#this is so obscure but actually comes up in one of those To Tell the Truth 1960s episodes with Sally Ann | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writeforfandoms · 11 months

Text

Glitter and Gold

Find the CoD masterlist

As the princess, you always knew you'd marry for power and politics. What you did not expect was to be married to the dragon.

My own take on dragon!Price because I love dragons and I love Price and I went a little feral. Sorry not sorry.

Warnings: Swearing, political discussion (brief), mostly glossed over wedding ceremony, oral sex (f receiving), piv sex, unprotected sex, mention of pregnancy, brief violence (not towards reader), dragon!Price.

Word count: 7.7k

You stood on your private balcony, torn between disbelief and anger. Not that you should have been surprised, really.

Your father, the king, was a stubborn man. For as long as you could remember, he hadn't much liked either of the neighboring kingdoms, speaking of them with contempt. Your kingdom was the smallest of the three, but strategically placed, with access to the sea and rivers and mountains. Yours was a kingdom of natural wealth.

But even so, you'd never have guessed that your father would go so far in his quest to spurn the other two kingdoms (and try to attract a more lucrative offer from a further away kingdom, undoubtedly) as to offer you to the dragon!

The dragon lived just on the border of the kingdom, and had for centuries. He mostly kept to himself, only very rarely making an appearance when he deemed it necessary. You could remember the last time you'd seen him - you'd been much younger, staring up in awe at the massive form flying high above the capitol city. From the distance, it had been hard to tell what color he was, or how big he really was.

And your father had offered your hand in marriage. To this dragon.

You blew out a sigh and shook your head. It was unlikely the dragon would reply. This was just a political move.

A breeze rustled your skirts, and you frowned a little. Actually, the breeze was picking up. Looking out over the city, you could see flags beginning to snap in the wind.

Shouting drew your attention, and you looked down into the streets, only to see people clutching clothing and staring up at the sky. You followed their pointing and froze.

A dragon was coming down from the mountains, heading straight for the city. Sunlight gleamed off him, all reddish-copper, and every beat of his wings sent wind gusting down to the city. Baskets fell, curtains whipped, and one or two people even fell from the force of the wind.

Being elevated above much of the city was worse - you clung to the balcony railing to keep your footing, eyes narrowed against the sheer ferocity of the wind.

You'd been wrong, you and your father both. The dragon was upset, and he was coming to punish you, to destroy your city for your father's arrogance–

The dragon was nearly to you now, so huge he eclipsed the sky, dark and foreboding. The dragon tipped his head, one jewel-bright eye staring down at you. Smoke plumed from his nostrils, thick and dark and completely obscuring the sky for the longest moments of your life as you waited for the fire and the screaming.

But it never came.

There was a thump almost directly in front of you, and the smoke cleared enough to show a man crouched, perched, on the balcony railing. Jewel-bright blue eyes held your gaze for a long moment before he blinked once. A hat was perched on his head, obscuring much of his hair, but he had a full beard in dark auburn, hints of gray peppering it. His clothes were sturdy but out of date. Those eyes drew you in again, too bright to ignore.

"You must be my beautiful bride," he rumbled, low and rough as a rockslide.

"Bride to be," you corrected him crisply, lifting your chin a little. Nothing about this made sense, so you may as well stand up for yourself and what you wanted.

His lips quirked in amusement. "Bride to be," he agreed, gaze raking over you in a way that felt far more intimate than it actually was. A faint curl of smoke escaped from his nose when he breathed out.

The door to your room burst open, you could hear it even from the balcony. "Princess!" Half a dozen guards trooped through, although really only one of them fit on the balcony with you and your draconic fiance. "Uh."

"I suppose we'll need to talk to my father." You straightened your shoulders, looking at those blue eyes again. He was smirking now, apparently amused. But he hopped lightly down from the railing, nimble for a man of his size. And oh what size he had - easily taller than your father, with broad shoulders that spoke to his strength.

“If you insist,” he agreed, motioning for you to go first. When you stepped ahead of him, he placed a proprietary hand at the small of your back, light but warm. The warmth seeped through your layers, too warm to be human. The little reminder sent a thrill down your spine.

But it wasn’t fear. Not quite.

The guards all moved out of your way, and you didn’t even glance back to see if they were following. They were.

This time of day, normally your father would be in talks with his advisors. But, given the very recent upset of having a dragon arrive in the city, it was possible he’d be in his receiving room instead.

At least, you hoped he would be.

The dragon-man kept up with you easily, long strides unhurried despite the pace you set. His hand never left you back, ensuring you stayed close to him.

You snuck a glance at him only to find those blue eyes already focused on you. But you refused to duck your head, refused to look away, refused to be embarrassed.

After all, if he was to be your husband, what was the harm in looking?

One of the guards got ahead of you to pull open the door to the receiving room, and you swept in first.

"Father," you greeted, finding him already standing, staring, a little pale.

"Welcome," your father greeted, focused on the man next to you. "I wasn't expecting you to respond so quickly."

The dragon's lips quirked in amusement. "I can see that."

"Perhaps we should discuss the necessary arrangements privately." The king glanced at you, his two advisors already standing to leave.

"No." The dragon didn't move, the one word short and sharp. Everyone froze. You barely dared to breathe. "She stays. It is her life, after all."

Your father frowned, just for a moment. "If that is your wish."

"It is." The dragon was calm, confident, unhurried. And his hand hadn't left your back.

The door closed softly after the advisors, leaving the three of you alone.

"Well. I assume you're here to accept my offer." Your father didn't spare you a glance, instead focusing on your dragon.

"Yes." He prompted you forward with gentle pressure at the small of your back. "I will take her as my bride."

"Of course." Your father eyed him shrewdly, calculating. "I will need some time to arrange everything–"

"Send it after us." The dragon shrugged, unconcerned. "We will depart shortly."

You turned to look at him, frowning. "Without a wedding?"

He shifted with you, keeping his hand pressed to your back. "Do you need one?"

"Yes, I do."

He huffed in soft amusement. "Very well, my bride." He tugged you closer, gently, coaxing.

"It will take time to make such arrangements," your father started slowly, calculating.

"You have three days." Your dragon was colder with him, less patient.

"But–"

"Three days." His eyes narrowed a little, a wisp of dark smoke escaping with the words.

Your father paused and swallowed. "It will be done," he agreed.

And that? Seeing your father back down and bend to the dragon's will? That sent a thrill down your spine, made your pulse pick up.

"Any other supplies needed will be sent after us." The dragon looked down at you again, his expression softening. "You will tell me if there is anything specific you need."

You blinked at him but nodded. "I will," you agreed in a murmur.

His lips twitched and he nodded. "Then we should have nothing else to discuss."

The king stiffened a little but apparently decided it wasn't worth potentially angering the dragon, because he nodded.

The dragon nudged you out ahead of him, hand still against your back. "Do you need to prepare?"

"I should," you agreed, looking at him. "But…"

"Yes?" He raised one eyebrow at you.

"What can I call you?" You shifted slightly closer to him. "Since I am to be your wife."

His lips twitched in that little smile again, private and pleased. "John."

"John," you repeated. "Will I see you again before the wedding, John?"

"You will." He smirked, stopping when you did. "I'll see you soon." His hand finally left your back, leaving you almost cold, and one big finger tucked under your chin. Eyes wide, you tipped your chin up at his insistence, your gaze locked on his. He leaned down, sending your heart pounding. For a wild moment, you thought he was going to kiss you.

But he simply nosed your cheek, gentle and warm. He stepped back, releasing you from the sheer pull of his gaze, and dipped his head to you in the only sign of respect you'd seen from him.

Leaving you warm and flustered and chilled all at once, standing outside your rooms.

The rest of the day and the next passed in near-frantic preparations. You directed some maids to pack up the things you decided you could not live without, and fortunately a dress had already been in the works. There was no way to get any other dignitaries or even leaders from the other towns in your kingdom.

It was going to be an unconventional wedding, for an unconventional marriage.

But you couldn't deny the stirrings of excitement in your veins.

Especially after John came back to visit you.

He found you outside in the gardens, walking slowly, letting the familiar paths help settle your mind. You didn’t even hear him approaching - one moment you were alone, and then he fell into step next to you, startling you.

“Apologies, princess,” he murmured with a smirk.

You huffed. “You’re quiet,” you observed, glancing at him. “I’m surprised.”

He shrugged. “Habit,” was all he said on that. He reached up to adjust his odd hat, gaze interested as he looked around the garden. “Have to admit mine doesn’t look this good.”

“You have a garden?” The thought was so surprising that you stopped, blinking up at him.

“A garden was left behind,” he corrected gently. His hand landed at the small of your back again, gently pushing you into walking. “I don’t do much to maintain it.”

“Hmm.” You eyed him curiously. “Where do you live?”

He glanced down at you, openly amused. “You’ll find out,” he murmured.

“Do you live alone?” Curiosity had reared its head now, refusing to relent until you had at least a few answers. He hadn’t gotten mad at you yet, after all.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

That got him to pause for a moment, considering how to answer you, even as he kept walking. “Never taken a mate,” he said finally. His teeth flashed briefly in a grin. “Never been offered a bride, either.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. “Then I suppose this will be something new for the both of us.”

“Suppose it will.” His fingers flexed against your back before he tugged you closer, close enough to feel the heat pouring from him, the scent of smoke seemingly a permanent fixture around him. “And what does my princess think of marrying a dragon?”

You warmed at the easy, possessive way he referred to you. “I think I will not be bored with you.” You tipped your head, playful but still watching.

He chuckled, rumbling and delicious. “No,” he agreed, his voice even lower than normal. “You won’t.”

The pair of you paused near one edge of the garden, although you couldn’t look away from him. He wasn’t upset with your testing - if anything, he seemed to be enjoying this as much as you were.

You would need to go, and soon, but first, one more thing…

“You know,” you started, casual, watching him intently, “I have heard a few rumors about dragons.”

“Oh?” One eyebrow lifted in clear invitation to keep going.

“As much as I don’t think this one is accurate, I still feel I should tell you…” You risked taking one step closer to him, trying to hide your humor. “Just so you know… If what I heard is true… If you eat me, I will give you indigestion.”

He blinked at you, eyes wide, apparently stunned with your daring. And then he tipped his head back to laugh, loud and unrestrained, baring the long line of his throat to you.

Oh, that was an absolutely lovely sound. You could get addicted to that sound far too easily.

“You are a feisty one,” he murmured, finally looking at you again with a smirk. “Good.” He looked back towards the castle, eyes narrowing, before he huffed. Smoke plumed out of his mouth with the exhale, thick and dark. “You need to return before they come searching for you.”

“I suppose so.” You couldn’t hear anything, but perhaps his hearing was better than yours. It wouldn’t truly surprise you.

“I’ll see you in the morning, princess.” He leaned in again, slowly but surely, his hand big and warm at your waist. But this time, his lips brushed your cheek, so light you could just feel the touch.

And then he was gone, turning and walking away from you.

The remaining time passed too fast until you found yourself at the ceremony. Since everything had been rushed, the ceremony had been opened to the city - people were gathered outside the pavilion, jostling and shifting to get a better view.

Not necessarily of you. But of your soon-to-be-husband.

John stood tall, shoulders straight, hat gone to show the horns arching from his head. Those did make you blink, at least until those blue eyes met yours again. Then everything else just… faded into the background. The crowd didn’t matter. Your family didn’t matter. Even the droning of the priest didn’t matter.

All that mattered were those blue, blue eyes.

The ceremony finished, and you had to blink yourself back to the present. Right. You still had to sit through the rest of the celebration.

Except John took your hand, tugging you closer to him. You blinked up at him, caught off-guard.

“Time to go,” he murmured, ignoring everyone else as he began to walk.

“Already?” You debated seeing if you could get him to relent to you again, or if that would be pushing your luck.

“I’ve already waited three days for you,” he rumbled, amused. “Got everything ready for you before I came to get you.”

And that? The knowledge that he’d not just received the offer and immediately come, but had put thought into this? Had something prepared for you? That melted you, just a little, sent your heart thudding into your ribs.

“How are we getting there?” You thought that was a fair question, once again focused on him to the exclusion of the rest of the world. Vaguely, you noted people getting out of his way, well-wishes yelled to you both. But you ignored the lot of it.

The smile he slanted at you was amused and more or less hidden by his beard. “You’ll see,” was all he offered, taking the fastest route out of the city. You stumbled once, not exactly attired for a quick walk through the city. A moment later you were scooped up in his arms, held securely there. Your gasp made him smile.

“You don’t have to–” you started to say, uncertain, hands gripping his shirt.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, just for you. “You’re fine.”

You’d only known him for days, and yet you believed him. You didn’t protest again, simply curling further into him. The deep, pleased hum from him was something you felt more than heard.

He didn’t stop until you were outside the city, the walls well behind you before he finally set you on your feet.

“Now you’ll see how we’re getting home.” He grinned briefly, taking a few big steps back, away from you. You blinked, curiosity overpowering anything else, and watched him. He breathed out smoke and there was a low sound, like distant thunder. Suddenly pressure in the air made you take a half-step back, wrinkling your nose and shaking your head briefly to clear it.

A low rumble drew your gaze back to where John had been. The smoke was clearing slowly, but enough that you could see the outline of something much, much bigger. Your heart slammed against your ribs and you went very still, caught in the ages-old terror of a predator much bigger than you.

The dragon moved slowly, making a low noise almost like a purr except much deeper. His head snaked forward, long neck straining a little, before halting right in front of you. His head was bigger than you were tall, thick horns curving back over his head. But his eyes were still that same jewel-bright blue.

"John?" Your fingers trembled as you held out one hand, still moving so slowly.

Those big, bright eyes blinked slowly and he pushed his snout into your fingers, more gently than you would have thought him capable. Copper-red scales were warm and smooth to your touch, and touch you did. Your fingers started on his snout but moved up until you were on your tiptoes to explore, curiosity quickly overriding your fear. The ridges above his eyes were a little tougher, but he leaned into the touch when you scratched gently, and something in you melted.

"You're not so scary," you teased him gently, scratching harder at his eye ridges to watch his eyes close in clear enjoyment. "Are you?"

He huffed, smoke blowing out his nostrils, but you just laughed.

"Okay. How are we…?" You trailed off, uncertain how to ask the rest of the question.

He nudged you very gently with his snout, pushing you towards his shoulders. There was a spot you could just see, at the end of his neck before his wings, where you could hold on.

It would not be the most dignified way to travel, but… who was there to judge you anymore? Who would even dare?

Your lips stretched into a slow grin at the realization, heart fluttering. You had a dragon for a husband. Nobody would dare to mock you now!

He huffed again, nudging you gently. You patted his nose.

"Yes, alright, let me figure out how to get up there." You eyed the vast expanse of scales and muscle in front of you. There were, of course, no clear handholds, or places to put your feet.

You did shriek, just a little, when he suddenly picked you up by the back of your dress, teeth closed very carefully around fabric only, and deposited you into place.

One new observation: your husband was impatient. Or at least not currently willing to indulge your curiosity. You pouted.

Until he stood up, the sudden motion making you cling to his scales, hunkering down. He rumbled again, the noise vibrating through his chest and straight into you, at once comforting and electrifying.

That was all the warning you got before he started moving, loping several strides until his wings snapped out. One flap of those great wings nearly unseated you, and you were quick to adjust your seat and grip before he beat his wings again, and you two were in the air.

Wind whipped at your hair and clothes, and it took you a few minutes to find a comfortable place to sit and cling to him securely. You made the mistake of looking down only once, the trees far below you bending and swaying with the force of his passage. A little sick now, you closed your eyes tightly and just hung on tight.

You weren't sure how long the two of you traveled. Longer than you liked, certainly. Much shorter than it would have taken on foot, or even on horseback.

The sun was still bright out when he flew lower, aiming for the side of a mountain. You squinted, trying to see where he was going. But the wind was too strong and he was going too fast.

The sun was suddenly gone and you gasped, blinking rapidly, even as he slowed and then landed more delicately than you would have thought.

Finally giving you a chance to look around.

The cavern was big, easily big enough for him to fly into or out of, and fairly dark. You tipped your head back, looking up at the rough ceiling above, awed.

A soft grumble from the dragon made you blink and look back at him to find his head turned to look at you. One big eye blinked, and he slowly lowered himself all the way to the ground.

Guess it was time to get down.

Very carefully, you slid down his shoulder until your feet touched the floor. But your first step was wobbly and your knees nearly gave out under you. But you remained upright, more or less, until you could stagger against one wall of the cavern.

The air around you shivered and shifted again, and a moment later you heard footsteps.

"Easy, princess," he murmured, voice even raspier than normal. "You're alright."

"I'm fine," you agreed, still a little shaky. "Just… not accustomed. That's all."

Big warm hands settled at your waist, holding you steady. "Hmm. Your shoes are no good down here. I'll have to fix that." His hands left you for a moment before he was scooping you up into his arms again.

"I could manage," you protested gently, though your hands were already curling into him. "You've already carried me a lot."

"You're fine," he insisted, holding you a little tighter. "I've got you."

You hummed and relaxed into him, enjoying the warmth after the chill of the flight here. You did hold a little tighter to him as the light all but vanished as he walked down a hallway.

"Almost there," he assured you, rumbling soothingly.

You swallowed but nodded once, waiting a little anxiously for the light to return.

Which it did with grandeur.

You gasped as John turned a corner, light streaming down from above, tinged gold as it bounced off strategically-placed mirrors and shields of gold. The entire space was large, and somewhat open around what you could only assume was his hoard. Gold and gems piled up in the center of the room, jewelry spilling out onto the floor. A goblet lay on its side on the floor, little red gems set into the precious metal.

"Welcome to my hoard," John rumbled, walking closer, still not letting you down. "You will have plenty of time to explore to your heart's content, princess. You should see this first."

You blinked, shaking yourself a little out of the momentary daze, and looked up at him. "Oh?"

He merely hummed, walking around the long side of the hoard to the back. You could see another hallway leading to a set of stairs, but your attention was quickly diverted.

Tucked between the back of the hoard and the back wall was, for lack of better term, a nest. A long piece of blue fabric had been stretched over the top to allow for some privacy, while pillows and blankets had been piled into a rough circle.

"Oh." Your eyes went wide as you examined the space, gaze darting everywhere. "Is this…?"

"For you," John agreed, setting you on your feet.

You stepped forward slowly, pausing at the edge of the blanket nest before you knelt down to feel it. It was softer than you'd expected, well cushioned. You could sleep here easily. Surprised and undeniably touched by the thoughtful gesture, you turned to him with a smile.

"This is amazing," you murmured. "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure." He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Have to keep my princess comfortable, hm?"

You warmed a little at the possessiveness in his voice but stood again. "Show me around?"

His hand settled at your back again, his warmth welcome now in the cooler air of the cavern. He didn't take you all the way around the hoard, saying you'd have plenty of time to explore that on your own. Instead he took you up the stairs, lighting a torch to carry along with you two.

The stairway opened up into another corridor, this one relatively short. An open doorway showed a very old-fashioned kitchen, quiet and empty now. Beyond that were the pantries and cold larder, also all empty.

Another set of stairs brought you up to a servants corridor and then to a formal dining room. The furniture was mostly gone, although the table remained. But the windows remained, mostly intact, and your lips parted in surprise.

"Where…?" You couldn't quite finish your question, gaze darting around, steps slowed to almost nothing.

"My home." John puffed up a little in obvious pride at your reaction, gently tugging you forward. "You will see."

You allowed him to lead you forward, craning your head to try to see everything at once. Although it was old and clearly much depleted, it was easy to see the once-grandeur of this place. Mosaics still remained on the floor, one wall although cracked still showed a mural: a mountain towered over a castle, a fertile valley stretching below.

"Oh." You blinked at the mural. "Oh, this is the old castle, the abandoned one."

"Been abandoned for a long time," John agreed, coming up behind you to rest both hands at your waist. "Before I moved in, certainly."

"And how long ago was that?" You tipped your head a little to one side, still drinking in the mural.

"A long time ago." His voice rumbled through you, making you shiver.

"I'm surprised it's still standing." You leaned back, just a little, into his warmth.

"Not all of it does," he murmured, lowering his head to speak close to your ear. "Parts of the castle have crumbled, and parts of it are unsafe. But some of it remains intact. I have not had much use for it, but perhaps you would."

"I just might." You smiled, tilting your head back to look up at the ceiling, still in good repair here. "You don't mind?"

"Not at all," he agreed.

You spent a good little while exploring with him. John was never more than a few steps behind you, letting you lead but always warning you if you got too close to anywhere potentially dangerous. It was, actually, quite a lot of fun. These ruins hadn't been inhabited for a long time, John excepted. And you suspected he didn't spend a lot of time up here.

This was not how you'd expected to spend your first day as a married woman, but you were not going to complain.

Eventually, though, the sun dropped and the temperature with it, leaving you fighting off the chill in the air unsuccessfully. John huffed softly and gathered you in close, his warmth absolutely delightful now.

"Need to get you somewhere warm again," he murmured, lips pressing briefly to the shell of your ear.

"I can walk," you insisted.

"Very well, my princess." The amusement was clear in his tone, but he let you walk back through the castle and down the stairs back to the hoard. And, more importantly, to your nice warm nest.

You paused, though, glancing at him. Normally this first night was… more than simply sleeping.

He didn't seem to notice your trepidation, instead stepping aside and over to a small goblet set aside from the rest. You watched him curiously as he pulled a dagger from the same short table the goblet rested on. Before you could ask what he intended to do, he sliced the end of one of his fingers, merely grimacing.

"What…?" You gasped, watching with wide eyes as blood welled and dropped slowly into the goblet.

"You will need this." Sharp eyes glanced at you and away again. "This will help to keep you warm, as well as to protect you."

"Protect me?" You took a single step closer to him. "From what?"

"It gets much colder here than you are used to." John breathed in slowly, gaze fixed on yours. "It will also protect you from me. I run too hot to couple with a human more than once."

You warmed but refused to look away from him. "I see."

He looked away first, looking down into the goblet and wrapping a spare piece of fabric around his finger. "Drink."

The goblet was warm to the touch and you peered into it, a little apprehensive. The blood inside was dark with a shimmer, almost, on top, a shifting slide of colors that changed as you tilted the cup back and forth gently.

Well. You were already here, had already done this much. You just had to trust that he wasn't trying to hurt you.

You tipped the goblet back, drinking the contents down in one go.

It was warm, just the right side of hot. Not unlike a good cup of tea on a chilly evening, only the flavor was all wrong. Iron and something burnt and metal. You swallowed, shivering briefly, the warmth traveling down to your stomach. But it didn't stop there, continuing all the way to your extremities until you were warm, too warm, fever warm. Shaking hands went for your dress to start getting your layers off - you were suffocating in them.

"Easy," John rumbled, catching your hands and pulling you in close. Oddly enough, the warmth of him was soothing rather than too much, especially coupled with the strong hug. "You're alright, princess. Give it a minute, let it settle."

"What–?" You gasped at another wave of warmth pulsing through you, your hands clamping tight around his shirt.

"Shh, love." Gentle lips pressed to your forehead. "It will pass."

You made a very undignified noise, trembling through the heat until it ebbed. Then you rested against him, still trembling but steadier.

"Alright?" John tipped your head up gently, fingers gentle against your skin.

"I… think so." You blinked at him, just now aware of the wetness on your eyelashes. "That was…"

"Necessary." He pressed another kiss to your forehead. He still felt warm to you, but not quite as warm. "You did very well."

You blinked up at him, lifting one shaky hand to wipe away the wetness at your eyes, but he beat you to it. Gentle fingers wiped your cheeks and under your eyes, and he hummed softly.

"You should sleep now," he murmured. "Rest will help you to get back to normal."

"I'm alright." You frowned a little, trying to will yourself into being alright. Very rarely had you been so physically affected by something.

"You will be in the morning." His lips quirked in amusement at your stubbornness. "Let me help you, princess."

You huffed but gave in, still feeling just off kilter enough to not argue further. John helped you out of your gown all the way down to your slip, hands slow and steady over newly-bared skin.

But that was all he did before he helped you settle into the nest.

"Where are you sleeping?" You asked, already getting comfortable, eyelids heavy now that you were horizontal.

"I'll join you later," he murmured. "You just sleep."

You huffed a little complaint but, soon enough, your eyelids closed.

Rather to your surprise, John didn't do more than help you dress or undress for three days. His touches lingered, warm and both soothing and exciting, but he didn't ask for more than that. He seemed happy enough to let you explore, following you into and around the castle and onto the grounds.

Finally, though, you caught his hands as he was undoing the laces to your dress. (A new one today, one that had simply appeared next to your bed that morning with a smug-looking John watching you subtly.)

"Something the matter?" John asked, low and gentle, holding quite still.

"Not exactly," you hedged. "I just… you did mention… and we are married…" You looked down, heat rushing to your cheeks. It's not like you had a lot of experience with asking for this kind of thing.

He chuckled, moving closer until you could feel him pressed up against your back. "Yes, princess?"

You puffed out your cheeks, burning, and almost none of it had to do with his warmth. "I'd like you to… to touch me."

"I can do that." He bent his head, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your neck. At your shiver, he pulled his hands from under yours and finished unlacing your dress, letting it pool around your feet. "How much does my princess want to be touched?"

"Enough to ask for it." You tipped your head to give him better access, hands curling and uncurling to release some of your nervous energy.

"Ask nicely, then." Teeth a little too sharp to be human nipped your ear, and you gasped.

"P-please."

"Mmm, good girl." He rewarded you with another kiss to your neck.

He moved the two of you easily, lowering you into the nest and settling above you to kiss you, his hands working up under your remaining layers to palm your bare thighs. His eyes, when he pulled back enough to look at you, were nearly black with desire.

"Do you have any idea how good you look?" He asked in a low growl, hands squeezing your thighs. "Dressed in things I brought you, in a nest I made for you?"

You gasped at the sheer possessiveness in his voice, shivering once. “John…”

He licked his lips before leaning down to kiss you again, taking his time, discovering exactly what you liked. He didn’t stop until you were panting, hands fisted in his shirt.

But you were still surprised when he ripped the last layer of clothes, sharp nails making short work of the fabric and leaving shreds on the nest around you. Your eyes went wide at how easy it was for him, at the strength he’d been holding back.

And he had been holding back you realized, watching him look over all the newly exposed skin with something almost feral in his gaze. He’d been holding back for you, giving you time.

All thoughts flew from your mind when he dipped his head, lips landing in the divot of your collarbone, hands grasping your hips.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear over the thundering of your pulse. “And mine.” His lips traveled down your body, slow but determined. When your hands tugged in his shirt from the grip you still held, he huffed a warm breath against the skin of your navel. But he was quick to pull his shirt off, gently taking your hands and guiding them to his head. “Hold on to me, love.”

You licked your lips, one hand threading into the thick mass of his hair, the other carefully exploring one of his horns.

All thoughts of exploring flew from your head with the first kiss he placed to your inner thigh.

He moved slowly but steadily, his tongue exploring the space between your thighs. Every gasp, every whimper, every moan that escaped your lips urged him on, his tongue sweeping broadly through your wetness. Warmth pooled low in your belly, tension coiling through your muscles.

John pulled his head back and you whimpered, lifting your head to look down at him. He grinned, teeth just a little too sharp to be human, wetness smeared across his lips and cheeks and beard.

“Tell me if anything hurts, love,” he murmured, low but commanding.

“I will,” you managed, a little surprised you got words out and not just noises.

With a satisfied noise of his own, John dove back in. But a finger slid into you slowly, the intrusion odd but not unwelcome. You couldn’t resist wiggling your hips.

Until his arm banded over your hips, holding you down.

“John–” Your fingers tightened, desperate for something solid to hold onto.

He hummed softly, the sensation shocking and far too good. The noise you made would have embarrassed you if you had any space to think about it, but he must have liked it, because he growled long and low.

The coil in your gut snapped and you shouted as pleasure coursed through you, intense and unrelenting for long moments. Until it ebbed and you relaxed, panting, eyes wide.

“Still with me?” John had shifted up a bit, his chin resting on your hipbone, eyes fixed on your face.

You nodded, slow and languid, eyes fixed on him. "Mmhm."

"Good." He pressed a kiss to the skin of your hip before nipping gently, playfully. "Ready for more?"

You swallowed but nodded, loosening your grip on his hair. He moved up your body slowly, taking his time to place kisses and gentle nips across your skin.

"Tell me if it hurts," he murmured to you, fingers still in you starting to rock again, gentle but insistent. Your eyes fluttered as the warmth in you started up again, slow and steadily building.

"John." You tipped your head to kiss him again, fingers exploring the breadth of his shoulders. It wasn't long until you were moving under him, hips rocking to meet his fingers, your own fingers holding tight to his shoulders. He breathed out against your neck, damp and hot.

"Alright, princess." He pulled his fingers from you, ignoring your little whine. "We'll go slow, hm?"

You didn't understand for a moment, until you felt the thick of him press against you. You breathed in deeply, watching his face. His brow furrowed a little as he started to press in, taking his time as promised, until you had to toss your head back against the pillows with a whimper.

"Alright?" He didn't move, holding himself still, holding back. Again. For you.

"Yes," you gasped, the fullness distracting but undeniably pleasant. "More, please–"

He groaned, one hand clamping over your hip, fingers smearing wetness across your skin. His movements started slow, cautious, until you arched up into him and nearly begged for more. Then he moved faster, that delicious feeling of fullness near-addicting as pleasure coiled.

The heat of him pressed into your skin was more than you'd expected, only heating further as he moved. You quickly understood why he'd made you drink a few days ago - the heat would have been uncomfortable, perhaps unbearable, before.

But now it was all part of this curling pleasure, higher and hotter with every stroke.

"Come for me, my princess," he growled into your ear, teeth sharp against your skin. "Give it to me. One more, give it to me."

Those sharp teeth bit down on the junction of your neck and shoulder and you cried out wordlessly as your pleasure crested and broke. His low growl vibrated against your skin, your chest, even in the deepest parts of you, and you writhed underneath him.

His teeth didn't leave your skin as he thrust a few more times into you and stilled. Heat settled in you, just on the edge of too hot. You gasped, unsure if you wanted to get away from it or not.

"Hush, love." His voice was still ragged but calmer, and he pressed soothing kisses to your skin, even as he kept himself firmly inside of you, keeping that heat trapped in you. "Easy."

"What…?" You blinked slowly, hands slow as they traced his shoulders.

"Just relax," he rumbled, voice dropping to a soothing rumble. "Relax for me, my princess." His hands smoothed up your sides, slow and firm.

You relaxed, lulled by his voice and his touches. Eventually, the near-burning heat in you settled back to something easier, leaving you pleasantly tired.

"Ready to sleep?" He kept his voice quiet and low, one hand reaching up slowly to smooth over your brow.

"Mmhm." You blinked slowly, struggling to keep your eyes open.

"Sleep, then." He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, his eyes nearly glowing in the darkness. That pleased little smile was the last thing you registered before you drifted to sleep.

The two of you settled into a routine after that. You got to go anywhere you wanted. John brought you anything you desired (and then some). It was not the life you'd expected, growing up, but it was better, because your choices were your own. If you ever said no, John respected it.

Things were close to excellent.

A year had passed before you knew it, your belly slowly growing round with the child growing within you. John had started hovering more as you showed, occasionally refusing to even leave your side. (He was just a little overbearing but you knew he meant well.)

One afternoon, he stopped you from leaving the treasury and stalked off, anger rolling from him. Curious and refusing to be left out, you followed.

John stalked out of the long entrance tunnel, plumes of smoke billowing out behind him. Well, whatever had happened, he was very mad.

It didn't take you long to figure out why.

John emerged into the bright daylight and moved silently down the hill a little ways. You barely had time to catch up to him, hand cradled protectively over your belly, when John lunged and tackled something.

No. Someone. Someone who shouted in surprise, sword falling to the grass at his feet. Dark-skinned hands rose to grasp and claw at John's forearm as John lifted the intruder off his feet and into the air.

"I told you to stay inside." John didn't raise his voice, because he never raised his voice at you. But he was displeased.

"I was curious." You took two slow steps closer, eyeing the intruder. "Why did you come here?"

The intruder’s gaze flicked from John to you and back, his brow furrowing. His voice was tight when he finally asked, “Are you the princess?”

“That’s me,” you agreed, amused, lifting your chin. “And?”

“I, um.” He paused, trying to suck in a breath and coughing a little.

“John.”

Your dragon growled, low and displeased, but allowed the intruder’s feet to touch the ground again. He did not let the man go.

“I heard stories,” the man said, glancing between the two of you again. “That a dragon stole a princess, that she needed rescuing.”

“Stole?” Both your eyebrows flew up. “Well. Someone is lying to you all, because I married him.” You finally stepped close enough to put a gentle hand on John’s back.

“...What?” The poor man looked a bit gobsmacked now.

“Who told you I stole her?” John sounded a little less furious, which was a good thing as far as you were concerned.

The man faltered. “I mean, no one in particular, just, there were stories going ‘round…” He shrugged.

You tipped your head, looking at him. He didn’t look like someone from your city, and if he had been, he’d have remembered the wedding. (You were quite sure that people still told stories of the day a dragon had come down from the sky to marry their princess.) So, he was either from another town in your kingdom, or from another kingdom entirely. “Why did you come here?”

“I told you–” he started, confused.

“No, I meant you. Why did you come?” You nudged the sword on the ground, taking a closer look at it. It was old, the edges not sharpened properly. Not the sword of a current knight, certainly.

He paused at that, jaw clenching, fingers still curled around your dragon’s forearm. Then he sighed softly. “Don’t have anything left, figured I’d try.”

“John.” You turned your gaze on your dragon.

“No,” was his instant retort.

“John.” You stepped closer, pressing up against his side, looking up at him hopefully.

John lifted his upper lip in a silent snarl, blowing out some smoke at the intruder, who made a face and tried valiantly not to cough. You ignored the little fit of temper.

“He’s not even a knight,” you murmured. “He was just trying to help.”

“And if I let him go, how many more will follow?” John asked, low and vicious. “Hm? You are mine. I will not allow them to hurt you.”

“So let him stay here.” You shrugged.

“What?” John looked down at you, eyes wide.

“What?” the intruder choked out too, also staring at you.

“You know we could use the help, and I wouldn’t mind the company.” You batted your eyelashes at John. “And that way you’ll know I’m not alone when you have to go do your dragon stuff.”

John looked torn. He was loathe to deny you anything, something you knew and shamelessly took advantage of. He just needed a little nudge.

“What did you do, before you decided to come here?” You looked at the intruder.

“I was a baker,” he admitted slowly.

“Oh, excellent,” you sighed with real pleasure. You’d been missing fresh bread.

John’s shoulders slumped, and you hid your smile. “You have a choice,” he growled at the baker. “You can stay and follow my rules, or I can drop you in the ocean.”

“I’ll stay,” the baker was quick to agree, finally releasing John’s forearm to put his hands out at his sides.

John finally released him, though he still looked grumpy. You ignored that, smiling and introducing yourself properly.

“I’m Kyle,” he said, his smile small but warm with gratitude. “Kyle Garrick.”

“Well, Kyle Garrick, allow me to show you around.” You tucked your arm through John’s, gently tugging until he allowed himself to be led back inside. Kyle fell into step on your other side, though he kept a bit of respectful distance.

Oh yes. You wouldn’t trade this life for anything.

#dragon!price #glitter and gold #john price x reader #john price x you #f!reader

1K notes · View notes

theonewiththefanfics · 2 years

Text

Ten Things I Like About You (one-shot)

Synopsis: There is one rule for Y/N to accept Jason Carver's advances: if he wants to go out with her, the jock has to name ten things he likes about the resident 'Freak'Eddie Munson. Can he do it?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, Jason being a dick as usual, nothing else I can think of (minimally edited)

Genre: fluff mainly

Word count: 3085

DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE MY WORKS ON OTHER PLATFORMS WITHOUT SPECIFIC WRITTEN PERMISSION!!!

Y/N Y/L/N was an enigma at Hawkins High. Not unpopular by any means, but didn’t run directly in with the ‘it’ crowd either. She was friends or at least friendly with most of the cliques, but even with the ones she didn’t interact with, she didn’t bully or look down on them, simply coexisted without any problems. Eddie thought it was probably why he’d started to crush on the girl.

Typically, she’d be sitting by the cheerleader table, her and the Queen of Hawkins High Chrissy Cunningham being as thick as thieves unless Nancy Wheeler had taken some time off from their newspaper to come and eat a bit, but starting from a couple of months ago, from time to time, he’d find the girl by his Hellfire Club table. She wouldn’t bother them, wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t even look at them, simply sat down and started to push around the sludge-like mashed potatoes or scrutinize the way-too-orange looking mac‘n’cheese on her plate.

At first, Eddie wanted to snark at her, wanted to tell her to get lost, but the day Y/N had first taken a seat at the far end of their table, he’d noticed how she’d closed her eyes for a moment, took in a deep breath and exhaled. And then, when she did open her eyes – it was like a giant boulder had come off her shoulders. And he understood it. Maybe not exactly what or why she felt that way, but he did, and Eddie’d be damned if it didn’t make his heart skip a beat at the thought, she felt safe around him and his bunch, safe enough to let down her guard like that.

Slowly it had become a routine. Seemingly whenever Y/N had too much of something, she’d take a now unofficially assigned seat at the right end of their table and just sit there. She’d throw them a small smile and a wave, then pull out her Walkman and put the headphones on, disconnecting her from the surrounding world, and Eddie had sort of taken it upon himself to make sure Y/N enjoyed her forty minutes of peace unbothered. Maybe he’d sometimes let Robin Buckley or Chrissy take her out of the zen state, but for anyone else, Eddie would give the most menacing and crazy look he could muster, so the person tucked their tail between their legs and turned the other way, leaving the girl alone.

This was one of those days where Y/N needed to get away from the crowd, it seemed, as Eddie watched how her shoulders and back tensed more and more with every second the guys from the basketball team spoke around her while she sat next to Chrissy, before something in her snapped. She placed a gentle palm on the other girl’s hand, squeezed it and stood up, taking her food tray with her, as well as her book bag.

Loud “oh, come on, Y/N!” followed her, but she didn’t even look back, rather gritted her teeth so as to seemingly not let out whatever it was, she wanted to actually say.

With a deep sigh, she dropped the bag on the ground, and a bit more carefully placed the red plastic tray on the table as to not let the questionable meal of the day slip off.

She was wearing a pair of light baggy jeans, some graphic tee of an obscure-looking indie movie printed on, tucked behind the waistband and cinched with a black belt while a knitted patchwork cardigan kept her warm in the still somewhat cool spring winds.

Y/N looked comfortable, and that was also one of the things Eddie liked about her. She didn’t really follow the newest fashion trends. Sure, her clothes were mostly styled in a way that reflected whatever was in at that moment, but she did it in her own way. Eddie was pretty much sure, he’d seen that cardigan on her all throughout high school. She didn’t hide behind clothes to create a persona, she used that and make-up, or on some days none of it, to enhance who she already was.

“Shit,” Y/N muttered under her breath, bringing Eddie out from his thoughts as her fork clattered below the table.

Grumbling, she put her Walkman away to lean down and grab it, but the freshman Mike, who’d Eddie had recruited for the D&D club, beat her to it.

“Here,” the boy mumbled, and Y/N flashed him a grateful smile.

“Thanks. But I probably should get a new one. I don’t think I’m brave enough to put anything in my mouth that’s touched the cafeteria floor. Don’t want to be the cause of the new Black Plague or some shit.” She snorted. “Besides, I’ve made it to the end of my senior year. It’d be quite pathetic to kick the bucket like a couple of months before that.”

“Not as pathetic as repeating the senior year, over and over again,” Eddie chuckled from the head of the table, but Y/N didn’t laugh along with him at his self-deprecating joke.

“Just because someone’s not academically skilled, doesn’t mean they’re pathetic.” She was frowning. “I’ve heard you play, Eddie. You’re amazing. I have no doubt that when you get out of this hellhole, you’ll do big things. Just… just don’t give up yet, don't write yourself off like that.”

Eddie was one hundred percent sure he was blushing like a madman, but the soft smile she gave him made his heart soar at her kind words, let alone at the fact she had heard him play and had said he was talented. The man was just about ready to combust from the love in his chest.

Truth be told, Eddie was also academically inclined, it’s just that whatever the school threw his way couldn’t hold his attention for more than a second. He was excellent at math because of D&D, but when it came to finding the x on a Pythagorean theorem, he was lost because there was no intrigue behind it. He was an amazing storyteller, but his grammar wasn’t the best, and his handwriting was even worse, so most of the time even he couldn’t figure out what he’d written on the page, getting himself a fat D- for the unintelligible scribbles.

“Shit,” Mike muttered, bringing Eddie out from his daydreams and making him look up at the freshman, but his eyes were trained somewhere over Y/N’s shoulder.

Slowly he followed as she glanced backwards, and groaned as they noted Jason Carver walking up the Hellfire table, the whole club growing stiff and frowns etching themselves onto their faces.

“Not one single day of fucking peace,” Y/N mumbled under her breath and rolled her eyes.

“You okay?” Eddie leaned closer to her over the table. “Just give the word and I’ll tell him to fuck right off from here. I have no problems making a scene.”

“No.” She sighed, stabbing the fork into the food with a ferocity, Eddie could only imagine it was someone’s face. Hopefully that someone's that was sauntering their way. “Don’t. The shit he does and says to you is bad enough, so please don’t add any fuel to the fire on my account. Sorry, by the way.” She grimaced. “For all of that.”

Eddie shook his head. “It’s not like you’re saying those things, which by the way, thank you.”

Y/N frowned even more. “You shouldn’t be thanking me for being a decent person. Fuck how low has the bar gotten exactly?”

His snort made her lips quirk up in a smile, but all of it was wiped away when Jason cleared his throat.

For a moment she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, as if gathering her self-composure, before turning around in her seat with a raised brow. “Can I help you, Carver?”

“I just - uh - look.” Jason gave Y/N the most charming smile he could muster. “I know the guys can be a lot with the teasing, but I actually came here to say that honestly maybe we should do it, you know...”

She looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Should what?”

“Go on that date. I mean I think we’d look pretty cute together.”

“Yes, well, some people think hairless mole rats are cute, but you don’t really argue about taste,” Y/N deadpanned and once again Eddie snorted.

Jason threw him a scalding glare. “Something funny, freakshow?”

“Carver,” she snapped. “Seriously?”

The basketball player’s hands balled into fists, but it seemed like he knew throwing a punch at Eddie would be completely counterproductive. “Okay, look.” He averted his eyes to Y/N. “Can you just come back and sit with us? At least away from… them? I know that all of this,” he gestured towards the Hellfire Club. “Is just an act, okay. I know you’re trying to play hard to get, but at least do it with someone of your own status.”

“My own status? Who the fuck do you think we are?” the girl scoffed. “This is high school, Jason, not the Queen’s court.”

“This shit’ll follow you after high school, Y/N.” Jason looked up and down at Eddie as if he was vermin. “I’m just trying to help you make the right choices.”

Honestly, Eddie wasn’t even listening to what the asshole was saying as he watched in fascination as a plan developed in her head.

“You know what, Jason, you are right,” she said. “I will go out on a date with you, and I will never talk to anyone at this table. In fact, I'll never even walk past here again.”

Well, there went any chance Eddie had.

“If…”

Oh.

Y/N’s eyes met his. Eddie gulped, watching her stand up and slowly saunter away. His heart was beating a mile a minute and even though he didn’t have asthma, he was sure this was how an asthma attack felt, breaths coming in shorter and shorter as Y/N stood behind him.

For a second there was non-verbal communication between the two, as Y/N asked with her eyes if he was alright with her touching him, and he gave her a barely-there nod. Then her palms slowly settled on his shoulders before sliding over them and down and down his chest until she had her chin perked in the crook of his neck, her fingers intertwined right below his pecks, and oh, God, Eddie was gonna pass out.

He was desperately trying not to squirm because if there was one place on his body that was ticklish, it was his neck and collarbones area, but Eddie would stay still like the dead if it kept Y/N’s chin on his shoulder.

She was hugging him, her breaths tickling his neck, as his mind whirred, not even able to process any words coming out of her or Jason’s mouth, the rest of the cafeteria background having turned into white noise. All that existed was Y/N’s scent, and her touch, and her body weight pressing against his back and oh god, oh god, oh god.

“ – isn’t that right, Eddie?” Y/N’s voice invaded his ears and he blinked rapidly to get back to reality.

“What?”

“I said a guy should prove himself to a girl before asking her out, right?”

Eddie swallowed, and nodded, his eyes unable to break from Y/N’s gaze. “Right, yeah. Of course. Definitely. One hundred percent.”

“So then.” Y/N looked at Jason. “Don’t you think you’d have to prove to me I wouldn’t waste my time with you?”

Jason had his arms crossed, glaring at Eddie as he sucked on his teeth, probably trying to figure out a hundred different ways as to how to punch in his nose, but reluctantly looked at Y/N.

“Name your price, Y/L/N.”

“You, Jason Carver, have to name ten nice things about Eddie here. And you have to say them like you mean them.”

Jason let out a laugh, and the rest of the gathered basketball team mimicked him. Eddie hadn't even noticed his goons had gathered to watch the spectacle. “What? I meant something I can actually do.”

“I can start.” Y/N shook her head and smiled as if she was oblivious as to what he’d meant. “But obviously you can’t use my examples, you have to come up with your own. For one.” She turned to the side and looked Eddie directly into his eyes. Yep. He was for sure dead. Had to be. Or definitely was going to be because he wasn’t breathing. Was his heart still working? He wasn’t sure. “I absolutely love how you can play the guitar. I think it’s amazing. It takes dedication and skill to keep up with something like that. And well, I’d say it certainly means you’re good with your fingers, which is an added bonus girls definitely appreciate.”

You know what? If lightning struck him then and there, Eddie would be completely fine by it. Was he a massive virgin? Yes, very much so, he’d never even fingered a girl before, but holy shit, he’d play the guitar until his fingertips bled, if what Y/N said was true, especially if that was her opinion.

“Come on, Y/L/N.” Jason let out a chuckle of disbelief, but Eddie could see he was seething underneath, and it was very much so an enjoyable sight. “Stop playing. Tell me what I actually have to do to get you on a date with me and away from these lowlifes.”

Y/N simply shrugged, pressing her cheek against Eddie’s, pouting as she did so. “What do you mean? I already did – name ten nice things about Eddie. It can be about his looks, what he’s good at, how he’s helped someone – anything. Here’s an easy one – his mind is absolutely brilliant. You have to have amazing imagination to come up with such complex Dungeons & Dragons campaign plots, and I think he’d make an amazing novelist if he put those ideas on paper.”

“He’s a freak.” Jason finally snapped, sneering with as much venom as he could muster. Eddie wouldn’t be surprised if he actually was a snake underneath that skin and hair gel.

Y/N snorted and straightened out, but her palms remained rested on Eddie’s shoulders and he couldn’t help himself but settle his own over hers. Their fingers intertwined and she squeezed his palm in response. He was in heaven.

“And what, you’re not?” Y/N scoffed. “Jason, you’re obsessed with chasing an orange ball around a court like you’re a fucking dog who needs to hear ‘good boy’ every time you almost put it in the hoop. You think you’re so nice and all when you’re the most judgmental piece of shit I know. I asked you to name just ten nice thing about Eddie, and you couldn’t even pull some bullshit one out of your ass, but I definitely can name ten things I hate about you starting with the fact that you’re so high up your own ass you can’t take ‘no’ for an answer. I don’t care about sitting next to you, let alone going on a date with you. The fact that you can’t see beyond your own prejudices, makes me know I did the right choice by telling you to go screw your hand the first time around.”

“You’ll regret this,” Jason sneered. “I’m trying to save you, can’t you see? You’ve been sitting with them so long it’s started to corrupt you.”

She raised her brow. “Will I? Because from my standpoint my future looks pretty a-okay. And saved from what? A fantasy game? You think an elf is gonna chop my head off in the real world? Or some orc's siren-like voice will lure me to my doom? Get a grip, Carver, and get out of my face before I smash it in for you.”

Jason was absolutely seething, his face flushed red while his chest heaved up and down, throwing one final look at Eddie who had a satisfied smirk on his own. “Just you wait, Y/L/N, and you’ll see the true nature of these – these Devil worshippers. And when you do, don’t come crawling back to us.”

“Jason, if you had the last glass of water on earth and I was on fire, I’d rather be consumed by those Hellish flames you’re afraid of than go near you with a ten-foot pole.”

And just to add the cherry on top, just to piss him off even more Eddie wiggled his fingers in a ‘bye-bye’ motion.

For a moment, Jason stammered, clenching and unclenching his fists as if readying himself for a pounce, but even with the whole basketball team behind him, he’d been humiliated by Y/N already, and if Principal Higgins came in to see a brawl, he'd surely believe the girl's version of the story, mainly because Chrissy Cunningham would a hundred percent stand by her best friend.

Eddie was sure he’d pay for her sticking up for him later, and no doubt Jason would find a way to make Y/N’s life a hell, but for now, they celebrated, as Carver turned on his heel and stalked away, the whole of Hellfire erupting in cheers and whoops.

“I’m so in love with you,” Eddie breathed out and Y/N threw her head back in a laugh. He swore it was the most beautiful sound in the world before he realized he’d said his thoughts out loud.

“Yep, and you said that out loud too.” Her smile was blinding, as she took the offered seat at Eddie’s side one of the boys sliding further, instead of retreating to the one at the end of the table. “But it’s okay. I – uh – I kinda like you too. It’s what made putting Jason in his place double the joy.”

Fuck it. It was high-time he shot his shot. “So, if I asked you out on a date would you tell me to go and screw my hand or would you give me a chance?”

She rested her chin on her palm, giving him a coy smile. “Well, can you name ten things you like about me?”

Eddie leaned in closer, their noses almost brushing, wide grins on both of their faces. “Baby I have a whole list – would you like to hear it alphabetically or by the dates I noticed them?”

“Your pick, Eddie.”

By the time he walked that graduation stage and flipped Principal Higgins off, he hadn’t even gotten to B yet as the list was ever growing.

So was hers.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstranger

A/N: :)

P.S. Eddie tags are open if anyone wants to be tagged in future stories, HMU or leave a message under the fic :)

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #netflix stranger things #stranger things cast #Stranger Things Spoilers #joseph quinn #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn fluff #eddie munson fluff

8K notes · View notes

mayumiiyuu · 1 year

Note

Please please do a bokuto smut 🙏🏻🥰

a/n: no bc u have no idea how actually in love I am with this man

18+ Content MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

timeskip!bokuto x reader

warnings: size kink, daddy kink, slight breeding kink, defos not proofread haha

Bokuto Koutarou is just so big—in every sense of the word. His personality is big, he’s constantly in the spotlight, fans adore his bright and engaging persona, just so irresistible in the way he’s basically sunshine incarnate. He towers over you too, his hands are almost twice your size, something you discovered when you did the cutesy little flirting technique when you first started dating by measuring both your hands; his physique is something many people desire or envy.

Though of course, there was always something more to Bokuto. He’s supportive, endlessly and excitably so, he takes care of you like no one else does, he treats you so well.

But god—was it easy to love him for his size, especially now with him balls deep inside your weeping cunt.

“fuck, baby, look at you, taking me so fucking well.”

He says as he places a hand atop your lower stomach, a bulge forming from his absolutely massive size. You can’t count how many times you’ve already cummed from his prep on you alone, fishing around his tongue and fingers as he prepped your tight hole for his massive fucking cock.

Bokuto is easily excitable, sex with you is no exception, so just as he bottomed out inside you, he spared no time ruining your sloppy pussy with each thrust. Suddenly, you feel yourself being flipped around and hoisted up, so that Bokuto’s hands gripped the back of your knees as you sat on his lap, pistoning in and out of you with rapid speed. You felt drool slip out of your mouth as you felt the tip of his cock practically kiss your cervix in this new position.

“this okay, baby? god—fuck—so pretty for me, so fucking good to me, letting me do whatever I want—shit!”

Another thing to love about him is simply how strong he is; years of training did him well, his body sculpted and arms defined from all those endless practices that had busied him for a long time. In fact, he had just come home from practice that day, and missed you terribly—determined to show you just how much he did. The conscious part of your mind marveled at how strong he actually was with how he was fucking you with reckless abandon in a full Nelson, no less, legs folded so that nothing could obscure him from fucking up into you; while the other bit that was lost in the pleasure he was giving you begged for him to make you cum again.

“h-hah—Kou! s’deep, daddy, so fucking deep inside me.”

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror across from the bed you were currently fucking like rabbits on, the fucked out look on your face, your hooded eyes, made you feel somewhat embarrassed from how much of a slut you really were for this man—but this embarrassment was quickly washed away as you looked down to see his thighs flex with every motion, the veins on his hands more prominent now as he gripped you roughly. he looks up for a moment, and catches your eyes through the mirror, which made you quickly avert your gaze.

he smirks, hoisting you up and closer to him so that your back was pressed flush against his chest. “oh, don’t go all shy on me now, princess. tell daddy how good you’re feeling.” with that, he thrusts up especially brutally into you, earning a loud moan from your mouth.

“s’good, daddy! such..hah..such a fucking slut for your cock daddy, s’all for you.”

he chuckles breathlessly before you feel yourself practically being thrown off him and onto your back on the bed, before he plunges his thick cock back into your cunt, hoisting your legs up on his shoulders as he presses his lips against your chest, sucking harshly at the tender skin.

“good girl. gonna be good for me and let me fill up this pussy with my cum, huh?”

#haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu!!#haikyuu smut #bokuto x fem!reader #bokuto kōtarō #bokuto smut #bokuto x reader smut #anime x reader #haikyuu x reader #bokuto kotaro smut

1K notes · View notes

projecttreehouse · 2 years

Text

how to write relatable characters

writing relatable characters may seem like an easy task, especially when you’re constructing your protagonist. but what if you want to make your antagonist likeable? what if you want people to hate your protagonist but still root for them? all of this and more requires that your characters be relatable. they need to feel real, so how do you do that? here’s how:

- flaws: this is probably obvious. everyone has flaws, so we should give our characters flaws, too. this applies even if your character is non-human; they cannot escape the personification that we as writers or readers project onto them. we are humans reading, so we expect to see human qualities everywhere we look. if you’re having trouble of identifying your character’s flaws, here are some prompts for ways to think about flaws beyond a list:

what skills do they lack? what do they struggle with?

can their strengths be turned against them as a weakness?

what makes them react emotionally or impulsively?

are they aware of their flaws? if so, do they want to improve them or change them?

- quirks: these are what make your character unique or special, and no, i don’t mean purple eyes or unique physical traits. i mean: what makes your character authentically themselves? what traits define them that few others have? some ways to think about this are:

how do they react when nervous? do they have a tell? similarly, how do they react on behalf of any emotion?

what skills do they have that hardly anyone else has?

what obscure thing are they obsessed with?

do they have a unique outlook on life compared to their peers?

- values: these come from life experiences: where we were raised, our family and friends, our community, religious affiliations, etc. i suggest identifying eight to ten values that define your character and then narrowing that list down to five values that mark their core or essence. think about how these values influence their choices, decisions, and ultimately, the plot of the novel. here are some more prompts to think about values:

how do they react when their values are challenged? are they one to speak up or do they sit back in the shadows?

what, if anything, will change or shatter their values?

are their actual values misaligned with their believed values?

- stakes: what is at risk for your character? what is motivating them? stakes don’t need to be over the top or life or death; they can be as simple as maintaining a relationship or reaching a goal. unless there’s an outside influence (ie. percy’s mother being kidnapped in The Lightning Thief), most stakes—especially those relatable—tie back to values. even those influenced by outside factors can tie back to values: the only reason percy is motivated to get his mother back is because he cares for her and she is the one person who has always advocated for him and cared for him. he values family and riordan uses his family to motivate him and incite the plot. generally, there will be one overarching stake for your character, but throughout your novel, there should be several smaller stakes. these may not service the plot but should elaborate on your character nonetheless. some ways to think about stakes include:

how can i use internal or external factors to create convincing, relatable stakes that tie back to basic values?

why does the overarching stake matter to my character? why do they care?

how can i raise the stakes or introduce new ones that are relevant to my character and illustrate them as a relatable being?

- connection: even if your character is an introvert, they will still be connected to someone, something, or even an idea. we, as humans, look to certain people, pets, objects, and ideas to maintain our sense of reality whether we realize it or not. if your character prides themselves in having no attachments, think about the ideas or themes that mark the cornerstones of their reality. most human beings strive for some form of connection, so here are more prompts for thinking about your characters and connection:

what does connection mean to my character? how do they show how they value their connections or relationships?

how does my character’s behavior change when around different connections?

what connections define my character and their reality? how will these connections influence my character and/or the plot?

how will removing or challenging a connection change, influence, or motivate my character?

a good rule of thumb is to treat a character as a human, not a plot device. there is a time or place in which a character must act as a plot device, but if you’re wanting your readers to be compelled by your narration and the characters within them, you should strive to write your characters as human (aka as relatable). one of the greatest pleasures i find in writing is when other’s identify themselves in my writing.

you’re not just here to tell a story, you’re here to connect with others through the illustration of your characters. let the reader navigate your prose as a detective, to search for and identify the evidence provided by you. that is to say, show us how these things manifest in your character. don’t tell us.

happy writing! hopefully this post gave you some ways to start thinking about how to show the relatability of your character. if you have any questions about implementing these tools or about writing characters, our ask box is always open.

#writing tips #writing advice #writing help #story writing #novel writing #nanowrimo #writing #write it #writeblr #writers of tumblr #creative writing #books and novels #writers block #character development #writers on tumblr #writing prompts #writing tools #fiction writing #indie writing

4K notes · View notes

osaemu · 7 months

Text

OSAMU DAZAI: ❛❛ FALSE GOD ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ dazai's far from the perfect boyfriend, and you're not the perfect girlfriend either. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. gets kinda angsty but nothin' major. toxic undertones. not a songfic but there's one line from false god included. mostly cunniligus. kinda self-indulgent.

author's note: obscure ending, interpret it however u want.

osamu dazai is a cynic, and he has no shame in admitting that.

every word you say and every man you smile at, dazai knows. behind those coffee-brown eyes lie a calculated gaze, and it's fixated on you. it's as if you're nothing more than another pawn in his games — just another player for dazai to manipulate at his will.

dazai figures that it's just human nature. everyone has their own motives, and everyone has their own secrets. being raised by the mafia, he's practically been trained to analyze every move made by another. after all, since he can't read minds, he has to assume that even you can't possibly be this good to him.

one day, when you bring him lunch at the agency, he asks what you'd like in return. you pause, a bit confused, before shaking your head and replying that it wasn't meant to come off that way. dazai insists that he do you a favor or something in return in order to avoid being indebted to you.

it stings, really, the idea that dazai thinks that your relationship is nothing more than a contract. and after weeks go on with dazai's suspicious eyes boring into your back every time you do a favor for him, you finally tell him so. you tell him what you thought you'd never have to tell him — that you don't have any ulterior motives in dating him.

dazai disagrees.

"i can't talk to you when you're like this," you murmur, shaking your head. and you really can't. honestly it's frustrating and draining — you don't want to have to prove to dazai night after night that you aren't with him for anything else than him.

your boyfriend's eyes narrow slightly, and clearly, he's trying to find your angle. is this a ploy to gain sympathy from him? or are you trying to guilt-trip him into doing something for you later? whatever it is, dazai decides that the best course of action would be to leave. for now, at least. he'll come back when you're asleep.

"okay."

dazai turns and leaves, going off to who-knows-where to do who-knows-what. you're left standing in the doorway, dumbfounded and not sure where to go from here.

two wineglasses and three hours later, he returns and finds you passed out on the couch. under any other circumstances, dazai'd be worried, but there's a trashy romcom playing in the background and a half-empty wine bottom on the table, so he figures that you're fine.

he walks over, careful not to wake you. dazai holds a bouquet of pink roses in one hand, and he uses the other to gently caress your cheek.

"god, you're so dramatic," dazai whispers, eyes trailing over your drowsy figure. his words are laced with muted affection, as if he can't find a way to express it without a petty insult on top of it. and well, maybe you are somewhat dramatic, but the way he sees it, he'd rather make up now than drag this on later. he sets down the bouquet and kneels down to your level, and the faint scent of whiskey lingers in the air.

"i wish i could be your perfect boyfriend," dazai says quietly, trailing his fingers through your hair. "but i just can't be, and if you want me to leave, i will."

dazai knows you're awake and listening to every word, and he also knows that you don't underestimate him. he's confident that you're aware that he knows you're not actually asleep, but for the sake of the moment, he gives you that choice. you can either keep pretending to sleep and brush him off, or you can open your eyes.

you open your eyes.

maybe you're just a hopeless romantic, but you could swear that a soft, relieved sigh escapes dazai's lips. lips that are now on yours as dazai attempts to make up for all the times he's pushed you away. and it's likely that even now, dazai won't change. he never does, no matter how many promises he makes. but it's nice that for once, he's trying to make up for what he's lost. even if it isn't much.

but you do get pretty close to forgiving him when his mouth isn't the only part of him on you. dazai's slender fingers make quick work of his coat as he tosses it to the side, eyes focused on you, only you. he doesn't have time to wonder if this is what you wanted all along of if it's just the sex scene in the romcom that's making him do this, but one thing leads to another and soon he's eating you out, tongue turning the edges of your vision white.

if you had doubts about the existence of heaven before, they were gone now. you swear you can see stars as dazai eats you out, and the lewd sounds that fall from your lips are downright sinful. you beg for more, more, more, and dazai obeys, giving you everything that you ask for.

it's funny how weeks of underlying tension can be eliminated in the span of an hour, but if there's anyone who could do it, it'd be dazai. as his tongue flicks in and out of your drenched cunt, your ability to form cohesive words vanishes, and all you're left with is his name.

"god, 'samu, please don't stop," you gasp, hands tangled in his hair as he looks up at you from his spot in between your thighs. his mouth has always worked wonders on you, whether it's through his poetic words or if it's through his skillful tongue, and now is no different.

your chest heaves as the coil in your stomach tightens as you feel yourself getting closer to your breaking point. you're entirely convinced that the world's stopped around you, and that there's nothing but you, dazai, and his lips in the universe.

if death was like what you were feeling right now, then by all means, you were entirely willing to give up your life for pleasure like this. the feeling of transcendence from your spot beneath dazai to a world above was unlike any other, and only dazai could take your hand and lead you there.

"eyes on me, darling," dazai murmurs, voice barely audible over the smutty noises coming out of your mouth. somehow, his voice is steady, and if you weren't so fucked out, you'd overthink this by leaps and bounds.

you chant his name like a prayer as you fight to keep your eyes open. you want nothing more than to tilt your head back and close your eyes, but somehow, you're certain dazai would end this torturous, hedonistic moment if you were to disregard his words.

blind faith was stupid, so stupid, but times like these would make you follow dazai anywhere. his words, his lips, his eyes, all of it. who were you, a mere mortal, to resist his decadent charms?

"more," you whisper.

he gives you more. dazai fucks you until your vision is hazy and you can't feel anything but him, and when you finally start to come down from your hour-long high, you're met with the sound of his sultry laugh.

"you wanted this, didn't you?" dazai breathes, eyeing you intently.

you nod, unable to do much more than that. dazai hums in reply, lean body collapsing on top of you. his mind is spinning, processing thousands of little details and thoughts all at once. his head hurts, his body's sore, and he's tired and ready to sleep, but one look at your fucked-out smile and he's hungry for more.

dazai presses his lips to your bare shoulder, and maybe you're imagining it, but you sense an undertone of self-satisfaction in what he whispers next.

"that's what i thought."

503 notes · View notes

sseomtada · 26 days

Text

stick [lewis hamilton]

you show lewis how to drift like a local.

warnings: 18+++ | wc: 5872 | part: 1/1

a/n: this was supposed to be finished in time for suzuka. anyways..do Not tell my dad why i really asked about his driving days...#pureresearch

“I keep hearing the word hashiriya, what does it mean?”

His question came as you hiked through the narrow path he’d been apprehensive to take at first. You didn’t blame him for that. If someone you’d reached out to only a few months ago on Instagram offered to take you to an obscure location in a foreign country in the middle of the night, you’d be constantly looking over your shoulder too.

“That’s what they call us, street racers. Well, not you.” You squinted at dim lights in the distance. “We’re almost there.”

He scoffed in disbelief. “Am I not?”

Your steps quickened in an effort to leave the chilly air and meet the engines purring not too far off. Lewis was right beside you, his ears perking up when he registered the sound as well. It made his shoulders relax.

“Someone who drives in a highly regulated series that leaves no room for imagination or creativity is not hashiriya.” You laughed.

“Hey! I drift a little too…” He joined in.

Just before reaching your destination, you stopped and stepped in front of him. If he didn’t want to completely stick out like a sore thumb, some pretext had to be given. You were also vouching for him. So the last thing you wanted was to be teased by your group for bringing a full fledged newbie on their run.

You held out a hand. When Lewis looked at you with confusion, you sighed and grabbed one of his. The way your dad taught you was a mix of tactile and visual. Something about that always worked better for you and seemed to for the other drivers you helped.

“What you do is more manji, that’s when you fishtail or high speed drift.” Your finger moved down the middle of his palm, veering off left at his knuckle.

His eyes followed and then met yours. “Is that not what we’re doing here?”

“In my team, we do choku dori. It’s like sliding back and forth.” You zig-zagged your finger down his whole palm. “To do this style you need to have complete control, full trust in the car and yourself, and a bit of madness.”

Lewis nodded, but the tension had returned to his shoulders.

“We’ll do a few runs at the port before heading out.” Your hand closed around his, squeezing reassuringly. “Any other questions?”

“Actually, yes.” He aimed a thumb back at the direction you walked. “Why did we park down there?”

That made you smile sheepishly. The thing about what you were doing was that it technically wasn’t legal, and by that you meant it fully wasn’t. Drifting itself was permitted by law, but ripping through Osaka’s narrow, weaving mountain public roads? No so much.

“It’s a safety precaution incase the cops show up. Some stay behind to use the road cars to bail us out. We hide them because of plates and registrations - don’t need those present in a lot with a bunch of tire marks.” You tried to explain in a way that wouldn’t make him too anxious.

Ya!

The greeting echoed from your leader who waved from the hood of his car. You returned it and began to jog over. When Lewis was noticeably trailing further behind than before, you spun with a cheeky grin, goading:

“You coming or not, pretty boy?”

His laid back demeanor immediately returned at the name you’d jokingly began calling him after his initial DM. It was the first thing that came to your mind. Professional drivers in F1 were so polished with their well maintained images and brand deals, far from anything in your world. On top of that, well, he was objectively gorgeous.

Lewis caught up, challenging gaze meeting your own. He looked like he was contemplating a comeback that would make you eat your words. Ultimately, he knew just like you did the only way he could do that was behind the wheel.

Everyone size him up as he came into view. They were aware of who he was, but his status meant nothing in this crowd. He received respectful greetings and that was about as far as it went for acknowledgement. If he wanted the same praise he got on race weekends, he’d have to earn it.

Turbo charged engines fire up all around you. Gasoline and clutch fluid fused into the crisp, cool air, burning tires soon marring the sky with smoke. You crept up on your mechanic who jumped, nearly banging his head on the underside of your open hood.

“How’s she looking?” The last run was pretty taxing, you’d barely lugged it back to the garage before stalling.

“Like 90’s Pam Anderson after the improvements.” He smoothed his hand over your black Silvia.

Your eyes rolled, “What do you have for my friend?”

“TO4Z HK5 freshly installed in this san ni.” He motioned at the Skyline next to your car.

Lewis took a walk around to check out the vehicle. You saw him smile as he noticed the paint job was fresh, body now wrapped in a deep purple. It made you jealous. Your car still wore some of the scars from the last barrier you kissed.

“Let’s see what you got!” You hurled in his direction as you slid into your driver’s seat.

Vibrations shot through your body once you started her up. Since you were just testing how she felt more than anything, you didn’t push much. The rears were working just like you wanted them to. They grappled for traction on the straights and as you swung left, you got the perfect amount of oversteer to whip into the night’s first drift.

Behind you, Lewis was stressing his own cylinders. You cut your engine and leaned out of your window to watch him. He was admittedly good, better than you expected. To go from handling a car where a sliding rear was an issue to one where it was essential, and to do so with precision, wasn’t a small feat. He rounded off his practice run with a Scandinavian flick that resembled your own, though he was a bit shakier on the entrance.

“Wanna try something with me?” Your finger ran along the edge of his window.

“Sure, what?” Lewis breathed heavily, still on a high from having his body thrown about.

“Tsuisou.” Your cheeks rose.

It was tandem, when two cares drifted together. With his skill level, you think he was ready to have a go at it. Practicing extra precision would also help him when you took to the steep, weaving road.

He looked unsure at the suggestion, which was actually a good thing. If he had been too eager to give it a shot, you might’ve changed your mind. It was among the most dangerous forms of drifting should drivers lose control. You had faith in him though.

“Think about it as a dance. Just follow my lead.” Your hand gave his door a pat before you jogged back to your car.

She was in way better condition than the last time you drove her, another reason you wanted to do this. You shot down the lot’s makeshift circuit and swung your car into the first corner. Right as your instincts signaled that you’d reached the limit before you’d spin out, you straightened up to build momentum.

You continued. Drift left, drift right, left once more and straighten. Once you’d completed your lap, you pulled up beside Lewis and caught his eye. He gave you a thumbs up. With a wolfish grin, you peeled off again.

Your car was half a length in front of his and then cleared it with about that width in between. As soon as you pulled the wheel right to swing the Silvia out in the opposite direction, he did the same to his Skyline. The short left drift entered a long right and into an even more extended left as you both turned the corner.

He was nearly there, his front windows level with your back. Going into the next turn, you repeated the same action - short left for the set up, long right to really provide the push and then, magic.

Lewis lined up perfectly beside you. For a split second, right in the heart of the corner, your front windows were level with your cars barely a few feet apart. You swore you heard him cackling loudly before you tore down the straight to prepare for the next one.

The feeling was exhilarating. There was no space in your mind for worries that stressed you out on the daily when the beast of a machine you wielded demanded every inch of it. The freedom in those seconds you let the car just be all that it is, your hands hovering barely an inch above the wheel while in full lock, was incomparable.

And getting to do that alongside him made this night one of the best in your life.

Everyone turned their high beams on, signaling that they were headed out. In your rear view, you could see Lewis brimming with excitement. A far cry from the man who looked so apprehensive on your walk through the desire path carved wilderness earlier.

Soon, Osaka’s night sky was buzzing with a hive of engines combing through its mountains. Rocky hillside blurred by your vision on the right while shining barriers leading to the forests’ black abyss went by on your left.

A symphony a cars played out to no other witnesses but the ones behind their wheels. Every inch on either side of the tarmac was used as you slid, never feeling fear creep in even as your Silvia’s nose threatened to meet the apex of a bend.

Once uphill, you followed the leaders who burned puffs of smoke while hard breaking in preparation to go back down. The large hand break lever found itself under your forceful grip to spin your car in a one eighty to a full stop.

You leaned out of your window once Lewis pulled up behind you in the same manner to shout:

“This is the fun part, pretty boy!”

With that, you dropped the clutch and your rears broke traction. Going downhill was like opening yourself up to the world, a rollercoaster in the most maddening sense. Your speedometer had been rendered useless by the controlled chaos of your speedy free fall. You imagined this was what a deity felt like as your hands guided the car to become a pendulum.

Down the hill, hazards before you flashed in warning to slow. You did the same for Lewis trailing close behind and finally took a second to breathe. A sense of ease filled your racing heart while you passed by some of the others drivers. Aside from one hanging rear fender and a few broken tail lights, everyone would be making it back home in one piece.

“So, what did you think of your first real drifting experience?” You asked Lewis while you drove him back to his hotel.

“I honestly can’t even find the words it’s…” His eyes reflected the city’s lights. “Brutal and beautiful all at the same time.”

That was a good way to describe the craft in many senses. The cars themselves were crude instruments on the inside, often chimeras of sorts with mismatched parts and missing pieces traditionally found in vehicles. That was hard to tell from the exterior. The group you ran with took pride in expressing their creativity through vibrant wraps, lights and embellishments.

Drifting itself was nothing short of vicious. Tires were shredded through like paper and engines with decade long lifespans were shortened to about half that. But the moments you created with car, that raw, incomparable sense of liberation achieved when you weaved - would last until your dying breath.

“Now you sound like a hashiriya.” You beamed proudly.

He chuckled and settled into his seat, head nestled comfortably against its rest. It wasn’t long until you pulled up to his fancy accommodation. You expected nothing less of an F1 driver than staying at the W.

“Are you tired?” Your gazed raked down the column of his neck.

“Not remotely.” Lewis cracked an eye in your direction. “If you’re not, do you wanna join me for a drink?”

You squinted. “But you don’t.”

“I never said it had to be alcoholic.” His retort came cheekily.

He’d clearly been waiting for his turn to one up you with banter. You were anything but a sore loser though and would never argue when you were wrong. The keys to your road car ended up in the hands of a valet as you found yourself the one walking with timidness into his arena.

It hit you rather belatedly that there was no need to be self-conscious. At this time of night, any censorious glares you might’ve received were absent. There was no one around to make you feel out of place in your oversized clothing.

Steps echoed as you walked with Lewis through the pink lit welcome tunnel through to the lobby with its geometric shaped roof to elevators. The only bar open at this hour would be the one in his suite. You obviously knew that before handing off your car, possible implications included.

To your surprise and his credit, Lewis had been very respectful during your time with him. You were a flirtatious person by nature and it often made you end up having awkward conversations with friends later. He didn’t seem to read too much into your vampish manner of speech. While your energy was met, no boundaries were ever crossed by him.

“Are your views always like this?” You gawked once entering.

Your feet quickly slipped out of your sneakers before you raced to the three paneled floor to ceiling windows. The room was so high up that you cleared the top of every other sky scraper around, their lights glimmering like thousands of stars.

“I want to say yes, but not always.” He chuckled. “Sometimes it’s nothing except clear skies and the bluest water you’ve ever seen.”

You scoffed and turned to face the main living area. Aside from the table with two high stools you were perched at, there was a sofa and a round accent chair. You flopped down onto the buttery leather couch while he popped out some glasses.

“Water, soda or sparkling juice?” Lewis listed your options.

“Juice all the way.” Something sweet but not as saccharine as soda would go down good.

He poured your requested beverage and chose the same as well before coming over to join you where you sat. Your glasses clinked with a quick cheers, the drink going down smoothly despite its bubbles.

Lewis picked your mind about how you got into your own form of racing, which was a stark contrast to your actual job. Like many of the other guys on the scene, the origins of your obsession was found in your father.

Every free moment he had away from his main responsibilities were spent on building out his car and taking it to the tracks on weekends. Your mom was extremely supportive of his driving, that being the reason she even took him up on an offer for a date.

Once you were old enough, he began taking you out to races with her. Not exactly your typical family Friday night, but it was perfect in your eyes. Your first time behind the wheel came a short while after you’d gotten your license. He was right there to guide you slowly, teaching you all you needed to know until you were ready to fly solo.

“How many times have you crashed?” Lewis raised a brow.

You blew a puff of air. “Many, maybe about twenty? I’ve completely wrecked two cars.”

“At least yours aren’t broadcasted worldwide.” He laughed, stretching his arms across the back of the sofa.

“No,” Your knees tucked in so that you sat more comfortably too. “Some were recorded though.”

“Oh, I know.” Lewis shot you a sly glance.

You felt heat rise in your body, mouth dropping open. What an absolute mortifying discovery. Crashes were just a part of the sport, but knowing that he’d somehow found footage showing one of your worst runs didn’t do much to appease your ego.

“Where did you even find that?” You ducked your head slightly.

It wasn’t necessarily an easy task to find videos of your racing online. There were still the odd forums that local drifters used to post clips of meets, but none of them were in English. You would’ve never guessed that he would stumble across one.

“I’m pretty good at falling down rabbit holes when I’m interested in a topic.” His finger tapped your shoulder.

Your eyes were drawn to the touch. You hadn’t even noticed that you’d shifted closer as the conversation continued, your legs angling to face him. Having him this near made your mind go back to a question you’d been wanting to ask, but always shied away from. There was no better time than now to find out while you were face to face.

“There are so many others with more experience, so why’d you reach out to me?” You asked softly, perhaps nervous about how he would reply.

“I went through so many videos and they were all impressive of course, but just in the way that made you think this is cool.” Lewis scratched his beard. “Then I came across a race from two years ago. The driver looked out of their league a bit, clearly up against someone who’d been doing it for a long time. There was this sense though, like they were the predator instead of the prey. And then they did this pass while drifting, so close that only a hair separated the cars, and I thought man, I need to learn from them.”

As soon as he mentioned that, you knew exactly what he was talking about. It was your famous touge, mountain pass, that went viral in an underground sense. Up until that point, you’d never pushed a car that hard but you had to because he was right, your opponent was tough and well respected.

The only way you would beat them to the finishing point was if you pulled out something exceptional. Overtaking while driving downhill on a winding mountain road curve was about as ballsy as it got. You still felt the tightness in your chest, one slip up could’ve sent your both through the guardrails and into nothingness. That was definitely top three in your driving history.

“I wasn’t expecting that answer, but I’m deeply honored.” You rested your chin on your knees.

“What did you think was my reason, then?” His dark eyes scrunched at their edges.

“Hmm, I don’t know…” Your head tilted. “I thought maybe you just wanted a cute girl to show you around.”

“Just because I didn’t add that in doesn’t mean it’s not true.” Lewis didn’t miss a beat.

There was that heat again. Though this time, the reason for its rising was far from embarrassment. It was also the first time you felt yourself flush from a flirty exchange between you two. The atmosphere probably had a lot to do with that.

“So you’re admitting that you think I’m cute?” You found yourself the one testing where the line was.

He shook his head. “You’re way more than that.”

You towed the line a little more, eyes dancing between his own and his mouth as you leaned in. Lewis met you halfway. His lips pressed to yours, sucking them in slightly before he pulled just out of reach.

Your eyes fluttered open to catch his on you, studying the way they clouded over for him. It only lasted a second. You shut them again and dove back in to kiss him once more, with conviction this time around.

He tasted of citrus and felt like the fine bristles of your hairbrush under your fingertips that glided over his jaw. You let your knees fall to the sofa so that you could bring your chest to his, shuddering as one of his warm palms worked up your back.

Lewis nipped at your bottom lip, teeth dragging the soft skin down gently until your mouth opened to welcome his tongue. Shocks went all the way down to your sock covered toes that curled in response to the feeling of it sliding against your own. When he traced the center of your tongue with the tip of his, you groaned with a filthy thought. What would that feel like between your legs?

He pulled you over to straddle him, letting you feel something else in that spot for now. Despite the layers of clothes still separating your bodies, you felt him hardening. That only grew more and more pronounced as you ground your hips into him whilst your tongues twisted - just like your panties grew in stickiness.

“I need you to touch me.” You rasped, forehead pressing to his.

“Show me where.” His breathed into your mouth.

You used your hand to guide one of his beneath the two waistbands until you met skin. Lower they went together and then you hissed when the spot was met. You piloted his digits over your swollen clit in deep, slow circles. Once he picked up the rhythm you craved, your hand retreated.

His cock strained beneath your rotating hips that pressed forward enough for his touch to provide him a bit of relief as he pleased you. You kissed his neck, licking and sucking at the throbbing vein running along its side. Lewis moved his ring finger down to tease your hole and your eyes crossed.

“Yes…” You whined.

He brushed his lips against your temple, letting the digit slip into your walls. You gasped at how easily you welcomed it, coating him with your slick, squeezing as you silently pleaded for more. He withdrew and switched his positioning to give you just that - index and middle now tucked into you while his thumb played with your clit.

You pulled him in for a searing kiss, moans floating from the back of your throat. The fingers in your pussy curled and straighten in a motion that beckoned you to come undone for him. You’d been doing that from the moment your lips met. All of that combined with the way he still kept that torturously slow circle on your stiffened nerves, and the ball of his hand pressed against your lower belly had you leaning over the edge.

“Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” Lewis murmured.

That threw you tumbling into bliss.

You bit down on his shoulder to suppress your cries and gasps, knees squeezing his hips as you came. Your body trembling over his uncontrollably in the same way it did when you maxed out your engine while in full lock.

“That’s it…” He stroked your hair.

A trail of wetness was left behind on your skin as his hand made a reappearance. Lewis dipped his soaked fingers into his mouth, offering you a taste from his thumb. Your lips closed around it, tongue swirling to collect every trace of yourself before you did the same in a kiss.

He grabbed your ass and stood up, your arms and legs immediately locking around him. You were met with an even more stunning view of Osaka. The bedroom seeming to float in the sky above its gritty infrastructure. It only received a second of your attention though.

You let Lewis undress you from head to toe. He freed your hair from its tie, letting it sprawl like spilled ink across the white duvet after your shirt and bra were removed. You raised your hips to let him get the remainder of your layers, left shuddering under the change in temperature and the eyes that raked over your form.

“God, look at you.” Lewis revered.

You followed his hands that cupped and massaged your breasts, erecting your nipples to their peak. Then down to your stomach and the apex of your thighs. He tugged you to the edge of the bed, kneeling as he marveled at your open, glistening center.

The deep inhale you took would be your last for a while. Even as he tested your readiness with small pecks against your other set of lips, your breaths caught short. You no longer had to wonder what the move he did earlier in your mouth would feel like as he made it a reality, his tongue dragging down your clit to your hole.

Your toes curled against the sheets, legs opening wider for him. Lewis flicked at your entrance before making an arch back up to your pulsating clit. You lost sight of everything, eyes closing while he mapped out your most sensitive parts. Once he knew which areas made your back bow, your abs tighten and your lips part with praise, he hit them consecutively without pause.

He closed his mouth around your cunt, lips keeping your folds parted. There was more than enough ruin for him to play with. Some of it swallowed, the rest of it sucked and spat back onto your clit that throbbed under his tongue’s unrelenting laps.

“Fuck, I’m-“ Your head lifted to catch his eyes already looking back.

You let out a prolonged whine, falling down to the bed again. One hand crept up to your breast, twisting your nipple while the other pushed his head deeper into your pussy. His moan reverberated through you, tongue prodding at your hole in anticipation.

There was no way to hide the noise that ripped its way out of you the second time around. Your head gnashed against the duvet, throat burning as you released a wave of cum into his mouth. Lewis held your thighs that threatened to clamp shut, widening them to keep you bared to him.

“You taste so good,” He slurped lewdly. “Can I have some more?”

Though you wanted to tell him to take as much as he wanted, all you could do was moan and nod. Lewis dove back in to eat you out like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to this plane of existence, your eyes fluttering to the ceiling dimly lit by the city lights below.

He let a hand join in on this occasion. His fingers sank into your hole to their knuckles and dragged their way back out, a glistening thread connecting you two. You watched his tongue curl around the tie before he brought the digits down over your clit with a sharp tap. Electricity shot through you, your mouth opening to let out a puff of air.

“Again, harder.” You panted.

A devilish smile crossed his lips while he did what was asked. A wet smack filled your ears as he spanked your pussy. You jostled, clenched and groaned, writhing beneath him with your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

“Again.” You slurred.

Lewis fulfilled your wish, giving it one firm slap that left you levitating. All you saw was white. Your fingers bunched up the sheets on either side of your hips as you sucked in short breaths. And when he put his mouth over where his hand had just been, applying the slightest pressure, you gave him what he wanted too.

You found inhuman strength to retreat your legs from his grip, tucking them until you sat up on your knees. He stood up as you kissed him wildly. Your palms grazed along his beard that was soaked in you before sliding down to gather his shirt.

It joined your heap of clothing on the floor while you worked at his pants, lips trailing down his tattooed torso. Lewis stepped out of his final layers to join you in full undress. What a marvelous being he was, every inch carved to perfection. Especially the ones you took into your hand greedily.

He hissed as you slowly tugged on his cock with fingers that couldn’t even meet around its thickness. Your tongue laid flat over your bottom lip before you brought it to meet his tip, tapping it onto the wet, warm muscle.

The sound he made was just as alluring as he was. You wanted to draw out more of them. So you took him into your mouth and began to move back and forth, working your way down his length each time.

“Just like that, angel.” He groaned.

Lewis threaded his fingers through your hair, neck baring as his head dropped back with a drawn out moan. The sight and tone of him added to flood he left between your thighs. You dared to go further, jaw slackening to take his cock to the point that made you gag.

He retreated slightly, but you reeled him in. You wanted him to feel the softness of the back of your throat, to get lost in it. Air escaped through your nose while you kept him there, bobbing and choking until you reached your limit.

You reared back with a burning inhale, watering eyes locked on his. He ducked his head to kiss you gently, tongues colliding and combining the tastes of you both. Your arms circled his neck, fingers playing with his braids as you brought his body down on top of your own.

In a swift move, you had him on his back. Lewis moaned against your lips at the sensation of you sliding your wet pussy over his cock. You couldn’t help but do the same. It felt so much better without obstruction - fire to your flame, hard to your soft.

“I need to feel you before I go mad.” His heavy gaze peered up at you.

You were on the same page, had been since you ruined your panties on the sofa. Your hips rose and you took hold of him, lining his cock up with your entrance. It was a huge ask of your walls to let him in without protest, but all the work he’d done earlier made it possible.

Still, you gasped against the burn as you expanded to fit around his girth. You dropped one thigh and moved steadily, going past the head to about halfway down. Lewis held onto your waist to help you ease onto his length that slowly disappeared the more you circled your hips.

When you were ready, you released the tension in your other thigh and took him whole. Curses fell past your lips as you bucked your hips that now rested flush against his. You raised them up a bit, your pussy gripping his cock hungrily.

“Fuck, you fill me up so-“ Your words and train of thought became tangled.

He was tucked so deep, stretching your little cunt out so much. It was intoxicating, possessing. You found yourself going further up each time you bounced until he was nearly slipping out. Lewis was a moaning mess under you, eyes screwed shut as the sound of your wetness spilling onto him filled the room.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, pace speeding up. Each time he bottomed out, your pussy swallowing him whole, you cried out. Then he joined in, thrusting up into you as you came down and you lost it.

All you could do was announce to anyone who dare listened I’m cumming, I - please, keep fucking me like that. Your body quivered and you rocked into him, determined to see just how much you had left.

Lewis fought through your clenching walls, grunting as he pinned you to his chest with his arms circling your lower back. Your lips dragged against any bit of skin they could find, teeth grazing to spell out the things you were too fucked out to say.

When he strokes slowed, you took in a shuddering breath. He rolled until you were on your back and pulled out. You whimpered at his absence, but found solace in the kisses he placed from your nipples to your navel.

“You doing okay?” He massaged your thighs.

“Yeah,” You smiled down at him. “Get back in here.”

Lewis chuckled softly, planting a kiss on your hip before he turned you onto your side. Your back pressed to his chest as he spooned you and tilted your head to allow his tongue to twist with your own. The flesh on your leg stood to attention in wake of his touch. You raised it so that he could tuck himself into where you both wanted him to be again.

What a relief it was. The mild ache you felt eased with his languid thrusts, each ending in a satisfied hum. Your head fell to his arm that cradled it. All the energy you had left was harvesting again where he touched you, his fingers finding that same pace they kept at the start of everything.

“Look at us,” Lewis sucked your neck. “How well we fit together.”

Your gaze tilted downward, but it was difficult to see from that angle. He shook his head, teeth pulling on your earlobe as he whispered to focus your eyes ahead. There was a mirror facing the bed that you hadn’t noticed.

Though the lighting was dim, you saw the entirety of what he meant. Your swollen, heaving chest that he kneaded and his cock sliding into your cunt deeply, coming out coated in your hot ether. It was the most prurient sight you’d ever seen - both lips parted, his gaze wandering between them and your own - and all too much to bear.

Instead of your end slamming into you with the force of a freight train, it came calmly yet no less powerfully. Like a breeze that shifted leaves, you were swept up and carried. Gravity defied until you swayed back down to earth, to his arms.

Your eyelids peeled open just as his screwed shut. Lewis pulled out and emptied his cum onto his stomach with a chord that would play in your mind for eternity. Your heart raced in the aftermath, galloping erratically to find its rhythm again. Hard to do when he took your mouth in his with a kiss that still managed to make your raw core throb.

You found your place again in his arms after a detour to freshen up. His hand ran soothingly down your spine as you cuddled into his chest. The lights had disappeared, sun beginning to rise over the city. Osaka’s skyline was something of a contradiction - steel and clouds, mountains in the distance.

Brutal and beautiful.

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

166 notes · View notes

bumblebugwrites · 1 year

Text

Borrowed and Blue

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

Summary: In another brilliant plot to keep the agency afloat, Lockwood decides to marry you for tax benefits. Only he seemed to have forgotten to let you know. With an inspector from DEPRAC coming to ensure the legitimacy of your marriage, what’s left but to tell you the truth? Only you don’t take it too well. And you happen to be the world’s worst liar.

Warnings: Cursing, Minor angst, Unedited writing.

A/N: So “Lover” coded that I had to indulge myself with the title.

Word Count: 3.1k

“Luce, I’ll need you to go to Satchell’s and pick some salt-bombs; we’ve been running pretty low lately. And George, once you’ve hit the Archive for the day, if you could–”

As Lockwood’s incessant directions continued, you allowed your head to slump forward so as to obscure his looming figure with the shape of the quickly cooling mug in your hands.

“Oh, and that reminds me (Y/N), the inspector’s coming round this afternoon to ensure the validity of our marriage, so I’ll need you to be prepared for that.” That sentence alone was enough to pull you away from your own thoughts.

“Excuse me?” The question was followed by a soft chuckle, the kind you only managed when you’d been caught off guard.

“Did I forget to tell you about the visit?”

“You’re joking, right?”

Across the small table, George cleared his throat awkwardly, moving to make his escape before Lucy’s sweater-clad arm shot out, pulling him back into his seat, fully enthralled with the happenings before her.

“Lockwood?” From his place at the counter, he hummed back in response. Still, the brunet had busied himself at an unprecedented pace with making a piece of toast and refused to turn his head in acknowledgment.

“This is a joke, right? Because I would know if we were actually married, right?” He made no answer, but his avoidance of your gaze had already been enough to send you over the edge, and you nearly reeled as a physical spike of panic shot through your core.

“Anthony Lockwood, you answer me right now.” You were standing now and teetering on the edge of making your way out into the entry and returning with some choice words and your rapier.

“Well, it’s not like you missed the marriage. I did bring you along.”

“What?”

“You remember that day I brought you with me to the Register Office?”

“You said you needed someone to co-sign the water bill.”

“I gave you a ring–”

“You said you got that out of one of those coin machines full of toys! I thought it was just a silly gift!”

“Right, well, I’m not buying you another wedding ring, so you had better still have it.”

“Lockwood! You can’t just marry someone without asking!” By now, you had left your seat to jab angrily at his chest as you marked each new point. From her place beside George, Lucy slurped at her tea.

“Look, I had already mortgaged the house to hell and back, and we needed the money desperately, so I figured an extra tax write-off couldn’t hurt.” And though it shouldn’t have, the rage quelled itself a little.

“Why didn’t you just ask me?” But your voice lacked the anger from before, hitting sharper as each word was tinged with hurt.

“You would have said no. And besides, you’re a terrible liar.” Lockwood flashed you with his signature smile at that last bit, and you couldn’t help the warmth that began to bloom deep within you. You had to admit, being married to Lockwood wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Especially with the insufferable feelings you’d been housing for the boy for the last year and a half. Still, this was not how you wanted things to go.

“But wait, that trip to the Register’s Office was at least a year ago. Why are they coming for a visit now?” One of Lockwood’s hands which had planted itself on your shoulder in a soothing gesture, leapt up to scratch at the back of his neck.

“Well, the thing is, because we aren’t legally adults and neither of us have any parents to sign off on a marriage, I had to pull some strings with DEPRAC to get the license to even go through. So now, every year, to make sure everything is all legal, or whatever–” Lockwood raised his hands to form air quotes around the word legal but quickly retracted them as you swatted at the gesture.

“--they’ve insisted on sending an agent to perform a kind of check-in. To make sure we’re still in love and all that.”

“Still?” George questioned, only to be met with a prompt smack to the head from Lucy.

“So are you saying we could lose our jobs over this?”

“Let’s not forget the house,” supplied Lucy from behind her mug.

“And the house?” Lockwood didn’t answer immediately, instead selecting to fix his eyes on the floor.

“Presumably, yes, that could be one outcome–”

“Oh my god,” George groaned, moving his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“But not if all goes well,” Lockwood reassured the group.

“Right, so let me get this straight, the fate of our careers–”

“And our home,” Lucy interjected once more.

“And our home, is all in the hands of (Y/N), a notoriously bad liar, lying to a Fittes agent about a marriage she was unaware of until this morning?” George questioned.

“That would be correct.”

“We are so fucked.”

It had taken Lucy an hour to calm you down, let alone lure you out from under the covers of your shared bed.

“I’ll kill him if you’d like me to.”

“Urgh, it’s not that, Luce, it’s just–”

“It’s just that you wanted things to go differently?” Lucy raised a suggestive eyebrow as a slow smirk spread across her face, but there was no malice in her look. Embarrassed, you turned to hide your face in the pillow beside you.

“Look, Lockwood’s a twat, but he cares about you, and I’m sure if you asked, he would end the whole thing in a second. He was just, well, I hate to say it, but he was just trying to look out for us. In his own, extremely fucked up Lockwood way.” Lucy added the last sentence in a quick attempt to amend the ever-souring scowl on your face.

“And hey, who knows, maybe something will finally come out of this. I mean, you have to admit, being married is pretty romantic.” She smiled at you, and it was soft, encouraging almost.

“Besides, it’s not like the two of you weren’t going to end up together anyways. If anything, he’s just streamlined the process.” With that, you tightened your grasp on the pillow, swinging it in a deadly arc aimed at her head. Just then, a third voice interrupted your siege.

“Oh, hi Luce, mind if I have a quick word with my wife?”

Your eyes grew wide as they took in Lockwood’s lanky figure, leaning with ease against the railing at the head of the stairs.

“Too soon, Lockwood,” you grumbled, and for a moment, the suave smirk didn’t reach his eyes. Still, he moved slowly into the room as Lucy made her exit, throwing you a thumbs up as she descended from out of the attic.

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, careful not to crush your legs beneath the covers, he appeared almost nervous before his hand disappeared into his pocket and rematerialized, holding a small velvet box.

“This is for you.” He smiled to himself, sweet and boyish, as he was in moments like these. Moments with just you two. As you moved to take the box from his grasp, his fingers touched yours, lingering against them for just a second before pulling away.

The box was old. That much was immediately obvious. And the hinges keeping it together were rusty enough to make opening it a bit of an effort, but when the lid lifted, your breath caught in your throat.

“Oh, Lockwood, it’s beautiful.” You sat in awe of the small ring nestled within the box’s velvet folds. It was simple but elegant, with a single gem at its center, and you couldn’t help but reach out to trace the smooth metal of its shank.

“Where did you–”

“It was my mothers.” His voice was vulnerable, barely above a whisper.

“Lockwood, I can’t–”

“It’s fine, really. Besides, it's just for today.” But you could see the stress the simple action caused him from the way he toyed with the wedding band now looped around his own finger.

“Anyways, I really just came up here to go over the plan.”

“The plan?” You balked, eyes snapping away from the heirloom in your hands.

“Yes, we need a story, of course. How we fell in love, how we came to be married. You should know our wedding anniversary as well. April 14th, remember that.”

“April 14th? But that’s today.”

“And?”

“I– I haven’t gotten you anything.”

“Well, it's not like this is a real marriage.”

“Oh. Right.”

“I’m thinking we say I fell in love first, then you. Women love that sort of thing–”

“No, no, we should say we’ve been in love since the moment we met,” you argued, thinking of your own feelings.

“Well, that’s not very realistic.”

“Doesn’t mean it isn– can’t be true.”

“I suppose so.”

“Maybe we should both just think of our own moment. When we fell in love with the other.” Lockwood seemed suddenly to choke on air but quickly coughed his way past it.

“Great idea.”

“We can say you proposed on a bridge overlooking the Thames,” you suggested, but Lockwood only scoffed at the idea.

“Actually, I was thinking we could say it happened on a mission. Maybe you were hurt, and I was afraid I might lose you forever. That when I realized you were alright, I asked you to marry me on the spot. That I didn’t see the point in wasting any more time on anyone else.”

Your mouth grew dry at his suggestion, and the best you could attempt was a meek nod in response.

“Perfect,” he stood quickly, as though brushing off the intimacy of the moment, and began to head for the stairs, “I’ll leave you to finish getting ready then.” By the time you’d managed to grasp your words, he had disappeared from your line of sight, leaving you alone with your thoughts and his mother’s ring.

You were descending the stairs when the knock came, and you felt your hand move to twist anxiously at the ring newly decorating your finger. At the bottom of the stairs, Lockwood turned his head just in time to meet your gaze, the nervous look plastered across his face softening into one of ease. Probably just for show. You reassured yourself, straightening your shoulders as you reached the final step. Just before opening the door, the boy beside you cast some final words in your direction.

“Remember, I’ll do most of the talking.”

You could only nod in response as the door swung open, revealing the DEPRAC agent. She seemed immediately to be a severe woman with a stern look set deep within her face and eyes that scanned each of you suspiciously before entering the home.

“Is there somewhere you’d prefer for me to conduct my interview.”

“That would be the library,” answered Lockwood, jumping into action, “(Y/N) love, how about you pop the kettle on and maybe grab some biscuits.”

“Of course.” You smiled, but it was forced, the only mirth in your soul emerging from the sure knowledge that George would have a field day with Lockwood later on for his failure to follow the ‘Biscuit Rule’.

As he departed for the library, guiding the woman along with him, you could already hear the echos of his charming chatter as they bounced off the walls of the home. Everything will be fine, the words looped in a self-soothing mantra, filling every corner of your head as you prayed to any god that would listen to get through this interview in one piece.

“And when would you say you fell in love with Miss. (L/N)?” The woman made no reaction to her question, simply opting to continue scribbling notes on her pad. Thus far, Lockwood had done a successful job of veering most questions away from you, though it would be a miracle if your nerves had gone unnoticed between the incessant bouncing of your leg and your consumption of three separate cups of tea over the span of thirty minutes.

“In love?” Lockwood stuttered beside you, and you and the woman turned simultaneously to inspect him closer, his confident facade nearly shattered at the mention of the word. Still, he recovered rather quickly, retrieving his easy smile only a second later.

“Yes, well, I assume that came before the marriage.”

“Of course. Let’s see, then.” He stopped for a moment as though pondering the question though the movement of his hand as he toyed with his ring confirmed to you he was just nervous. In an action you could only hope appeared natural, you reached over, stilling his fidgeting fingers by lacing them with your own. Lockwood looked suddenly at you, and the quiet crack in his performance showed itself only to your eyes.

“It was six months after we first met. We’d been researching for a big mission all day, and when we finally got home, I passed out. I woke up; it was probably three in the morning by then. Came down to the kitchen for some water and– and there you were, in the library, fast asleep.” Lockwood had long since stopped looking at the inspector. “You were in my armchair. I’d probably seen you in that armchair a thousand times. And you had a case file spread out over your chest. You looked ridiculous. But I knew immediately something had changed. I could feel it as I carried you up to the attic that night and the next morning while I was sat listening to you laugh at George’s stupid jokes. Like those feelings that were just a bit of a bother before were eating me alive. It’s– It’s how I feel every time I look at you: like I’m more afraid than I’ve ever been in my life and yet perfectly at home at the same time.” He was quick to look away when he finished, flashing the DEPRAC agent with a smile and leaving you frozen in the wake of his words, struck by his ability to manipulate the truth.

“Just one more question then. Ms. (L/N), marriage at sixteen that’s not something you see every day. What made you say yes?”

Lockwood’s eyes flashed quickly to your face, but as he opened his mouth, the woman quieted him with a motion of her hand.

“Not you, Mr. Lockwood. I’d like to hear from Ms. (L/N).”

This had not been within the parameters of your preparation. Lockwood’s favorite color, how he took his tea, the date of your anniversary? Easy breezy. You might have even been able to fumble your way through how you’d fallen in love with the arrogant bastard, given its basis in the truth. But you weren’t really married, and you’d never really said yes, so where did that leave you? And like a saving a grace, a question made itself known in your head. If Lockwood had really asked you, why would you have said yes?

“I suppose I didn’t quite understand the proposal at first either.” That much was true; for fucks sake, you’d missed the thing entirely. “But after a while, it made sense. I mean, not a day goes by we aren’t risking our lives for our work. There’s no guarantee of any future with a job like this, so why not marry young? Otherwise, we might not marry at all.” The second part came out rushed, the lie forcing its way past your lips. It wasn’t in your character to be impulsive, even if time seemed to be your enemy. Still, you forced yourself to delve deeper. To seek a truthful answer to that lingering question. Your breathing slowed.

“And then, one day, I think I realized that for me, it was always going to be Lockwood. That had he asked me five or ten or even twenty years down the line when we were old and boring, I’d of still said yes. Because– Well, because I couldn’t imagine spending my life with anyone else.”

You turned your head slowly to catch Lockwood’s eyes lingering on your face. His expression was unreadable. Your brow creased in your efforts to learn more from the set of his features, and for a moment, you lost yourself in him.

The woman’s notebook snapped shut. You felt yourself scramble from the loveseat you’d been sharing with the boy, and he followed close behind.

“That’s all from me. The agency will contact you in a few days to follow up, but as far as I’m concerned, you’ve passed.”

Without giving time for the information to be digested, she stood and left. Turning to face Lockwood, you were quick to pull his mother’s ring from your finger and place it in his palm.

“Well, now that that’s finished–”

“(Y/N)--”

“I’ll be in the attic–”

“(Y/N).”

“Lots of research, probably.”

“How did you do that.” The look on his face was one of disbelief when you finally met his gaze again.

“What?” You knew what.

“You know what. You can’t lie to save your life. How did you–”

“Really don’t see how this is important, Lockwood–”

“Were you telling the truth?” You were silent for a moment.

“You got us into this. I could’ve– I would’ve stayed silent forever, but you had to come up with another insufferable plot. And I’m sorry, I can’t lie like it’s some sort of second language– That was quite good, by the way, the way you made me feel– made it seem like there was some chance in hell that you loved me back–”

He dragged you in all at once, catching you by the waist and interrupting your scattered thoughts with his lips. Kissing you. Soft at first, but deeper, harder, as you brought your hands up to his neck. As you kissed back. By the time he pulled away, you were breathless.

“It was never– I was never– God if I thought I could lie my way through this, I would’ve asked George or Lucy even. It had to be you because– because it was always real with you. I have loved you ever since I met you. That night in the library only confirmed it.”

“I thought that was unrealistic.”

“Maybe for someone who's never been in love with you.”

“Ask me again if I’ll marry you.”

“Again?” His eyebrows raised at the implication that there had been a first time.

“Just do it, you twat.”

“(Y/N) (L/N), will you marry me?”

“A million times yes, Anthony Lockwood. A million times, yes.”

#anthony lockwood #lockwood #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #anthony lockwood fanfiction #lockwood and co netflix #x reader

2K notes · View notes

kindestegg · 1 year

Text

The plush under Collector's bed: A totally necessary analysis, trust me

So, as a recap of this scene, before King leaves to visit Eda and Lilith, Collector asks King if he could sleep with François that night.

King reminds Collector that only himself and Luz can hold François, and Collector obliges but asks that he at least leave François there to "watch over him", claiming he "doesn't like being alone".

King does so, and Collector seems satisfied. It's very telling of Collector's development that they never touch François after this interaction, showing respect for King's boundaries.

... Except! This sweet little angel is actually a master trickster! A liar and a fiend!

He had a plush under his bed the whole time!!! In fact I'm pretty sure every shot of their little bedroom planet has the underside of Collector's bed obscured UNTIL King starts to leave and we pan to see the beds from an angle which reveals the plush!

You know what this means, right? Collector could have easily pulled his plush from under his bed and cuddled up with that if he hated sleeping alone so much, but he didn't. Why?

Well, I don't think he was lying about being lonely. Loneliness seems to be a prominent common theme for Collector, both declaring his loneliness back at the start of O' Titan, during a vulnerable moment where he didn't expect anyone to hear him, so he'd have no reason to lie there...

And then also having this acknowledged by King in the current episode, who has been living with him for about two months now, so he would know Collector's state of mind better than most here.

So... what gives? Was Collector really only out to force King to give François to him? Why?

Well, my current theory about this is what François means in this scenario: a connection to King. We know François is very important to King and King does not hide this when he expresses to Collector how he won't let them hold him.

To Collector, being able to sleep with François is the ultimate foolproof way to ensure King won't leave them. First, if King eventually lets them hold him, it signifies King would trust them enough with this and hold them to a regard as high as Luz, which we know Collector seems to be jealous of. I... just realized I should probably analyze that too, huh. Well, all in its due time.

And second, even if King won't allow them to hold François, but leaves them close to Collector in their room, that already acts as a guarantee. A guarantee that King will come back for François eventually, that King won't leave them to sleep alone the entire night.

Whatever the case, François is a symbol, a meter to test their closeness for Collector and King, and considering how many times Collector has lost people they considered friends before (whether those were real friends - in the case of the titan babies - or not - in the other collectors and Belos' case -) and have been double crossed by Belos, it's no wonder they have trust issues and want to make sure King does care about keeping them company.

So... that's it, then? He probably threw his original plush under the bed and then lied to King he lost it and is now constantly trying to get King to let him either hold François or at least keep him close to him as a connection between him and King?

Well... yeah, but if you'd allow me, I'd also like to talk a little on the symbology of the plush here. You see, while we can't make out the full of what the plush looks like, it appears to be some sort of canine with pointed ears and a poofy tail. Maybe it could be a titan, even a plush replica of King, but... I don't think so. There seems to be no stitching around the neck to signify it has a skull like titans do.

See, I think this is a fox plush. And why it is important in a metatextual sense that it is a fox requires a look into lots of different possibilities, each enriching the narrative in a different way.

For one, in popular folklore, foxes are seen as tricksters, lying and cheating their way into what's most convenient for them. Villain or hero, the fox is always winning people over through tricks.

This would align with the very nature of the plush being thrown under Collector's bed: it calls back to the fact he's tricking King with this. And yes, while Collector does have his problem with "fibbers", I don't think he's above more harmless tricks, we've seen him joke around with King before, purposefully feigning ignorance to mess with him, and the very nature of how he splattered Belos was through him lying that he wasn't mad. He may dislike it when a major lie is told, but little lies and sarcasm are no stranger to him.

Another possible connotation is the fact that rabbits and foxes are naturally prey and predator. François is a rabbit, Collector's plush is a fox. King, the member of the species that was hunted by the collectors, holds the prey animal, while Collector holds the predator animal...

The position of the plushes is also important here if we go with this interpretation: François is on top of King's bed, indicating he does not conceal he is the prey here and is well aware of this. He says so as much: "this whole time I was scared of making him mad". In general he behaves like a scared animal around Collector, despite their efforts to put them in equal grounds and the fact they have spent so long together and made considerable progress in their friendship.

Collector's fox on the other hand is under their bed, signifying Collector has concealed their fox, or maybe more appropriately, buried and left the fox behind. They may be part of the species that wiped out all the titans, the predators that so mercilessly hunted King's species as prey, but they want no part in this. Their backstory seems to involve wanting to play with titans and denouncing the other collectors after all, likely being bitter at them for ruining everything and hunting their new playmates to near extinction.

Alternative readings also include a few possible pop culture references. A possible one is the prominent role of the Fox in the Little Prince. While Hunter is the one who has been nicknamed "little prince" by Darius, Collector still seems more thematically similar to the character, being a child who came from space:

The similarity also hands itself to the fact King does somewhat resemble a fox with his canine qualities and fluffy tail, and in the story, the Fox was one of the first friends the Little Prince makes on Earth, and the one to teach him how to approach someone who does not trust you yet, to "tame" them.

Yet another possible reference this could be is the Disney movie "The Fox and the Hound":

Which seems like something I should frankly make a whole separate post comparing the eerie similarities it harbors to the current dynamic Collector and King hold. But to summarize, if you don't know the movie, it follows a hunting dog pup and a fox pup that become friends at a young age, and their friendship must overcome advertisities unique to their species.

If this is a reference to this particular movie, this once again has a different reading: Collector is clearly the hunting dog here, not the fox. For him to keep a fox under his bed would signify he wants to keep King close to him, safe under his bed and protected. This could even be a call back to the very last scene the titular fox and hound in the movie share: Copper, the hound, positions himself above the fallen Todd, the fox, protecting him. The plush being under the bed to mirror this would make sense.

Whew! I think that's everything that I had in mind to comment on this particular tiny easter egg. Whatever meaning you take from this about Collector's mysterious plush, I hope I could at least inspire something in you!

#the owl house #the collector #toh collector #king clawthorne #toh theory #toh analysis #toh spoilers #Commander's orders

2K notes · View notes

sukunasweetheart · 1 year

Note

That classmate sukuna post was just 🤌 a part 2 with dating headcanons pls🫣 if you take requests. Thank you 💕

the referenced post is over here thank you for enjoying! hope you like these extras as well <3

what would dating classmate sukuna be like??

well, at the beginning, its mostly sukuna dragging you around to places after school... he knows all the obscure food places that nobody is aware of- you know those dingy looking places that serve top tier food? yea.

you wonder if this is his idea of what "dates" are, just sitting and eating together lmao, but your heart still flutters even if a lot of the time there is pretty little conversation other than the usual bickering the two of you do because he does little things like giving you the last dumpling or whatever else it is that he's ordered as a side or pouring you a glass of water before he pours himself one

its like this until you begin taking more initiative and suggest the two of you do other things as a couple, like watching movies and going to cute aesthetic cafes, whatever floats your boat! (he'll most likely have a bored look on his face, but look, he'll find some way of having fun, because he always has you to tease, after all)

he probably enjoys more active date stuff like going to the arcade! throwing basketballs into the hoops, shooting games, table hockey, you name it (good luck winning against him)

will probably make everything into a competition and challenge you... and the loser gets a flick to the forehead, or something like that

(you shut your eyes and brace yourself at the end of each game for the impact, but it doesnt come for a while... when you crack open one eye a little, you see that hes smirking in that endearing way at you, because you look so cute with your eyes closed like that, waiting for him)

definitely goes easy on you, and the gentle flick gets you all flustered and shy

(maybe he gets bored of flicking towards the end and gives you a kiss instead)

cough cough anyway

on your way out of the arcade, if you make puppy eyes at him while gesturing at the claw machine filled with cute plushies, maybe he'll cave in and get one for you

what gets shoved into your arms afterwards is a big ass kirby plush

he doesnt get whats so good about such a dull looking creature, but whatever makes you happy, i guess

at school, nothing much changes except that hes a bit more affectionate with his bullying-- arm around your shoulder, sneaky kisses in the hallways, cuddling behind the school building on some days, but its not like the two of you are joined hip to hip constantly, since he has his friends and you have yours

dont bother taking him on study dates - or, if you wanna see him doze off, you should because thats all he'd do, since sukuna does the bare minimum when it comes to studying and still gets good grades

dont ask him to tutor you, he'd be a really mean teacher

but, well, if theres something that you're really struggling with, i guess he wont be opposed to helping out a little, in exchange for something like a free meal later

(but he ends up paying anyway.. when you tell him about the agreement earlier, he'll go "did i say that? i forgot. whatever, just leave it be." its just his tsundere way of saying "dont worry about it" bc he actually has no intention of making you pay for him)

sukuna does his daily activities of beating up losers and getting regular detentions, but now he also finds pleasure in seeing you waiting for him during after school hours by the entrance to walk home with him

is smug 24/7 and its incredibly hard to fluster him

but maybeee it happens once when you give him a big fat kiss on the lips before running away, which stuns him a little

(is definitely gonna chase you up for a second one. better watch out, hes fast as fuck boi)

Masterlist <3

#poe answers #sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #soft sukuna #sukuna fluff #jjk x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x reader

1K notes · View notes

roosterr · 6 months

Text

put me back in it

nikolai x gn!reader wc: 2.3k | ao3 summary: nikolai up and disappeared one day. you thought you'd never see him again, but then he shows up at your door in the middle of the night. warnings: angst, implied smut, kinda ex!nikolai, eventually happy ending

sometimes, on nights where sleep evades you, the memories of him creep back in from the corners of your mind, filling you with the same empty longing that ensnared you like barbed wire around your heart when he vanished all those months ago.

it’s nikolai, the one your thoughts always seem to wander to when you're not paying attention. he never told you his last name, you’re not even sure if that's actually his first, but it never mattered to you back then.

the night you met still brings a smile to your face. a concert, some obscure band you can't quite remember, where he'd spilled his drink over you and dampened your mood in an instant. with how apologetic he'd been, you found it hard to be annoyed with him, especially after he laid his jacket over your shoulders. he was by your side for the rest of the night, your grievances all but forgotten when his hand met the small of your back and the warmth of his body enveloped you.

you’d given the better part of a year to him, but he’d left you. slipped away in the middle of the night, while you were sleeping in the bed you shared more often than not, and that night was the last you heard from him. waking up alone, without so much as a note explaining why he disappeared, hurt you more than any explanation he could’ve given. no matter how many times you called him the line was always dead, every text left unseen. you resigned yourself to the fact that you would never get the closure your heart yearned for. eventually you stopped trying to reach him altogether.

it happened so fast, a romance so fleeting you’re not sure you have the right to be so torn up about it over a year after you first met – but still, you are. you still think about him when you watch the planes fly overhead, the streetlights against the night sky, and in the company taking up space in your bed as you gaze up at the ceiling.

the guy from the bar looks vaguely similar to nikolai, and that's admittedly why you'd taken him home with you, but the regret was sinking in now and you were already thinking up a way to kick him out as soon as possible.

the sound of a heavy pounding on your door breaks the silence. your companion makes no indication he's even still awake, the arm laid over your abdomen feeling more like deadweight than anything else.

"i'll get it," you mumble, mostly to yourself, tossing his arm to the mattress and pushing yourself up. you feel blindly for a shirt, finding one on the floor by your closet you're sure used to be his, and you don't particularly want to wear it but the knocking has increased in intensity and doesn't seem like it'll stop anytime soon.

so, with an airy sigh, you make for the front door, grabbing your robe as you leave your bedroom to slip over your half-dressed form, and calling out as you turn on the light in the entryway, "i'm coming, shut up!"

in your exhausted state, it slips your mind to check the peephole before you swing the door open and frown at whoever is on the other side. if you had, perhaps you wouldn't have opened it in the first place.

your muscles seize up, and in an instant it's like you're paralysed, one hand on the door and the other holding your robe together, scarcely even breathing as you lock eyes with the man in front of you.

it's nikolai.

his hair is a mess and his stubble is more grown out than you'd ever seen it, as if he had no time to fix his appearance before coming here, but he's no less beautiful even after all this time. the way his chest rises and falls indicates that he'd been running, and you can tell he's holding something behind his back.

your eyes narrow as you meet his, in curiosity or malice you're not quite sure. his brows are knitted in what could only be regret as he opens his mouth, but by now your sense has returned to you and you go to slam the door in his face. it doesn't shut, and you look down to see his boot wedged in the frame, his free hand coming up to push it back open as you gape at him.

he whispers your name, so softly it barely reaches your ears, but you hear it and the familiar shiver it sends down your spine scares you more than anything.

"let me explain," he's pleading, his gaze earnest as those endless brown eyes stare into yours. you stop trying to close the door on him, against your better judgement, and let him push it open once more.

"what could you possibly have to say that would excuse what you did?" you hiss, igorging the tremble in your bottom lip. you fold your arms tightly over your chest as he eyes fall guiltily to the floor. "it's been seven months, i thought you were dead, nikolai!"

"i will tell you everything, солнышка, please, just let me in." he murmurs, his voice uncharacteristically weak as he leans against your doorframe. his smoky scent reaches you all at once, a wave of nostalgia crashing over you from simply standing so close to him.

your heart constricts, that barbed wire he left there making itself known again, but you take a step back anyway. you don't look at him as he crosses over the threshold, closing the door behind him and making a beeline for the living room without meeting his eyes once. you hear him remove his boots before he trails after you, and curse him for being so considerate.

the crinkle of plastic meets your ears as he follows, and you turn around to see him bringing a small bouquet of roses out from behind his back. the quiet of the night buzzes in your ears, unable to tear you eyes away from the crimson petals as he holds them out to you, and the way the light from the hall illuminates him from behind. the thought crosses your mind that you should reject them, but you can’t bring yourself to. you take them from him, careful not to let your hands touch, and set them gently on the coffee table.

you sink into the corner of the couch while he does the same at the opposite end, the distance sending another aching twinge through your heart. despite the pain that he put you through, the resentment you hold for him, you still longed to be comforted in his arms, for him to hold you close like before.

"explain, then." you murmur, his gaze causing goosebumps to ripple across your skin as you curl into yourself. the anger has left your voice, replaced by the never-ending tiredness that he left you with.

he clears his throat, something nervous in his body language. it's unnatural, so unlike him that it rubs off on you too when you hear it in his voice, "i’m sorry, my love–"

"don’t." the endearment still gives you butterflies, even though you know it shouldn't, and you wish it didn't.

"i couldn’t– you would have been in danger if i stayed with you, i couldn’t do that to you." he leans forward, his elbows on his knees, the crease between his brows deepening with every word.

"what do you mean danger?" you frown again, sitting up straight in disbelief and slight unease from the seriousness of his expression. he purses his lips and looks away from you. "nikolai?"

"i’m…" he pauses, running a hand through his hair. his obvious anxiety only feeds into your own as you wait for him to continue, subconsciously leaning closer to him. "i am a dangerous man, солнышка. i make a lot of enemies."

your heart stutters at that, a fear creeping in from the corners of your mind – not for yourself, but for him. "you’re not explaining anything. just tell me, nik."

there's another pause. he shuffles closer again, meeting your eyes with a look that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

"i’m a mercenary." he finally admits. it was a surprise, of course, but you couldn't help but feel like it made sense. all the secrecy you'd looked past before, working odd hours but never telling you more, even when you'd pried.

he moves closer again, letting his hand rest next to yours on the cushion. you feel the warmth radiating from him, and your fingers twitch with the effort of keeping them still.

"i work with dangerous people, special forces…" he lets his voice trail off, taking in the shock of your expression. "we fight terrorists, my love, people who would do anything to hurt us."

you scoff, humourless and a lot more defeated than you intended, "so you thought you’d disappear in the middle of the night? let me think you hated me?"

a shaky breath escapes him, his hand finally closing the distance and covering yours. you can't even bring yourself to think you should stop him anymore, the part of you that's missed him for all these lonely months wins over easily and you lean even more into his touch.

"i never wanted to hurt you, милая, i wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything happened to you." he murmurs, barely any space between you now but he still doesn't push you past what you're ready for. "i never should've left you like that, and i'm so sorry that i did."

"why’re you telling me all of this now?" you whisper. your uncertain gaze meets his and it's like the rest of the world has faded away. his shadow covers you and you lean even closer, feeling his breath fanning over your face.

"because my life isn’t complete without you." his eyes search yours, his free hand coming up to run his fingers along your jaw in a featherlight touch that leaves your skin tingling in his wake. "you have every right to hate me, but i have loved you for every moment we were apart."

it's involuntary when you lean into his hand, his palm cupping your cheek so tenderly as the whisper of his name passes your lips, "nik…"

his forehead touches yours and any opposition you had to letting him near you again is forgotten. "please, let me make things right, my love."

instead of responding, you push forward and close the final gap by pushing your lips against his with a desperation that he easily reciprocates. he sighs into your mouth, shifting his hand to the back of your neck and pulling you impossibly closer, tiling his head for a better angle. it's sweet and passionate, and it takes you back to when you first met him, the bittersweet memory bringing the sting of tears to your eyes.

you pull back after a moment, your breathing laboured and your eyes glassy as they flutter back open. he smiles softly when you bring your own hand up to cradle his face, leaning back slightly to meet your gaze.

"i'm not forgiving you," you start, stroking your thumb over his cheekbone. you watch his eyes widen at your words and his smile falter, and you quickly continue, "but, i am willing to give you a second chance."

his grin returns, and he presses his lips to your cheek in a lingering kiss. "i will never hurt you like that again, милая." he murmurs in your ear, giving your nape a gentle squeeze where his hand still rests.

the tension between you is gone, he feels comforting and safe, like he always had before; everything feels right again.

the spell is broken unceremoniously by the guy from the bar – who you'd, somewhat embarrassingly, completely forgotten about – piping up from the doorway, "who the hell is that?"

"fuck–!" you startle, parting from nikolai and staring wide-eyed at his silhouetted form over nik's shoulder. he's staring the two of you down with a look that's a lot more offended than you think it should be, considering you only met a few hours prior and he hadn't been significant enough for you to even remember his name.

with a tired groan you drag a hand down your face, securing your robe across your front as you stand. he's dressed, thankfully, so you pinch the bridge of your nose and wave him off noncommittally, "can you just go?"

he scoffs and throws his arms out to the side in annoyance, taking a step towards you as he spits, "seriously? you're just gonna–"

nikolai interrupts his complaining by standing to his full height, towering over the man as he puts a hand out to stop him in his tracks. it works, and whatever he was planning on saying immediately dying on his tongue as he looks up at nik.

the silence in the room is stifling as your eyes dart between the two men, but it's short-lived. nik takes a menacing step towards him, and though you can't see his face, you're sure he's wearing a deadly expression to match.

it takes less than a second for him to cut his losses, quickly backing out into the hall and fumbling hurriedly with your front door. nik follows him as he leaves, making a show of slamming and locking the door behind him.

he turns off the hall light before returning to you, bathing the two of you in darkness and strips of pale moonlight. your skin bristles as his fingers gaze your sides, his thick arms finding their way around your back as your hands rest at his collar.

"no need for cheap imitations," he utters, low and sultry, the vibrations of his voice felt under your palms, "you have me now, мои люблю."

#nikolai cod x reader #cod nikolai #nikolai mw2019 #cod nikolai x reader #nikolai x reader #cod x reader #mw3 x reader #141 x reader #nikolai mwiii #nikolai mw3 #nikolai my beloved #roosterr writes

361 notes · View notes