shove at Sukuna’s chest, snarling. "What the heck?! That was not okay!"

"Hm? You think providing snacks isn't acceptable? I guess I'll enjoy them all to myself. It's no skin off my back," Sukuna chuckled, the action sending rumbling vibrations from his chest straight down to where we were connected.

"Don't you have a shred of decency? I don't want anyone else to see me like- like this! Bad enough I'm naked, but you're still…" I blushed, covering my chest with one arm and trying to pull away again.

A hand clapped against my ass-cheek, shoving down. I cried out as our hips locked, burying his stomach tongue uncomfortably deep. My cunt practically screamed and purred all at once, clenching with a vice-grip around him. My toes curled, breath stalling.

"Ah-ah, so noisy," a deep voice sighed into my ear. "Don't forget your situation right now, woman. You think you're in a position to start yelling my ear off?"

There was no time to catch my breath before he was bouncing me anew on his stomach, that tongue roving and winding, curling and stretching as far as it pleased. The noises he ripped from me weren’t human. Combined with the mouths that appeared on his greedy hands to suck and bite at my breast, another lapping at my clit, I lost coherency again.

When another wave of pleasure crashed through my frazzled, exhausted systems- the slick organ was ripped away from inside me. There was a moment of pure, unadulterated loss, and the cry that bounced off his cavernous domain shirked like a grieving woman.

But then it was replaced with something hard. Sukuna grunted from below me. “Let’s see how you handle one.”

With one thrust- he was buried inside to the brim. My everything accepted him pathetically easily, dripping with need. I practically clung to him, sobbing with relief, cunt clamping down on him as if it wished to devour.

“Heh- eheh-ahahaha! Look at you! Don’t you have a shred of decency? I thought you cared about having an audience, but you haven’t even noticed, have you?”

It took a moment to grasp what he was saying over the slap of our bodies meeting, my mind growing fuzzy with every jolt it sent through my body. I felt boneless. My mouth was agape though I couldn't remember opening it. Sukuna’s long fingered hand curled around my chin then, turning it so that I looked to the left.

Sukuna’s chef had returned, balancing a tray of food and bottle of sake on one hand. If they had any interest in our rutting together like animals, they made no comment. I couldn’t bring myself to care, either. If anything, I grasped Sukuna’s shoulders and tried to weakly bounce on his lap, seeking my own pleasure again and again, building up, hitting that spot- and then falling off the precipice, only to start over due to Sukuna’s unrelenting thrusts.

They were muttering something, having a brief conversation while we fucked, or perhaps I fucked myself stupid on his lap. It would’ve been humiliating had I any shame left.

“Oi- open up.”

I parted my lips mindlessly, and Sukuna sat something on my tongue, only to close my mouth. I realised it was his food. Meat. Bloodied and raw. Rare steak wasn’t really to my tastes but when he commanded me to eat I did so immediately.

“Good girl,” I thought I heard him purr. He patted my cheek. “Come on, gn- more…”

I let him feed me, feeling my cheeks grow wet. Was I crying? Why was I crying? I couldn’t understand why. Something in my stomach churned, heaving, wanting to reject the food. It stung like the dull hiss of cigarette burns.

A hand clamped over my mouth then. Ruby red eyes glowered from beneath me within the haze of the hot-spring steam. There was a wickedness to them. A smile, and flash of sharp canines.

“Have your fill, greedy woman. I know you’re not full yet.”

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Everything ached.

There was a test in two days that I'd set time aside to study for- but the words continually blurred on the page. The hustle and bustle of the mall felt so far away as I gazed with glassy eyes at a music shop further below my vantage point. My mind kept wandering, focusing on the burn in my thighs and deep, yearning feeling of loss somewhere in my core. It was pathetic. Beyond that deep craving though, I kept sensing something…off.

I subtly put a hand to my stomach. I'd been hungry all day but the second I'd bought a meal- queasiness rolled in my gut. I eyed the sad burger and fries sitting on their tray. Reaching for them again, I grabbed a fry and forced it past my lips, chewing with effort. The usual delicious saltiness tasted like sand.

My phone blinked persistently, a text waiting to be answered. I knew it was Neil. Somehow he’d gotten ahold of my number. I flicked the screen mindlessly to ignore it, gazing listlessly down at the people wandering through the mall, chatting. Lovers walked arm in arm, and I observed them like they were an exhibit in an Aquarium. They were so far removed from anything I’d ever known or experienced. Soft, gentle and kindly laughing at one another.

“The maggots up to anything interesting?”

I started, swallowing with effort. My throat burned as I squinted up at Sukuna. How had he found me so easily in the city? “What?”

He smiled in that usual self-assured way, no hint of difference in him despite how depraved we’d acted just a few days ago. I hadn’t seen him since waking up sluggishly in my room, but my body was certainly still paying the price. The only reason he’d apparently stopped at ‘one’ was because he’d had a meeting to get to, otherwise I’d have taken ‘both’ in whatever hole he’d pleased. “You seemed lost in thought while watching the spread of insects infesting the mall today. Wondered if there was anything worth looking at. Any violence worth mentioning?”

“Wh- no! Nothing. And don’t talk about humans like that around me.”

“Hm? Why not?”

“Because in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m one!”

“Nah. You might’ve been once, but then you became my pet,” Sukuna helped himself to a seat opposite me, dwarfing the poor plastic with his mass and height. His jacket hung slightly loose, exposing a bare shoulder. I tried not to stare. “Now I suppose…you’re my woman.”

I scoffed, forcing myself to eat another fry. “What happened to being your pet?”

“I fuck women, not pets.”

It took all my willpower not to roll my eyes. For a man with such a vast number of textbooks, poetry and knowledge crammed right into his home- and likely his brain- he could come out with the stupidest lines sometimes.

The seat creaked as Sukuna leaned forward, resting a thick arm on the table before me. “So, are you going to share what you were staring at?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“So snappy,” Sukuna sighed, stealing one of my fries to gesture at me with it. “You’d have thought fucking you would shake that stick up your ass enough to loosen it some.”

“Charming,” I growled, staring hard at the open pages of my book. I was unable to read a single line with him grinning ferally across from me. I slammed it shut, casting an uneasy glance at my barely touched meal. No way was I confessing what was actually bothering me. “I was looking at the music shop.”

“Does my woman have musical talents? You should play something for me sometime, if you're confident you won't offend my ears, that is.”

I could’ve told him about my lengthy past with music and how it had once been the bane of my existence. It had become something much more complicated now that I no longer played for the whims of my family. Instead, I gave a shrug. “You kind of need an instrument to play music, buddy.”

“Ah, so that’s it.”

Sukuna abruptly stood, gesturing with a single ‘come hither’ pluck of his fingers. “Come take a walk," he said, throwing his half-eaten fry back onto the table and grumbling that it 'tasted like shit.'

“Wh- where are we going? Damn it.” I quickly stood and gathered my things, stuffing them into my bag and following when Sukuna casually walked off.

--------

The decision to follow him felt like a poor one when he approached the very shop I'd been gazing at.

"Sukuna!" I hissed, to no avail. He strolled right in, gazing at the trumpets, guitars, drums, cellos, violins and various other instruments displayed inside.

“Sukuna- you really don’t have to. Let’s get out of here," I touched his arm and spoke in a low voice, trying not to draw attention to us. Sukuna’s appearance didn't lend itself well to blending in though, all swagger and hard edges. As luck would have it, there was only an old man occupying the store behind the counter.

“Not without the instrument you need. Go fetch," he pointed into the shop boredly.

“I thought you said I wasn’t a pet anymore!”

He grinned darkly. “If you didn't bark at me like a mutt, I wouldn’t be so tempted to collar you and treat you as one.”

I growled, turning to the exit. “That’s it. I’m leaving-“

“How many years do you think the owner has left?”

That threw me off. I stopped and gave the old man a cursory glance.

“What? Uh…I don’t know? I guess 10 to 20 at a push?”

Sukuna nodded thoughtfully. “Hm. Would be a pity if those 20 were cut short to a few minutes, wouldn’t it?" His eyes glittered like the surface of his crimson pool as they slanted down to me. "That’s how long he’s got left unless you pick up the instrument you want and bring it to me like a good girl.”

I gaped, working my mouth for a moment when no words would come. "Y-you’re impossible!” I finally burst.

“Thank you, I pride myself on being beyond human explanation. 117 seconds left.”

“Ah! Wait- wait!” panicking, I hurried toward the violin section. Sukuna's low laughter carried me all the way there, and I hurriedly scanned the selection. I wouldn't put it past Sukuna to commit daylight murder and I wasn't about to let an old man's death be on my conscience.

I grabbed a violin at random and was about to hurry back- only to hit a solid wall. I squeaked, peeling my face away from where it had briefly been smothered in the depths of Sukuna’s chest. "W-what? You told me to hurry-?"

"Mn, but I didn't know you were into these," Sukuna plucked the violin from my hand, studying it with more care than I imagined he would. His hands smoothed over the dips and curves with a respect I hadn't thought him capable of. Careful and appreciative. "Aren't they a little awkward to just grab on the fly like that? They depend on various factors in order to be played effectively."

I paused and sized him up. For all his swagger and brutality, Sukuna sometimes spoke like this: considerate of the proper pursuit of study. Come to think of it, he’d always give me space when I needed to cram for a college test in my room.

"Yeah, the shape of my shoulders and neck are a factor. They’d decide if this one is a good fit for me."

"Try it out."

It was impossible not to stare. Had the conversation several seconds ago not taken place?

Sukuna ‘knocked’ on the side of my head with a rap of his knuckles. "Ohoho, are you ignoring me? Heh, that's a bold move."

"I thought you wanted me to hurry or you'd kill the owner!" Growling, I leaned away from him.

"You really do take things too seriously. Makes you fun to rile up," he chuckled. "I’d get no enjoyment out of squishing that insect, so old and senile."

The caprice of his moods could sway so violently it was hard not to be swept away in the whiplash. After being his roommate for a little while now though (and getting to the point that I was comfortable yelling at him for leaving the toilet seat up) it allowed me to recover and shrug it off. Sukuna was weird. If he wanted me to perform like a little song-bird for him, I wouldn’t complain.

It would be no different than the treatment I’d received from my parents anyway.

Settling the violin against me, I took a breath. Releasing it slowly, I glided the bow over the strings, frowning softly the longer I played.

It wasn’t long before I was setting the body down and making adjustments.

Sukuna hovered over my shoulder. He didn’t say anything but I could feel his eyes on my hands all the same as I tightened the strings and tried again. There was something a little off about it, so I picked up the next one and found the weight and feel much more natural.

"That one,” he said at last, with a low decisive tone. “We're taking that."

"You want to steal it?!" I squeaked, jumping to conclusions.

He shot me a patronizing look that I was quickly becoming accustomed to. I don’t know what that said about me. "Please, I'm not that cheap. Abusing power for petty thievery might satisfy some whelps for cheap thrills, but in reality it just comes across as tacky. Like you can’t pay for your own shit,” he lifted a bored shoulder, heading toward the counter.

Strange. I never would’ve expected him to have principles, especially after the way he acted- but this was Sukuna, and I suspected most decisions came down to spur-of-the-moment deals. He just didn’t feel like stealing today.

Nonetheless, I couldn’t compute what was happening as he actually strode up to the counter and spoke with the owner of the store. I busied myself with gently plucking at some harp strings, still feeling the residue of the fries sitting heavy in my stomach. What was wrong with me today?

"Take it."

Something smooth was shoved into my hands. I quickly grabbed onto the violin case as he let go- gawking at it. Unable to help myself, I clicked open the secures and looked inside at the brand new instrument sitting inside. Polished wood elegantly carved and shaped to perfection gleamed back at me.

“What-? You’re just going to give it to me?” I asked, looking up at him in askance. This wasn’t like him. Surely there was a catch or a longer game to play?

“Tch, well I didn’t buy it just to have it languish on the mantelpiece,” he drawled, stuffing both hands in his pockets and heading for the exit. “You can play it- so play it. Whenever I want. That’s the deal.”

“Can I play outside of the hours you’d like me to?”

“Do as you wish.”

My heart did a funny flip in my chest. I couldn’t believe it. Was Sukuna being…nice? Maybe getting laid was truly good for him. If it meant the caprice of his mood perked up like this, I could see myself trying that method again in the future.

---------

It took a little while of walking for Sukuna to glance back at me as we strolled out of the store and back into the mall. He tsked and grinned, eyeing me strangely. “Nobody’s going to take it from you, woman. Relax the death grip.”

Only then did I notice I’d been hugging the case to me possessively like a starved orphan. Blushing and dropping my arms hastily, I walked on like a professional violin player and most definitely not a weirdo with attachment issues.

He continued on with a mocking scoff, but I quickened my pace- hurrying to walk beside him for once. “Thank you,” I mumbled.

“Hah? Didn’t catch that. Say again louder.”

“Your age must be catching up with you then, I’m not repeating it.”

Sukuna chuckled, flashing sharp teeth in my direction. He then stopped, attention apparently caught by something across the mall.

I turned to look, but could only locate a gang of what looked like would-be thugs. Bunch of young guys with cheap tattoos and a swagger that suggested they were trying too hard. They left the mall, one spitting on the ground in parting.

"You know the way back from here, right? I'll meet you at our place. There's something I need to do."

"Right this second?" I pressed, puzzled.

Sukuna's grin was more unhinged this time, wide and broad. Clamping a hard palm atop my head, he caused it to sway with the force of his pets. "I got you a nice treat. That means you should be a good girl and obey. Go straight there," he bent down close to my ear, fanning hot breath against it. "I want you to warm my cocks later, understand?"

Like a lightning bolt striking true, I was suddenly ramrod straight. Heat speared tightly through my core. Fuck.

Red eyes glittered. Sukuna barked a laugh, the sound carrying even as he strolled away.

I waited a moment and sucked in a hard breath, slowly releasing it. After making sure my traitorous, pathetic legs wouldn’t betray me, I shakily followed him out of the mall, intending to go home.

The outside world was chillier than anticipated, and I tugged my coat more firmly around me, hugging the violin case close. Downtown was as busy as ever, and I hurried along, not wanting to be stopped by some of the zealous worshippers that had cropped up ever since the Shibuya Incident.

A laugh made me stop. Sharp and distinct. I knew that laugh. I'd heard it flit through my daydreams and nightmares enough to know it instinctively.

Turning, I found myself mindlessly following it down an alley, my steps slow and careful. The alley was small and shadowed, crammed between two shops.

A cacophony of voices and laughter reached my ears, closer now. I ducked behind a stack of crates and listened.

“We were gonna go back to the club if ya wanna join? Ya seem pretty chill,” one voice was saying.

“Yeah, come drink with us!” another joined in.

“There’s women there. Their holes might not be tight but their mouths make up for it if ya know what I mean!”

Booming laughter swallowed the alley then, and I realized without seeing them that these men must’ve been the tryhard gang I’d seen just a few moments before in the mall.

“Heeh? Sounds pretty good.”

It was hard not to shiver. Sukuna’s baritone had dipped into something lower than the voice he typically used around me.

From the soft inhale made, I recognised the sound of a drag being taken. “Come then, let’s go! I’ll set you up with Nanako!”

“Just one second.”

“Eh?”

“Where’s this little bar you want me to follow you to?” Sukuna uttered, sounding lazy and bored.

“Roppongi, obviously! It’s got the best bars in Tokyo!”

“Ahh I get it. I’ve been chatting to touts this entire time,” a distinct sigh doused the air.

That was when the screams started.

I stiffened, clamping a hand over my mouth as the noises bounced off the alley walls. Shouts from the men were drowned out but I could just barely hear them.

“What the FUCK man?!”

“What are you doing?! Arghhhhhhh!”

Sukuna’s carefree laugh cut through the wet, snapping sounds of flesh and bone tearing. I heard something thud to the ground. “You were all holding your heads a little too high for my tastes. You even thought you could lure me to one of those sleazy bars. The type of shithole where the drink is cheap but spiked so you can drain me of cash or try to get me hooked on something, right? Tsk, so boring. You’re a waste of air. Better off in my stomach than wriggling around in broad-daylight where I can see you, Maggots!”

I began to back up then, heart racing. Through the slats in the crates I’d taken refuge behind, I made out the image of Sukuna slanting his mouth over another man’s- ripping his arms off cleanly with a casual jolt. Sukuna swallowed his horrified cries, only to back away slightly and bite down on the punk’s extended tongue as he screamed.

He practically devoured his face. The other men still alive either watched on, helpless and frozen, or dragged their injured bodies away.

I swallowed thickly, almost choking on my own saliva- only to realize my mouth had become filled with it. My teeth ached. I suddenly had the urge to bite. To sink needy teeth down into…something. Something full and pulsing and alive.

My stomach rumbled.

Jolting, I quickly turned and ran- fleeing from the sounds of blood-curdling madness or my own chattering, hungry teeth, I couldn’t tell. A figure took shape at the end of the alley, and I blinked the tears from my eyes enough to glimpse Uraume on my way out, who watched me pass by with a satisfied curl of their lips.

#Sukuna #jjk #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna fanfic

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