#silke attempts a challenge

[astrolovecosmos]

5th House + Romance

The 7th House tends to get all of the attention when it comes to couples, relationships, and romance. But the 5th House rules over our love affairs, flings, close encounters, dating life, and romance overall. Below are blurbs about the signs in this House:

Aries in the 5th House: Can't resist an instant connection or chemistry. Falls for love at first sight stories. May be attracted to passionate ideas or people. Interested in stories or themes that involve the lover and the fighter. May be highly independent in their love life and embrace being single or at least being more separate from a partner or crush somehow. Can easily get bored in their dating life or burn through relationships. Having a partner who recognizes and appreciates their individuality is important for keeping the flame alive. At times they may be a selfish lover or demanding. They could have high standards or not, but what matters the most is someone who can keep up with their energy. May be an impatient, lively, youthful, daring, flirty, and physical date. For them dating should be fun, maybe a little competitive or a challenge, creative, and exciting. They get turned off by those who threaten their independence, anyone that attempts to boss them around, the overly cautious or practical in love, and an embarrassing date. Some can get competitive in their love life while others prefer to be the prize.

Taurus in the 5th House: Sensual, physical, and visual things is what grabs their attention. This may mean a large focus on looks, may be all about smell, needs someone who is good with their hands, loves gifts or being spoiled, and needs plenty of time and comfort. Is all about sweet, traditional, and/or giving romance. Is attracted to ideas about loyalty. Their romance is all about chocolates, silk, champagne, candlelight, massage oil, beautiful settings. Will be turned away by those who pressure them, rush them, and/or are unreliable or too unpredictable. This placement needs to feel safe in their dating life and among love interests. They can also be unforgiving in their love life, finding it hard to get over a bad impression or big mistakes. There might be a focus on money or materialism in their dating life somehow. Can crush hard but always plays cool about it. They aren't one to rush into commitment quickly. Their love life may seem slow or predictable, but this is due to their caution, standards, and strong heart.

Gemini in the 5th House: Gemini and the Air element is famous for needing strong mental connections in their relationships and being attracted to witty, social, clever, talkative, and/or intelligent people. Their romance is all about the mind and conversing but also spontaneity, trying new things, having fun, flirting and teasing, sharing and listening, and low-key lewdness. They are excitable in love or lust. They can also easily get bored and restless in their dating life. They usually make for a funny, charming, easygoing, and playful date. They may approach dating in a mischievous, shallow, and/or careless way. They may love their space and independence. But the desire to connect and learn from others is strong. They may highly value friendship or find that their dating life heavily involves them somehow. This person's date better get along with their pals or be as social or anti-social as them. They need someone who is on their wavelength socially and mentally. Is associated with having a very active and busy love life filled with stories. But the observant and detached side of this sign may love from afar or romanticize ideas and people more than interacting with them.

Cancer in the 5th House: This placement is likely attracted to those who need their help or care, the few they can make a deep connection with, the caring, the vulnerable or sensitive, and/or the mysterious as long as the individual isn't as private as them. Romance to them is about affection, sharing, melding, emotional reactions and expression, feeling needed and wanted, the ocean and moonlight. They may take their time to open up to someone and may not have an overly active love life. But this placement can certainly be romantic, a daydreamer, an admirer, and potentially possessive and smothering but with lots of passion. Despite Cancer's guarded nature it wouldn't surprise me if this placement was at least vocal and active in the dating world somehow, even if indirectly. Will be turned off by those who are flaky or unpredictable, the cold or detached, anyone that makes them feel too misunderstood, and the insensitive. They are highly sentimental in their love life. They usually make for a thoughtful, understanding, welcoming, and memorable date. Doesn't take rejection or breakups well but is good at hiding their distress or obsession. Might not be comfortable being single but also their protective side won't let them settle or rush into anything. Also, family may be a distraction from their love life or take priority over it.

Leo in the 5th House: Romance to them needs to be loud, warm or hot, passionate, lively, and has plenty adoration. They want a love life that is filled with activity, potentially drama, celebration, affection, and physical intimacy. They want to date those who make them feel special and give plenty of attention and praise. Leo in the 5th House makes for a playful, confident, dazzling, fun, brave, potentially chivalrous, generous, and sometimes impressive date. They have a love for the chase but also a greater love for admirers. Their ego may also be addicted to making a good impression on their crushes and dates. Some can be quite melodramatic in their love life, making mountains out of molehills or getting into the most scandalous happenings. Dating may be a game, performance, or work of art for them. Because of the fire element and Leo's strong connection to the self and ego, it is worth notating that this placement can be selfish, demanding, and arrogant at times in their love life. But there is also a part of them that may heavily focus on integrity, respect, being good-hearted, and doing right by people they're courting. Leo is a sign of nobility and honor after all. This placement likely has high standards and rightfully so as they believe they will bring a whole lot to the table.

Virgo in the 5th House: Their romance can have unexpected spice and bitterness. Virgo in the 5th House will certainly have a practical, high-standard, and intellectual approach to their love life. But they are sensual, curious, eager, and expressive in the bedroom or in romance. They can be perfectionist in their romance and love affairs somehow. This could manifest in their appearance, the planning of their dates, or general expectations. Makes for a polite, dependable, clever, attentive, knowledgeable, and potentially talkative date. Will want to learn everything about their date or crush right away. Can seem cautious, reserved, prude, or fickle at times but their head is likely noisy with thoughts and daydreams about their object of affection. Romance for them needs to be tempting, clean or messy or both somehow, filled with a lover's praise, trusting, maybe involve acts of service, relaxing, maybe an escape. Winning over someone, impressing someone, and spying on their crush are all activities they may enjoy, but nothing compares to "saving" or "fixing" their love interest. Won't stand for an overly vulgar, rude, disorderly, or uncultured date. May be turned off by those who love the spotlight, are cocky, or are reckless. Can have a flexible and self-reliant side in their love life but ultimately is after a long-lasting relationship.

Libra in the 5th House: Romance for this placement needs to be intoxicating, dreamy, sweet, maybe a little edgy, harmonious, pleasurable, and beautiful. May easily fall in and out of infatuation. Libra is famous for their indecision, and they may struggle to take action and make decisions in their love life. This placement at times prefers it when others make the first moves but at the same time, they are likely to entice their crush or manipulate events so that it seems like others are making all the big moves when in reality they've been scheming. Can be quite a flirt or charmer. May get a thrill out of getting others to like them but not actually be interested themselves. They could also be shallow in this area of life at times. When dating they try to be accommodating, understanding, accepting, supportive, and romantic. While they may love a game of cat and mouse, they won't hesitate to initiate bouts of romantic gestures, words, and ideas. They have a great desire to make their lovers happy and to keep the peace among their dating life. They can be determined to end on "good terms" or "mutually" with exes. Mutual sharing, compliments, sophistication, lovey dovey things, long conversations, and fairness are all things this placement values in romance. Can have a surprising competitive, jealous, or critical streak in their love life. May seem like their dating experiences are ideal but know that loneliness and self-doubt may be an element that holds them back in romance. Other placements in the chart such as Venus and Mars can shed more light on things like commitment, intimacy, and relationship dynamics but those with this placement are likely to have a very romantic, active, or appealing love life.

Scorpio in the 5th House: This individual may be hard to get to know romantically. They can be secretive and/or mysterious in the dating world. Scorpio is associated with depth and intimacy and in the dating world they may feel as if sometimes they are too much or that others are too little. Their style of romance is intense, passionate, magical feeling, may involve power dynamics, dark, filled with sex-appeal, acts of devotion, affection, potentially pain, and secrets. This placement can be attracted to forbidden love, love stories that involve taboo subjects, or ideas and themes filled with betrayal, sacrifice, death, rebirth, empowerment, and rawness. They can be a jealous and controlling lover or date. They will take faithfulness and promises seriously. They rely on their magnetism, intuition, and bravery in the dating world. They get turned off by a controlling partner, the shallow, vain, or fake, and unreliability. Takes breakups hard and isn't good with change in this area of life. Can be unforgiving in love and isn't known for smooth or peaceful breakups. Their love life can be turbulent, dramatic, unknown, or even dry many times. It depends on what stage of fascination, obsession, and heartbreak they are in. Can be attracted to vulnerability and sensitivity but also toughness, competitiveness, and confidence, especially physical confidence. Keeps love and lust very separated which can make them seem misleading or manipulative... and sometimes they may be manipulative. Anyone with good or bad character can have this placement, but being the other man or having a mistress certainly can thrive here. Someone with this placement can also be a compassionate, giving, trustworthy, protective, and stable partner.

Sagittarius in the 5th House: The hunter in the dating world. They can be determined to obtain their love interests and may be attracted to those who are hard to win over. Romanticizing people, places, or ideas based on their rarity, exoticness, or newness may happen here. Romance to them needs to be thrilling, insightful, maybe challenging or like a game, exploratory, a journey. Turn offs include smothering, their date not getting along with their friends, coldness, secrets or deceptive behavior, and an overly sensitive date. They may be tempted by risky situations, ideas, or people. Loves the idea of a little bit of danger or the strange. Has no problem rushing into things or making the big moves. May be a lover who over-promises, exaggerates, or is impatient. Is honest, flirty, possibly crude, and passionate with some swagger or smoulder. Can be attracted to adventurous types, intellectuals, and "the enlightened". Can be free spirited and good-natured but also reckless and selfish in their love life. Sharing ideas, keeping things straightforward, some humor or playfulness, and respecting each other's space is how you can win their heart.

Capricorn in the 5th House: Romance for this placement is a soft spot for them. A part of them dreams about the sentimental, roses, tender touch, messy passion, and vulnerability. But another part of them is very practical, rigid, and cautious in the dating world. They are likely private or quiet about their love life. Capricorn in the 5th's style of romance may be surprising to some, here they may indulge in themes of powerful attraction, high libidos, a little bit of wealth, luxury, or authority and power, earthy themes, erotic ideas, encouraging vibes and dynamics. This person may be hesitant to commit but they are known for their loyalty, dependability, and integrity. They will work hard to maintain their relationships, even the shallower ones. They fear having a bad reputation in the dating world. Likely to always be on time for a date. They can take love and dating very seriously, possibly rejecting or scaring away suitors frequently, especially when younger. They may feel stressed easily in this area of life, maybe feeling pressured by family, friends, or society to date or settle. They can be hard on themselves in the dating world. They strive for approval from their love interests. They may desire sanctuary, reward, and/or control from their love life somehow, and appreciates lovers who help them to relax or try hard to understand them and reassure them.

Aquarius in the 5th House: When you hear about this person's love life you would "have never guessed", and neither could they... which they probably love! This placement is associated with having an unpredictable, chaotic, potentially detached or dispassionate, or conflicting love life. Their style of romance can be "different" somehow, they may embrace the weird, loves an irresistible force or may be one sometimes, adores those who fight for what they believe in, wants romance to shake things up, can involve a melding of minds, involves late night walks and talks, abstract ideas and debates, experimentation, and psychedelic or spiritual vibes. This placement falls for individualists and conversationalists. They have heart-eyes for those who are comfortable in their own skin or embrace their strangeness. Also loves a nerd, a dork, a geek, an intellectual. They can be quite sincere and loyal in their love life but a shallow and even egotistical side of theirs may give them the urge to show off their shiny, new, unique girlfriend/boyfriend who isn't like anyone else's. This placement may get easily distracted in love, value friends over lovers, is hard to get to know, may be overly independent for some, and struggle with rebellion vs. pressure dynamics in the dating world. They hate to be judged in this area of life and may have deep fears of rejection. This placement is associated with dating friends or somehow being highly involved in their friend's love life. Maybe they play matchmaker, help couples get back together, or play messenger. Their dates MUST get along with their friends and get their pals' stamp of approval. Some with this placement may also live through their friends' love lives vs. nurturing their own. This sign can struggle with emotional attachment and closeness, intimacy, and emotional expression in their dating life. Unless personal planets indicate otherwise, this person likely won't open up emotionally until years after dating. Can feel conflicted about their need for stability and need for change and newness in love. Embraces the extremes and unknown as long as they can do things on their own terms. Is turned off by rules or bossiness, staleness, the overly judgmental, and clinginess. Can appreciate beauty, loves quirkiness, but is mesmerized by a crazy mind.

Pisces in the 5th House: Romance is their middle name. If their real love life isn't active then their fictional one certainly is. Despite other chart placements this person's love life doesn't leave out the fantastical, magical, ardent, sensitive, and spiritual. This person is a secret or vocal hopeless romantic. Their style of romance is rom-com, fairytale, messy, sparkly, dramatic, grand, sentimental, sweet, mystical, intuitive, eternal and changing. They have an active imagination and may get as much of a thrill from writing love songs and reading romance as going out on dates. When on a date they need an emotional connection or something that feeds their imagination. They can also easily fall for sob stories or playing the hero. They may also get addicted to infatuation or the way someone makes them feel. They need to be careful of being taken advantage of in the dating world. They may also easily lose themselves in their partners. They put their crushes on a pedestal and sometimes needs a reality check in their love life. They can be a sensitive, moody, alluring, empathetic, and easygoing date. They win you over by getting to know you emotionally and intimately. They won't settle for a boring, aloof, or stale relationship. The romance always needs to be alive.

#5th house #natal chart #zodiac #astrology #romance #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces

[cosmic-whispers]

Control - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel attacks you after being mind controlled by an enemy with daemati powers and struggles to grapple with the guilt that follows. 

Warnings: angst, violence, reader being strangled and attacked, mind control 

Words: 6.0k

A/N: Hi everyone! It’s been a while since I’ve posted here, life has been crazy lately and writer’s block doesn’t help. I missed writing and was finally able to get this out. Hope you all enjoy!

Your breath came out in heavy pants and your legs burned as you ran through the thick foliage of the jungle. Eldric, the daemati high fae you and Azriel had been tracking for the last week, turned a sharp corner and you pushed your legs harder, ignoring the burning ache in your thighs. You groaned in frustration after his image disappeared around the corner. He had evaded you again. 

You slowed to a stop, knowing the pursuit was pointless. Your shoulders slumped and you ran a hand down your face. The sound of flapping wings filled your ears as Azriel broke through the branches hanging overhead and descended near you. A soft hand landed on your shoulder, the thumb rubbing soft, comforting circles in the fabric of your leathers. 

“Should we look for him again?” you asked, looking up at him. 

He shook his head, disappointment and frustration shining in his hazel eyes. 

“We’ll find him again,” Azriel said. 

“He’s good,” you said. And he was. He was cunning, fast, and endowed with the same, rare power as your High Lord. He could be standing right in front of you and you would be none the wiser if he was able to break through your mental shields. He was nearly unstoppable. After a failed assassination attempt on Rhysand—where the male had gotten entirely too close—Azriel and you had decided to hunt him down and eliminate the threat. 

“We’re better.” You looked at him. Despite his obvious annoyance, he was confident in his words. You smiled softly at him, admiring his unwavering determination. 

“Getting cocky?” He smiled at you, his features lightening up, and he winked at you. You laughed, nervous as your cheeks heated up and your heartbeat increased. You looked away, hoping he did not notice just how flustered he made you. 

“I enjoy the challenge. Things were getting too easy.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes at him. 

“I have a shadow tracking him. This is his home, we have him cornered. We’ll get him soon.”

Despite his comforting words, the brief thought that you were on Eldric’s playing field crossed your mind. That perhaps he was toying with the both of you. You didn’t dare speak that into existence. You nodded at Azriel and you turned, retreating together through the thick underbrush until Azriel was able to fly the both of you out. 

The small inn you were staying at was stationed near the jungle's edge. The flight there was short and you relished being in Azriel’s strong arms as long as possible. 

The room was small, the single bed pushed against a wall and a tiny restroom where Azriel’s wings barely fit in off to the side. 

“You can freshen up first,” he offered and you smiled, grateful to get the sweat and grime off your skin. 

You walk into the dingy, cramped room, grimacing at the tiny tub you had been forced to squeeze into for the past week. You closed the door behind you and your face heated at the lack of a lock. The only thing separating your body from his was one thin piece of wood without a lock. You prayed to the Mother that he could not scent the sudden arousal that flooded you in unrelenting waves, surprised at your own self-control for the past week. 

You forced yourself through the aimless bathing, preparing yourself for bed, and trying to distract yourself from the indulgent thoughts of him. You blushed as you slipped the silk nightgown Mor had packed for you over your head, wondering if Azriel had taken notice of the contour of your figure through the thin fabric. 

You stepped out of the restroom, eyes immediately finding Azriel’s. His gaze trailed down over your body and you felt every cell in your body ignite. He was silent for a few seconds, causing butterflies to erupt within you. 

His eyes met yours once more, intense and unreadable, and heat crept up your neck and face. 

“The restroom is free,” you said, needing to break the heavy silence. Your voice was quiet and you hoped he could not hear the quiver when you spoke. 

He nodded, gaze still unwavering from you. You stared back until he cleared his throat and made his way into the restroom. You let out a heaving breath, hoping to shake the tense nerves. You distracted your thoughts away from him as much as you could, getting ready and climbing into the bed. The bath water ran muffled through the door and your thoughts wandered. He was naked, with just a wooden door with no lock in between the two of you. You felt your body heating and hoped that sleep would overtake you soon. 

The water shut off after some time and he exited the bathroom. He was shirtless, tan skin glistening from the steam of the bath and the hot climate. Your breath caught at the sight of his defined, rippling muscles and the swirls of tattoos adorning his skin. No matter how many times your eyes were blessed by the sight, you found yourself struck dumb every time.  

“Are you alright?” he asked, looking at you with his brow furrowed. “You seem flushed.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you hoped he could not notice the bashfulness that filled you.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just tired and it’s warmer here than I’m used to. I’ve been away from home for too long”

You quickly faced away from him, laying on your side and moving as close to the edge of the bed as possible. You focused your thoughts on your breathing rather than the male, trying to calm yourself. There was shuffling behind you and you felt the bed dip as he laid down next to you. Your heart was racing and it nearly beat out of your chest as he shuffled closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer, pinning you against him. Your skin felt electric, set alight by the feel of his rough hands and the weight of his arms around you. 

“Good night, sweetheart,” he murmured, his gravelly voice close to your ear sending rippling shivers down your spine. He had to be doing it on purpose. He was the most observant person you knew. How could he not realize the effect he had on you?

You gulped and gently cleared your throat. “Good night, Az.”

Neither of you had ever spoken about it. You were the one that was able to pull him from the dark crevices of his mind. And he was the one who was able to comfort you when no one else could. He was your safe place when your walls crumbled around you. You trusted him more than anyone. The lingering tension was always heavy, but your friendship was sacred and you had formed an impenetrable bond you were unwilling to break. 

His arm tightened around your middle, pulling you tighter against his warm body. His shadows swirled around your hands, softly tickling your skin and you sighed, content and finally relaxed as his soft breaths lulled you to sleep. 

————-

The bright moon shined through the window, illuminating the dark room in a soft, silver light. His thoughts raced through his mind—barely forming before another took its place. Between the feel of you in his arms in that damn nightgown and the elusive daemati, he knew it would be another sleepless night. 

Despite the comfort of you safe in his arms, Azriel couldn’t sleep. The taunting, smug smile of the daemati male haunted his mind and he simmered in anger. It shouldn’t be so hard to catch him. It shouldn’t have taken him this long. The male should never have gotten that close to Rhysand in the first place. He should have never let it happen. 

He needed to prove himself—to redeem himself. After centuries of honing his skills, Azriel had an appreciation for his powers. He was confident in his ability to serve his court. He was a capable spy, his shadows giving him an edge over most adversaries. But the whispers in his mind would never be fully silent—he would always be that scared little boy, desperate to prove that he was good enough to deserve everything he had. 

And after a week of tracking Eldric, he was still nowhere closer to catching him. It felt like he was chasing smoke. It felt like he was failing. 

You sighed softly in your sleep, turning in his arms to face him and you snuggled your face into his chest. His eyes turned to you and softened at your peaceful expression. Your presence always calmed him, centered him. 

His heart beat wildly in his chest and soared at having you like this. He smiled softly, memorizing the feel of you and your soft breathing in his ears. The past week had been bliss—sleeping with you in his arms and having you so close to him. 

Your sweet scent drifted toward him and he reveled in the essence of you—his best friend. He trusted you like no one else; he was able to confide in you with secrets that not even his brothers knew. He found himself falling for you more each day. He knew that friends don’t look at each other like you did. Deep down, he had strong suspicions about who you were to him, but he never dared to think about it too much—too afraid to be wrong and disappointed. It was wishful thinking to believe that you were fated to him. 

He sighed, knowing he was too strung up to fall asleep. He gently moved you to your side of the bed, making sure you were comfortably tucked in. His scarred hand tenderly caressed the side of your face, your soft skin feeling delightful against his. He admired your features for a moment, wondering how someone could be so beautiful. He shook the thoughts away, making sure you were safe and snuggled before he stood, slipped into his leathers, and left the room. 

The darkened halls of the inn were eerily quiet, the patrons and staff asleep. His siphons cast a light blue light, guiding his way outside. He was too restless and needed to leave, to do something useful instead of lying down and being consumed by his thoughts. He could get some work done. 

He made his way through the dense undergrowth, footsteps silent and shadows shrowding him in darkness. They easily guided him closer to where he knew Eldric tended to camp, to where his gray shadow had followed him. He secured his mind shields, building them up, ensuring that the male would not sense him. The moon had shifted in the sky and Azriel estimated he had been walking for nearly an hour when he found the secluded campsite. It was almost impossible to see, his belongings nestled at the entrance of a tunnel in the ground, covered by leaves and branches. He hid in the darkness the massive trees provided, his shadows helping shield any part of him that light would reveal. 

It was dark, but Azriel could make out light smoke from a small campfire, and the scent of cooked meat permeated the air. He had been there recently. He watched the entrance to the tunnel intently, hoping to catch a glimpse of movement. Was there another entrance he could use to ambush Eldric? He sent a shadow to investigate and continued his surveillance. He stood silently and immobile for over an hour without even a hint of the damn daemati anywhere near. 

The shrouding silence of the night was interrupted by a shrill scream coming from somewhere behind him. His heart leaped into his throat, beating wildly as panic crept up in his chest. He knew that voice. 

It was you. 

His mind emptied of all thoughts as he took off in the direction he heard you from. Why were you here? He had left you peacefully sleeping in bed. He was panting hard, heart nearly beating out of his chest as pure fear spread through him. His body was sweating and he found it increasingly hard to take a deep breath in as if he was being suffocated. 

His legs wouldn’t carry him fast enough and his wings kept getting in his way. He screamed in frustration as he twisted in between a thick gathering of trees. Was he even heading in the right direction? His shadows had been dispersed to search for you, but it was taking too long for them to return to him. 

“(Y/N)!” he called out. He knew it was risky and that his position would be revealed if Eldric was anywhere near him. But he was desperate to find you. 

“Azriel!”

He bolted to his left, your voice guiding him to you. He reached a small meadow, the lush ground free of trees and sprinkled with vibrant flowers and rock formations. His eyes immediately found you, tied to a tree at the other end of the clearing. Your shoulders shook as tears ran down your face as you looked at him and smiled in relief. 

“You found me,” you said softly, teary-eyed and vulnerable. 

“Always,” he whispered and rushed to you. His shadows appeared, swarming around him, whispering frantically. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, voices becoming deafening and he ordered them away as he reached you. He kneeled and his hand lifted to where thick rope held your wrists together. As his skin was about to brush against yours, you vanished like mist in his hands. He choked on air, distressed, and confusion filled him as you disappeared from right in front of him. 

“It was really too easy.”

Azriel’s blood ran cold and his muscles clenched. He turned, finding himself face-to-face with Eldric. He reeled his shadows close to him, preparing for a fight against the male. Eldric was relaxed, his shoulders slumped slightly and he leaned casually against a tree.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

“Seems like I’ve found your weakness, Shadowsinger.”

Rage was a burning, eviscerating fire within him and he snarled at the daemati, like a wild animal. The male laughed, smug and taunting. 

“Where is she?” 

“I’m not quite sure. I assume asleep at the inn, right where you left her. Or perhaps she’s woken up and decided to follow you into the jungle. Would not be her best idea–but I suppose that’s why you like her so much. You’re both fools.”

“I will kill you if you hurt her. And I’ll make sure it’s slow.” His fists clenched at his side, his nails leaving deep imprints on the palm of his hand. He fought to stay in control and focused.

“Me? Hurt her?” Eldric laughed, acting offended at the accusation. “I think the one you should be worrying about is yourself.”

In a split second, Azriel had the terrorizing realization of what was about to happen. What he might be forced to do. And no training with Rhysand could prepare him against someone who had honed his abilities for centuries and was willing to destroy his mind. 

He tried to resist with every ounce of strength in him, but the talons shredded the shields protecting his mind like a knife through butter. A sharp pain exploded in the forefront of his mind and he screamed in agony as it spread across his entire skull. He was barely aware of falling to his knees and his hands clutched his head, pulling tight against the black strands. His mind was being invaded, the parasitic presence tainting his memories and thoughts and he sobbed. His last thought before the darkness set in was of you. 

—-------------

One Hour Earlier

You paced the length of the dark room for the hundredth time, it seemed. You were surprised the ground beneath your feet did not catch on fire. You had awoken almost an hour ago, a brief moment of panic and disappointment filling you as you found the space beside you empty. You cursed the innkeeper for not having a bigger room with another bed. Despite relishing in the feeling of being in Azriel’s arms, you had grown accustomed to his presence and comfort and now were having a difficult time sleeping without him. 

You realized pretty quickly that the Shadowsinger had probably gone looking for the daemati alone. He had tried numerous times throughout your stay to go out on his own, claiming he was protecting you or not wasting time. Stubborn Illyrian baby. He was going to get himself killed. 

You wished you had daemati powers at that moment. You needed to speak with Azriel, see him, and make sure that he was alright before lecturing him about being reckless. He meant well, you knew that. Yet, the frustration settled low in your chest and you wanted to rip your hair out in distress as your mind dwelled on all the negative possibilities. 

You knew him better than anyone. You knew he felt defeated and wanted to catch the damn fae. You knew he felt like he needed to redeem himself, like somehow everything that had happened was his fault for failing to protect Rhysand. He failed to realize that he did protect Rhysand. He stopped Eldric before he could get to the High Lord and has been chasing his tail ever since, getting closer and closer to catching him. Your exasperation with the Illyrian grew like a tightening noose, its relentless grip clutching at you. How could he not see how wonderful he was? Why did he feel like he needed to throw himself into these situations without any backup and risk his own life? 

You decided to go looking for him, dressing quickly and grabbing a lantern to light your way. You had to make sure that he was safe.

You hardly knew where to begin searching and figured retracing your steps from earlier in the day was a good place to start. You walked through the dense trees, hoping that a predator was not stalking you in the dark of the wilderness. The soft light from the lantern illuminated the space in front of you and you kept your eyes peeled for anything dangerous you might run into.

You traveled for over an hour, each step spiking your anxious heart and you prayed to find him soon. You find yourself in a clearing, dappled with the flickers of moonlight. Small wildflowers littered the ground, their bright summer colors illuminated by the shining moon above you. You took a moment to admire the scenery before your eyes caught on the soft blue shimmering light emanating from Azriel’s siphons. He faced away from you, but you knew that he was aware of your presence. His spine was straight, body tense and unnaturally still. 

“Azriel?” Your voice echoed lightly in the silence of the night, the answering chirps from the bugs and grasshoppers deafening. 

He turned to you, steps slow and deliberate. 

He glowered at you, a predator locking in on its prey, and you stalled. Fear lit up inside of you for a moment and you took a step back, away from him. You had grown accustomed to his gaze being filled with warmth and softness and the sight of his icy glare sent tremors down your back. He didn't seem to recognize you, his large frame completely still and not a wisp of his shadows anywhere near him. 

His gaze remained unwavering, pinning you to the spot for a few more moments until he snarled at you. 

“You,” he growled, like a feral animal, his voice dark and coarse. Your eyes widened as he began sprinting full speed towards you, thundering footfalls on the ground bringing you back to reality and you gasped as he reached you. You thought back to all the Valkyrie training and the practice sparring you and Azriel would often engage in, hoping against hope that it was enough to keep you alive. 

You swerved to the left as he reached you, using your smaller size to avoid the direct impact from Azriel’s body. While Azriel’s brute strength would easily overpower you, you were agile. He regained his footing, swinging at you and you barely managed to block his arm. Shooting pain radiated down your wrist, and you realized that he had never truly used his full strength against you in training. You would not be able to take him. You knew you couldn’t keep up the cat-and-mouse game for much longer. His Illyrian instincts were intact and he was quick on his feet as he charged at you again, and you were able to avert him once more. 

He was much closer to you now, and you took a tentative step away from him. From that distance, you could see his features twisted in rage and the dazed, cloudy look in his hazel eyes. The realization rushed over you like ice water. Eldric. He had broken into his mind. Pure ice filled your veins—his mind was being controlled to hurt you. Your heart clenched and you prayed to the Mother and any gods in the universe that his mind was not lost. That there was still hope of getting him back. 

His shadows suddenly appeared, and fear filled you for a brief moment until you noticed they swarmed around his face, momentarily blinding him. He wasn’t using them to attack you–they were attacking him. They were helping you. 

You took advantage of his momentary distraction, using the lantern you still had in your hand, and swung, the impact of the metal on his skull echoing in your ears and you smelled the hint of metallic blood. He was still standing upright, trying to fight off the blinding shadows. One wrapped around your wrist, trying to pull you away, but you stood your ground. You could not leave him like that. 

You swung the lantern again, hoping to knock him out with the impact, but his large, scarred hand flew out and wrapped around your wrist, the tight grip making you whimper in pain as he squeezed harder. You tried to shake him off, aiming a kick toward his groin, but he growled and blindly tackled you to the ground before you were able to get another hit in. 

You heard–rather than felt–your head smashing against the hard rock underneath you. Your ears began ringing, the deafening sound and painful pressure building in the back of your head making you delirious and your vision began to blur. You were going to pass out and that realization made you panic. 

You knew he was significantly stronger than you, his Illyrian genetics making him near indestructible. You had no hope. You yelled for Rhysand in your head, praying to the Mother that he could hear you from Velaris. Azriel’s large hands wrapped around your neck, squeezing. You looked up at his face–gorgeous, despite the frigid fury that lingered in his features. His empty eyes looked into yours, unseeing and frightening. 

The air was trapped inside you, your lungs burning as they begged for air. A stabbing pain spread across your neck as he squeezed harder and tears escaped your eyes. You wanted to beg him to come back to you. You felt your face heat up as the pressure began building further and further in your head. The pulsing pressure intensified and your vision narrowed, a rushing sound filling your ears like a crescendo as darkness greeted you. 

———————

Flickers of light danced across your vision. You felt yourself slowly awaken. There were soft, silk sheets beneath you, the air smelled like the cinnamon buns Elain was so fond of baking, and a soft voice drifted near you, reciting lines from a book you had recently read. You forced yourself to blink your eyes open, the light of the window causing them to ache. You groaned and shut your eyes tight in discomfort. 

“(Y/N)!” You squinted your eyes open, thankful for the curtains that had just been drawn. You looked up at Feyre as she approached you and grasped your hand. 

“We were so worried!”

“What happened? Where’s Azriel? What about Eldric? How long have I been out?” Your voice was raspy, and it felt like needles scraping against your throat when you spoke. You coughed, the burning intensifying, and a sharp headache began forming. Feyre’s hand supported your back as she helped you sit up on the bed and passed you a drink of water and a vial of medication you assumed Madja had left for you.

The cool liquid felt heavenly against your throat and you sighed in relief as the medication began coursing through you, helping clear your mind of the pain-infused fog. 

“Please drink it all,” Feyre said. “You’ve been out for two days.” She took the empty glass from your hand and placed it on the nightstand next to you. 

“Do you remember what happened?” she asked you carefully. She looked at you, eyes soft and brows creased. 

You nodded, Her hand tightened around yours and you swallowed the knot that rose in your throat. “Azriel?” you rasped out, your voice weak and thin. 

Tears filled Feyres eyes as she looked at you and your heart raced in your chest as dread filled you. 

“Rhys was able to get there in time. Eldric managed to break down Azriel’s mind shields and essentially took control of his mind. His goal was to infiltrate Velaris and go for Rhysand using Azriel. Rhys was able to break the control away from his mind and killed Eldric.”

You stared at her, eyes wide and the blood in your veins had gone cold. You knew damn well the damage that daemati powers could cause. His mind could be obliterated. You quickly shook the thought away, desperate for any indication that was not the case. 

“Is he alright?”

“He’s…as fine as he can be. He hasn’t left his room since we returned.” Your heart broke for him–for the selfless, kind male you knew who was being consumed by guilt. You rose from the bed, and Feyre startled, gently forcing you back onto the bed. 

“What are you doing? You need to rest,” Feyre said. 

“I’ve rested for days. I need to see him.”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “It might not be safe.”

You looked at her incredulously. How could she ever think that Azriel would hurt you on purpose?

“How can you say that?! You know that if he was in control, he never would have hurt me. He’s not some rabid animal you need to keep away. He’s my best friend and I want to see him. It’s not his fault this happened.” You broke into a coughing fit again and she handed you another glass of water. 

“I know that; I do. I just worry about you. At least heal up first. And then we can go see him.” You didn’t miss the fact that she said we.

You sighed, your body exhausted and in pain, and decided to follow along for now. “Fine.”

Madja soon made her way into the room, happy to see you awake and you went through her examination without complaining once despite the haunting thought of Azriel in your mind. You fell asleep early in the afternoon, your body and mind fatigued.

—------------------

You heaved a sigh of relief as you found yourself alone for the first moment since you had awoken. Feyre had stayed by your side, perhaps thinking that you would try to sneak away to see the Azriel. The rest of the Inner Circle trickled in and out until Rhysand had to gently persuade his wife to join him in bed. 

As dusk settled and darkness started to take over, you gently rose from the bed. The rest you got during the day did you good, you felt stronger. You opened the door slowly, sneaking your head out to make sure that no one was keeping watch of your room. You quickly walked the length of the hallway, making your way to Azriel’s room.

You stared at the wooden door, feeling anxious and scared of the state in which you would find your friend. You took a deep breath and knocked softly on the door. Silence greeted you and you tried again. 

You slowly opened the door and looked inside after there was no answer. The room was pitch black, with no slivers of light making their way through the heavy, dark shadows that surrounded the space. Only a soft blue light emanated from the corner of the room–his siphons. You made your way to him, making your footsteps loud and deliberate, although he probably already knew you were there. He sat on the floor, his back resting against the wall. His shoulders were slumped and wings were pulled taut against his body. He had never looked so defeated. 

“Azriel.” You managed nothing more than a small whisper.

He turned his back to you and tears began to blur your vision. He didn’t want to face you. “Why are you here?”

His shoulders slumped and they shook as he took a quivering breath in. His shadows swarmed around him, trying to shield him from you. Or perhaps it was the other way around. 

“You shouldn’t be here. If you had any self-preservation, you would leave.”

You shook your head, taking a step closer to him. Your hands longed to reach out to him and comfort him, but you didn’t dare touch him, fearing that he would close himself off more. “I needed to see you. To make sure you’re alright.”

He let out a cynical laugh and you frowned. “I almost killed you, and you want to make sure I’m alright. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You knew he was upset and angry at himself over what happened. You did not doubt in your mind he was trying to push you away. And you’ll be damned if you ever let him do that. 

“Azriel, I know that wasn’t you. I’m so sorry for what he did to you.”

He shook his head, still refusing to meet your gaze. 

“I don’t want to see you, (Y/N).” The tears escaped your eyes, your heart breaking a million times over. 

“Well, too bad. Because I want to see you,” you insisted. 

His spine straightened and he turned to you, eyes full of rage and pain, and glistening with unshed tears. There were bags under his eyes, pronounced and dark. He had not been sleeping. “How can you stand to look at me?” he growled at you. “What I did to you–it’s unforgivable. I’m not good for you. I hurt you. Just leave.”

His eyes traveled down your face and stopped at your neck. You heard the breath catch in his throat, and his eyes widened, face growing ashen and he took a step back from you. Shit. You should have checked for bruises and tried to cover them up. Being so preoccupied with thoughts of the Illyrian before you, the thought had not occurred to you. 

“Oh, gods,” he whispered, his hands coming up to cover his face in shame. “You shouldn’t be here.”

He stepped away from you, silver lining his eyes. You took a tentative step towards him. 

“Az, you’re not going to drive me away. You’re my best friend, I’m never going to abandon you. I want to be here for you.”

His eyes blazed as he glared at you and you could almost feel him vibrating in unbridled rage. 

“I almost killed you! How can you not understand that?! I almost—“

You cut him off before he had the chance to continue. “You didn’t, though. I’m still here. I know that you weren’t in control. It’s not your fault, Azriel. I could never blame you for what happened.” 

He shook his head, dejected. “Why are you here?” His voice was quiet and small, and you had never heard him speak like that. 

“You already know,” you said slowly, your voice steady despite the tears flowing down your face. He stared at you, silent and stoic. He was waiting for you to take it back. To turn away and leave him. He knew why you were there despite what he had done. It was the same reason he had promised to always protect you. It was the same reason why you were always so comfortable with each other and why it was always so easy for him to let his walls down when he was around you. 

“No,” he whispered, eyes unwavering from yours. “I’m not good for you. And I certainly don’t deserve you. You shouldn’t want that.”

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat and slowly walked towards him, closing the distance between the two of you. He didn’t step away, but his eyes followed you, flickering down to the floor in shame when you got too close. Your hand raised, hovering over his face and you paused, giving him the time to pull away if he wanted to. He stayed still and you pressed your palm softly against his cheek and he sighed, closing his eyes. 

“You’re not a monster, Az. I know that. You’re a good male—the best kind there is.”

He shook his head and a tear escaped, trailing down his tan cheek and you gently brushed it away. 

“The things I’ve done…” He trailed off, unwilling to put his sins into words. 

“You’ve done difficult things for your court, but I know that you don’t take any pleasure in it. You do it because it’s what’s best for everyone. To protect the people you love. What happened was not your fault. Someone took control of you—please don’t blame yourself for that.”

Azriel nodded, his eyes slowly moving up and meeting yours. His gaze flickered back to the dark, hand-shaped bruises around your neck. Your fast healing was already starting to fade them. He raised his hand to touch you, but he pulled back quickly. Your other hand grabbed his, intertwining your fingers and you squeezed his hand in comfort. You brought his hand up to your face, pressing a soft kiss against the scarred skin of his knuckles. 

He let out a sob, grabbing you and pulling you tight against him, his arms wrapping around your smaller frame and enveloping you in the scent of mist and cedar. He dug his face into the crook of your neck and his arms tightened around your waist. 

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, and you hugged him tight, trying to comfort him as he cried. 

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you whispered, caressing the hair at the nape of his neck. 

He shook his head, weeping as he tried to calm his heaving breaths. “Yes, there is. Please.” His voice trembled as he pleaded for your forgiveness and you tightened your arms around him. There was nothing you had to forgive him for, but you knew that he had to hear it. You knew it would help him start to forgive himself.

“I forgive you. I know you would never hurt me.”

“I almost lost you,” he whispered, so low that you almost didn’t hear him. “You’re everything to me. I will never let anything like that happen again, I promise.”

There was something so astoundingly comforting about being held by Azriel, chests pressed together and arms wound around each other. The fact that he let you hold his hand, the feel of his flushed cheeks against your hand. He thought so little of himself and your heart clenched in sorrow for him. You wished he could see himself how you saw him. He brought you peace and relief. He meant more to you than you were ready to admit out loud. 

“I know. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be with you.” 

It would take so much for him to be able to forgive himself. There was so much you needed to talk about, but you knew the right moment would come along. Azriel needed your comfort and you needed him in that instant. 

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel

[anantaru]

— cute things they do unintentionally

including tighnari, scaramouche, alhaitham, kaveh x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, crack??, very sweet and loving, they adore you

— tighnari + his ears twitch and he blushes easily around you

the usual self assured and poised tighnari had a lovely habit of being all over the place in front of you— after all, he‘s unquestionably in love with you, wholly, and he adores you.

on the treacly occasion of that— when you decide to casually meet up for a tranquil walk with your sweet forest ranger or a serene spending at home enclosed by his arms, you can clearly see a diverse change in mannerism, yet one detail in particular outshines the others abundantly.

it‘s when he reacts at one of your jokes, but not just that, it can be a random notion or story you would happily talk about, what you happened to do these past hours you had been apart— perhaps a pretty rose catching your attention, its sprouting scent squaring over your nostrils, each petal so beautiful and soft— but his cheeks then idly bristle with a fire-like convulsion when you drift off into your day dream while hugging yourself into his chest, and tighnari shelters a pink color on his face.

regardless of how, his ears then, you called it! twitch.

once, twice, it's frantic, far and wide— but he knows what that feeling is too, he knows better than to desperately fight against it so instead he swiftly averts his gaze from you to recollect himself, somehow.

for tighnari, it was clear as day that this task was challenging, at bottom you were simply irresistible to him— you meet him and his breathing shortens, but he is content with you, yet wholly engulfed that it left him bereaved of required oxygen.

of course, well, this was indeed happening to him right now, but he asks himself, then grunts in frustration, not again, why must it always happen on the most burdensome times for him to lose himself, especially when he was just growing tired and had attempted to fall asleep surrounded by your consummating scent and weightless traces?

"is something the matter?"

it wasn't unusual for you to point out a dissimilarity of his habitual behavior, and your eyes were webbed with transparent worry that tighnari felt immensely guilty over, because it was him who inflicted it upon you.

to flip the coin into a distinct course of action, he says your name— a little breathy, silk-like— but it translates into the language of your heart and exudes into your body.

"i‘m alright, *cough* just caught something in my eye."

— scaramouche + gets all happy and excited when he tells you stories

scaramouche's velvety, smooth voice plays in your head on repeat, when he talks to you it's a sign of love, a sign of i want you to know this, or to elaborate further, it's evident to;

'i need you to know this because you're important to me and only you matter.'

you're fixated on his ecstatic sewn pupils and you openly admit to yourself that you cannot get enough of all the witty stories he would tell you on a daily basis— it did not matter to you how minuscule or of little importance they may be, what truly mattered was that scaramouche had begun to be more open and forthcoming towards you.

what your charming boyfriend was not aware of nor fathomed, was how contrasting his behavior would turn whenever he's thoroughly meshed in his story telling mode.

true feverishness and a drastic hurdle of thrill settles in his mannerism as he excitedly continues his own personal anecdotes of the passing day.

but those eyes, those spirited indigo eyes were vitally euphonious to the concealed dimples on his face that split larger after each new word spelled out, around the corners of his mouth to be exact, therefore accentuating his doughy, handsome physical responses.

extending far down, scaramouche was acquainted with undoubtable sureness that it was you who helped him grow, who showed him an escape route from the blooded thorns of his past.

"hey!" wow, what a way to snap you back to reality.

scaramouche sounded like he was in dire need of some attention from you and his hands were awkwardly tugged to each side of his body— though, let me get you in on a secret, the secret of all secrets, he actually longed to have them drawn on your frame, in effect, glissading them over your soft skin to pull you into a hug afterwards.

"are you even listening to me?!"

"of course i am!" you're lying, you're not.

in actuality you leaned into the delicious easement of your thoughts again— precisely about comforting memories from your boyfriend, even though he was right in front of you, in all of his splendor beauty, feeling understood even in your silence.

"okay, so what did i just say?"

"uhm."

damn you scaramouche and your refined ability to look right through someones skin and capture a glimpse of everything he needed to know.

"okay okay." you lean back into your chair— defeated, hands dramatically throw up in the air while fighting back the urge to say something that would drive your boyfriend off the edge.

but, at long last, you go in anyways, "you're just very cute." and it's the same again, his eyes widen in eternal radiance— rivaling celestial bodies in outer space while kuni seals his lips together in frustration because you managed to catch him off guard again.

the man huffs before erratically coughing out, attempting to distract you from his flustered face, but we all know he won't manage to accomplish that.

— alhaitham + scrunches his brows together when he complains about something

alhaitham abominates working. the end.

precisely supplemental hours of his existing work tasks that mostly focus on him aiding helpless akademiya scholars in their failing research.

while— being in a relationship with the acting grand sage of the sumeru akademiya naturally came with a lot of things, both good and bad feats— as might be expected the goods always outshine the negatives, you despite that understood your boyfriends increasing urge to get rid of his current title as fast as possible.

alhaitham was a busy man now, even busier than beforehand— and he regarded it with disgust, throughout-going abhorred it, that he couldn't come home at his routined time to spend some additional hours with you, his sweet significant other.

what alhaitham does know was that whenever he did arrive from a fatigued day— you will always, heavy emphasizing on the always, earnestly wait for him with a giant hot cup of tea being planted on the kitchen counter, on stand by and ready to be tasted by the man you loved like nothing else on this world.

"you're home later than usual."

a gasp of surprise evaporated from within as you began to point out the obvious, excitedly strolling towards alhaitham to gift him a proper welcome home, accentuating the passion filled gesture with a little peck on his warm cheek.

"it's unbelievable, isn't it?" someone must've woken up a tilt grumpy today, you figured, but let him carry on with his words.

"—and one might think that if there is nothing to do, i can simply take my leave." he continues, kicking his boots off his feet, one by one, while breathlessly sinking into the giant couch.

before the tea would turn cold, you decided to gracefully hand him the home made beverage, but not darting yourself off him, listening eagerly to what he had to say.

"but no, they need me for every. minuscule. task."

and alhaitham's eyes twitch, again— though his brows, they were pressed together so damn tight, if you didn't know any better you would've expected him to pop a blood vessel by now.

"do i look like i am interested in social interactions?" he asks you now, yes, dead serious while pulling you in with his hypnotizing eyes— although lifted with some serious eye bags, they continued to hold a graven significance that had you drawn to him the most.

but this situation was wearing thin, at least alhaitham was alarmingly more tested than usual, but at last you couldn't help yourself and work against your honest reactions, laughing at how awfully adorable he could be at times, without smiling— but it's so sudden, his face was showing so much emotions and it only encourages the sharp sting inside of you to giggle once again.

but do not get those particular things messed up nor into wrong directions— because seeing alhaitham have a hard time at work wasn't the humorous part at hand, it was the way he had told them to you— nose held up high while he repeatedly huffs away the bothering hair strands falling into his face, which only adds fuel to the burning frustration in himself, or his eyes a touch nudged together and rolling into the back of his head at each of his own sentences spoken.

an outer perspective would ultimately determine that he's in reality talking and agreeing with himself.

"have i unintentionally said something humorous?"

"no." you immediately snort back at him and swiftly rub over your saturated eyes, because yes, you indeed laughed yourself to tears.

"or maybe you did." and you idly lean next to him while keeping one hand on his thigh, "but you're home now, please rest."

perhaps this was what alhaitham had wanted to hear all this time— as the second you said it he exhales deeply, through his parted lips but greatly, he doesn't think he has any more energy left in his body if he was being honest.

but that's it now, it was the ideal time to rest, nothing matters, not the past nor the future. he was in the precious, safe confines of his home with the person he loves the utmost (and his roommate napping next doors).

"you're right, apologies." you immediately know alhaitham's embarrassed when he's muttering his words, but he feels his heart audibly beat in his chest and so do you.

"nothing to apologize for, my love."

— kaveh + searches for your touch whenever you spend time together

kaveh's heart blossoms throughout the entire day with an immediate segment of impassioned love the trifling moment he catches onto your silver like voice musing into his ears— thank the archons you‘re here, because he might‘ve lost his mind if he was about to stay without your company for much longer.

in point of fact, it's beyond easy to forget the pressuring hardships he has experienced in the past when he looks into nothing but your fascinating eyes— it's spellbound, featherlight.

on the other hand, in his own imagination, kaveh was sure that in reality he had nothing to offer back to you— even with you kindly assuring him that he’s nothing but the best and perfect in your eyes, over and over until it’s carved into his damned skull, he continues to harvest that deep rooted insecurity in him. although regardless of his broadening insecurities, he continues to treat you like you deserve nothing but the world.

it can be spoken with enormous confidence that he can‘t get enough of you. kaveh didn't think of wanting to show you off— or maybe he did but not in an over the top way, he was just so much in love with you and had made it his own personal achievement to make the entirety of sumeru know that you're taken, yes it's true, everyone keep their hands off you because you are taken, and he was the one who captured your heart.

now with that out of the way, whenever you would decide to go out on a walk or grab a beverage to go, kaveh would unintentionally plant his palm on your lower back, keeping it there.

or when you're enjoying a warm day outside, finding great comfort in the beautiful panorama of sumeru city with the gratifying scent of padisarah establishing in your nostrils, he'd cautiously flicker his fingers against your own while interlocking them in the process, so he could hold your hand and be with you, even closer than before, and experience those little things that had him weak on the knees and indisputably giddy.

he needs his hands on you— around your shoulders, scattered on your back, coupling fingers into each other or a fine-drawn peck on your cheek before entering the cafe together.

while he does most of those things unintentionally, you will push him over the edge the moment you initiate those things yourself, when it is you who does it to him— it's when his lips slightly part and his eyes are blown out with both surprise and deep rooted love, when you cheekily smile back at kaveh while taking his hand to walk and rush him towards another precious spot you had been made aware of in sumeru city.

"you'll love this place baby, trust me!"

you assure kindly, cheeks prickling a warm cradle with your belly welcoming the sweet butterflies courteously— pulling kaveh to the desired destination and by the matching reactions of your connected bodies, he does the same to you.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #tighnari x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact #al haitham x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact alhaitham #tighnari x you #scaramouche x you #kaveh x you #alhaitham x you #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles

[hazelfoureyes]

I just need you to know this story has had me in a chokehold and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it. This is gonna be a weird smutty slow burn, so still smut every post but full p in v sex will be a reward you have to work for?

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Redsmut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedysmut💦 Part 4 - Enough

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

「warnings/tags: HumanAlastor x FemaleReader, implied attempt to SA, fingering, plot with porn?, Multi part work, bad kind of choking, blood kink, blood licking, just in general blood, Non-Sex repulsed Ace Spectrum Alastor, stalking, murder obvs, finger sucking, smoking kinda kills if you squint, Public sex acts, garter belt, You have a stage name but no one important uses it, Greed, Lust, Human Alastor is a little different than Demon Alastor. 」

minors dni 💅🏽

Part 1 Pretty in Red

The marriage between burlesque and jazz wasn’t unexpected. Before the Great Depression took the nation into a stranglehold, both Jazz and Burlesque were immoral wastes of time only the most barbaric sought out.

And oh, did you love it. Everyone who was made to feel like nobody flocked to your theater and the surrounding neighborhood. Men, women, the people who didn’t agree with either. The biblically inclined, those closer to sodom, the sapphic dolls. Everyone was equal in the halls of jazz rooms and theatres where burlesquers were welcome.

Because of the inclusive nature of such places, you often saw familiar faces. It wouldn’t be unusual for someone from Thursday night to be seen Saturday at a different locale.

That presented certain opportunities and challenges. When you found a good mark, it was easy to be wherever he was and play it off as fate and common interests.

And when you gained a new stalker, someone wanting a personal show, it could be hard to tell until it was too late. 

Maybe it was your greed, or just your love of attention, but you found yourself focused almost entirely on a particularly well dressed man one evening. You’d seen him around before. Clean cut, sharp suit, a welcoming smile always on display. He looked like he had money, the most attractive quality of any man you could meet.

So focused on his gleaming stare from the side booths you hadn’t noticed the man at the stage front tables. You barely noticed him the night before, or the night before that, either. Because Smiles, as you took to calling the handsome stranger in the back, had been here three nights now too.

You really put on a show. Shimmying your hips, ostrich feathers following suit with every move. Your brassiere was heavy with shining rhinestones, panties of silk and lace. Your set was almost done, all that was left was to remove your top and slink away behind the curtains to hollers and whistles. Back turned, you unhooked the painful bra and let it fall to the stage with a clunk. Foot in front of foot, you stalked the stage length. With your hand hidden from view you took the feathered fan from the stagehand behind the curtain. As the music crescendoed you turned, fan unfurling just in time to hide yourself.

Groans, mass begging from the audience. Your stage name a chant now, a prayer. “Autumn! Come on!”

As the band slowed, music dying to mark the end of your number, you scanned the crowd. Eyes blinking coyly, you mouthed, “More? Did you want more?”

People were jumping to their feet, not Smiles but that was fine, you were focused now on the adoration of the crowd. The music ended, a second of silence. 

You winked, the drums hitting one last beat as you let the fan close.

Fanfare! Men whistling, women clapping. Someone shouted a marriage proposal. You took a bow, twirled on the balls of your feet and slipped gracefully behind the curtains.

Your hands wound to your spine, rubbing blood flow back into your skin as the staff removed your headdress. Someone slipped your robe over you and you nodded a thanks, aching feet carrying you to the dressing room. It was chaos, as usual. Women buzzing around, tits and ass here and there. You smiled. You happened to enjoy this part of the job. Soft bodies in shiny costumes, lovely smells and sweet voices. If you could get dressed quickly enough, you could still take a tour of the room and slide into Smiles’ booth. 

“Enjoy the show?” You’d ask. He’d lean in, maybe blush, “Always when you’re here.” Or something like that. You’d cozy up to him, flag down a waiter for something strong and pricey, and get him properly drunk. He’d wake up outside, fine and dandy except his missing cash. 

You’ll call him a drunkard if he confronts you, accuse him of getting himself robbed after you refused his advances. You’ll say it too loudly, and he’ll run off. 

You danced a little in your seat, another game of cat and mouse about to commence. But first, a smoke.

Unbeknownst to you, the well dressed man hadn’t come to see you. He preferred your singing shows at the little dive bar two blocks over. No, he had come for the man at the front table. For weeks now, he had watched him harassing the ladies of the few joints in New Orleans that weren’t regularly hounded by police. Your smiley mark even heard stories of unsavory acts, many women leaving the dance scene entirely after.

He didn’t care for it. He didn’t care for him. So he took to his hunt, following the man to come to his own conclusions. The pattern of behavior was obvious, and though he hadn’t seen what ended the last obsession, it was clear one of the performers at this club was being stalked as the next victim. 

He watched your dance with half lidded eyes, just as much as he watched the man give dirty looks to the other men cheering. Heard the, “Marry me!” shouted at you.

Yes, it was obvious to him now. 

So when the target of his interest got up and pushed his way into a staff only door, well, the well dressed man was sure to follow. 

The great thing about confidence and a nicely tailored suit is that no one questions you about why you are where you are. So while the brute he tailed had to shove past people to get wherever he was going, people smiled and made room for the gentleman who was not far behind.

He caught the street access door before it closed, allowing it to stay open just a sliver. Enough for one golden brown eye to watch the events unfold.

“Can I have a light?” The stranger asked you. You looked at him, then to the staff only entrance he just came out of. 

“I don’t think I know you….,” you handed him the lighter but he instead leaned into you, cigarette hanging from his lips. “You… new?”

You sparked the flint with a practiced thumb, taking three tries to get it lit, and put your hand out. The man didn’t budge, eyebrows rising, “You really don’t recognize me?” He asked, motioning with his hand to come closer. Your eyes glanced down the alley, cars slowly moving past the street. When you looked back, the man took your wrist in his hand. He held you so tightly that the muscles in your palm locked and you dropped the lighter. 

“What the fu-,” his hand came across your face, halting your sentence.

“I’m your best customer. Every show. I’m the one who brings flowers.”

Dozens of men bring flowers, especially on the weekend shows. You held your cheek, skin burning. Your hand pulled back, the corner of your lip bleeding from his rings. Scrambling, your mind was searching for the right words.

With a forced smiled, your shaky voice finally piped up, “Oh! Yeah! Oh geez. I am so sorry, doll. I’m just so tired, and the alley is so dark. Here, let’s go inside so I can get a better look at you.” You tried to take your wrist from him but he didn’t loosen up.

“Nah, you ain’t tricking me. You owe me.” He pulled you into him, large hand gripping your face with ease, “You can’t lead on men like this and think you don’t gotta answer for it.” He kissed you, forcing your face into his. “Bitch! Did you fucking bite me?” He threw you into the tin trash cans beside the wall, knocking the wind out of you. 

No purse, no sharp object, not even a heeled shoe to defend yourself with. You cursed, so preoccupied with Smiles you forgot your wits.

You spit out the copper saliva, his blood and yours. “I’ll keep biting, too.” 

Why scream? The sounds of the next act were bouncing off the brick walls. Upbeat jazz and applause echoing around you. No one would hear you. Men can break your body but you never had to give them your dignity. Never give them the satisfaction of a response.

No. No screaming. You instead spent your energy trying to get to your feet. He took hold of your neck now, throttling you. It wasn’t what you had expected, but as he lifted you off the ground and your little dressing room slippers fell off, you thought this was actually better. 

“Well I think that’s quite enough.”

You felt warmth, then registered wetness. Your shin scraped on the asphalt as you were dropped without warning. Trying to open your eyes, you found you couldn’t see. Wiping and blinking away the foreign liquid, you watched your attacker fall to his knees.

Blood was shooting from between his fingers around his own neck, each pulse becoming weaker and weaker, evident through the stream.

When he finally fell over, drained, you were startled to see another man with you. The light reflected off his glasses as he adjusted them, the knife still in his right hand as he did so. 

“My, my. What a mess he’s made.” The man smiled down at you, offering a hand. When you didn’t immediately react, he cocked his head to the left, “Is that anyway to treat your rescuer?”

Is that was this was? A rescue? You took his hand with both of yours, pulling yourself up. 

Smiles? You blinked away the shock, time to shift into your next part. Damsel. You weren’t out the woods yet.

“You saved my life!” As you pressed yourself into his chest, you tucked your head beneath his chin. You tried to make yourself small. “I owe you! Please let’s go inside, drinks on me!” You looked up, batting your lashes.

“I don’t think that’s wise, dear.” His gaze panned down your dress, soaked through. He could see the thinking behind your eyes.

“No, right….,” You gripped his vest, “We gotta get outta here, fast. There’s a hotel just behind the threatre.” You started to pull his suit jacket off, slipping it over yourself. “No cops, the theatre will get raided. Just— take me somewhere safe?”

You watched him look you over, arm finally extending to let you hook yours with his. 

As soon as the hotel door closed behind you, you slipped off his jacket and ran to the dressing table mirror. 

Your face was painted red, navy dress now black and sticky. It was good you stayed from view of the reception staff. “I didn’t get my rescuer’s name,” you licked your thumb and rubbed at the blood around your cheeks. 

“Alastor. It’s a pleasure.”

You laughed, “Is that what you call a pleasure?” Turning, you pulled the mostly still dry handkerchief from your pocket and dabbed the corner on your tongue. You brought it up to the frame of his glasses and wiped the blood from the metal. “I’d hate to see what you call a bad time.”

Your hand slowed, noticing the way he was looking at you. Typically men’s pupils were blown when they fell on you, but his were constricted. They flitted around your face. His hand took hold of yours, fingers separating the thumb from the handkerchief. He pulled the little square of yellow fabric free with his other hand, allowing him to hold your thumb now by itself.

His lips opened, tongue licking the blood stained finger before placing it directly into his mouth.

Your stared, horrified, as he sucked the digit clean. 

His eyes fluttered close, finger popping out of his mouth with a debauched sound. You made no attempt to take back your hand. The realization you may have hopped out of the frying pan and into the fire set in.

“You are a funny one, aren’t you?” You tried to sound as in control as possible. Calm. Unwavered. Offered a timid smile. 

He chuckled, “You could say that. May I?” His fingers lifted your chin. You didn’t know what he was asking. His soft smile looked downright loving. He smelled so good, notes of something earthy rising above the copper.

You nodded, because part of you wanted to see where it would go. And part of you thought you didn’t have a choice.

As his face came to yours, you instinctually closed your eyes expecting a kiss. But no, instead you felt his tongue wipe across the cut at the corner of your mouth. His breath blanketed your cheek. Then his hand left your chin, the warmth of his body gone entirely. 

You opened your eyes to see him at the door, slipping back into his jacket, “I’ll pay for the night.” He tipped his head to you and exited the room back first, eyes locked with yours until the door closed.

You just stood there in the silence left behind. But as if on cue, the adrenaline waned and your knees buckled under you. You were moments from death, now somehow spared. But what had he— Alastor, been doing there? Did he follow you, too? The cat and mouse had been flipped, or perhaps now this was a fox and hound?

Gripping the dressing table, you pulled yourself up and into the view of the mirror again. Face streaked in dried blood save for the one clean spot where your lips met cheek. 

You felt like a ghost the next day. It would be nice to tell someone about what happened but, “Hey a man tried to kill me and then another man killed him! Then he licked blood off my face and I let him. It was the most disturbingly erotic thing to happen to me in months!” would get you tossed into a wagon. 

“Are you rude or just stupid?” The theatre manager pulled you aside by the arm when you came into rehearsal. “You can’t just disappear like that, people were waiting.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Was… my absence really the most exciting part of the evening? Not the John in the gutter?”

He huffed, “So that’s it? Got a beau?”

“Wait— nothing else happened last night? After I left?” 

“This show doesn’t revolve around you. Plenty happened.”

“Excuse me,” you hurried into the back, “And sorry!”

You opened the street access door and looked into the alley. Trash cans neat and tidy, no dead man, nothing strange or telltale.

You ducked back inside. Had Smiles done this? Obviously, actually. No stranger just cleaned up the dead body. If the flatfeet had found him, the club would have been under scrutiny.

Good, you thought, and went about your work.

Rehearsal dragged on. Little details summoning you back to the night before. 

“You okay?” Another performer asked, grabbing your hand and inspecting the blood around your cuticles.

“Oh it’s not mine!” You laughed, she laughed, you walked off before she could clarify.

When applying your makeup, you remembered his hands on your face. They were so soft. Definitely a man of means. A brief intrusive thought, the other hands on your face last night.

You pranced on stage, going through the motions of your routine. Even in the empty hall, your eyes wandered to the booth he’d been in. And as you took the stage in earnest later that night you searched the crowd for the glint of his glasses and found nothing shiny nor promising.

Back in the dressing room you took a moment to wonder what the actual fuck you we’re doing. He murdered a man in front of you, why were you hoping to see him again? He had half a mind to kill you next.

But would that really be so bad?  Your life was routine, boring even. The only thing keeping your lungs expanding was the applause. Maybe the headlines of your death would cause such an uproar, dancer struck down in her prime, that you could bask in the loving glow all the way from hell.

One way to remain famous, you considered. A dramatic death.

Not that you were famous. You weren’t part of the national circuits. Just your local theatres, a common face and body to the sinners of Louisiana’s most infamous city. But, well, fame is relative. For the scene you were in, you were your own little star. 

A shining light. Shimmering. The faint light reflecting off— Blood. For a second you could only remember looking through bloodied, heavy lashes. 

“You’ve been so out of it. Trouble in paradise?” Ruth, the curviest of your coworkers and arguably the favorite of the crew, rested her chin on your head. Looking at each other in the mirror, you offered a soft smile.

“I’ll letcha know when I get there.”

She pinched your cheek, “Tommy said you had a new guy. I just figured-,”

“That isn’t,” you clenched your eyes shut, “no, no guy. I just got locked out last night in the alley. The sticky-,” sticky and viscous blood, “back door wouldn’t open up. I didn’t want to come in the front in my slippers so I just hoofed it home.” 

She patted your head, “if you say so! Be careful out there though. Dangerous these days.” 

An understatement.

You enjoyed the spotlight, but more than that you craved the attention doted on you after. You’d walk through the hall to the bar to adoring looks and free drinks. It bothered you that Tommy was telling the girls you had a man. You didn’t want to appear too closed off, or for word to spread to the customers. 

Last thing you needed was men passing you by for more available options. Not that the pay wasn’t fine. Ends were being met, but grifting added an element of thrill. You really did love the chase. Finding someone and deciding he would be yours, he would fall under your spell and be at your feminine mercy. It made you feel powerful, almost mythical. And the money was nice. Sometimes you didn’t even need to steal, the men would just lavish you in gifts and you’d let it fizzle out naturally. Normally their wives would snatch them back or they’d just get tired of waiting for you to leave the stage and dance into their domestic dreams. A housewife? An adopted mother to a grown man during the day, a hungry nymph at night? For what, an allowance and a home you didn’t own? Pass. Where’s that handsome man with his knife? That was a much better steel to fall onto than what these men offered from their laps.

From your view at the bar you knew he wasn’t there. But with a nod you decided the chase was still on. You were going to get your victory. If anything, this would be easier. You had dirt on him. Blackmail would be simple enough. Bloody clothes and the perfect alibi; being a woman. No cop would think you took down that hulking man. 

Ah, right. There was no body.

That would be an issue. He had to have taken it somewhere. Just find him and follow. Worst case scenario, you play the usual game and steal whatever cash was in his wallet.

Well, worst case you die. 

You slept sitting up to keep your hair set, during the day your makeup barely was there but a red lip always the star. You had three nice dresses (well, you had had four) so you figured three nights to find him before moving on.

You slinked through the crowds of the hot and sweaty dance club Moxie. Swinging music kept bodies moving, and though you kept your eyes open you didn’t catch sight of this Alastor fellow. Which was fine! You enjoyed a few dances, swing always making you feel energized. Not a waste of a Friday night.

Saturday was easy, the lounge on fifth. Smooth jazz, plush chairs, rich men. Definitely a place you could imagine Smiles to frequent. The whisky was all top shelf, and many gentlemen offered you a lap to sit. Sure, no Alastor, but you didn’t go home empty handed.

You weren’t a particularly great singer, but if the room was small enough and the piano loud enough, you could please a crowd. Your friend had you on a semi-set schedule most Sundays at her little dive too many blocks from Main Street. Her darling played piano, you sat and sang to the couple dozen patrons stuffed into the one room bar. When you finished your set, you took your bows and looked for your friend. You needed to tell her you wouldn’t be staying. 

Your polite nods and gracious thank yous were abruptly ended by a tap on your shoulder, “You dropped this, miss.” You did a mental check of your purse before turning around.

“Oh, a sight for sore eyes. Mr. Alastor.” Your face lit up, you could see it in his glasses.

“You’re too kind. Here, I apologize for the delay. I wanted to return them clean.” In his hand was your yellow handkerchief, folded neatly. You took it and found it uncharacteristically heavy. 

When you unfurled it, your brass lighter fell into your waiting palm. Your thumb caressed the engraving. 

Alastor watched your face as the lighter tumbled out. “I figured it was important, given the condition and detailing.”

You tested the weight in your hand, “Did you fill it?” You looked to him incredulously.  He nodded.

It was a surprisingly kind act, and you needed a second to regain your composure. “I don’t know how to thank you.” Your quick wit failed for a moment, but rebounded fast. “Except with a drink. My treat. To my rescuer.”

He mulled the idea, your reaction to him was interesting. Alastor had thought if he approached you first you’d show a little more fear, or shock. But you looked downright chipper to see him there. 

“Unfortunately I don’t have much time tonight. I had just wanted to return your items.”

Your smile dropped. How did he know you were here? Had he been carrying— no, he said he had them cleaned. Had he seen you here before, before the incident? A chuckle, smile brought back, “My luck is terrible. You always flee me. I hope you don’t see my company as deadweight.”

Alastor’s smile twitched, eyes hidden behind the glare of his glasses, “Not at all! I think you’d find I’m quite comfortable with-.”

“Lugging people around?” You said. That constricted pupil again, eyes wild. A chill ran down your spine. Alarms were going off. Wrong answer. You straightened your back, popping the items into your purse, “Next time.”

Alastor nodded, “Yes. Next time, then.”

You fucked it up. You knew you had, but suddenly his words felt like a thinly veiled threat. 

You turned to leave and hadn’t seen his smile sour.

It hadn’t been a threat. He hadn’t anticipated you to notice the implication. Most people would have been so blinded by his charm they would fail to notice the glaring red flags. He was mildly impressed. You would be more trouble than he had expected.

Alastor knew he needed to do something about the clearly clever woman who was seemingly expecting him. He had followed you for several days, surprised to find you not spreading word about the murder. You hadn’t spoken to anyone, really. Even the man you left the lounge with, you just smiled and nodded nearly all evening while the man dominated the conversation. So, your sharp wit took him off guard. Who were you pretending to be? And why?

All of your cleverness fell apart when you tried to follow him. It was almost comical. He felt bad. This was going to be embarrassing for you.

He took several right turns and stepped into the park just outside of the bar. You thought perhaps he had gotten lost and considered turning around after you realized you’d lost sight of him. As you passed a large weeping willow, you were pulled under the curtains of hanging moss by your waist.

Back against the large tree, you could only pout.

“What are you after, stalking a man in the dead of night?” Alastor had you pinned, both hands on either side of your head. His body boxed you in, not that there was much more to see than moss and darkness.

You blinked several times. What a question. You answered honestly, “You.” He cocked a brow. Then you lied, “Your affection. Your time.”

Something akin to a giggle bubbled from his chest. “I don’t have much affection, but I have even less time.” Your eyes darted around, looking for your next move. “I-,” you grabbed him by the face and kissed him. When you broke the kiss he was staring wide eyed, glasses askew. He opened his mouth to speak and you kissed him again, longer, harder.

He seemed frozen under your mouth, lips taut. Your hands roamed his face, messing up his hair and glasses. Mind reeling. Play the nymph. Be the whore the men always said they hated. Be too strong, too forward, too much and he’ll run off like men do. You could try again another day.

Your hand reached for his lap, his hips instinctively jerking away. Perfect. Men these days can’t get it up for a woman who takes the lead. 

Alastor was entirely unsure what the fuck was happening. You were wildly unpredictable. When you grabbed at his dick, he thought his eyes would cross from the shock. Is this what ‘affection’ meant to you? He couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t understand you. Were you really just lustful? Even after what you’d seen him—

You bit at his bottom lip, pulling slightly. Big eyes looking back at him. Your breath was already running away from you, adrenaline seemingly synonymous with Alastor. Staring up at him, you waited. His move.

It was his turn to blink. He looked off to his left, eyes swinging back to you. With a shrug, he leaned his body back towards yours. His hand slid down the front of your dress; red silk. A deer in the headlights, you tensed. The rare third option; fight, flight, freeze. Soon his fingers were tracing the lace of your stockings, climbing up the garter straps. 

His eyes were studying your face. You didn’t want to give the wrong answer again, but at this point you weren’t sure any answer was right. This was taking a sudden turn and your foot was off the brake. You closed your eyes, opting out of the scrutiny of his stare. His hand met your stomach and began to slip down again. He rested it between your thighs, longer fingers and palm cupping the entirety of your sex.

Alastor struggled to decipher your expression. It was almost like a pout, but more subtle. You hadn’t said stop or pushed him away yet. Was he right? You were just… horny? As his hand slid back up and pried their way into your panties, you trembled.

It had been so long since someone else’s hand was on you. Someone whose hands you genuinely enjoyed, who you wanted to be on you.

Is that right? You wanted him to touch you? 

Maybe it was the stare, or the smile. Probably just the adrenaline.

His hand found its place again, middle finger bending to part your folds and feel your wetness. You whimpered, hand coming to cover your own mouth. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He said it low, a husky tone he didn’t have before.

No. Maybe. You nodded yes.

“Will you be satisfied now? No more tailing me?”

No. Probably not. Another nod.

His finger pushed in, and with a kind of greed you didn't recognize your hips ground down into his palm. He slipped in and out of you with ease. You had no idea when or why you got so wet.

“I always end up dripping around you, Alastor,” you whispered through your fingers. His ring finger joined. Why couldn’t you shut up? Why did you have to bring up, well, the murder?

“A common problem for those I take an interest in.” 

Oh no. You moaned softly into your hand. Sharp mind made dull by his fingers so you didn’t, couldn’t, process his double meaning. 

Oh no. The sounds of footsteps, a pair of lovers sneaking into the park for privacy. You heard their giggles, the sounds of kisses interrupting their walking.

“Shhh”, he breathed into your ear as he worked a third finger into your heat. One knuckle, two knuckles. A whimper. His hand came to press down over your own on your mouth, a second barrier for your mewling. You groaned, the sound coming from your throat.  

Whispers. The silhouette of the two interlopers was visible through the willow’s curtains. You watched from over his shoulder, pussy clenching around him. Three knuckles deep, bottoming out.

Fuck it. You moaned freely into your hand, wiggling down onto his hand. Hips rolling, you let your little sounds of praise flow.

The couple laughed, “That’s the spirit!” A man said, a woman hushing him and pulling him away.

Alastor grinned into your neck, immensely amused. He would have better luck predicting a dice roll than your next move. 

You hadn’t realized how hollow you’d been until now, feeling so full. When alone, you focused on just cumming, fingers on your clit and mind on memories. You never bothered much with anything else.

Your hunger intensified. You wanted more. Both hands reached for his crotch again, finding nothing there for you. You could have cried. How were you a wet mess pressed against a tree and he was soft as a newspaper in a rainstorm?

Your pride stung. Men usually stood at attention around you. A half sob into the air earned you a chuckle from Alastor. “It’s no reflection of you, darling.” His nose nudged your ear lobe, “I need a little different stimulation than most.”

“Do you play for the other team?” You considered how you could momentarily switch. 

A louder laugh, “I don’t have a team.” He leaned back now to look at you. His freehand came to press on your lower stomach, gently pushing your womb down. Your brows knit, why did that feel so good? Hands going to the tree behind you for stability.

“Sure feels like you know how to play. This is-,” his hand switched from thrusting slowly in and out to moving front and back. It sent vibrations up into you. Your eyes rolled close. Shut up. Stop talking. Focus. Close.

He kissed around your open mouth, “Well, it’d be unamerican to not dabble. When necessary, or when the conditions are right.”

Double speak over, “Just tell me what to do to get you to fuck me.”

Alastor’s head fell back as he laughed earnestly, most likely alerting anyone in the immediate area. “Ha! No, this is more fun.”

“Oh fuck you,” you brought a hand around to your throbbing clit to quicken your release.

“Maybe next time, dear.” He took a second, fingers in you sliding around your walls in search of something before finding his place and continuing. Your breath noticeably changed, instead of panting you were practically holding it in. You needed the pressure, you needed something to squeeze that spring of pleasure down so it could snap back. As your face went flush, he kissed at your temple, “You look so pretty in red.”

“Oh god-,” Your head fell onto his chest, your joint effort bringing you to orgasm. 

“A little late on Sunday for prayers, don't you think?”

A tiny scream into his suit pocket, his hand not stopping until your thighs finished twitching around him. Even after his hand stopped moving you gripped him by the wrist and rolled onto his fingers a few more times. The pleasure ebbing but still spiking every time he moved against you. 

Ah, greed. That was it. He understood a little better. This wasn’t lust, not alone.  You were definitely a mix of the two. With a sigh, you released your hold and let him slide out of you. Already you felt lonelier. Already you wished to start over.

With his dry hand he smoothed out your dress. You weren’t ashamed but you suddenly felt too embarrassed to look him the eye. But you did, hearing him hum as he sucked his fingers clean. 

Why were you only ever in his mouth in the strangest ways?

“You always taste so sweet, dear. Now!” You wanted to say something clever and salacious like, ‘there’s more where that came from’ but he didn’t afford you the opportunity. He offered you his hooked arm, “It’s dangerous in the park at night. Let’s get you to a cab and on your way home.”

“Is this a hobby of yours?” Your legs were wobbly but otherwise fine. “Illegal activities in public?”

“Funny, I was just wondering the same of you. Stalking is a crime, dear.”

You bit your lip. “Touché.”

He flagged down a taxi, “Tell him where to go.” You slid into the back seat and half-whispered to the driver. Alastor leaned into the passenger side front window and after paying the man, went to close your door, “You’ve been an entertaining sparring partner. Goodbye, sweetheart.”

With a thud of the door and a growl of the engine, you were driving away from him. You could see him in the rear window. He didn’t dare to move, he didn’t need you following another step of his.

Which was unfortunate for him, as you were already scheming how to find him again.

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @angelicwillows

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor smut #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fanfiction #hazbin #x you #x reader #hazbinhotel #reader insert #reader fic #smut writer #smut fanfiction #human alastor #smut writing #x you smut

[stevenssacrab]

Green Is Your Color

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Summary: Dressed in green lingerie you have one mission, make Wanda beg.

Rating: 18+ smut (minors, do not interact)

Warnings: Dry humping, swearing, nipple play, oral (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), sex toys (vibrator, dildo), orgasm denial, bratty Wanda, dom reader, squirting.

Word Count: 2.7k

a/n: 2.7k?! Sheeesh never thought I'd do it, Wanda is my weakness ladies and germs, hope y'all enjoy!

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

"You're total today is $60 even," spoke the cashier at Victoria's Secret; you visibly cringed; you usually wouldn't spend this much on an item, but you wanted to surprise Wanda with something a little sexy; you paid with a smile, you can't wait to see the look on her face when she sees you in it. You open your door, anxiety creeping within you. Wanda should be home in a little while, just enough time to shower and dress; the entire shower, your nerves were getting the best of you.

"What if she doesn't like it?" you questioned internally, styling your hair in voluminous, bouncy curls; you sighed anxiously, blending the eyeshadow carefully. You were aiming for sultry bedroom eyes, something that would lure Wanda and turn her into putty before your very eyes; she's always taken the more dominant role in the bedroom. Tonight, your goal was to get her to beg for it, a challenging mission, you know that, and still, you had hope; you had a couple of tricks up your sleeve to achieve your goal; slowly, you massage your vanilla-scented lotion into your skin, sighing contently, inhaling the scent, vanilla always reminded you of your first date with Wanda and how nervous you were, and the feeling of butterflies in your stomach, the way your heart skipped a beat when you saw her for the first time, you've always known that Wanda was beautiful, she handled everything with grace, a force to be reckoned with, part of you was scared that you weren't going to be enough for her, in your opinion you were nothing special just, like every other average human. Still, she never made you feel that way, not even for a second.

You slipped into a mid-thigh length dark green silk dress with high slits that stopped at your waist, no panties, of course; you slipped on stilettos, and you ran your eyes over the whole ensemble one last time; you folded over, fluff up your roots for more volume, spray yourself with your vanilla bean perfume, and run your hands over the dress, smoothing out any imperfections, jingling of keys and dull footsteps fill your ears, "she's home" you uttered to yourself.

"Baby? Are you home?" concern layered in Wanda's voice; your bedroom door creaks open, "Baby?" she asks again.

"I'm here," you call out, trusting your nerves can't be heard through your voice, "I'll be right out, almost finished," quickly trying to straighten up the bathroom. You're stalling, but you don't care.

"Don't worry, baby, take your time," she voiced; you could practically hear the smile on her face; you sighed and attempted to shake off your nerves.

"She's gonna love it, she loves you, it'll be great," you chanted to yourself like a mantra and reached for the door handle and pulled before you could second guess yourself; your eyes land on Wanda sitting on the bed, aimlessly scrolling through her phone, she hasn't noticed you yet, you step forward.

"Hey baby, did you-" Wanda speaks, flicking her head to look at you; she met your eyes first, then flicked down; she widens her eyes slightly, raking her eyes over you slowly, observing and trying to memorize every detail, from the black stilettos that you know she loves, to the sexy eye makeup that puts her in a trance, hypnotized by the way the high slits elongates your legs, watching you intently, chin low, eyes hooded. You walk closer, one foot in front of the other, hips swaying with each step; you stop directly in front of Wanda, gently placing your hands on her shoulders; you smile down at her. Wanda breathes through her mouth, tongue dancing along her bottom lip; you slowly climb into Wanda's lap and groan softly when Wanda's hands grip your waist, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss.

"Mmm, you look so good," Wanda groaned in between feverous kisses, moving her lips to your neck, sucking dark circles into your skin; you moaned softly, tilting your head back, "What's the occasion?" Wanda asked, nibbling gently at the skin; you squeak happily, caressing the back of her head.

"Nothing, I just wanted to surprise you," you spoke breathlessly, lightly grinding your bare pussy against the rough fabric of Wanda's jeans, "do you like it?" you hummed, running your hands under Wanda's jacket, sliding it off.

"You should surprise me more often," she teased, gliding her hands under the dress and squeezing your ass, helping you grind into her slowly; you grip her shoulders, shamelessly grinding into her; Wanda gently traces her fingers up your arm; stopping at the straps of the dress and pulls them down over your shoulders, exposing your tits to the cold air, Wanda doesn't miss how you shiver, she cups them massaging them roughly she brings her head down, flicking her tongue over the bud, you whimper, watching opened mouth, she grins and captures your bud, sucking gently, she looks up at you innocently, you groan, rutting against her quickly you feel your orgasm building up, Wanda moans around your nipple, rolling your free nipple between her fingers, you moan loudly, picking up speed, you're so close.

"Oh god, I'm so close," you plead, eyes screwed shut, rubbing your clit against the denim; Wanda lightly nibbles your nipple, sending you over the edge; you cum hard, hips bucking wildly into her, digging your nails into Wanda's shoulders, when you open your eyes Wanda is looking at you with dark, hungry eyes, if looks could kill you'd be long gone, you gently push her back to the bed, her legs hanging over the edge of the bed, you climbed off her, your dress hanging on by your hips, you sit on the floor, resting on your heels, you unbutton Wanda's pants and lean forward to pull the zipper down with your teeth, looking up to her innocently, Wanda rest on her elbows, watching you closely, licking her lips slowly, you smile up at her mischievously, lazily dragging her pants down, littering kisses all the way down her legs, you slide your hands up her legs to her clothed pussy, you can already see a wet spot, you find her clit even with her panties on and slowly rub circles, watching Wanda's reaction, she sighs contently, giving herself over to you, you lick a hard stripe up her pussy, Wanda groans frustrated, shes over the barrier muffling the sensations, you smile and move her panties to the side exposing her swollen bud, you lean forward and blow cool air onto her wet pussy, Wanda groans, annoyed you won't give her what she wants, you press your tongue against her clit, gently kitten licking, still not delivering fully, she bucks her hips in search for more pressure but you pull back.

"Uh uh," you say with a smirk, slowly leaning back in and licking harder than before. She groans loudly, throwing her head back; she bucks her hips up shamelessly; you grip her hips and hold her still.

"We do this my way, or we don't do this at all," you say confidently, rubbing circles into her skin; she looks up at you in disbelief, under the impression that she would lead like always; she lets out a disgruntled groan and falls back onto the bed in defeat, you kiss her pussy "good girl, behave and maybe I'll let you cum on my tongue" you spoke, your lips capture her clit gently and suck, not nearly enough for her to cum, but enough for her to feel good, Wanda obediently holds her hips still, taking heed of your warning, you reward her good behavior with a particularly hard suckle, she gasps and closes her legs around your head, you moan, satisfied and pry her legs open, still suckling roughly, Wanda buries her hand in your hair and bucks her hips onto your tongue, you groan disapprovingly and smack her hand away, "don't make me tie you down," you say darkly, slapping her sensitive clit lightly, she whimpered loudly.

"I'll behave," she said agitatedly; you hook your fingers in her underwear and pull them down; she picks her feet up onto the bed, opening her legs, displaying her wet pussy for your eyes only; you lick your lips slowly and attach your lips to her clit, sucking roughly, running your teeth along her clit gently, she moans and quivers, trying her absolute hardest to hold still, you look up at her, she has her eyes tightly closed, fists clenched, knuckles turning white, you almost feel bad, she's trying so hard to behave, you reward her by sliding your finger inside, pumping slowly, you groan, it was so easy pushing in, not a hint of resistance, you curl your finger in search for that bundle of nerves, a moan rips from Wanda’s throat, her legs shake violently, you found the spot, you slowly pump your finger hitting it each time, Wanda is a quivering mess at your mercy and she wouldn’t have it any other way, arching her back, she speaks.

“Ugh, fuck, just like that,” Wanda barks through gritted teeth; grinding down onto your finger; the way her walls spasm around your finger, you can tell she's close; suddenly, you cease all movement and watch Wanda greedily try to fuck herself; Wanda moans frustratedly; you smile and reach under the bed and pull out a pink vibrator, Wanda’s face drops, she's in for it, and she knows it, your face twist in an evil grin and climb on the bed, seating yourself next to her, you flick on the toy and part her pussy lips and press the toy directly on her clit, Wanda cries out loudly; she grips your thigh tightly, looking at you, pleading without saying a word, you set the toy higher, she moans, digging her fingernails into your thigh.

"Fuck, don't stop," she pleads; you knew she would have a firm resolve; you had hoped that she crack by now, you set the toy even higher, and Wanda opens her mouth in a silent scream, determined to get her to break, you slide three fingers inside, curling your fingers expertly, hitting that sweet spot you know drives her crazy, she lets out a scream so loud you're sure she's going to lose her voice, bucking her hips, fucking herself onto your fingers, " mmm so close, I'm gonna cum," she grips the sheets braces for impact. Still, you lift the toy and pull your fingers out; Wanda growls loudly, "What the fuck?!" she booms, looking at you angrily.

"Just say the magic word," you tease; she knits her brows, confused for only a second, and then her face twists mischievously.

"No, make me," she bites back, smirking smugly.

"With pleasure," cockiness dripping off your voice, setting the toy to its highest, pressing it to her clit brutally, "OH!" she moans deafeningly, arching her back off the mattress; you sneer, rubbing the toy in circles; moans pouring out of her, she watches you abuse her clit cruelly, "fuck, so close," she squeals, you push in 2 fingers aiming straight for the g-spot, forcing her to the edge, viciously, you want her as close as possible so you can deny her, Wanda's moans growing louder and louder, blatantly grinding against the toy desperate to cum, and right when she's about to go over the edge, you pull away, smirking when she throws her head back against the mattress.

"Give up?" you asked, raising your brow. Wanda scoffs, "Never, do your worst," she hisses back.

"Suit yourself," you snarl, pulling out an 8-inch dildo. Wanda's face drops; she looks at you, panicked, her eyes flicking between you and the dildo, shaking her head slightly, "What happened? Cat got your tongue?" you asked egotistically, crawling like a predator stalking their prey; you set the toy to low and apply light pressure to her abused clit, Wanda sighs contently, closing her eyes blissfully, unsatisfied with her peace of mind, you slowly slide the tip of the dildo in, Wanda's eyes snap open, you smile and push the toy in deeper, Wanda groans, the stretch stings deliciously, you both moan as you bottom out, Wanda's chest rises and falls steadily, fully engrossed in all the sensations you're providing her, setting the vibrator higher Wanda reacts instantly, gripping the bedsheets, massaging her tits over her shirt, she mewls lifting her hips off the mattress, that familiar coil tightening, you pick up the pace, fucking her pussy quickly, she frustratedly rips her shirt off and pulls her bra down, exposing her tits, she's desperately pinching at her nipples, lips trapped between her teeth, you angle the toy, masterfully hit her spot, she moans loudly, clenching around the dildo, not slowing down, you ask.

"Ready to beg?" fucking her senselessly, Wanda cries out; she tries to answer, but every time she opens her mouth, you thrust the toy, and all that comes out is grunts and groans of pleasure; you set the toy higher and said "answer me," Wanda whimpers loudly, she's been dancing along the edge for so long, her heartbeat thundering in her ears, "no," she hissed defiantly through clenched teeth, "oh?" you questioned, setting the toy to the highest level, Wanda screams, thrashing about, you stop, "ready now?" you teased, "no," Wanda repeated, you turn the toy back on and fuck her ruthlessly, Wanda sobs loudly, tears in her eyes, she looks at you brows knitted together, "I'm-" she squeaks out, "yes baby?" you ask mockingly, still, you keep thrusting into her pussy mercilessly, she opens her mouth and attempts to say something, but all that comes out is whimpers and whines, she pants and watches mouth ajar as the dick disappears in her, you stop, "ready?"

"N-no," she spoke, voice strained, fists clenched; you scoff, turn the toy back on and ram the dildo back in fucking her mind-numbingly fast; a sob rips through Wanda's throat, all she can do is lay there and take it all, she doesn't have the energy to move, "I- so close," Wanda pants out, you pull back, and Wanda whines loudly "no! please I, please let me cum, I’m sorry, please" Wanda pleaded, eyes filling with tears, her lip quivering, you lean down and kiss her forehead. "It's okay, baby," you whisper affectionately and turn the vibrator on high, "Yes!" Wanda moans loudly; as you pump the dick in and out savagely, Wanda is reduced to a blubbering mess, babbling nonsense; the mascara she had on is running down her cheeks; her mouth hangs open, whines and whimpers spilling out before she can stop them. "Please, I'm so close," she weeps, her face contorted in bliss, her body shaking violently. You change the angle of the toy, and Wanda whines loudly; she cums, mouth open in a silent scream, her vision going white, ringing in her ears, gripping the bedsheets so hard it's coming off the corners; you slowly fuck Wanda through it, ceasing when she whimpers in pain.

"Oh my god," Wanda breathes, scoffing in disbelief; she picks her head up, looking at you, smiling from ear to ear, "that was amazing; I loved it," she laughs, sitting up on her elbows, "green is definitely your color."

"I can tell; look at the mess you made," you chuckle, gesturing to the end of the mattress. Wanda looks at you like you have two heads before looking down; there's a big wet spot between her thighs. Wanda squirted, and she didn't even realize it; a deep shade of red crept along Wanda's cheeks and onto the tips of her ears; she hid her face in her hands, groaning loudly; she wanted the world to swallow her whole. She's so embarrassed; you chuckle lightly and gently grab Wanda's wrists, pulling her hands away from her face. Wanda looks up at you, humiliated.

"It's okay, baby, it's natural; I'm impressed I didn't know you could do that," you chuckled, pulling Wanda in for a tight hug, "I didn't know I could do that either; ugh, I'm so sorry," she said, hiding her face in her hands again.

"Don't even worry about it; I'm not mad or anything; we just change the sheets, and end of story," you said, rubbing her back reassuringly. Wanda lifted her head up.

"Are you sure?" she choked up, hiding her face in your neck and wrapping her arms around your torso, "I'm positive, baby, don't worry," you whispered against her forehead.

"Now, let's get you cleaned up."

#wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff one shots #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff oneshot #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x f!reader #wanda maximoff x reader fluff #wanda maximoff x female reader #Wanda maximoff x reader smut #Wanda smut #Wanda maximoff smut #Wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda x y/n #mommy wanda #wanda maximilf #wanda marvel #wanda maximov #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch smut #marvel #jennys.work

[silkval]

♠】 find out what goes on behind the scenes with the darling of your choice!

send an ask with the name of your darling and the question numbers you would like answered, and you will get your request!☆

》 content desc/warnings

absolutely feral blade, like kneeling at ur feet n panting kinda feral, reserved-ish blade, reader does not hesitate to knock down blades ego (and he finds it hot), a little fluffy, but also mentions of corpses lol, …and fucking around said corpses, honestly not a lot of smut just suggestive, both reader and blades anatomy is not specified so go wild

Ⅱ 》 what is the strangest place they've had sex with you?

not exactly a place in particular, but- yknow, in front of a few… not-very-alive looking bodies. what? he couldn't help himself- how could he, when you just looked so damn good after a fight? chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, that sharp gleam in your eyes and a vicious snarl curled at your features… it took less than a beat before he was dropped on his knees in front of you, panting like a dog in heat and practically drooling as much as the surrounding corpses bled… safe to say that was certainly one of the most ‘messy’ lovemaking session you two indulged in.

Ⅲ 》 do they wear lingerie or anything special for you?

honestly, the guy is a little reserved- at least when he first met you. always stayed modest when training; wearing a plain compression shirt when training compared to some of his other colleagues who went shirtless, preferring to change within his own quarters than in the changing barracks, so its safe to say it took him a while to muster up the courage to start wearing more revealing casual wear around you. it started with the occasional silk blouse with a few buttons loose- flustered and nervous about his little attempt of showing off to you yet you'd never guess from his blank stare, aside from the faintest tint of red on his cheeks. but now? oh, he will not hesitate to show off- now, half the damn time you see him he’ll be shirtless; comfortable as ever in your presence, he absolutely bathes in your attention now with no shame.

Ⅳ 》 what is the one kink they have they will never admit they have?

…teasing. oh, does it get to him. since he's always in such a position of power (except with you, of course), he's used to never getting any backtalk or any kind of retaliation- so when he first heard your idle challenge of his skills, sly drawl in question of his abilities or a smug grin with a dare of him to prove himself- he went weak. you had expected a haughty retaliation or at least a roll of his eyes- but certainly not… this. your darling had esssentially just turned into a mess; pupils blown wide, lips holding a slight quiver and silent as ever- before hastily snapping out a jumbled reply as he averted his gaze although it was painfully obvious how affected he was by just a simple tease.

...did not expect that many asks 4 blade but I am so not complaining. he is such a loser and I luv writing for him

also tysm @sh1-n0bu!! i was so surprised to see ur username pop up in my inbox cuz I've looked up to your writings sososo much and oml you are such a sweetheart tysm💙💙

(also trying something out- just posting as usual instead of replying to an ask as the reach on my last post was. shiiit)

#【writings #dom reader #sub character #hsr smut #sub hsr #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #blade x reader #sub blade #blade hsr smut #blade smut #hsr blade

[frankcastlescumslut]

my girl

frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI!!! mentions of alcohol consumption, roleplay-ish, exhibitionism/voyeurism, mutual masturbation, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, soft dom!frank, degradation/praise kink, “daddy” and “sir”, overstimulation, squirting, breeding kink, cockwarming if you squint, little aftercare

summary: the game: no touching allowed

A/N: omg hey 🙈 it’s been a while! but I’m back! this is pure filth and I’m not ashamed! we all know Frank Castle would talk you through it!

COMMENTS/REBLOGS/LIKES ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED AND WELCOMED <;3

DONT COPY OR TRANSLATE MY SHIT.

It was one of those nights.

The kind where you and Frank attempted to pull your heads out of your asses after a shitty week and have fun for once.

He would argue that his version of fun was only found with a gun in his hand or kevlar strapped to his chest, and he truly meant it at one point, but that was before you, his girl, and he would do anything for his girl— even if it meant indulging you in your own fanatical definition of entertainment.

Your idea of fun, however, was a shitty dive bar that smelled like stale beer, wearing skimpy dresses that you found in adult stores, and pretending like you had never seen Frank a day in your life, imagining he was some hot shot trying to show you a good time.

It started off as a game. Frank didn’t get it at first, struggling with the idea that “pretending” wasn’t lying, it’s not lying, Frank. I still love you. It’s just a game, you have to convince me to come back home with you, but eventually it became a different challenge entirely— it was now healthy competition between the two of you, seeing who could last the longest without touching one another.

And it was one of those nights where you played dirty.

Wearing nothing but a silk slip that left nothing to the imagination and crotchless panties, you expertly navigated around the bar while the music bewitched you, leading you in different directions and drawing men towards your magnetic pull.

It didn’t take much for men to pay attention to you. You knew that, but more importantly, Frank knew that, and he was painfully aware of how alluring you were.

It was all fair game, and he let you have your fun, only finding comfort in knowing that he was the only one who could shove his face into your chest and cunt. That he was the only one that would take you home and pull moans out of you like it was his job. That he was the only one who could bury and empty himself into you and you would take all of it, because you were his girl.

Frank was more possessive than he led on, but it was the only consolation he had while playing your game. He ignored the few stray women that eventually found their way to him with ease. He didn’t enjoy their attention, it almost disgusted him, but he did appreciate the way your jealousy manifested itself.

You knew it was a game, that the blonde woman meant nothing to him, but the jealousy turned you into something else completely.

The envy mixed into the final swig of your drink and went down easily as it burned the back of your throat. The liquid courage warmed you enough to move, and you shuffled down from your perched stool with a fire stirring in your belly.

It wasn’t your fault that your purse conveniently fell from your shoulder, or the way your dress rose above your ass when you bent over to retrieve it, revealing your crotchless panties to the patrons of the bar. It also wasn’t your fault for the dog whistles that pierced through the music, the droopy eyed stares, or the coughing fit that Frank fell victim to as he choked on his beer.

You could practically taste victory, unable to hide the smirk that plastered against your cheeks as you collected your belongings, turning to face him. The win, however, was short lived, and your face fell when you caught his eye, unable to read his darkened expression.

Whether it was the churning alcohol or growing need between your thighs, you found the confidence to hold his gaze, paying attention to the way he slammed his beer back.

Fuck.

The game was over, that much was clear, and your heart hammered against your chest. Maybe you had gone too far this time. Maybe the panties were too much. Maybe he would understand if you apologized and forfeited this time. Maybe—

Fuck.

For a moment, you swore you faced the Punisher. He grew in size and stature, towering over you as he straightened, the random woman falling off of him in return. He was unreadable, almost threatening, but his façade flickered as he subtly nodded towards the door.

Fuck.

The tension was palpable. It practically trailed your wobbly stride as you found your way out of the bar, hiccuping down your anxiety. Frank followed your lead, silently stalking behind you. His presence was looming, and the silence was baiting your wanton anticipation.

“Frank,” you broke character, turning to face him.

His stride never faltered, and he beat you to the truck. “Frank, wait.”

“Ladies first.” The truck door swung open with a creak as Frank all but pulled it from its hinges, eager to usher you into your place.

You must’ve looked uneasy, tottering on the balls of your feet, and he took note of your lip tucked between your teeth.

“It’s okay,” he reassured you with a wink, holding out his hand to help you into your seat.

Yellow street lights hid the warmth in your cheeks as you softened beneath Frank’s gentleness, and you couldn’t help but hide a smirk as you made a final attempt to claim the last word at your own game.

The hem of your dress tickled the back of your thighs as you attempted to climb into the truck, only pausing to pull the rest of your dress over your hips. It was a lousy move given the circumstances— you pretending to busy yourself while exposing your dripping cunt for anyone in the parking lot to see, but you knew it would rile him up in a way that would benefit the both of you. Eventually.

“C’mon now, sweetheart,” Frank groaned at the sight before him, his own pants growing tighter while he studied the way your core glistened.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you quipped innocently. “I’m just looking for my phone.” You spread your legs ever so slightly, silently inviting him to have his way with you.

“That right?” He drew closer with slow, deliberate steps, knowing how much you enjoy the anticipation. It was exciting, and he was so close, and you were offering yourself to him, and the act was slipping…

“Cause I thought maybe it could be in here?” You jump as your purse lands in front of your face with a thud, bouncing in the driver's seat.

“Huh,” you let out an amused chuckle before Frank fit himself against your spread legs, a small gasp escaping your lips as he pressed himself into you, his bulge hitting your clit directly. “Probably is,” you whimpered, dropping your head as a silent thanks to the truck for providing a welcomed new height and angle.

“Probably is?” He questioned, his voice startling as his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. He’s careful not to kiss you fully, not wanting to break the rules of your game, and he forces his arms to land on either side of you, caging you beneath him.

You felt his chest heave against your back and you smile to yourself, relishing in your ability to unravel the Punisher, but the victory is short lived; he unfurls himself from your bent form before delicately pulling your dress back down to cover your ass.

“C’mon.” His palm landed against your supple flesh and you yelped at the unexpected contact. “Let me take you home.”

“I win!” You exclaimed, nearly hitting your head on the inside of the truck.

“What?” He cocked his head to the side with a loose smile.

“I win!” You twisted in your seat to face him, your smile radiating in the dark. “You touched me first. I win.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He playfully shut the door in your face and you laugh, watching his lip curl into a smile as he fakes his own disappointment.

The door to your bedroom thudded against your weight, the doorknob rattling as you blindly maneuvered your way into your room.

“Frank,” you moaned into his mouth, pulling him impossibly close while stumbling towards your bed. The mattress dipped below your combined weight, Frank hovering over your sprawled frame.

Your hands traveled the length of his body, studying every contour of muscle like you would lose him if he pulled away. “Touch me,” you whispered, catching him by surprise.

“Aht aht,” he laughs into your neck at your demand, his lips attaching to your steady pulse. “You know the rules, babydoll. You gotta finish first before I can touch you.”

“But,” you attempt to refute your own rules.

“You wanna act like a big girl? You can make yourself cum.” He places deliberate kisses down your neck, taking extra care to suck on your delicate skin. “You can do that for me, can’t you?”

It was so patronizing, the condescension sweet and sticky and so contrasting from the way he cradled your head, stroking your hairline before planting a kiss to your temple.

“Yes sir,” you submit willingly, whining when he peels himself away from you.

“Atta girl, you can do it,” he encourages you before settling on his side, adjusting comfortably into your mattress.

His eyes widened as you lifted yourself from the bed, pulling the billowy silk off of your frame before throwing it in his direction. You played into your short-lived victory, tracing your fingertips alongside the curves of your body and cupping your breasts together, letting a moan escape as your fingers brushed your hardened nipples.

It was obvious your ministrations affected Frank, and you watched as he pulled at his jeans, clearing his throat to conceal his grunt.

As much as you loved his response to your body, you can’t help but notice the way your breath catches in your throat while you watch him palm himself through the rough denim. It was a silent invitation for you to do the same, finally realizing how agonizing the ache in between your thighs had grown.

The elastic band of your barely there panties hadn’t made it around your fingers before Frank interrupted.

“Leave 'em on,” he huffed a laugh. “Ain’t hiding shit anyway.”

Your cheeks flushed at his enthusiasm, and you sheepishly found your place on the bed, your bare back resting against the headboard. It was only then when you realized how exposed you truly were, and you pressed your thighs together for some semblance of modesty.

“What’s the matter?” he teased. “You nervous or somethin’?”

“Mhm,” you nod your head, stifling a moan when your thighs instinctively clench together, adding just enough pressure against your already sensitive clit.

“Funny,” he chuckled, “cause you sure as hell weren’t shy before.” He was right, and you knew it, your skin consequently growing warm as he spotlighted your cheap plays at winning. “So go on,” he continues, “show me how a pretty whore like you wants to be touched.”

The expletive took you by surprise, but you obeyed shamelessly. Eagerly. Spreading your legs open as an offering to the man who watched just a few feet away as your fingers dipped between your thighs, pressing gently against your clit.

“Fuck,” you moaned, your lip finding its place between your teeth.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” Frank cooed towards you, his tongue darting across his bottom lip while his eyes flash between your scrunched face and drenched fingertips.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“What was that?” He goaded.

“Yes, daddy,” you correct yourself. “Feels… so good.”

He moaned alongside you, grunting as he pulled himself out of the confines of his pants. You watched unabashedly as he spit into his palm before pumping his already weeping cock, the sight only pushing you closer towards your orgasm.

You made no attempts at hiding your pleasure.

“Fuck,” you whined, grinding your hips as your fingers circled your clit.

“There you go, that’s it,” Frank matched your pace, stroking his length as he spurred you on. “That’s my good girl, makin’ that pussy feel so good for daddy.”

“It feels so good,” your head fell against the headboard with a thud, but you hardly noticed. His gaze felt like fire creeping up your body as he studied you with anticipation. “I’m close,” you squeaked.

“Yeah? You’re doin’ so good, pretty girl,” he praised.

Your fingers worked tirelessly as you chased the familiar feeling, and you held your breath as the pressure grew.

“Attagirl, look at you. Just like that,” he bit his own lip while fisting his cock. “Be a good girl and cum for me.

“I’m gonna cum,” you croak out, too busy concentrating on the budding climax to notice the way Frank savored your rising chest and your fingers working your dripping cunt.

“That’s it, cum for daddy.”

It was overwhelming and you were unprepared for his attention, all but crying out as he expertly ran a thick finger between your folds before plunging into you. He hooked himself to your core while manually pulling your orgasm from your body, never breaking a steady rhythm.

“Fuck, don’t stop!” Your body stiffened and you held onto Frank’s forearm as your pleasure uncoiled and gushed from your core.

There was no time to process what happened or to even catch your breath; he clasped onto your ankles, pulling you closer to him before he delved into your wetness, collecting all of you on his tongue, suctioning his lips around your swollen clit.

“Frank!” you jumped at the sensitivity.

“Taste so good sweetheart,” he adjusted accordingly, continuing his languid strokes and moaning into the taste of your pussy.

You can’t help but ride out your high and grind against his tongue as he laps up the remnants of your orgasm, shuddering at each flick of his tongue against your clit.

It was too much and not enough all at the same time. He was close, but you needed him closer.

“I want you,” you reached down, pulling him to your lips. He moaned as your teeth nipped and sucked at his lower lip, savoring the taste of your arousal.

“What’s that?” He baited you, all but ripping his clothes from his body.

“I, fuck-“ you moaned as he lightly tapped his heavy cock against your swollen nub before trailing himself through your folds. “I want you, Frankie.”

“You do?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“I don’t really believe you, sweet girl,” he softened ever so slightly at the name, and you almost believed he would be merciful and indulge you, but his jaw tightened and his expression hardened in front of you. “Beg for it.”

Although deserved, it was a cruel, cruel punishment.

“I want you to fuck me,” you began, jutting your hips towards his cock sliding against you. “I want you to use me.”

He moaned at that— the way you submitted yourself to him, spreading your legs further apart to tease him into submission, waiting for him to break.

“I want you to fill me up and make me yours,” you snaked your hand between your bodies and guided his cock into your drenched cunt.

A hiss filled the room as he buried himself into you in one motion, and you groaned at the sudden sensation. He met your every need and ache, leaving you breathless and with double vision. Completely entranced by the delicious fullness.

“This what you wanted?” He growled into your ear, his body hovering over yours as he thrusted with precision. “Wanted me to use you like a good little slut?”

Your response was guttural, and you grabbed onto any part of him, pulling him in for more, more, more.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” his lips brushed the soft curve of your neck. “Like that pussy was just made for me, ain’t that right?”

Of course it was right, every fiber of your being screamed out for him. He was insatiable, and it would never be enough.

“S-so good,” you stuttered through chattering teeth, attempting to focus your gaze on his face. “Feels so good, you feel so good.”

“God, look at you,” he cooed. “Already fucked out, huh? Have you had enough, sweetheart?”

You almost said yes; each thrust of his hips was a coordinated attack against your g spot, and you were debilitated, barely able to conjure words, let alone sentences.

“No,” you mustered. “Need you to use me, please.”

His brows creased together, your request causing him to teeter towards his own pleasure.

“You’re doin’ so good for me. Takin me like such a good girl,” he spit on his fingers before rubbing circles over your clit. “Want you to cum with me. Can you do that?”

“Mhm,” you didn’t think it was possible, but dammit you would try. You squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to draw the scattered pieces of your brain together to revel in his movements, becoming pliable in his hands.

“That’s it,” he grunted, enjoying the sight of his length disappearing into your dripping pussy. “Takin’ me so well, that’s my girl.”

You moaned at his praise, relishing in the way he claimed you both physically and verbally. He knew you were close, and you knew he was closing in on his precipice. He could feel the way you pulsed around him, beckoning his own release, and he gave into you completely.

“Cum for me, daddy.”

It came out so sweet he thought he imagined it.

“Keep talkin’ like that and I will,” he squeezed his eyes shut as if it would prolong the pleasure.

“Cum in my pussy, please. I need you.” You whimpered as you replaced his fingers with your own, chasing your own release while cupping his neck to bring his lips to yours. “So close,” you whined.

“‘Want daddy to fill that pretty pussy up, hm?” He mumbled into your open mouth.

“Yes sir.”

You were so close. It was right there.

“Be a good girl and cum with me.”

The room erupted in a cacophony of moans and you were sure flames had licked your skin. Your thighs shook against their will as your orgasm rolled over you, radiating between your bodies.

“Attagirl, there it is.” Frank admired the way your body responded to him, the way you clung to him while your eyes rolled back and your mouth hung agape. You were so beautiful sprawled out, and he gripped onto your fleshy hips, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“Fuck!” He groaned into the side of your neck as you pulsed around him, his thrusts growing sloppy before he spilled into you.

There was a moment of clarity between your blissful haze where you became aware of his presence, and the incessant need to have him closer overshadowed everything.

“So good,” you cupped his face, ignoring the way his stubble tickled your palms before pressing your trembling lips to his.

“So good,” he repeated, his nose pressing into yours while your lips met. “Did so good for me.”

He carefully pulled himself from you, never breaking the kiss even as you hissed. He simply ran a large hand along your head before looking over you.

“You okay sweetheart?”

You gave a drowsy, heavy-lidded smile with a shaky thumbs up from beneath him and he chuckled before placing a chaste kiss along your sternum and settling on top of you.

The added weight was welcomed and comforted you, acting as some grounding agent to bring you back together. It was the same for Frank; he clung to you, his arms wrapping around your fleshy frame while his fingertips pressed into you, memorizing each curve and contour of your body.

You followed suit, running your fingertips along the lines of muscles and splatters of raised scars before lazily squeezing him. He hummed when you grazed your nails along his scalp and nestled into your chest accordingly.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” you sleepily confess.

“Don’t worry bout it.”

“You’re not upset?”

“Nah.” His eyes remained closed, much to your confusion.

You were quiet for a moment, not fully understanding his answer. He knew you were quizzical. He didn’t need to look at you to know your face was scrunched and your eyebrows creased while you attempted to do the mental math behind his answer.

“Ain’t mad cause you’re my girl,” he beat you to it. “Unless you got somethin’ to tell me.” You could feel his smile against your chest.

“No I don’t,” you relaxed. “I’m your girl.”

#frank castle #frank castle smut #soft!dom frank castle #frank castle x female reader #the punisher #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader smut #the punisher smut #the punisher fanfiction

[charles-leclerizz]

Rapid Fire Challenge: Aisha vs. Max

Aisha and Max go head-to-head in a rapid-fire question challenge. With only seconds to answer each question, they'll reveal fun facts, preferences, and more. Who will come out on top?

reading time : 8 mins 15 seconds

word count : 1.6 k [ 1650 words ]

warnings : swearing, lewd and suggestive wording, crack, not proof read

Masterlist · 🪷 Aisha · 🪷 Porsche F1 Team · 🪷

" What the fuck are you wearing?" Max looked Aisha up and down, his trademark red bull can clattering into the hollow bin next to him as he watched Aisha run a confused hand down her front before glancing cautiously back up at him.

She arched a brow at him and tugged at her strapless top, " clothes ? "

Max snorted and reached out to poke her slightly exposed mid-driff, " or lack thereof . "

Was the aggravating man wrong? Perhaps not.

In Aisha's opinion, it was a perfectly splendid ensemble. Another one of her brand parter's had generously offered her a two piece outfit, a long, flowing silk skirt that shimmered a classic Porsche silver- paired with a tight cotton, corset top that accentuated her chest with a ruffled middle piece of taffeta.

To others, it may seem over the top.

" You have the same outfit everyday. it's like you're trying to be an NPC ." Aisha plucked at his red-bull jersey with a scrunched up nose, " it's not my fault that brands love to gift me pretty things and you… well . " she fluttered her fingers at his slightly-looser-than-normal tight jeans.

" Hmm .. " he hummed, tempted to flick the stack of dainty, amrapali golden chains that sat delicately on her collarbones, " whatever you say. I'm sure Lando appreciates your outfit . "

" And what's that meant to mean ? "

" - Excuse me ? "

" Just saying - "

" Saying what ? Are you just jealous that I can pull of colours unlike you, who stays about monochromatic as a pair of granny panties . "

" Woah-h-h, big words for miss 'I'm here cause I couldn't get a modeling gig ' "

" - Excuse me ? "

" Oh, just because I have the assets - " she gestured at her breasts and face, "- to do modelling, you're bitter ? don't worry, we can get you a push up bra from Forever 21. You'll fit right in"

" Excuse me ? "

" - What ? "

" - What ? "

" We're ready for you, " an onset assistant, who looked too scandalised for her own good, motioned for them to step into the filming room.

They mouthed silent insults and unnecessarily pointed to one another, as they pushed through the inconveniently small door.

" And… we're stuck. this is all your fault max . " aisha hissed, crossing her arms as selflessly as she could muster whilst being pressed chest to chest with an equally uncomfortable Dutchman who propped a palm up- just above the crown of her head on the short doorway.

" my fault ? " he retorted, face growing redder with each second they spent sharing breath, " you're the one with india's remaining crown jewels on her person ."

" well maybe if your entitled ancestors didn - "

" oh shut up, it was the british and you know it . "

Luckily, the assistant had noticed their predicament and rushed over to undo the deadbolt lock to the second door, allowing the two to stumble away from each other.

They had thankfully remained silent as the rest of the filming crew grew more and more entertained with their squabbling, merely following the polite instructions and taking their seats as denoted by the white, masking tape markers stuck onto the plush seats.

" ROLLING "

" Welcome back everyone to a new season of formula 1 ! " the chirpy interview babbled to the largest camera before turning to the drivers who sat in line with her, watching her neutrally as they both accepted small, clip on microphones.

" Today we have … " she trailed off, giggling at Aisha who struggled to slip on the clasp of the tech in her hand, the plastic mechanism clacking obnoxiously at each failed attempt.

" Max, from our very own red bull garage ," she turned to max, who was already set himself up and was now sitting straighter in his tufted, indigo seat. He waved at the camera and politely smiled.

The interviewer glanced at Aisha as she victoriously gasped and raised her hands happily when the microphone stayed put, tucked between her skin and top, " … and aisha, rookie of the season down from porsche . "

Aisha waved at the camera, a serene smile playing on her lips.

" We're here to play a quick fire round of questions with the grids current champion , " she gestured to max, " and this years fresh meat . " she pointed her stack of cards at aisha.

" I'll be asking you both questions about each other, and whoever guesses correctly the fastest, will win a point . it's all about testing if your racing chemistry translates to real-life friendship ! "

" What friendship ? " max deadpanned, fiddling with his fingers.

" Can we do this one thing without you letting people know you hate me ? or is it too hard for the 3X world champion to multi-task ? "

The interviewer's eyes ping-ponged between them before her grin became artificially wider and she screeched a shrill, " Let's begin ! "

" alright max, what is aisha's favourite track to race ? "

the driver jumped at his name and the camera lens zoomed into his determined expression as he glanced between aisha's anticipatory face and the air, as if he were begging the particles for the answer.

" one second "

" she's said this before.. " he tried, clapping his hands nervously.

" i have, " aisha shrugged, egging him on.

" it was one of those times where she wouldn't shut up. "

" two seconds "

" come on max, it's so easy, i've raced there in f2 as well ... "

" yeah- cause i had the f2 races on while i was training, "

" three seconds "

" wow you're bad at this, " aisha huffed out, landing back against her chair with a relaxed flop.

max bounced his knee, forcibly shutting his eyes and harshly pressing his fingers into them as he pieced together his answer, " it's... shit... is it ?.. suzuka ? "

"- oh for fuck sake ! "

" - you are correct ! one point to max "

CURRENT SCORE : 0 - 1

" okay, aisha, If max could race in any era of Formula 1, past or present, which one would she choose ? "

" how come i get the piss hard one ? "

" cause you'll never actually get hard otherwise.." max mumbled.

" oh fuck off. "

" language guys, our editors aren't paid enough to censor all of this ."

aisha hooked her ankles together before leaning forward and hummed thoughtfully, " maybe... i don't think he's even mentioned this..." she plucked at her dangling earring as she continued to oscillate in recollection.

he shrugged, " i don't think i have actually."

" one second "

" wait... wait..." aisha hurried out, holding her palm out, " i have to choose wether he's too egotistical for my geuss.."

" oh please, " max sassed, " take your time, i'm sure my ego has alot to dissect. "

aisha scrunched up her face sourly, " yeah it does- like your unsolved daddy issues. "

" always the daddy issues ." he threw his hands up, " atleast be creative."

" two seconds "

" okay okay, hmmm, the 2021 season ? " aisha screwed her eyes shut, just incase she was wrong, " he would love to relive his first WDC . "

" that is..." the interviewer patted her legs quickly, continously creating a monotonous beating sound, " correct ! point to aisha . "

CURRENT SCORE : 1 - 1

" last one for max, if he gets this one, he wins, if not, then aisha gets a chance . "

max nodded determinedly, his mouth set in a hard line, "ready."

" wow, okay, " the interviewer gawked at his statue-like intensity, " uhm, what is aisha's pre-race ritual . "

aisha kicked her chin up, ready to watch max blubber over his last question, nobody knows her pre-race ritual, she was diligent enough to keep it hidden.

" so, i know she calls her parents around.. an hour before the race, " he paused mid-way to grin like a cheshire at her increasingly suspicious look, " and, i also know she has a playlist she listens to, mostly hozier.. but, without fail she.." max snaps his fingers, the final peice flickering to life like a broken tube light, "... she always.. can i say this ? "

aisha's face popped, cheeks flushing dangerously quickly, " can he ? "

" i.." the interviewer looked out the small tech crowd behind the camera who all gave her the same, confused shrug, ushering her to continue, " i assume so."

" she always wears.. ehm.. a pair of white underwear ." he mumbles the last phrase, avoiding eye-contact with anyone within the room whilst scratching the back of his neck.

" max ! " aisha smacked his shoulder in outrage, "wha- i mean why- but how ? " she spat out, her words merging within eachother until they tumbled out in an unintelligble spew.

" we didn't get that, she wears what ? "

" white.. undergarments, " max hesitantly answered.

the interviewer blinked a few times before gulping heavily and clearing her throat, " well thats a gross violation ! but let's just gloss over that. "

CURRENT SCORE : 1 - 2

" and for the sake of not continuing this hell-game, max is the winner. congratulations. " she clapped her hand gently against her queue cards.

"yeah.. well done.. bro " aisha muttered, dissociating from her surroundings to protect herself from further embarrassment that may just allow her already erratic heart to jump out of her ribcage.

" i don't feel like a winner," max joined her monotone lilt, eyes wide and wet, maintaing an unwwavering stare at the white wall that stood proud behind the myriad of wires.

MUTUALS GET INSTANT TAGS [@vroomvroomcircuit, @disneyprincemuke, @verstappen-cult, @starkwlkr, @sailing-with-100-ships, @foreveralbon, @lorarri], OTHERS [@weekendlusting, @woozarts, @mellowarcadefun, @paintedbypoetry, @33-81, @kazuha-pista-badam, @inejghafawifesblog,d3kstar, @itsjustkhaos, @tremendousstarlighttragedy, @xoscar03,@nichmeddar, @sisinever], IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE SEND IN AN ASK !

#f1 #f1 fanfiction #Max Verstappen #Max Verstappen imagine #Max Verstappen fanfic #Max Verstappen fluff #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 fic #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1 x female reader #f1 fluff #f1 smut #f1blr #[darlingwrites] #[formulaforlove]

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐀 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐰𝐨, 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

They said fate worked in mysterious ways; the strings of destiny plucked and pulled and snapped at the leisure of those they controlled, but not you. The delicacy in which you handled the woven web was forever unseen and unprecedented, and your patience was to be rewarded in a way you least expected.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ʚɞ Modern!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ʚɞ 4.3k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ʚɞ Fluff, angst and emotional conflict, protective Bucky, perceived unrequited feelings, big confessions ჻჻჻ TROPES: And they were roommates, oblivious best friends to lovers, my own take on soulmates, mutual pining

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ʚɞ Something that I have not attempted before now — for @sebstanwhore. 💜

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ʚɞ What Was I Made For? by Billie Eilish ʚɞ Only by RY X ʚɞ Let's Hurt Tonight by OneRepublic ʚɞ illicit affairs by Taylor Swift

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ʚɞ @anyfandomfluffbingo 𝗚𝟰 — Roommates — Masterlist ʚɞ @sebastianstanbingo 𝗕𝟭 — Idiots to Lovers — Masterlist

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It had been this way for as long as you could remember. 

For years, you crushed hard on Bucky — the man that had been your rock, your partner in crime since childhood. So rare it was to have a connection from so long ago, let alone be as formidable as the two of you were. Interwoven and weaved together stronger than steel. 

Time had wound you both so close together that wherever one went, the other followed; always joined at the hip. 

It was only natural that in the end, you found an apartment together, becoming roommates and best friends — facing the challenges of life together. 

Through the time that you spent with Bucky, day in and day out for all of those years and up to now, your affections and attempts at flirting with the man that held your heart were brushed off or they flew over his head completely. 

Bucky was oblivious like that. For all of his charm, his wit and intelligence, the man could be thick. 

And that was how, after psyching yourself up for weeks, you landed in the dating scene. It was a long shot, but you figured if Bucky wouldn’t (or couldn’t) pick up what you were putting down, you were at least going and getting out there — even if your heart and soul was already taken by the man that lay haphazardly sprawled over your bed, staring at you with a disapproving scowl. 

“Nope, no, you– Why don’t you wear those jeans?” Bucky huffed, exasperated after you threw the umpteenth pair of dress pants over your shoulder, only for them to land directly on his handsome face. “Boo, c’mon,” he groaned as he pulled the fabric off of his face. “You’re gonna look amazing no matter what.”

At the use of your nickname reserved only for him, you looked over your shoulder and frowned. “I have to look good. I have to.”

Bucky sighed and rolled off the bed, his stature broad and muscled as ever. The tattoos that covered his arms and hands distracted your train of worry, and you stared as he neared; more artistry visible from the collar of his shirt to spread up one side of his neck. 

“C’mere,” he said, and you felt his hands grab ahold of yours. The touch he provided you ground you back on earth; the proximity reassuring, more than any words would be able to replicate. 

You could feel his eyes as he searched your body, the subtle way he picked up your cues or anxiety and dread, and you felt that there was no way you could meet his gaze — the intensity of it burned your skin while you stared determinedly down at his hands, observing with a keen eye how his deft fingers felt running over the skin of your palms, and how his rough, callused thumbs ran over your knuckles. 

“Honey.” His deep voice was softer than silk. “Can you look at me?”

You took a deep breath to steel yourself. From his hands, you looked up into his eyes — they swam with untold emotion, raw and unbridled in his adoration, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have sworn that was how he would look at a lover. That thought did nothing to quell the roiling nausea in the pit of your stomach.

“There y’are, my pretty girl,” he cooed, smiling. “What’s got you all upset, huh?”

That it’s not you I’m going on a date with, you answered in your mind. Before that thought could be spoken aloud, you replied, “I’m just nervous.” 

The nervous waver in your voice made you grimace, and you cursed. 

Bucky sighed. “That’s normal, Boo—you’re gonna knock ‘em dead. They’re not gonna know what’s hit ‘em.” 

An ache, intense and painful, bloomed within your chest, and it consumed your heart whole. From the safety of your mind, you screamed out for him to just see; to know what you were thinking. 

The courage to speak up had long ago waned and worn thin, vanishing with the days that passed.

“Okay,” you whispered, and you took your hands from his to turn your back on him. The litany of cries that built up in your throat only blocked by the tears that threatened to beat them — Bucky was looking at you with the adoration of a best friend watching their partner in crime strike out and try something new, you reminded yourself. 

A heavy, poignant silence filled the room while you shuffled around your closet for that perfect outfit, but you did your best to ignore it — the internal war to determinedly keep your shoulders straight and your breathing even was close to impossible, but you put every last ounce of effort into it. 

You weren’t to see the way Bucky’s eyes clouded over, or how low his shoulders slumped in defeat; the way his heart cracked just a little bit more behind you. 

His heart knew, and so did yours. It was only a matter of time, they whispered — unseen, but oh so wise.

The next day, you awoke with the sun — golden rays peaked through the blinds of your window. You yawned and sat up to look around your bedroom and the state it was left in from the night before. It had been rough, the date far less than ideal or any semblance of fun, but the sanctuary of your space healed what sadness you felt. 

Your bed was strewn with soft, comfortable pillows and blankets. The bookshelves along one wall were full to the brim with books and knick knacks you’d accumulated over the years. 

One of which in particular stood out. The smooth, clear glass of the statue shone in the morning light, but the structure was unaffected by the golden glow in its beauty — a pair of jellyfish, intertwined while they danced, stood proud at the front of one of the larger shelves. 

Right next to it sat a framed photograph of Bucky and you. It was taken when you first moved into the apartment. 

Bucky stood behind you, his head next to yours while his arms wrapped around your middle to hug you tight — the grin that pulled at his lips was priceless with its show of joy. Brown hair covered his forehead in stray strands that stuck to his forehead, and the rest flowed down his neck. 

You could see the unpacked boxes behind the two of you in the background — it had been a scorching day and Bucky insisted on being the one to bring them all in, much to your annoyance. You remembered making him the biggest drink to help him feel better once he collapsed onto the couch in what was now your living room. 

The memory was one of your favourites; it never failed to make you smile. And if you could still feel the ghost of his lips on your cheek after he said, “We did it, honey, we fuckin’ did it,” you weren’t going to share that with anyone. 

Your gaze shifted to yourself in the photo — exhaustion was evident in the bags under your eyes, after so many late nights from stress and packing, Bucky never failed in his mission to cheer you up. Then, you looked at your mouth, and you found yourself imitating the blinding smile you flashed at the camera. 

Longing pulled at your heart, the ache of it far too real and material to ignore. 

The sudden sound of pans moving in the kitchen caught your attention, followed by the low hum of the fridge while it was opened and closed, then the sizzle of a frying pan over the cooker. You looked at the clock on your bedside drawers and saw it was still early — the reminiscent memories felt like they had taken hours from your day. 

“Breakfast,” you mumbled sleepily. The covers shifted as you sat up and rubbed your eyes from the sleep that formed overnight. 

“And if the sun starts setting,” a deep voice sang from the kitchen, “The sky goes cold, then if the clouds get heavy and start to fall.”

You froze — the world continued on its axis as though it hadn’t left you behind, reeling to comprehend what you were hearing. “Bucky?” you mouthed confusedly, and you strained your ears to hear the rest of what he was singing.

“I really need somebody to call my own, I wanna be somebody to someone,” he continued quietly. “And if you feel like night is falling, I wanna be the one you're calling; 'cause I believe that you could lead the way.”

Did Bucky really just–? The song died away just as you heard footsteps approaching your door from the hallway. “Shit.” You schooled your expression into something you hoped was neutral after the disorientating disbelief of what you heard. 

The door handle rattled gently as Bucky gripped it on the other side, then he knocked softly. “Boo? You awake?” It creaked open. “I’m makin’ breakfast–”

“Hey,” you rasped, still sleep-addled. “I’ll be out in a bit—thanks, Buck.”

Bucky peered around the now open door, and his expression lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning. “Hey, you,” he greeted, and he stepped into your room to lean on the door frame. “How was last night, honey? You got back pretty late.”

“You waited up for me?” 

He nodded. “‘Course I did—I didn’t wanna step in on the happy glow after a date, so I just made sure you got to bed alright, that’s all. You’re not exactly a quiet one,” he teased with a wink.

Heat crept up your neck at his thoughtfulness and playful comment, but you powered on. “Oh– Oh, well, it was alright, I guess,” you offered. 

Bucky raised a brow and inclined his head, willing you to go on. 

“Actually, I ended up–” You hesitated, clearing your throat. There was no way of knowing how he would react to what happened, and it made you nervous for what he would say — always so protective, he was. 

“There was a reason for that,” they whispered while they watched from above.

“I ended up, uh– Walking off, you know, away from them.”

The billowing silence that filled the room after your admission faltered your explanation and you fell quiet, unable to explain anymore of what happened. 

Bucky stood frozen in the doorway. “I’m sorry—I, uh– I can’t have heard you right, Boo. Say that again?”

In one breath, you said, “I walked off—away from them—because they wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise and I got sick of it.”

He advanced slowly, footsteps muffled and quiet over the floor. “What?”

“I know and I’m sorry–”

“Why the hell didn’t you call me!” Bucky exclaimed, his bright eyes wide. He gestured at himself and said, “I would have come and got you—you know that I would do anything for you!” The panic in his voice truly didn’t fit the situation and you stared at him, dumbstruck by the fear in his voice. “I– I can’t believe you didn’t call–”

He seemed lost for words as he ran his hands through his hair. “I would have run–”

“Bucky, please,” you rushed, holding a hand out towards his heaving chest to soothe him. “Please, it’s okay. I’m alright. Besides, I have a date tonight with someone better—well, I hope they are.” 

The sharp stare that he gave you at the reveal of your plans shocked you to your core. It was full of hurt; a sadness that you would give anything to never see again. “What–?”

He shook his head, the soft strands of his hair covering his face for a brief moment. “Nothin’, honey. I’m just glad you’re home.” There was a pause as he turned back towards the hallway; a flash of something in his eyes, but what, you could not fathom. “C’mon you, breakfast.” 

There was another heavy, sombre silence as you watched Bucky retreat towards the kitchen. 

The change in Bucky’s attitude made you frown with worry. He was the stronger one of the two of you, that you knew for certain — always steadfast and strong, unwavering in his determination, and this outburst made no sense. He never, ever reacted this way before to any news of a potential date or night out, and the fact that he started now was far too confusing and overwhelming to comprehend. 

“To hell with this,” you muttered, and you threw off the covers to get up and get dressed for the battle that awaited you — to get to the bottom of this, you realised, you’d need a warm drink, and some of the breakfast he was preparing. 

Rather than dressing in your own clothes, you threw one of Bucky’s shirts over your undergarments and smiled softly as the worn, soft fabric brushed against your skin — a calculated move. 

The strong smell of your favourite warm drink wafted down the hallway, enticing you onwards towards the kitchen, where the clang of pots and pans sounded. You slowly padded towards the counter to fetch it, but when Bucky saw you approach from around the corner, he briefly hesitated. “What time do you go–? To your date tonight, I mean,” he asked before he quickly turned away from you. 

You narrowed your eyes at the back of his head, where his hair fell loose and long down his neck. “Uh– It’s at six, I think.” The warmth of the drink made you feel a little better while you sipped at it. “I can check in a bit, if you want.”

Bucky hummed and flipped a pancake. “And what are you two doin’?”

The mug made a quiet thump when you placed it down on the counter next to you. “They’re taking me to a Christmas fair—the market in the park?”

“I know the one,” he mumbled, and he didn’t elaborate or continue. 

You stared at his broad back, watching as his shoulders flexed and relaxed beneath his shirt while he worked resolutely on preparing breakfast. Suspicion lurked in the corners of your mind — why was he suddenly so interested? 

An infinitesimal flicker of hope from his driven curiosity sparked itself to life in your stomach, and you tried your hardest to stomp it out, though it proved difficult. Quietly, you asked, “Are you asking me all this because you’re curious, or–?”

There was no reply — only the sound of the pan in his hand shuffling over the burner and the simmer of pancake batter. 

You cleared your throat and stepped closer to him. “Buck–?”

“Nothing.”

“What–?” you stammered, and you placed a hand on the back of his shoulder. Your heart seized like a vice had fastened around it when he stiffened under the soft touch. “Bucky, what’s wrong? You’re acting strange—has something happened?”

“No,” Bucky said tightly, and he shrugged off your hand. That alone had you close to tears. “It’s almost ready, go get–”

“Bucky.” 

Stormy blue eyes met yours, and you were shocked to see such a mix of fierce emotions swimming in the depths of his normally stoic gaze. “What?” he snapped.

“Talk to me,” you urged, “What’s wrong?”

Bucky turned back to the stove top, determinedly continuing on with his cooking. “It– It’s nothin’, I promise. Can you pick a movie to watch while we eat?”

The walls he built to protect himself from outsiders were rapidly falling into place against you, blocking you from all of what you knew and loved. The pain of such a realisation made you back off; tears in your eyes as you stepped back from his presence to lean against the counter. 

There were no triggers that would make him act so brash, not from what you could parse or define from the past day or night; not any that you witnessed or heard.

“Okay,” you said shortly, and you frowned at him while you walked away. 

The two mugs, one of them yours and the other Bucky’s, were warm against your palms while you carried them into the living room. Steam curled in the air under your nose, and you breathed in the spiced scent of Bucky’s drink. From the corner of your eyes, you saw the Christmas tree in the corner of the room as it twinkled, the lights winking and dancing in ignorance of the pain that filled your heart.

Now out of Bucky’s eyeline, you turned and stared at where he would be standing at the stove top. The heat of your stare was weak against the walls he built; unable to pierce through the foundations of his anxieties, nor barrel through them like a wrecking ball to expose the cause. 

To see Bucky in such a state of distress plucked at the strings of your heart, and you couldn’t help but feel as though you were to blame — the thought was absurd, but it did not stop the burning broil of shame and anger in your stomach. “Nope, no,” you murmured, squaring your shoulders and balling your hands into fists. “I won’t let this go.”

Your feet carried you towards the kitchen, blissfully ignorant of the way your heart pounded in your chest; a rhythm you were sure that couldn’t last.  

Bucky was leaning on the counter, his tattooed hands either side of the stove top, and his fingers, a few adorned with shining, silver rings, were still on the counter. His head hung low between his shoulders that shook minutely from aborted breaths.

“Bugs?” He didn’t move; the nickname did not even stir a reaction.

“I know you’re hurting,” you continued cautiously, and you stepped closer, replacing your hand on his shoulder to rub up and down his back. “Talk to me—let me help.”

“You can’t,” Bucky croaked, his voice strained and oh so pained — like glass was lodged in his throat. “Just– Just go into the living room. I’ll bring the food in a minute.”

“No. No, Buck.” You stepped closer, plastering your front to his side. “Don’t push me out, honey, please.”

Something shattered in his expression, and his bottom lip trembled — a sight you never wanted to see again. And he broke. “Oh, sweetheart,” you whispered, and you pulled him closer to place your forehead against his temple, so your breath fanned over his stubbled cheek. “What’s happened?”

The urge to protect and soothe well in practice now, and you felt the muscles in his face move, as though he was saying something. You couldn’t hear it over the blood roaring in your ears from adrenaline. “I didn’t catch that, honey,” you said softly, stepping impossibly closer. “What was that?”

The next words that fell from Bucky’s mouth tore your still beating heart from your chest. “Please get off me.”

You flinched and stepped back. A vicious, all-consuming ache in your chest took hold, and you stared, wide-eyed and tearful, at the side of Bucky’s head. “Why are you acting like this?” you pressed, still staring hard at him — the way he was breaking apart before you was as tragic as a car accident but you could not look away. “What’s happened to you? Did you have a nightmare–? Did someone say something?”

Bucky’s tattooed, callused hand moved to wipe his eyes, and he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Just– Please,” he implored, glancing at you then back down at the pan on the stove. “Go get a movie or a show goin’—I don’t care which.”

The frustration boiled over. “Like hell I will,” you snapped. “Not when my best friend is pushing me out—I won’t leave you to wallow, Bucky.”

He groaned and hung his head. “You and your fuckin’ stubbornness, I swear–” 

“You swear what, James?”

The look he shot you was full of a bitterness that did not belong on his handsome face. “Don’t do that–”

“Let me help you,” you interrupted, and you felt the claws of desperation sinking deep, gauging marks on your frail heart; the strength of it obvious in your shaky voice. “Please. I just want you to be–”

For a single second, you swore you saw Bucky’s body shift and turn inwards, protecting himself, but when you blinked a budding trail of tears back and it was gone — replaced by his posturing and an expression you could not decipher in your franticness. 

It was inevitable that as best friends that the two of you would fight, argue, even disagree heatedly. There had been many times in the past you both had made up and returned to being like you always were, joined at the hip and inseparable, but something broke. 

The damage felt well beyond what you thought you could repair, the finality of his hurt the final nail in the coffin, and hell… 

There was, not for a moment, where you would not go down without a fight. You held his stare fiercely and started to demand, “What–” 

And to your absolute surprise, he held up his hand to stop you and your tirade. The audible click of your jaw as it shut against the words that threatened to spill over echoed around the kitchen.  

Bucky stared into your face, his stormy eyes flickering between your own. “You wanna know what I want?” The anger in his tone was something you had never heard from him; always so softly spoken with you, he had never raised his voice when he addressed you. “Do you?”

“Yes,” you replied. “I’m worried about you. You never, ever act like this and it’s scaring me, Bucky—it’s scaring me, you’re scaring me!”

The silence that followed your words and admittance of fear reverberated off of the kitchen walls, figuratively gauging the paint and cupboards and tearing it all to pieces. 

Bucky opened his mouth, his lips parting in a grimace. “Boo– Fuck.” His hands combed through his hair, the tattoos on his fingers peeking through the strands; the rings glinted from the downlights above him. “Fuck.”

Raw, pure emotion pounded through your veins, unfiltered and unwanted — he was hurting, and here you were, selfishly digging to find the cause. 

The blue of his eyes turned grey while tears built along his own lashes. 

Your heart was in your throat, forcing its way up to land in your hands, an offering to him. 

Take it, it’s yours. 

“Please, please tell me how to help– I can’t let you hurt anymore,” you begged quietly, looking into his face. You stretched out a hand, and Bucky took it. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t tell you,” he rasped, wincing at the sound of his own voice. “Not now—I can’t do it.”

You frowned at him. “It’s okay, Buck—tell me what’s wrong so I can help–”

“Because–” Bucky hissed, cutting you off abruptly. Even louder, he continued, “Because all I have ever fuckin’ wanted was you!”

The claxon-loud silence rang so sharply in your ears that you flinched. 

Never before had you heard Bucky shout — never before had you seen the tears stream down his cheeks to collect at his collarbones, staining the collar of his shirt. 

Never before did you think that you would hear the words you dreamed of; not now, not ever. 

Your lips moved before your mind could catch up. “You– You want me?”

Bucky looked at you, really looked at you, and you realised that he was staring at you with something akin to wonder, a deep fondness like you were the stars in the sky; the lights on a tree at Christmas time — the very same one in the living room. 

“I’ve wanted you for so fuckin’ long,” he answered finally. “I’ve just been too much of a fuckin’ coward to say it.”

Blinking back tears, you screwed up your face with a self-loathing that burned hotter than a wildfire. “So, every time I went on a date with someone else–”

“You didn’t know,” Bucky whispered. “How could you have known if I didn’t say shit? How could you have known that I thought you were the one for me if I kept my mouth fuckin’ shut ‘cause I was scared?”

Tears tracked down your cheeks freely, the restraint vanishing as fast as your composure, and you swallowed thickly. “I didn’t know–” You coughed from the sudden parchedness in your throat. “Why–? Why didn’t you tell me?”

He didn’t answer; you rambled on. “I– I wish I knew, I have kept it hidden– Oh, god, Bucky, I’m so–”

Your words — an apology you felt was desperately needed — were cut off by Bucky’s lips on yours. His hands cupped your face, the pads of his thumbs brushing your cheeks to wipe away your tears. 

It was a chaste press of his lips on yours, but it was enough to steal your breath from your lungs. 

He pulled back from your lips but rested his forehead against yours. Blue eyes bore into yours, once so filled with an unknown agony; now elated, weightless at the confession. The pads of his thumbs continued to brush over your cheekbones, and in the silence, your thoughts reeled.

“I’ve had a crush on you for so long,” you whispered brokenly, barely holding in a sob. “Bucky, I– I wish you told me—I tried to tell you–”

“I’m sorry, Boo—I’m so fuckin’ sorry,” Bucky said softly, and he sniffed. “I didn’t– I should have said somethin’.”

You stared at him, then nodded gently. “Yeah,” you breathed, a half hysterical sound. “You fucking should have, you big, dumb idiot.” 

“Well yeah, okay.” Bucky shrugged. “I earned that one.”

The two of you surged forward, kissing with a fervour unseen and you couldn’t stop the way your heart and spirits lifted. How what felt like a helium balloon had been tied around your middle to sweep you off your feet, when, in reality, it was truly just your best friend, the very same one that you had harboured a crush on for a lifetime. 

Bucky was the first to pull away, his breath heavy and hot on your lips. “Why don’t I take you out?” he asked, smirking. “There’s a Christmas fair, and I wanna see the way my girl’s eyes light up, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, grinning widely at him. “But first? Pancakes.”

“The time had finally come,” they whispered, victorious and proud of the endgame — their smiles remaining unseen, but they were shared, nonetheless.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fluff #rookthorne's works

[fayes-fics]

A Cure For Boredom

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict finds a cure for your boredom during a party

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, dom/sub undertones, semi-public sex, vaginal fingering, makeshift blindfolds, edging, dirty talk, quickie vaginal sex, mentions of gagging and exhibitionism.

Word Count: 1.5k

Authors note: Not a request fill, but I went where my muse requested as it's been so long since it let me write anything. This started life as an idle idea I had scribbled for a different fic, but it's decided to be a one-shot instead. I'm hoping this means my writing muse is returning. Enjoy <3

The makeshift blindfold he has made from one of your silk stockings drags over your eyelashes as you blink rapidly. Stifling a moan and shuddering as his teeth graze your neck, knowing you are pushing the boundaries of his rules by making any noise but unable to stop yourself. 

“Silence,” he reminds, the tone dripping with bemusement. “Or I cease.” You fold your lips under your teeth and bite down in an attempted display of obedience. “That’s better.” You can practically hear the predatory smile in his tone.

With your sight robbed, your other senses are heightened. A spike of fear pulses through your bloodstream, and your head jerks to the left as you hear people talking, or rather gossiping, loudly as they stroll by, likely quaffing champagne. It sounds like they are in the same room even though you know a thick door separates you. 

“It is alright; they have no reason to come in here,” he reassures, as your fingernails claw apprehensively at the polished, sturdy mahogany bookcase he has you sprawled against. “Besides, my darling, you were the one who stated you were bored at this soirée a scant twenty minutes ago,” he points out laconically, biting your earlobe gently before adding, “You are not bored now, are you?

You shake your head rapidly, feeling his hot breath dusting your cheekbone.

“Good,” he says duskily. “Now, where were we?”

It’s rhetorical. He knows exactly where he was—setting you a challenge as wonderful as it is awful. To stay completely silent as he fingers you mercilessly. Indeed, three of his long shapely digits are buried deep inside you, his knuckles stretching your pussy walls wide, clinging to him, his thumb teasing your clit. Your spine is resting on what are likely priceless leather-bound tomes, and he has one of your feet hitched onto a low shelf, your dress gathered around his forearm. No doubt, the host of this party wished for his private library to be off-limits for this evening’s party. Trust Benedict to flout any and all suggested rules.

Quiet whimpering through your nostrils is your begging, asking him not to edge you anymore. You feel strung out and sweaty, needing release more than anything. The frill of his shirt cuff tickles your inner thigh, and his steely cock brandishes your hip through his britches, teasing you with possibility. Part of you wants him to unbutton and just fuck you so hard that every book, from floor to ceiling, is rattled from its elegant place.

“Please, Benedict,” you mewl under your breath, writhing on his fingers, frustrated he’s not quite giving enough to push you over the precipice he has you dangled over.

His responding laugh contains an edge of menace. “But where is the fun for me, my darling, if I cannot make this a proper challenge? Bring you close to ecstasy as many times as I wish, as you have to stay quiet.” You just know his eyes are glittering darkly even though you are unable to see them.

“I cannot be silent,” you murmur, “you feel too good,” hoping the flattery will make him take pity and finally let you over the edge.

“You can and you will,” he counters, smirkingly, not taking the bait.

In fact, he even withdraws his fingers from you, a lewd, drenched sound as he does so. You pout and whine in protest as his fingertips trail wetness down the leg that still touches the floor.

“If you don’t stay silent, I’ll just gag you with your other stocking, my love,” his threat dripping like honey into your ear as he toys with the ribbon holding your other stocking aloft.

“Please make me come,” you stumble in reply, your pussy weeping, missing his plundering touch on that little spongy spot inside that makes rainbows dance across your eyelids.

“Hmmm, but I rather like you like this,” he argues back.

The hand that was teasing you appears from under your dress and rises to paint your juices over your puffy lips, darkened from your teeth biting down on them. The tart flavour seeps into your mouth as your skin feels like it is shimmering over your bones, needing to come so much that you are practically shaking. 

“Perhaps I shall change my mind. Perhaps you need not peak after all. I rather like the idea of taking you back to our seats right now, dripping down your legs for me, trembling with need. Making you sit through this interminably dull evening absolutely on fire,” the ominous filth he intones into your ear makes you gasp hard.

“Please do not,” you beseech, hands clutching at his sharply tailored cropped wool jacket, wishing you could plead with your eyes. “Please, husband, have mercy.” It’s an abject plea, wanting to tear off your blindfold. Instead, you pitch forward, seeking his kiss, lips pursed, your own desire still glistening upon them.

“I love you like this,” he rumbles, lips ghosting your teasingly but not kissing properly. “So desperate for me.” 

“Fuck me,” you whisper harshly as he snarls and finally takes your lips in a bruising kiss.

“We will surely be heard if I do that,” his answer garbled around your tongue.

“I don’t care. Let them find us; let them watch,” it’s words spoken from need, desires running roughshod over your usual boundaries.

He inhales sharply and cups your jaw, pushing the blindfold off your face and onto your head, seeking your eyes, the source of truth.

“You would let me do that?” he rags breathlessly, his gaze burning yours as you squint to readjust even in the low candlelight. “You would let me fuck you while others watch?” As he asks, he ruts hotly into your hip, his cock a warm mass you can feel through your gauzy dress.

“I would let you do anything to me,” you confess honestly. “Especially like this,” you point out, bucking your hips towards him, seeking friction against your aching, abandoned clit.

“Fuck… I love you,” Benedict wheezes and kisses the very breath from you, invading your mouth and making you swoon towards him. His passion can often be like a storm, and today is no different. 

You almost cry in victory when you feel him attack his trouser buttons, heaving breaths. Then he pushes you back into the bookcase with a force that almost winds you, his cock plunging into your soaked channel with no preamble, splitting you open and making you convulse hard around him, already coming from this alone, so long denied.

His hand clamps over your mouth as you scream, enraptured, him growling as you convulse around his cock. But even as you squirm and your mind scrambles, he offers no clemency, instantly beginning to thrust into you roughly. You cling on for dear life as he proceeds to fuck you so hard that the large books above you rattle ominously and you feel another orgasm rushing towards you at breakneck speed.

“Go on, come again,” he groans, sensing your proximity. “Make all the noise you wish,” he appends, changing the rules, uncaring now, greedily chasing his own completion.

It’s only a few moments of blinding pleasure before you shatter once more, the drag of his cock spearing hotly inside too much after being so thoroughly edged. Not wanting these urgent moments of lightning-quick sex interrupted, you barely make a sound, even given the permission you have to do so. Instead, you bury your face into his clothed shoulder and bite down, the wool itchy on your tongue as you scream into the fibres, fracturing again under his wonderous assault on your senses.

He has to grab your hips to keep you upright as you convulse and go limp, floating on a cloud of ecstasy. He grunts loudly and pushes deeper, a few more strokes before his whole body jolts in waves, going stock still as you feel his cock spurts heatedly into your hilt, and he effuses words of praise into your hair. 

For a few beats, there is nothing but panting breaths loudly in each other's ears, him seemingly reluctant to withdraw from your body.

“We should attend more dull Ton events,” you opine drolly as you recover the power of speech.

You feel his resulting chuckle inside as his cock slips from you. “Indeed we should,” he smiles lovingly, delicately removing the stocking from around your head and handing it to you to put back on as you both rearrange your clothing into an acceptable state.

Minutes later, he takes your arm, and you are rejoining the party, the picture of an impeccably elegant married couple. Still, as you retake your seats and he hands you a glass of champagne with a devoted, chase kiss to your temple, you suspect few other wives can feel cum dripping down their thighs and seeping into their stockings. Probably even fewer will find themselves screaming into their carriage curtains on the ride home as they get eaten assiduously from behind. Such is life as Mrs Benedict Bridgerton; frankly, you would not want it any other way.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader

[thebadboyfanclub]

My Moonlight (Daemon x Reader)

So this was requested by an anon. Once again this was a challenge but I hope I did it justice, let me know if it’s shit but… Enjoy!

It was a cold winter night when princess Alyssa gave birth to not one but two children, prince Daemon and princess (y/n), legend has it (y/n) would wail until she laid next to her twin brother. When princess Alyssa held her daughter he saw herself in the babes eyes, they held the same glimpse of strength and resilience, she was called “the fire of the realm”, the greatest thing was during the labour the wild dragon sheep stealer landed outside the keep.

Once princess Alyssa heard the news she was up on her feet with her twin children in her arms to meet the dragon, (y/n) was the one that sheep stealer had chosen as the dragon sniffed around her and then sat down on the ground, it almost looked like the dragon bowed for the princess, it was not as big in size as Caraxes yet he made up for it with its ill temper and ferocious attitude, it would only listen and obey to (y/n) which caused a lot of problems to the dragon keepers, the dragon was named blaze “it’s only fitting for the realms fire to ride her blaze” she liked to joke.

As the years passed the twins were attached at the hip and the court would joke about how they were the same person. (Y/n) and Daemon would often get in trouble due to the obsession they had for one another, (y/n) had a habit of grabbing little girls by their hair and drag them when they attempted to come close to her brother and Daemon had to be pulled off from other boys that would offer flowers to the princess. Their father would look at them as a continuation of the love he had shared with their deceased mother, it was no coincidence that they looked identical either, two bodies that shared one soul.

“we were born together, we will die together”

Prince Daemon would frequently answer when he was questioned about (y/n). (Y/n) and Daemon could not be tamed by rules, she had given her Maidenhead to Daemon before their betrothal was even announced, whispers of how prince Daemon had taken (y/n) behind a brother at the street of silk spread like fire, they were partially true what they forgot to mention was that (y/n) had dragged Daemon in a dark alley to mountain him, she was insatiable.

“It feels like I am being fucked by myself”

She whispered to him, Daemon laughed but did not oppose to her declare, their resemblance was uncanny and oddly arousing, seeing themselves in one another made it more fun for them, their facial expression matching as their were twisted with pleasure was exciting to say the least.

Both of them were intoxicated by love, they were ruthless as the green eyed monster of jealousy drove them to insanity, their antics baffled everyone as for example their brother Viserys had roared with anger when (y/n) slapped Rhaenyra at her own wedding for dancing and whispering to her lord husbands ear. (Y/n) was restrained by Daemon and was forced out, later a soldier heard their groans of pleasure as Daemon had pushed her against a wall to “teach her a lesson”.

Daemon had taken it a step further as he beheaded her knight for listing after his lady wife, the truth was the knight had just held the princess by the waist when she tripped over and Daemon did not appease to how the knight went about it.

The birthing bed was a place (y/n) would frequent with Daemon by her side as he whispered to her words of encouragement, the ended up having 8 kids, her eldest was a son that (y/n) already carried in her belly when the wedding ceremony was held, she named him Baelon, the second one was twin girls Alyssane and Alyssa, the fourth was another boy named Maegor, then there was Eleana, after her came Rhaegal that gave his mother quite a fright since he decided to arrive earlier than expected, and the last ones were another daughter pair of twins named Visenya and Helias a girl and a boy naturally they all looked like the same person just different heights and personalities, the family resided at dragon stone that Viserys had passed to his siblings, away from duty and boring court gatherings, they showed up when they wished not when they were summoned, on one hand it was a relief since having them around meant chaos would erupt, on the other no one knew when they would strike

“My moonlight”

Daemon called his sister wife who waited for him at the dragon pit with their children. Daemon took (y/n)s hand and placed a sweet kiss on the womans knuckles, he looked up to admire his ever defiant wife.

(Y/n) was dressed in a marvellous black and red outfit and stood next to her dragon, the first to run to Daemon was his youngest Visenya, her long dirty blonde hair swinging as she hugged his fathers leg. Daemon picked her up and held his daughter tightly, she was a spitting image of her parents of course, the only difference was that she was the one to inherit her grandmothers eyes, one was blue and the other was violet.

“How is my little princess?”

“Mother said I can ride my dragon”

“ The dragonkeepers said it’s safe and the red keep is a short flight from here”

“What amazing news”

Daemon beamed, all of their children had dragon eggs in their cradle, unfortunately a few did not hatch including Maegors, however that was quickly forgotten due to (y/n) and daemon flying with their kids to find unclaimed dragons when Maegor had found Cannibal and claimed him he came back riding, in his mothers eyes Maegor was destined to become a legend, the dragon was later named “Gaelithox”.

Daemon had assisted his little girl up on her completely white dragon, Visenya had named him “moonlight” after the nickname Daemon had for (y/n).

“Allow me my love”

“No need”

(Y/n) dismissed her husbands hand and sat on her dragons saddle. Daemon scoffed as he shook his head, of course she would not take his hand, (y/n) never yearned for assistance even if it came from her husband. The flight was short yet blissful, they all went up to the sky side by side and listened to little Visenyas squeals of joy, (y/n) puffed her chest with pride as she gazed at the little girl. Helias had claimed Vermithor, (y/n) had taken the small babe up in the sky with her dragon when she spotted vermithor, something told her to land next to the lonely dragon, it was then that the dragon chose the child as its new rider.

Once they landed their son caught up to his little sister and picked her off her dragon, Maegor was over protective of his siblings. Viserys waited outside for his brother and sister along with his wife, Alicent.

“Daemon and (y/n)! Welcome home”

“My dearest brother, how I’ve missed you”

(Y/n) loved Viserys, it was only for her that Viserys tolerated Daemons rebellious acts. Viserys placed his hands on (y/n)s stomach as his face showed admiration.

“Gods be good sister, your family is a sight for sore eyes, dragon stone seems to have their hands full with heirs”

“our mother unfortunately did not live long enough to make the army she wished for our father, I hope she is smiling down on me for my effort”

“The mother seems to be quite gracious with her blessings for princess (y/n)”

Alicent spoke lightly, (y/n)s eyes focused on her, (y/n) was never fond of the hightowers, she found them repulsive and vicious, lowlife rats that raised their hopes up to take over the Targaryen throne.

“Goddess Meleys was on our side that is correct”

“And let me take a good look at Rhaegal, my daughter is a lucky woman”

Rhaegal was to be wed to Helaena, Rhaegal had grown fond of the princesses innocence and kind heart, he would often ride his dragon to be by her side for as long as he could.

(Y/n) and Daemon pushed their pride aside for their son and allowed the match, they also thought how it would serve for their son to be wed to heleana when Rhaenyra ascends the throne, if their children take over the hightowers they would not go against the princess.

“Let us go inside, Rhaenyra has been waiting for you”

(Y/n)s mask slipped for a quick moment, she could recall the encounter that occurred during her wedding, she shared a look with her husband that made Daemon place his one hand around her waist and the other to hold her hand tightly, the last thing he needed was for his sister wife to be cross with him.

“Princess Rhaenyra it’s been far too long”

“Indeed it has my dear aunt, i see you have been quite busy growing your family”

Rhaenyra hugged her aunt and then took a step back to bow at her uncle, (y/n) smirked at the encounter and Rhaenyras timid behaviour, at least the slap had taught her a lesson.

“And your children have grown, Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey isn’t it?”

“Correct, they were far younger when you last saw them”

“Visenya and Helias were babes, you don’t remember them do you sweetlings?”

Daemon once again picked up little Visenya. The girl shook her head before she hid her face at her fathers neck making everyone’s heart melt. Daemon rubbed her back while (y/n) lifted her son Helias in her arms, Helias seemed intrigued by Rhaenyra since he stared right in her eye, he was the adventurous one.

“I believe the children should go to the gardens, mingle amongst themselves”

(Y/n) suggested, they did not come all the way here to have some family quality time. Naturally Maegor went up to his father so he came hold little Visenya, she was a shy child who adored her brother. Alyssa went to her mother to lure Helias away with sweets, he was always a mothers boy so he needed a tad bit of convincing to leave his mothers arms.

As the children walked away it was only (y/n), Daemon, Viserys, Alicent and Rhaenyra in the room. An awkward silence fell as the three women sized each other up while the men stood completely still, waiting to see the women’s reaction.

“How is your son Baelon?”

“He should be here any minute now with his wife Laena and of course their two daughters, my son has informed me that princess Rhaenyra is interested to betroth Jacaerys and Lucerys with Baela and Raena”

“Indeed, the children seem quite fond of each other”

Rhaenyra responded diplomatically, (y/n) could detect that she was weaponising the children’s feelings so she wouldn’t go against it.(Y/n) nodded as she held back all the sly comments that passed through her mind, her grandchildren would marry the two bastards, what a mess and might she add a waste of Valyrian blood, Baelon was the one that tried to reason with his mother and allow the match, Baelon wished for his daughters to be happy as well as see Baela ascend to the throne with her lord husband.

“Well since we are are discussing the topic of betroths I would like to propose a match”

“What do you have in mind sister?”

“Alyssa has been betrothed to her brother Maegor but I would like to suggest that we betroth my other daughter Eleana to your son Aemond, our families I have been divided for so long it is time we put our differences aside, as well as keep the blood of old Valyria pure”

(Y/n)s eyes shifter for only a moment to take a look at Rhaenyra, Viserys smiled brightly at the proposal while Alicent froze in her spot, (y/n) has noticed that Alicent has a soft spot for her son Aemond so if he was to marry Eleana meant there would be another woman influencing her loyal soldier.

“What a splendid idea my dearest (y/n), Eleana is more than my son would have wished for, isn’t that right my queen?”

“I supposed, Aemond would be a… wonderful husband”

Everyone with eyes could detect Alicents uneasiness at the proposal, Eleana was a force to be reckoned with, an excellent archer and a mighty dragon rider, her spirit would not be silenced under Alicents influence, quite the contrary Alicent feared for her son being dragged away from her reach and follow his wife in whatever she wished, which was why (y/n) suggested it.

Alicent could feel it how every move was calculated and an attempt to shoot down anything the hightowers might have in mind. Aemond was a family oriented man, if him and Eleana were to have children he would never turn against his own kin, Heleana was to be wed to her other son so as a wife and a gentle soul she would comply with her husbands wishes, one of them was for Heleana to move to dragon stone after the ceremony. (Y/n) was already taking away her only daughter and now she planted a spy in his sons chamber.

“May I ask dear sister, what about your daughter Alyssane? Our son Aegon might-“

“No”

Daemon spoke up for the first time. He had heard stories of the nuisance that was Aegon, “a waste of a name” he called him when he was brought in question, Daemon had grown the closest to his daughter Alyssane, she was an exquisite sword woman and a perfect diplomat, he would never throw his daughter to the low life that was his nephew. (Y/n) squeezed her husband hand and smiled at him, her smile seemed warm although Daemon caught on quickly that it was his first and last warning.

“Alyssane is a free spirit my king, we’ve had numerous discussions about her and Aegon that led nowhere, she is adamant to marry Lord Cregan Stark, he has already send ravens to us asking for her hand, I think you can understand I cannot go against true love”

(Y/n) spoke the truth, her daughter Alyssane was keen on marrying Cregan stark, a fine young prince that would support their daughter and make her the queen of the north, what was a flat out lie was the “numerous discussions”, Alyssane and her parents had never discussed that option, Aegon was not their problem.

Before their plans could go any further they were interrupted by the guards bursting in the room.

“My apologies but you must come to the gardens, Prince Maegor has attacked prince Aegon”

“My child”

Alicent made haste and flew out the room leaving the others stunned. (Y/n) eyeballed her husband, their tight bond came in handy in these situations when they had to communicate with just their eyes. Everyone moved as fast they could and were met with Maegor being held back by three guards as Alicent inspected her son for injuries.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Daemons voice was loud and clear, Maegor had a temper but had never acted with violence without reason. Maegor gained back his composure when he realised his parents were present, (y/n) went to walk to her son as the guards led him go.

“What is the meaning? Your son is a savage, my children are once again met with cruelty of your family”

“Your grace let us not jump to conclusions, Maegor as your mother I demand to know what happened”

Maegor remained silent. As he looked at his sister he thought of what to say, he did not regret his actions yet once his mother came in his vision he felt embarrassed over his temper.

“Maegor I won’t ask twice”

“He wanted to bet money that he could fuck Alyssa”

Maegor interrupted his mother with his voice rising due to anger. It was like time stopped when Maegor made the accusation known, Maegor was defending his sister that was his soon to be wife.

Aegon was unaware that his uncle was standing behind him when he spoke with such disgusting words over his sisters. Alyssa and Alyssane were playing out a sword fight while Eleana and Visenya sat on the grass with Heleana and watched, the sons of Rhaenyra had ran off somewhere with Rhaegal and Aegon had turned to his brother Aemond to demise Maegors sisters. He was about to jump in the conversation so he can make Aegon stop talking when he heard of the bet, that was what made him lose his mind.

“Is that true Aegon?”

Alicent questioned in a state of shock. If what Maegor had stated was correct then it was another stab on Alicents back, her own son had betrayed her and left them exposed to the hungry wolves that was (y/n) and Daemon.

Aegon remained silent and (y/n) found this as an opportunity to approach the boy and land one harsh slap on his already bruised face. Alicent nor anyone else did not dare to stop her, he had crossed a line and spoke ill of her daughter, if it was the other way around Alicent would have done the same. Daemon admired his twin with his head held high as she grabbed Aegon by the chin and forced him on his knees in front of her son Maegor.

“Alyssa, go to your brother Maegor”

Alyssa did as told and wrapped her hand around Maegor after she leaned her head on his shoulder. Alyssa and Maegor were in love ever since they were toddlers, even if Maegor was younger he always protected his siblings and although he struggles with intimacy (y/n) recalled when Maegor would slip a small daisy in Alyssa’s books every day or how she waited for him to find a dragon so they could fly together, Alyssa had claimed silverwing when the dragon came out of hiding on Alyssanes and Alyssa’s first name day.

“Apologise to them”

“What?”

“You heard her boy, apologise to them”

Daemon repeated as he had approached his wife who stayed next to the kneeling boy. Aegon looked back at his mother for help yet to no avail, he had created this mess he was going to come out of it by his own.

“I…. I am sorry”

“For what?”

“I am sorry for speaking in a low manner about Alyssa”

“If I hear that you even looked at any of my daughters way, I will cut off your hands and your cock so I can feed it to you. Understood?”

Aegon only nodded in fear of (y/n)s wrath. She took her eyes of Aegon who was clearly beaten with quite the strength from Maegor and took a few steps to stand at the head of her son. Maegors posture was proud and there was no sight of remorse in his eyes as they laid upon his mother. Everyone held their breath as (y/n) handled the matter, all of Westeros were familiar with how far Daemon and (y/n) would go for their children, gods save the man that would harm their family. A small smirk appeared in (y/n)s lips as she reached up to caress her sons cheek

“You are your fathers son, I am proud of you my dear Maegor”

Requests are open!

#daemon targaryen #daemon x you #daemon x oc #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targeryan #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen headcanon #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x you #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd season 1 #hotd 1x10 #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fluff #house of the dragon x reader #house targaryen #matt smith

[anglbby444]

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader smut.

Warnings; none, vanilla sex <3

After bidding your maid farewell for the night with a kiss on the cheek, you nestle yourself into the soft comforters of the bed, which is surrounded by a room that is beautifully decorated thanks to your family’s maids, you feel a familiar crater form next to you. With a grin, you turn over and look into the eyes of your husband, Anthony Bridgerton. “Hello dearest.” He says after placing a gentle kiss on your bare shoulder, you humming contently in response. “Did you have dinner yet, my love?” He questions between more kisses to your shoulder as he leans over your figure. You murmured out an “mhm” as you take in and attempt to memorize the feel of his lips on your skin. “Mm, good good, so did I…although I must admit, you look rather delectable tonight, for a lack of a better choice of words.” He mumbles against your skin, drawing a playful scoff from you. “Anthony! How scandalous..” A smile finds its way onto your face as you sit up and turn around to face your husband, connecting your lips with his.

His hands begin to wander, fingers tracing every inch of skin he can find. Starting from your shoulder, his nimble fingers leave a trail of goosebumps down your arms, chest, breasts, and tummy as his teeth gently latch on to your earlobe. Although most of the skin he’s touching is covered by a soft pink silk nightdress, that doesn’t stop the goosebumps his touch creates on the soft flesh. A moan threatens to escape from your throat as his fingers begin to move lower and lower, eventually hovering above your mound as you feel him chuckle against your skin. You can feel his smirk grow as his fingers find their way into your panties. “A-Anthony!” You cry out.

It is no secret that Anthony Bridgerton likes to make you beg for him to fuck you. No matter if he knows exactly how you want him to fuck you, take you how he pleases. However, as you'll soon find out, that dosen't stop him from wanting to hear it from your pretty litle mouth. "Is your pretty little pussy wet for me? Hm?" Anthonys voice is a devilish one at that, his hot breath tickling the outer shell of your ear. He continues to kiss down towards your neck, lips suctioning a soft portion of skin as he chuckles when he feels you try to buck your hips up. In true mean Anthony fashion, he firmly grips your hips and pushes them down with a growl. "I take that as a yes.."

You let out a sharp breath as his fingers curl into your skin, ever so slightly gliding against your cunt. As Anthony felt the pool of dampness on your heat, he groaned and let out a laugh. "I guess I was right, wasn't I?" He drawls, softly twirling his middle finger around your sensitive bud. You attempted to come up with some sort of sassy remark, but find yourself failing to collect your words. Instead, you let out an almost pathetic sounding whimper. "Anthonyyy...." You call out his name, running your fingers through his hair as you try to buck your hips up once more. This time, he dosen't dissapoint. His forehead presses against you as he shakes his head in playful disbelief. "Say my name like that again and I might just break.." And you took that as a challenge.

"Oh Anthonyyy..." You mewl out his name again, giggling softly as you see him tilt his head and give you a deviant smile. To your surprise, he rips the blanket off of you, exposing your body to him. Although you still have your nightdress on, you can't help but get a bit flustered whenever he sees you so vulnerable. "Well...I think its time to get this pesky dress off of you..." You nod in response and begin to climb out of bed and slowly lift up the dress covering your legs. You know he wanted you to put on a little show. And that you did. Your hair falls down over your shoulders as you let the sleeves of the silk dress slip down your arms. The cold chill that washed over you was a familiar feeling to your already hard nipples. Anthony licked his lips as you fully step out of the nightgown and sashay over to him with a cheeky grin on your face. You crawl onto the bed and look at him with pleading eyes, waiting for him to make the next move. "How do you want me, darling?" His voice became soft, the voice he knows make you feel the safest. Even when hes going to fuck your brains out, as he usually does at least five times a week. "I want you inside me, Anthony.."

Fuck, he CANNOT say no to that. "Guess its a good thing you aren't wearing any panties tonight...Seems like you already knew you wanted my cock tonight." You nod at him with a crooked smile. To your pleasant surprise, he firmly gripped your legs and pulled you closer to him. He let out a chuckle as he placed one of your legs onto his shoulders, spitting on his hand and stroking his already hard cock. Your chest heaves, biting your lip as you look up at him with an already cockdrunk gaze. He leans down and places a passionate kiss to your lips. The two of you exchanged a knowing look, giving him the ok to slip his hard cock into you.

He grabbed onto one of your legs as he gave you a few gentle thrusts, letting you get used to the preassure his cock created inside her. God, you felt like you were in heaven every time he fucked you. He rolled his hips, his tip hitting you in just the right spot. The sensation made your eyes roll back. That sight and your high pitched moans told him all he needed to know. The sound of his skin slapping against yours echoded through the room as he started to speed up his movements, his hands finding their way up to your breasts. His large, gruff hands squeezed the pink and plump flesh.

{You’re pretty sure you came four times that night,,,}

#anglbby444 #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton fic #bridgerton smut #jonathan bailey

[certifiedskywalker]

In the Eye of the Beholder - Aemond Targaryen

Compared to his elder brother, who abused the offerings on the Street of Silk, Aemond’s tastes have always been…tame. 

“Undress me.”

Wordlessly, you obeyed the Prince’s otherwise unprincely order, just as you had done the last time he patronized your establishment, and just as you had done the time before that too. As you moved about Aemond Targaryen, dragging your fingertips across his leather-clad shoulders, you tried to recall the first time he came to you. How many moonshines had passed since? How many royal marriages?

However long ago, you had since learned about his back.

Learned that, if you took your time undressing him and traced the slope of his form, starting from behind him, at the nape of his neck, and working around to the front of his chest, you could melt the dragon that stood before you. What a sight to see that was. Aemond would tremble, ever so slightly, but quickly still himself in a poor attempt at suppressing the shuddering. His eye would betray him though, as it fluttered close to savor that skin-racing, body-tingling pleasure. No longer could he hide from you. You saw him, and this time was no different. Under your fingers, Aemond’s chin tipped up and he struggled to keep his eye open as your touch stole away his last few shreds of cold stoicism. You reveled in his reaction, but your victory was short-lasting. When your hands found the first clasp of his tunic, Aemond returned to himself with a huff. At the sound, you met his gaze and saw his eye like an arrow aimed at you, his lips pursed into a thin smirk that broke only when he spoke.

“You do so enjoy taking your sweet time.”

“As do you, dare I say,” you countered, as you undid the latch nearest Aemond’s neck. “Though these sneaking, late hours of night do suit the second son, do they not?”

Your teasing question fell from your lips as you peeled the leather collar back, revealing the milky skin beneath. Aemond tensed beneath your fingers when they brushed idly against the column of his throat and you could not help but smile, all too pleased with yourself. The Prince, while also pleased, sharpened his gaze on you.

“I could have your tongue for addressing me in such a manner.”

“Then take it,” you challenged, undoing the second clasp. “You say you could take whatever you like and yet you take so little when with me.”

As you waited for Aemond to meet your challenge, your hands undid the last latch, the one above his trousers. Before you could progress to his belts, Aemond closed his hands around yours. His rough palms swallowed your softer touch with a warmth that shocked you still. “I want for little when with you,” he murmured, his fingers sliding along yours until they were interlaced. “I have told you as much.”

He had, in so many words, told you as much in visits past. More entitled and harsher in tone, but the same words. Though, this time, with this softness, you could not help but feel as if he meant something more by them. Yet, just as Aemond tried to, you attempted to still the pleased shudder that threatened to roll over your shoulders. 

“You have, but is it treason to have cajoled the Prince into saying it again?”

Aemond’s stone-serious expression morphed in the flickering warmth of candlelight. It was as if the shadows shaped the smile that spread along his lips, as if the sneaking, late hours of the night made this second son just for you. “Tis treason, indeed. I do not like to be tricked.” With his answer, Aemond pulled you closer by your joined hands. Your chest met his and you could feel the heat of his pale skin bleeding through your garments. Then, as Aemond fed his want for little, he brushed his nose against yours, making you shudder. No longer was this time like the first. Nor the second, nor the third; not even the last. This time was different. Aemond was different.

Through your trembling, you managed, “so you’ll lose me to the dungeons then?”

“Never,” his reply left breath tickling your skin, “I would keep you all to myself.”

“You keep me already, Aemond.”

At the sound of his name falling from your lips, the Prince’s face pressed to yours as a cat might careen into its owner’s hand to entreat more petting. Spurred on by the heat from his skin that set you ablaze, you answered his urging. You untangled your hand from his and, with fingers free, forced his tunic off in its entirety. Aemond stood before you, bare-chested and flushed. Desperate as the pink that rose across his skin, he leaned back in to close the new gap between your bodies.

The Aemond you met however many moonshines ago would have never kissed you, would have never touched you so. 

His lips found yours in a gnashing rush that had you dropping the tunic to the floor. Your hands reached up to cup Aemond’s face, to hold his jaw in a manner that would slow his wild necking. Ever the learner, he took the hint in your hands and slackened, his lips moving more deliberately against yours. His own hands found purchase on your waist and tugged you impossibly close.

When you parted for air, you took your chance and kissed his neck. Aemond gasped softly at the sensation of your lips on his skin and turned from you. You nearly chased after him, but Aemond’s voice brought through the haze of want that clouded your mind. “No, no further. I-” “You do not need to say anymore.” As you spoke, you reached a hand up to turn his face towards you. You saw, then, a young boy in the Prince’s stead. “I am not Aegon.” “You are not, my Prince.”

“My name.” His words hung between you, distracting you from how your reflection shone in the pupil of his eye. “Say my name.”

“Aemond,” you said, your tongue loving each syllable in the way other patrons would like their bodies to be. Not Aemond. Since that first time, moonshines ago, he was different. How privileged you were, to see that. “We need not do anything more than what we normally do. I forgot myself.”

“And I, me,” Aemond replied after a long breath. He held your gaze before he tipped his head to the side. “Shall we, then?”

Wordlessly, you intertwined your fingers with Aemond’s once more and led him over to the wide bed. Similar beds sat in every room in this establishment, in every establishment on the Street of Silk. Yet, like you and Aemond, this bed was different. 

It saw only your body and Aemond’s laid out, limbs entangled but unmoving. The Prince’s head rested on your chest, his arms wrapped about you, holding your frame against his. Like bricks of the Red Keep, you fit together, plush sheets filling in any silvers of space between you. This was all he ever asked for, all he ever wanted, as little as it was. Only this time, it felt like more.

“You did not finish undressing me,” Aemond said suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen over you both like a blanket. You turned slightly in his arms, looking down at him, but before you could ask what he meant, he reached one of his hands up towards his face. Aemond’s slender fingers tapped against the leather strap of his eye patch.

“Are you…” you trailed off as Aemond’s hand grasped at yours, leading it to the very spot he tapped. You let your fingers close around the leather, gently slipping it off his face. Before you dared to look at his face, you set the eyepatch in Aemond’s hand.

“You may look,” he said, evidently sensing your tensed muscles and not-so-wandering eyes. 

You did look, and you saw him as you always had: whole.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond one eye #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd fanfiction #hotd imagines #house fo the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon fanfiction

[haechanhues]

Corrupted

pairing : haechan x (fem)reader

genre : smut. 

warnings : established relationship (kind of). corruption kink. porn without plot. oral (f. & m. receiving). unprotected sex (please practice safe sex). choking. haechan!dom / reader!sub dynamics. reader is a brat. marking. the endearment ‘good girl’ is used. body worship (in a particular way). also this is like the first time i’ve actually tried to write smut so if it’s terrible be nice about it pls and thank you. minors do not interact. 

summary : all you can focus on is him and how much you wish he’d corrupt you like so many times before. 

word count : 4k 

@k-labels​

part two 

main masterlist 

playlist : heaven - taemin / into you - ariana grande / volcano - han /  under the influence - chris brown / venom - stray kids  

The sunset view from the car is beautiful. The chewy orange blending within the whitewashed light blue. It’s truly heaven on Earth, you imagine. An infinite picture of how glorious the world can be. Yet, your attention isn’t on the sky. Nor on the beautiful red wine dinner you had tonight. You were neither drunk nor high. What you were, was a woman in need of her man to wreck her. To have his way with her in a way she believes only he knows how. 

Said man lazes back into the leather car seat, eyes half lidded and dragging across your body with an appreciative gaze. The hand that was lazily drawing naughty pictures along the fabric of your silk dress all night now has a grip on your hair, experimentally squeezing and tugging at the roots. 

You eye him dutifully as he wraps the soft strands around his fist, his tongue peeking out to swipe against his bottom lip. Your pussy aches for him. But you wait, betraying the need in your body in order to please him. 

It’s a skill of yours, to still look so innocent whilst you’re on your knees in front of him. So compliant. So soft. Even though he knows what you taste like when your mouth is drunk on lust and your cunt is dripping with arousal. What you smell like. What you feel like. 

And it’s all thanks to him. 

You are the result of his corruption. 

He smirks a little at the thought, letting his fingers cascade down your face, tickling the skin before he grips harder at your hair, the skin around his mouth becoming taut as he uses a bit of force, ‘My good girl.’ 

God. 

Pleased with the nickname, your palms brush over his stomach, his body slightly tensing as you make to grab at the waistband of his pants, tugging at them pleadingly. With a dark look smoothed over his face, he drags them down, eyeing you with challenge as he’s left in only his boxers. 

Feeling a rush of bravery, your knee slips in between his legs and your mouth claims him. His lips are soft and your body heats at the feeling of his. Surprise overtakes his features only for a second, but lets you take charge, not bothered at all by your longing. Your head tilts as your tongue licks against his, timid and unsure. He only smiles at your hesitance but doesn’t make any effort to take the lead. 

Accepting his smile as permission, you feel a surge of confidence and deepen the kiss yourself, your tongue more confidently brushing against his own, the subtle taste of cinnamon almost bursting in your mouth. You can’t help the way you melt into him, your fingers reaching upwards to sift through his gorgeous locks of hair before your nails drag down his neck and across his shoulders, electrifying him with pleasure. He hums into your mouth, planting both of his hands on your hips with a firm grip, holding them in place. You want nothing more to sit on his lap and to feel the fabric of your panties lick across your clit, but you remain kneeling. It’s torment. Your chin drops onto the curls on his head and your lips together in a futile attempt to keep quiet. 

But he knows you so well. 

It’s almost like he designed the way you felt pleasure. How you thought about pleasure. Every sensation was designed by him. 

Feeling your need, his right hand drops from your hips and you shudder at the way his palm dawdles down your front until it meets the skin on the back of your thigh, every hair on your body raising with anticipation.  Taking his time, his fingers are a caress as they circle the expanse of your upper thigh before his palm slots in between your thighs like a puzzle, his thumb kissing your slit. 

Your breath hitches and you pull a little away from the kiss, your mouth opening at the feeling. Your thighs press together and it causes the most delicious feeling of torment to crash behind your eyes. His eyes flutter open as he gazes at you knowingly, his pupils blown wide and the tongue that runs across his bottom lip teasing. 

“You alright, baby?” He asks, his voice laced with such a dark lust, you almost moan at the sound. 

“Mm-nnng,” You whimper against his mouth as his fingers cup your sex and your hips jerk involuntarily, ‘Yes.’ 

‘Yes’ He mocks in a high pitched tone, and it’s so red the way he says it. Almost murderous. The colour of blood. The texture of velvet. 

His fingers circle your clit over your panties, teasingly sweeping and igniting the growing feeling in your core. Little mewls of lust escaping your mouth as you throw your head back, exposing your throat to the man in front of you, his eyes dancing as your wet arousal coats his fingers. His breath tickles the length of your throat as his mouth hovers over your neck, enjoying the way moans are being pulled from your chest when his fingers enter you. No matter how much he wants to wreck you with his fingers this very instant, wreck you with only his hands until you forget your own name, he wills his hand to halt its ministrations. You whine, wanting him to move, needing him to move. Always needing. Just the way he likes. 

Haechan paints your throat with his kisses, groaning at every reaction, feeling his cock become harder and harder with every experimental touch. Sweet kisses pull breathy giggles from your throat, your own hands cupping and squeezing at your tits. Open mouthed kisses have your hips seeking out their own pleasure, rolling back and forth in his hold in search of that delicious friction. More desperate than you have ever been. Pleading with him to have his way with you. Please. Just please. Kisses where his bottom lip dawdled behind the rest of his mouth to meet each new press of his lips had you a fidgeting mess, your hands grabbing at anything. His elbows. Arms. Hair. Your dress. 

Your pretty but pesky dress. 

‘Take off your dress,’ Is a whisper as much as it is a demand and he removes his hand from your core. Haechan swipes at the bottom of his mouth with the very same fingers that were dripping with your wetness, your arousal and the taste of your cherry lip balm left behind on his lips. 

Obedient and docile, your thumbs hook around the end of your dress, pulling it upwards, letting the man in front of you appreciate the way your body is slowly being exposed to him. With a lick of his lips, his thumb pulls down at your bra, your nipple perking up excitedly. His thumb circles your left breast lethargically, gazing at the way your breast dimples with the slightest press of his fingertips. It’s when he touches the nipple that your back straightens and your eyes fall shut briefly. You await the torture you know he’ll make you endure. Instead, his thumb remains gently stroking, approving of the way your nipple starts to harden under his flirtatious attention. 

Unable to help yourself, with his hand still remaining at your breast you reach forward to kiss him again, this time much sweeter and innocent than the previous. Seemingly. He abides by it, loving the way you smell. Loving how warm you are. You’re liquid honey and he’s nothing but weak to it. 

Suddenly a slight rush of pain in his lips has him looking at you confused and pleasantly surprised, coming to the conclusion that you’ve nipped at his lips playfully whilst he was lost in your kiss, wearing a smile so daring and so like the cheeky girl he knows you can be. He can’t help the slight smile that graces his lips when you attempt to soothe the small bite you’ve subjected him to, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips in apology, one that leaves his mouth tingling. You could kiss him for hours - how soft his lips were, how perfect, how him. 

Those were the lips that have you brought you to heaven so many times after all. It’s only fair to pay tribute. 

He exhales as you fall to your knees in front of him again, his erected cock as hard as it can possibly get, pleading to be removed by the constraints of his boxers. 

And you pride yourself on being a good listener. 

Your palm reaches in and pulls his long cock out, your mouth watering at the sight. He’s so pretty. Much prettier than you’d think a cock could be. So effortless pretty. 

With a mouth with a mind of it’s own, you lean forward, licking a large stripe from the underside of the shaft, licking upwards to meet the tip. Haechan hisses at the sensation of how warm your mouth is, his knuckles white. You smile, wrapping the tip of his cock with your mouth, tasting the slight taste of his pre-cum with a little moan. Though you make no effort to suck him off. Only mouthing around the tip of his cock. 

Impatiently, he grips the back of your head, seeing your willingness to thoroughly enjoy his sounds of equal frustration and pleasure. Needing to punish you, he hisses, ‘You enjoy teasing me, huh? Think it’s fun?’ 

Without waiting for your response, his hips lift and his hand pushes down on the back of your head, groaning at the true feeling of your mouth and throat. Your mouth opens wider to allow for his cock to have access. A surge of pride rushes through him. You take him so good. So well. 

Pleasure overtakes his senses as he grips harder at your hair, daring to go deeper each time he pulls back. Sadistically loving the way you gag around his cock and the crescent moons your nails leave behind on his legs. The ends of your hair has fanned outwards and they tickle against his skin. He smiles as he slides out of your mouth to briefly check on your state of being, loving the way your chest is heaving with every large breath of air you inhale and exhale. 

There’s his good girl. 

‘So good to me, baby, aren’t you?’ He licks his lip again, your fucked out expression only managing a sweet, obedient nod. 

Taking that as permission he continues to fuck your face, thrusting back and forth with more vigour, groaning at everything. The warm and wet feeling of your mouth. Your tongue rubbing along the tip. Your desperation to see his pleasure. To reach that feeling where he has no control at all and you have it instead. 

Knowingly, his waist drops as his posture straightens, his cock falling out of your mouth. It’s messy and your thighs squeeze together at the thought that your mouth had been there. Your mouth was on that pretty cock. That cock was down your throat. And you loved every second of it. He did too. You look at him as if he had disappointed you, yet he only looks at you expectantly. Waiting. 

Your turn. 

With a fixation on the tip of his cock, you kitten lick it once again. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek at the teasing you can’t help but commit. But his annoyance disappears as your hand reaches up to wrap his cock in a fist, gliding back and forth along the slick shaft. Your mouth opens and your tongue extends, his cock almost bouncing in the cave of your mouth and against your tongue. He groans at the feeling and you look at him. 

So innocent and yet he can see what corruption has done to you. He exhales a small laugh, his fingertip brushing at your cheek. You can’t help but smile back at him, getting slightly bashful as he takes the time to admire you. His smile only widens at you, looking at you in a way that you can’t help but pause your naughty ministrations to slump forward to rest your forehead on his hips. He cocks his head. You’re shy again. 

Not letting your bashfulness get completely in the way, your hand returns to its back and forth and you line kisses on his shaft as an apology. But he’s not mad. Not really. You’re starting to get desperate again. Your mouth laying claim over his cock, gagging as you take him deeper and deeper. He moans with such a feral ferocity that you can’t help the whine that escapes you, lighting him with sensual fire. 

He needs you. Now. 

‘Lie down,’ He orders, motioning towards the leather seats. Swallowing, you follow his orders, your legs slightly spread apart. With a smack of his lips, he peels your underwear down your legs, the air cooling against your exposed slit. 

His ring clad fingers pry your thighs further apart, letting his body fit between them unabashedly. He smirks at the sleek arousal almost dripping out of your pussy, taking great delight in the way you eye his fingers and mouth. Long ring clad fingers. Soft, wet and pretty mouth. 

Smugly, his arms hook under your thighs and pry them apart even further, allowing easy access to complete ruin. Your greed for it evident in your eyes. Drinking him in. 

The first kiss to the inside of your thigh has you whimpering and he lets his kisses float against the skin. 

‘Move....please, move.’ You plead. 

He gloats against your skin, licking against the outer lips of your pussy. It tickles but all you can let out are whimpers. Unable to tame the beast inside of him anymore, he licks at the swollen clit. Loving the way you writhe for him. 

Your mouth gapes open at the sensations that overtake you. Pure pleasure running through your veins and taking your body as a hostage. You can hear the sounds Haechan makes when his mouth comes into contact with your pussy. Messy popping sounds that drive you to unspeakable lengths and back with each swirl of his tongue. He sucks at your clit like the lollipops he consumes was made for this one purpose. 

You moan loudly as he licks one torturously slow long stripe along your sex before blowing on it. A shot of cold air has you electrocuted and your mindful grip on the seats has turned almost violent on his head. Your hips grind onto his mouth enjoying the feeling of his tongue. Untamed. He slaps your ass swiftly and you gasp as flecks of delicious pain jolt your body into attention. 

His mouth pulls away from you in challenge, his eyebrows dancing as you glower at his retreating figure, ‘I’m just getting a condom, baby.’ 

Your glower deepens and you reach for him again, pulling at his collar. A dangerous and risky move. Sometimes it gets you punished. But you’re incessant. Begging for him to continue. Pleading for him raw. Always wanting him. 

He smirks as he theatrically places his middle finger on the hood of your clit, enjoying the way you squirm ‘You’re always needy, aren’t you?’ 

He’s teasing and he doesn’t expect you to respond. Not when his mouth returns to suck at your clit and his fingers dip into pussy. You’re relentless and you’re moaning so loudly at the pleasure he can’t help the way his need to have you come on his mouth transforms to a primal sort of want. He curls his fingers with trained precision thrusting in and out whilst his mouth is kissing and sucking at any angle that has you screaming louder. 

Trapped in a gaze like molten lava, coming is the easiest thing you’ve ever done. Like a knot becoming undone, your legs and arms loosen and your head falls towards the flat surface of the car seat. Yet you’re not finished. You know you’re not. You may of had his fingers. You may have come on his tongue. But you wanted to be wrecked by his cock. You wanted him to completely have his way with you. To fill you up. Your desperation is silent this time as you remain in your position, waiting for him. 

Haechan places a soft purposeful kiss on the inside of your thigh, a contrast to the dark chuckle with a sardonic texture that tickles the skin. He’s slow and his eyes are burning into you with a heated challenging glint, ‘Have you been taking your birth control?’ 

You bit your lip as you nodded. 

‘Good girl,’ He purrs, letting the words affect you like his hand would. His mouth shining with your arousal painted on his mouth. With a last parting kiss to your thigh, he straightens, letting his clothes slacken. 

Soaking up the way you’re watching him, he brings both his hands through his hair before removing his leather jacket and t-shirt. You marvel at the subtle lines of muscle along his abdomen and stomach. Snickering at the pleading eyes of yours, he shuffles closer, letting you grip his hips and grounding him against your pussy, moaning at the sensation. 

‘Impatient,’ He murmurs, dragging his boxers completely down his legs before tossing them to the side. He glowers at the way you blink at him innocently and he knows he’s going to have to set some rules. Splaying out the total length of his hands on your stomach before beginning its ascent to the place he wants it, collaring your neck. 

‘I think I’ve been lenient with you tonight, yes?’ He cocks his head, his tongue briefly licking at his bottom lip and your eyes zero in on the action, incredibly horny. Glaring down at your lack of focus, his pelvis thrusts into the gap between your legs and his hands slightly squeezing at your neck, noting the way your eyes roll back in pleasure, ‘Answer me.’ 

‘Yes,’ You nod, the obedient little lamb once again. 

He’s so hot. So incredibly mouth watering in front of you like this. Dominating and devilish. 

‘So you’re going to be a good girl for me?’ Haechan demands and you nod. You just want him. Need him. Forever needing him. Only him. If he wanted a good girl, he’d get a good girl. 

'Yes,’ You whine, your voice increasing in both volume and pitch. 

Haechan’s eyebrows lower in warning before grabbing his cock in his hand and gliding it across your slit once, his tip grazing your clit. You mewl as you grip your thighs in a tighter hold, the pain barely registering as he lines his cock up to your entrance before slowly easing into you. The groan that escapes both your moans has your smile widening. You feel so full and complete. You watch him, wanting to see the way he looks at you. However, his focus is stolen by the way his cock disappears into your cunt before bottoming out. Both your stomachs pressed up against each other has you feral. He’s so beautiful. 

‘Fuck,’ He moans at the way your pussy clenches around him. His eyes close for a sweet second before he’s moving, thrusting in and out of you at a slow pace. Your chin tilts upwards as you let out a sound of satisfaction. 

‘Faster,’ You beg, grabbing onto his shoulders in preparation, clawing at the skin. 

He pecks at your neck with a feather like kiss, before he positions himself to thrust just the way you want him. He enters you hard and fast and you can’t help your strangled scream, ‘Fuck.’ 

Haechan groans as he continues to steal your identity in exchange for the pleasure that has your body in a chokehold. Your legs hook around his waist, bringing him closer and your mouth finds his neck, biting and licking with every devilishly wolfish drag of his cock into your tight cunt. A playground for all your sex bites and kisses. Marking him.

‘You and your fucking marking,’ He sneers into the crook of your neck. He’s not one for visible marks, but you are. You like the way the colour of his skin changes because of you. How they stake claim. With a reprimanding growl, he lays his palm on your stomach, needing to absolutely wreck you of words. His cock thrums as your cunt swallows every hard thrust. All you can do is moan, finding it physically impossible to mark him. All you do is moan and mewl, whimper and scream. So many songs of pleasure and he’s the one making you sing them. 

Your eyes are glazed over like honey and your lips swollen, he muses down at you with a sweet look in his eye, ‘Words....can you remember them, baby?’ 

Eyebrows furrowed, open mouth, swollen lips and a tightening grip on his waist. No answer. His musing smile drops off his face as he stares cruelly at you. As if you’re his prey. His hips drive into yours faster and harder, driven by your sounds and the tightening of your pussy. You’re close, ‘You don’t need them when you come anyway.’ 

He’s right. Because he’s brought you down this road many times before. Your body is shaking with your orgasm, wet and pulsing with heat. Legs and feet tensing, grabbing at the car seat under you with a tight squeeze. Your pussy clenching around his cock tightly and it takes all of his power not to become undone by the effect your orgasm has on his cock and how much he wants to come. 

But he stands no chance, because you’re looking at him with your innocent eyes of worship, like a fox, as if the both of you aren’t currently fucking in his car. His orgasm rips through him like a new skin, and you’re smiling at the way you feel his cum coat the walls of pussy. He feasts upon it. 

Only when he feels himself soften and his breathing return to normal does he wipe at your leaking sex with his t-shirt and check for any marks that he might’ve left behind, ‘Did I hurt you?’ 

‘You could never hurt me,’ Your words and tone are soft. You’re glowing, he notices. So beautiful. 

His smug smile is teasing, not taking you seriously, opting to ignore your beauty by pretending like it’s normal to be this enraptured by someone. His initial reply is halted by the way you look at him with only gentle eyes. Like you always do. It used to anger him, somewhat. He wasn’t the best guy in the world, not really, everyone knew it and yet, you never treated him like he was anything less. He closes his eyes and his smile tilts towards fake, ‘I could.’ 

You lean into kiss him, just a chaste kiss, one that isn’t heated nor desperate. One that’s sweet like you and difficult for him. But you know he’d do it. However, he’s distracted by your eyes. With a trained kind of gentleness, his finger skims along your eyelashes, admiring the new length, a small smile on his face ‘These are new.’ 

You smile, your words singing in your head like a mantra. Haechan can think the worst of himself. See himself as the big bad wolf that brought the innocent girl down to rot. See himself as the bad guy before the good guy swoops you off your feet. See himself as the embodiment of corruption. 

It’s true, he corrupted you. He did. He’s the man that’s fucked you in your kitchen. Fucked you on his desk.  Even now, he’s the guy who’s just finished fucking you in his car. He’s fucked you so much that he’s ruined any other guy for you. You can’t even entertain the idea of somebody else.

But you’ve also corrupted him. He doesn’t realise how gentle he is with you. How sweet and how caring. How he protects you. How he’s always willing to try or to readily sacrifice a part of his world for you. How he has made your pink love red and beating. 

Those innocent eyes of yours. So obedient. So compliant. How ready they were to show him how to love and be loved. 

author’s note : is it normal to want to bury myself in a hole. asking for a friend. this was originally supposed to be for valentine’s day or my birthday or haechan’s birthday! but you get it now instead! yay! 

#k-flixnet #k-labels #haechan fic #haechan x reader #nct haechan x reader #nct haechan fic #nct fic #nct smut #nct haechan smut #nct haechan imagines #nct haechan scenarios #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream smut #nct dream fic #nct127 smut #nct127 fic #haechan hard hours #haechan hard thoughts

[taystrash]

I Don't Want It, I Need It

Description: This started off as HCS for submissive men who loved to be broken and turned into a full fic. I apologize if it seems to be written weird, it's a full fic but HC 'coded'. Enjoy!

Word Count: 3.017k

Content Warnings: Nicknames used: miss, pretty boy, pretty puppy, nasty slut (like twice), cum eating, oral sex (male receiving), cowgirl, terrible attempt at aftercare. Afab reader.

Submissive men who need to be fucked dumb. They crave it, in their mind, body, and cocks. They need to be allowed to be a useless horny mess, or they’ll explode. They’re so pent up, sexually, and emotionally, they usually suck at properly communicating with you, yet you always know what they need.

When they’re having a particularly bad day, you’re calling them before they even have a chance to process the events of said day. Each limb is heavier than the next, a chore and a half to even move his body forward. His head is pounding, every light, no matter how big or small feels blinding. His fingers grip the steering wheel as he weaves through the cars on the back streets, passing when not permitted and running a few red lights. Safely, of course. He isn’t paying attention to anything that isn’t you. Your words echo in his head, offering to help relieve his stress from the day. Him being him, challenges the offer, just to be the brat he is. It doesn’t shock or surprise you, a soft giggle fills the silence afterward. You tell him he doesn’t have to come, you’d be happy to just talk to him about his day, “Just thought I could help.” Yeah, as if he’d turn that down. He’s at your house before he can think about going home to shower or at least, change. His confidence seems to dwindle the closer he gets to you. His hands seem to shake more and his cheeks have been a scarlet red since he hung up the phone. These actions confuse him to no end, it wasn’t as if he were nervous, he could take you if he needed to. Yet, he could feel his heart thumping against his rib cage, with each step he took to your door. He only has to knock once before it’s flung open. You’re in nothing but a thin, silk robe, from what he can see, the fabric is tied in the middle. He has to stop the moan that bubbles in the back of his throat at the sight of you, quickly making his way past you and into your apartment. He watches as you close and lock the door, eyes trailing your body without an ounce of shame. His fingers twitch, aching to tear the fabric from your body and reveal all of you to his eyes, it’d help him after all. “I’ve missed you.” He finally admits when you turn to face him. He has no time to be embarrassed or ashamed by the confession, not when you’re looking at him like you’re ready to devour him. “Really fucking missed you.”

It’s nights like this he doesn’t want to think much. He doesn’t want to be this all-powerful, almighty, protector of his organization, he just wants to be your good boy. He just wants to be used until he can’t think straight. He needs it. You don’t even ask him to remove his clothes, instructing him to sit on the edge of the bed and doing so for him. He feels like a child in this sense, lifting his arms when you pull off his shirt, and wiggling his hips to help you get rid of his jeans and underwear. The thought is quickly dismissed when he feels your lips against his skin. He had felt hot the moment he entered your place, yet your kisses felt hotter. Each kiss lingered a second longer than the last, some ending with a nip, others with a soft suctioning of his skin. He was aware of the marks blossoming across his skin, it made his cock twitch. He loved when you marked him up like this, along his chest, down his belly, on the insides of his thighs. You don’t stop or look disgusted when his hips jut upward at the feeling of your tongue against the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. Part of him wants you to, wants you to shame him for being such a nasty, needy slut, but the both of you know you love the fact. Your hands travel up his legs, massaging the tension out of his calves, up behind his knees to over his quivering thighs. Your nails dig into the flesh until all that’s left of your actions are small red crescent-shaped marks. The calculated switch up behind your gentle touching and your harshness throws him for a whirl, he’s losing himself earlier than normal. Today had been such a stressful, on-the-edge-of-your-seat kind of day, so he deserved this.

“Such a pretty cock.” Your words are barely above a whisper, fingers gingerly wrapping around his throbbing shaft. You give him a few simple strokes, demanding his attention. He can’t, his eyes have already found a home in the back of his skull. “Baby, look at me.” It takes everything in him to do so, it’s so worth it, his eyes rolling forward to watch you take him into your mouth. The tip of your tongue flicks along the underside of his swollen cock head, tracing the shape. The moan released as his taste invades your senses has him twitching in your hand. His knuckles whiten as his grip tightens on the sheets, hips bucking to push him entirely down your throat. There’s a second of gagging, throat constricting around him to adjust, it’s all too much. You aren’t even upset at the action, aren’t even pulling back to scold him for nearly choking you. Instead, you hum around him, tongue flicking along the underside of his cock, tip grazing his balls. Pulling off you kiss his tip, then give another before you’re about near making out with it, sucking his pre like a sweet treat. You’re just too much.

“I’m close.” He hides his face in his shoulder at the admission, embarrassed by the fact. He’s squirming beneath you, one hand shooting up to grip your wrist. He apologizes as he holds your hand in place, hips wildly bucking his cock into your fist. “Gonna cum, fuck, y-yeah, feels so fu-fucking good, so go-ood, f-fuck, gonna cum, fuck,” by this point, his eyes would’ve rolled back to their previous location, yet they remained on yours. His face twisted in pleasure and looked almost painful. He knew looked desperate, felt so needy, fucking your hand like it was your pussy. “Sorry I’m such a slut, such a-hah-fuck-such a-oh my god-“ he can’t even finish his sentence, words dying in the tip of his tongue as his stomach tightens. He cock twitches against your palm once, twice, before he cums. “Yes. Yes. Yes.” His hips have stopped, shaky hand moving yours along his cock, milking himself dry. “Thank you. Thank you.” His chest heaves, eyes wildly searching the scene. He made a mess, of himself and of you, evidence splattered across his chest, some on his chin, the majority on your cheek. He must’ve missed the way you repositioned yourself to try to catch as much as you could, ultimately missing the majority because his hips were moving without a pattern.

“My pretty boy really was pent up.” Fingers scoop his cum off your cheek, pushing it past your lips. You make a show of flicking your tongue between the two digits, moaning softly at the taste. He’s trying his best to compose himself, body still trembling from his previous orgasm. His cock lays against his thigh, twitching as it softens, his eyes widen at the sight, and he feels himself getting hard again. “Had so much for me tonight, want a taste?” Shaky eyes watch as you clean his cum from his belly, moving your hand slowly toward his lips. He goes to part them but something tells him to wait, eyes remaining on your fingers until they’re a hair away from his lips. The tips of your fingers trace the outline of his lips, carefully, trying to avoid making more of a mess. Failing to do so, results in his tongue darting out, first to catch what was falling from your fingers, second to circle the two digits before taking them into his mouth. His eyes closed at the taste of himself on his tongue, fully hard again at the lewdness of the situation. You say a silent prayer at the sight of his eyes closed, knowing the look on your face was equally as lewd. Tongue poking the corner on your lips, brows pinched, eyes swallowing him whole. “Good boy. Good fucking boy.” You pull your fingers from his mouth with a pop, wiping the rest of his mess from his chin. You go to put them into your mouth but his mouth catches your fingers again, sucking them past his lips with a shameless moan. “You like the way you taste? Yeah? You really are a nasty slut.”

“Only for you,” his hands leave the bed to grip your hips, pulling you to straddle his waist. “You make me feel like a dog in heat, humping aimlessly to get off, but I like it. I need it.” He’s sat up on his elbows, one hand leaving your hips to push you closer to him, stretching the thin robe to show your chest. His lips leave kisses along the exposed skin, tongue flicking out to trace along your collarbones. “I need you,” he can’t meet your eyes after this confession, hiding his face in the crook of your neck to avoid having to face you.

“You need me?” You let him hide for now, one hand untying your robe, the other pushing through his hair at the nape of his neck. The robe falls from your body and reveals you haven’t been wearing anything underneath. “My pretty boy needs me?” There’s no teasing, no malice in your tone, only sincerity. “What if I told you,” your hand cradles the back of his head and you use your weight to push him to lay back against the bed. Your other hand reaches back to wrap around his sticky shaft, giving it a few strokes before running it along the length of your slit. “Come on, look at me. Let me see my pretty boy.” your previous thought is interrupted by the command. He’s quick to follow, ignoring the burning sensation that flames across his skin, burning up his chest to his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “What if I told you,” you continue your earlier thought, positioning him at your entrance. “I need you too.” His eyes widen at the confession and he wants to keep them on you, but the combination of your words and your walls finally sucking him in, has them finding refuge in the back of his skull. “I think I may need you more than you need me.” The words are whispered against his lips, hips rolling to emphasize your point.

“Y-you need me? M-me?” His hands blindly grab at your body, grabbing handfuls of your ass, pulling you closer, pushing himself deeper. “Miss needs me.” His attempts to meet your thrusts are futile, hips being pushed flush against the bed when you sit fully on him. “F-fuck, so good, feels s-so-o good.” You sit up fully, hands bracing your weight on his chest, moving from sitting on your calves to sitting up fully on your knees. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” he doesn’t have a chance to finish his complaint before you’re sinking back onto his lap. The pause you take is for the benefit of the both of you, cause he’s closer than he cares to admit especially when you’re clamping down around him like that. “Y-yes.” It’s the most broken, desperate, and beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. It heats your belly, makes your pussy throb and leak, proof soaking his shaft.

“My pretty boy makes the prettiest sounds.” Your hips begin to move. You’re soaked, each movement producing the nastiest-sounding click. Your pussy stretches around his cock and you have to remind yourself that he needs you to stay levelheaded. “Gonna make miss lose control.” Your breathing is picking up, becoming uneven as your movements grow sloppier. You wanted to sit back on your calves but knew he needed you to go full throttle. He came here because he needed to be dwindled down to the horny useless mess he loved, you loved. “Such a good boy-hah-f-fuck-don’t-don’t do that-“ he isn’t sure what he’s doing until he feels his hips leaving the bed to meet your ass. His thrusts are softer compared to yours but they push him deeper, swollen cock head pressing against your most sensitive spots. “Hmm, my pretty puppy feels so good.” Your hips grind down into his, giving him space to still thrust up into you, making a mess on his cock, splashing against his pelvis. “I can feel you twitch against my walls baby, you close? You want to cum? Cum deep inside miss?” Tonight’s filled with firsts, the question throwing him for a loop, brain unable to process the words before he’s cumming.

“W-wait! No, no, no.” The part of him unable to process your question is filled with panic, hands gripping the fat at your hips to go to pull you off. “I came i-inside?” The other part is over the moon, demanding him to stop questioning you, ecstatic that he’s finally cum inside of you. His cock twitches uncontrollably against your gummy walls, mouth lolling open as he dissolves into a puddle of whimpers. His hands keep their position, using it to push you further down onto him, desperately trying to bury himself as deep as possible. Your walls clamp down around him, milking him, draining him. “So good miss, so good,” his voice is barely above a whisper, nearly missed under your moans. His body shakes, thighs trembling as you continue to use him like a toy. His cock is so sensitive, he can feel the tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “Hurts, it hurts,” he isn’t sure that’s the word to describe the feeling, maybe he was just overwhelmed because the last thing he wanted you to do was stop.

“I’m so close baby, so close,” one hand drops between your thighs, fingers pressing against your clit. Your movements are choppy and quick, just like your hips, all telltale signs that you were close. “You can-hah-mmh-f-fuck, you c-can do it for miss. Right? Y-you can do it. Right? My pretty puppy can take it. Right?” Your other hand pulls one of his away from your hips, bringing it beside his head to interlock your fingers. “I’m gonna cum-ah-I’m so close, gonna cum,” you’re sure you don’t make sense at this point, not too worried about it when he was splitting you open over his cock. Not when he whined with every movement, hips subtly lifting to meet yours, attempting to aid you to your end.

“Cum for me miss, please, cum around my cock. Cum for your pretty puppy. Please cum for me miss, I need it, I need to feel you cum around my cock.” His voice is shaky, breath hitching every time you clamp down around him. “Just like that miss, just like that,” his hand leaves your hip to press against your back, pushing your chest flat against his. His head leaves your back to find the back of your head, pushing you forward so your foreheads are pressed against each other’s. “Feels so good cumming around my cock, so fucking good,” he’s doing well at keeping his voice stable, despite the fact he was nearing his third orgasm of the night. Not like he could help it with the way you were squeezing him, not when he was so sensitive. Not when you were so wet, making a mess with even the smallest jerk of your hips. Not when he watched as you actively tried to fight the way your eyes rolled back as you fucked yourself through your orgasm. “I’m close again miss.” He doesn’t even have to ask, your hips rolling into his as an answer he didn’t know he was looking for.

“Cum for me pretty puppy. Fill miss up again.” Your hands frame the sides of his face, hips slowly moving against his as you feel him finish once again. You have to fight every urge to push him back down and ride him with your feet on the bed at the feeling of his cum leaking back out. He’s too much for you sometimes, crying as he cums, thanking and cursing you all in one breath. “You did so good.” Your smile returns and your voice is cheerful once again, hands gripping his cheeks to plant kisses over his face. “How do you feel?" You're slow to move from his lap, making your way to the mini-fridge kept in the corner of your room. You make your way back holding a water bottle, still waiting for his response. You take a quick peek, just to make sure he hasn't passed out, and notice his eyes have been following your every move. "You watching me like some kind of stalker?" You pull him to sit up, bunching a few pillows behind him for support, and hand him the water.

"I feel fine." He's still trying to catch his breath, hands shaking as he undoes the cap and brings the water to his lips. You only grin in response, hitching a brow as he spills a bit of the water down his chin. Your fingers are quicker, wiping the mess from his chin, to wipe them on your thigh. Part of him feels disappointed that you hadn't placed them in your mouth, the picture of you sucking his cum off your fingers clear in his mind. It wasn't like you didn't usually swallow, you almost always did, it was just something different, more intimate about tonight. The way you watched him to make sure he was watching you instead of allowing him to get lost in his pleasure, like usual. Not that he was complaining, he's come to realize he misses a lot when his eyes are rolled back. The main one being the way you watch him throughout the whole ordeal, your eyes never leave his face, it's like you need to watch him crumble beneath you. "Actually, I feel a lot better. Thanks." The truth wouldn't hurt.

"Good. Now finish your water and meet me in the shower."

Chuuya, Poe, Ranpo, AKUTAGAWA, Giyuu, Armin, Choso

AN: It has been three years since I've sat and wrote a story in its entirety, I wanted to quit, start over, scrap the whole idea in general but I couldn't :( we need more submissive men fics. ALSO, could anyone help me make my posts all cute? Like with the banners that have the content warning? or where to find the manga caps? Please.

#bsd smut #jjk smut #aot smut #anime smut #anime x black reader #black reader smut #chuuya nakahara #chuuya smut #chuuya x reader #poe bsd #poe bsd smut #poe bsd x reader #ranpo edogawa #ranpo smut #ranpo bsd #ranpo x reader #akutagawa ryuunosuke #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa smut #armin arlert #armin smut #armin x black reader #aot armin #giyuu tomioka #giyuu x reader #giyuu smut #choso smut #choso x reader #choso x black reader #jjk x black reader

[biteofcherry]

No such thing as finality

vampire!Curtis Everett x reader; Dracula!Curtis Everett x reader

summary: When Curtis returns to his newly acquired mansion in London, he's greeted by an unexpected sight...

warnings: angst; so so much angst; and feels; dark-ish; a bit of blood (there are vampires in this story, after all); mention of death;

Author's note: This is my small contribution to @witchywithwhiskey's Horror Movie Hoe-a-thon. The classic horror movie I based my inspiration on is Bram Stoker's Dracula. Though, me being me, I put a wicked twist to it. Hope you enjoy! The title "No such thing as finality" is also a quote from the Dracula book.

Lush scent of roses, bowing their graceful necks as wind gained momentum, didn’t fully cover the sweet, decadent smell of freshly spilled blood. 

It would lure him in curiosity in any other circumstances, but since he didn’t expect anyone to be willingly bleeding inside his mansion, it made him wary. 

Curtis wasn’t scared. There was no human, nor creature in this universe that could truly harm him. Any attack that may happen upon him, would be dealt with swiftly and mercilessly. He could rip them apart with bare hands; move so fast and snap their neck before they even blinked; sink his fangs into an artery and rip it out; take the shape of a beast and tear them inside out.

He should do it for the sheer audacity of breaking into his household, as newly acquired and not yet fully lived-in it was.  

Taking measured steps, Curtis walked through the open wings of the glass, orangerie doors. Moonlight reflected in crystal chandeliers. Shadows crept along the walls, attempting to intimidate, but quickly withdrawing in submission to his own, chilling darkness. 

There was a faint glow of warm light seeping from beneath the double door leading to the ballroom. The sound of crackling fire announced someone’s preparation for his return. 

Curtis lifted a hand and the door opened in a burst, a gust of wind rubbing against his cheek affectionately before it whipped inside in a cold snap. 

His gaze instantly fell on the crumpled body in the middle of the polished, hardwood dancefloor - a decorative gore centerpiece of blue silk, soft skin and pool of ruby red blood. 

He recognized her. 

Mina.

That dress was the one he gifted her; as inappropriate as it was, since her engagement ring still shined on her slender finger and she had made no promise of breaking that word to Jonathan Harker, even if her lips trembled to say more than just a thank you to Curtis. Her lovely face of soft lines and ethereal delicacy, which he drew obsessively in the past weeks, remained angelic as her life slipped away.  

Curtis knew her, craved her and now he felt… mildly irritated.

A frown marred his face as he searched his feelings. Surely he should feel something stronger. Rage that would fly him across the room. Despair that would turn him into a wailing beast. 

There was a flicker of annoyance - both at having her snatched from his grasp before he got to explore this madness and at being challenged so obviously. 

As an apex predator he didn’t entertain any form of challenge. 

Slowly, his eyes moved from Mina’s dying body to the hem of your shimmering gown inches from the dark pool of blood. 

It was one of your favorite dresses - an almost translucent, pale fabric lined with exquisite sparks that gave the illusion of your body being encrusted in diamonds. Yet you didn’t seem bothered by the fact it bore stains of blood where it splashed when you sunk your teeth into the woman’s neck. 

Red essence still dripped from your chin as you boldly stared at Curtis across the room. 

“Hello, husband.” 

Beads decorating your hair caught flickers of amber glow as you tilted your head in greeting. In that moment you were the epitome of a dark goddess from centuries ago; one he turned you into when he promised you an eternity at his side. One who walked with him through the darkness and filled it with your own light. 

Light he forgot about in the fleeting moment of obsession. 

“Beloved.” Though Curtis’ voice bore an undertone of reprimand at what you have done, his term of endearment didn’t change. “You’ve overstepped.”

Your eyes flashed red glow at his admonition, as it hinted at the importance of the dying, pathetic reflection of a woman from eons ago. She was not important! She couldn’t be important to him. You were! 

“Overstepped?!” You hissed, your fangs elongating as you turned abruptly. “I was left in the castle, foolishly dreaming of and preparing for the move to the estate my dear husband went to secure. Meanwhile he fucking romanced a silly, mortal goose!”

“Mortal she may have been, but Mina wasn’t as unimpressive as you make her to be.” He didn’t know why he was defending his betrayal, since there was still not a single flare of rage urging him to snap your neck. 

Curtis didn’t think there’d ever be a time the mere thought of ending your immortal life entered his mind. Though he felt a pang of pain, somewhere in the hollowness of his chest where a heart should beat, when he realized the weight of hurt he must’ve caused you as he prowled after Mina.

“I’m sure her face resembling your dead first wife was a truly impressive genetic lottery win,” you snorted, “but have you become as all those pathetic mortal men, ready to cheat on their actual wife with a new hot piece of ass?!” 

“Do not accuse me of something that didn’t happen.” His irises splintered; red scythe filling over the blue iridescence like an eclipse taking over the sun.

A broken giggle bubbled on your lips. Your gaze shifted away from him, staring at the flames in one of the fireplaces. 

“Oh, have I come just in time to prevent you from giving her the biggest fang?” You asked bitterly.

In a flash, Curtis was across the room. Fingers curling around the front of your neck and slamming you into the opposite wall. He pressed you against it, his grip on your throat not loosening and the heat of his body enfolding yours.

Curtis was considered a dead creature, but he burned as if the hellfire itself ran through his veins. It was only him, though. He created you, but you never felt your own warmth. There were others whom he sired over the centuries and who sired next generations of vampires. They all ran cold, too. Only Curtis’ dark flame burned eternal.

“You’re treading on thin ice.” He warned you, even as he delighted in the intense emotion you provoked. With you everything was always intense. 

Always… alive.

Curtis was angry that you would accuse him of such a disgusting act like cheating. Angry at himself for giving you the reason to think the worst of him.

His obsession with Mina was unhealthy and borderline stalking. He was gifting her with attention and this one material present. But he didn’t have a plan of what he wanted from her exactly. Even as he played with the verbal seduction she was slowly falling for, not once did he imagine bedding her, or turning her.

It was more of a need to keep her, explore her, hold on to whatever she represented for his tortured soul. 

But he was blind to how his madness made him act towards you.

“What will you do?” You asked in a hushed tone, redness of your irises receding to the natural color of your eyes. “Are you going to destroy me? The woman you vowed to love for eternity? The woman you turned, branded in every possible way as yours?”

It wasn’t a spiteful challenge of a scorned queen, but a fear of a lively woman who stole his evil heart five centuries ago.

One who often walked barefoot, even before vampirism made you immune to the cold. Wearing simple dresses, with pockets filled with flowers and herbs and shiny stones plucked from mountain rivers. He bought you many stunning dresses over the centuries and you loved them, but most of the time you still wore the simplest ones. 

Curtis could only assume you dressed in the finest gown and adorned yourself with jewels to impose your power over Mina. To carry yourself as the queen about to crush a threat to her kingdom.   

There was never a threat. Not once did he consider leaving you behind and never returning. 

“I’d sooner meet my own end,” his fingers clenched on your throat as he squeezed his eyes in pain. 

When he vowed to love and care for you for eternity, until the sun burnt human cities down and reached to scorch your entwined bodies, he meant it with every fiber of his cursed being. 

“I haven’t cheated.” Curtis sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t think I would have.”

“And yet here we are…” Your cool breath still carried the metallic scent of blood.

He wouldn’t allow these thoughts to linger, to hurt you with doubt and resentment. He’d rather have you angry with him than broken. And there were ways to stoke your fire, keep it burning and warming him.

“Yes, here we are, Beloved.” Curtis’ tongue flicked out to lick away a drop of blood from the corners of your lips; his tone dropped an octave, vibrating with a beastly timbre. “With you in my grasp. With her dead body getting cold a few steps away and me not even being angry about it.”

Because he really wasn’t. There was that irritation at not having fully figured out what it was exactly that he chased in Mina, but none at the loss of her. Not from your hands, anyway. 

You cupped Curtis face with your hands, showing him softness that he claimed he never deserved (but which you taught him to accept, adamant in your decision that he was worthy of your love). 

“What was it that you searched for with her?” You asked, even though you were scared of his answer.

“I don’t know.” Curtis admitted; his eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. “A memory? A man I used to be? The humanity I lost?”

Mina looked like the exact image of Elisabeta - the wife he had as a human, whose death led him to do unspeakable things that cost him his soul. She was a reflection of the young, impulsive human man, who was too naive and too desperate in his love. 

Perhaps Mina’s angelic face brutally reminded him of the crushing pain and being the self-punishing bastard that he was, Curtis clung to her to hurt himself over and over again. Staying away from you, too, because he spiraled down into thoughts of unworthiness once again.  

“I didn’t know you at twenty one springs,” you said, “but the man I got to know at his honed one hundred years of vampirism and then spent centuries with? I wouldn’t trade him for anyone else.” 

Curtis was a vampire king. The oldest, the first to ever be made. At least the first either of you encountered. He fed on blood, could be brutal about it, or very gentle. Depending who the victim was. There were streaks of ruthlessness and cruelty in him, you witnessed him drown villages in blood then watch it sink into the ground with grim satisfaction. 

But he also carried the children from said villages in his arms, finding them new homes in places where humans weren’t as rotten and wouldn’t hurt them like the people of their hometowns had. 

Curtis was the monster parents scared their children with; but that monster saved those kids when their parents were the ones abusing them. Or when they allowed others, holy men included, to hurt them. 

No, you would never trade Curtis for any other man. 

“Not even at this moment of weakness?” Curtis’ deep, low voice resounded with a soft uncertainty.

You were still mad at him, but you couldn’t help that need to comfort him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, scratching lightly at the back of his head in a caress that always made him shudder and melt into your embrace.

“Why do you think I’m still here, facing you?” You sighed, tilting your head back enough to look Curtis in the eyes. 

“I could’ve ripped her to pieces and then fled. Leave you alone in the misery you would have brewed for yourself.” That was what Curtis did at least once every decade - sink into a really low mood and break your heart with how vulnerable and helpless he was at the time. 

“But, my dear husband, I love you too fiercely to let you go. The heart that you claim is void of humanity and care is one that made me say yes when you offered me immortality at your side.” 

“I feared…” You dropped your gaze down. “I feared you went after her, because you grew bored of me. That I was so easily replaceable.”

Throughout the centuries not once did Curtis stray away, nor did he isolate himself from you. Sometimes, when he was in his depressive mood he’d often space out, sinking into his gloomy thoughts, but even then he was physically nearby. Mindlessly caressing your body as you cuddled him and anchoring himself to you.

This trip across the sea took long, but the time kept stretching and stretching as Curtis worked on all the formalities of buying a mansion and re-settling onto a new soil. Impatient for his return, you decided on visiting him.

It was supposed to be a surprise for him, but turned into a shock for you when you saw that woman’s starstruck gaze as he escorted her to the carriage. 

Curtis gripped your chin between his fingers and gently tilted your face up. Sadness in his gaze crumbled way to determination. 

“Never.” He vowed. “It’s a burden I have to carry now, knowing that I’ve hurt you.”

“I’ll give you centuries to make it up to me.” You allowed your lips to curve in a small smile, then leaned to press a soft kiss to Curtis’ mouth. 

“Most gracious, Beloved.” Curtis smiled against your lips. He let go of your chin, sneaking that hand down your body and gripping your thigh. His other hand was still wrapped around your neck, fingers pressing a tad harder. Just the way you liked.

In a swift move, he hoisted you up. Your legs wrapped around his hips, the snick of ripping fabric making you giggle. 

“I’ve yet to welcome you properly to our new mansion.” Curtis purred, licking a broad stroke across your bloodied chin. “You’ve already christened it with blood. Now I want to fill the walls with your sounds of pleasure.”

#witchywithwhiskey #horrormoviehoeathon #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x you #curtis everett x female reader #curtis everett imagine #curtis everett fic #vampire!curtis everett #no such thing as finality