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lexischococoveredblueberries · 4 months

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*+:”no, i’m not jealous..!”｡.｡

jealous!veneer x GN!reader

• one shot

• fluff

being a stylist for the famous twins velvet and veneer has put quite a turn on your life. you loved your job, and you fell even more in love with “the star”‘s brother, veneer. you and veneer have been dating for quite some time now, past the honey moon stage, and now becoming more aware of each others patterns that you two express. recently, though, you have noticed veneer has had a striking eye on the sweet interviewer, kid ritz, who has taken a strong liking to you.

you and venners relationship hasn’t been very open to the public, especially no pda. so when you’re invited to a red carpet to model with the siblings, kid ritz starts to become a little more confident with stealing veneers other half… veneer starts getting a little fussy, let’s say.

what will he do to prove that you’re his and his only ?

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧

bzzzzz…bzzzz..

you awake from your sleep at 5am with a groan of

dissatisfaction , tasting dampness in your mouth.

rolling over to your pack, you lazily wipe your mouth

with the palm of your hand and limply let your hand

fall to the side of the bed, reaching for your phone to

turn off your alarm. you laid there for six minutes to

absorb reality, half dreaming in your head, then

remembering what today was. velvet and veneers red

carpet show. you groaned even louder, pulling

yourself out of bed and stumbling across your room

to turn on your light.

the stylist life really had you done sometimes.

after a shower and getting ready for an hour, wearing

nice dress pants and a nice white collar. you grabbed

a croissant and a prepped iced coffee from your

fridge in preparation to leave, when you heard a

rhythmic knocking at your front door. eyebrows

furrowed in confusion, you hesitantly opened the

door to see a smiling veneer in a black zip-up hoodie

and black sweats.

be began walking towards you, backing you up into

the house and behind your door, where he placed a

hand on your lower back and kissed you sweetly

against the wall. it was short and sweet, pulling away,

your face flushed. he moved his hand to your hip.

“sorry, vel’s in the car. y’know how she is.” he said in

a low voice, clearly still waking up. shaking your head

with a smile, you started ; “you came to pick me up?”

he grinned, running his fingers through his

unpolished hair.

“‘course i did, it’s a special day, y/n. why wouldn’t i

come pick up the love of my life for fun?” he sounded

sassy, and you waved a hand in his face.

“alright, yeah yeah,” you slithered past him and out

the door, where you spotted velvet filing her nails in

the passenger seat of their car. you waved to her as

you headed to the vehicle and she spotted you in the

corner of her eye, smiling slightly at you before

turning her concentration to her nails again. you

knew she liked you, veneer told you she admitted it,

but because she thought you were a good role model

for veneer. and she mentioned she admired your

style. as expected, she wasn’t too fond of the fact

you were their stylist, assuming you were giving

veneer special treatment… which you did. only

sometimes, though.

climbing into the back seat, you set your bag down

and veneer climbed into the drivers seat. starting the

car, he turned completely in his seat to look at you,

his hands on the headrest.

“soooo, y/n, we wanted to ask you something,” he

started, and you heard velvet groan. curious, you sat

on the edge of your seat. “what’s up?”

“did you…” he was basically jittering in his seat,

glancing over at velvet with a big smile on his face.

“good GOD veneer, just ask them! you’ve done it

before!” velvet exclaimed , throwing the nail file at

him. he tossed it back and looked at you.

“would you like to be on the red carpet with us

todaaaaay?” he spat out quickly , his feet kicking.

you smiled and suddenly had a gush of excitement.

“of course!” you replied. you had been to only a few

red carpets with them, and from what you saw on

the internet, people loved you. people weren’t aware

of yours and veneers relationship, but apparently

they were capturing small moments between you

two, like how he looks at you, or how he whispered

something in your ear as you walked by. which, yes,

was actually a romantic comment. as mentioned, you

both agreed no pda, but knowing veneer, he always

found ways to sneak small gestures to show that he

loved you.

“great!” veneer babbled , sitting in his seat properly

“you knew they would say yes, why are you acting

like you asked them to replace our position”

“well i am sorry i’m excited. i solemnly swear to never

do it again.”

“shut uuuuup PLEASE.”

you couldn’t help but laugh.

arriving to their dressing room, (i don’t know what

the building the dressing room is in is called???) you

all escort the car, veneer opening the car door for

you. you get out by swinging your legs over the side

and you take his hand to hoist yourself up. velvet was

already inside by the time yours and veneers little

connection was over. you both caught up to her and

made your ways to the dressing room.

opening the door to the room, you were greeted with

the scent of hairspray and cleaner. despite the

janitors countless times of deep cleaning the room,

velvet & veneers hairspray always lingered; like a

permanent scent. you set your bags on the ground,

veneer plopping on one of the vanity chairs and

velvet clapping her hands together once.

“so! y/n , we’re getting you ready first. i REALLY

don’t need to be messing up how i look during the

process just for you to look perfect.” velvet

announced and veneer furrowed his eyebrows

slightly at her. she caught his look, rolled her eyes

slightly and went over to you, taking you by your

shoulders and setting you down at the other vanity.

“sorry.” she mumbled. you didn’t react, you just

smiled.

“so, what’s the plan for me? are we matching?” you

asked, trying to hide the excitement in your voice.

veneer gasped and jumped up, clapping his hands

together.

“yes! oh, wouldn’t that be cute, vel?” he said

erratically. velvet scoffed and began running her

fingers through your hair to part it into sections.

“veneer, you gorgeous imbecile, we already bought

the outfit,” she pinned your hair up, “stop getting so

frantic. anyway, open the closet and bring out the

outfit. then get out. they’re changing.”

veneer cocked his head at her.

“but.. they’re my..?”

“i don’t care? i’m professional, you wouldn’t be. be

smart.” she shot back. he listened , winking at you

and got up to retrieve the outfit.

when he pulled out the outfit, you gasped audibly.

(ideas, otherwise make your own ideas in your head)

“velvet. and. veneer. this is… holy shit.” you felt

yourself begging to shake from excitement. veneer

smiled seeing how happy you were.

“you like it, yeah?” vel asked, you nodded fiercely.

“good. cause’ you weren’t getting anything else.”

veneer laughed. “she’s kidding. if you were to

somehow in some universe look bad in it, she would

instantly get something new.”

“why are you still here.” she snarled and looked back

towards him. he raised his arms in defence and left

the room.

velvet took her time styling your hair, putting pretty

pins and spray on glitter on it, plastering gorgeous

makeup on your face and was humming a song as

she did so. she felt oddly peaceful, you haven’t seen

her like this before. it felt nice. you watched her

through the mirror as she worked, clearly biting her

tongue. that was a form of concentration she did,

and whenever veneer pointed it out , she would get

upset. she got upset a lot. what’s new?

after a good , maybe , half an hour of work, velvet

was finished, and she had fitted you into the outfit.

she finally let you look at yourself in the mirror. that’s

when velvet gave veneer the “okay” for him to come

in. you were admiring yourself , hands running over

the outfit and fingertips lightly brushing certain

parts of your hair.

“mess that up and you’re done.” velvet said , her

arms crossed and hip popped to the side. veneer was

staring at you in a trance. no matter how many times

he’s seen you in red carpet outfits, he’s blown away

each and every time. he gazed with a smile of

genuine love & appreciation, eyes melting in your

back. and when you turned around, his heart

throbbed.

“wow, y/-“

“absolutely not. nope. no.” velvet intruded, standing

between you two and dragging veneer by the arm

and to the opposite vanity.

“anyway, our turn!” she exclaimed, sitting in the one

you were previously sitting at.

time skip to after …

and there they stood, two angels of pure beauty all

dolled up by you. sometimes you were convinced you

had magic hands. you felt proud of yourself.

(they’re twinning !! :3)

“ooooo i love !!” veneer squeaked, touching his hair

and holding his face. velvet was smiling, twirling in

the mirror and flexing her fingers in excitement.

“as expected, y/n, thank you. now,” she turned and

wrapped her arm around veneer , pulling him against

her shoulder and extending her hand towards the

ceiling.

“cmon, veneer and y/n, we’re going from stars to

megastars !!”

at that moment, a producer knocked at the door.

“showtime in 5 minutes!”

your heart skipped a beat, starting to feel the anxiety

creep up your throat.

“god they’re gonna love us!” veneer gushed, balling

his hands into fists and shaking them near his chest.

letting go of him, velvet started towards the door and

opened it.

“alright, y/n, time to make us famous!- oh, wait, we

already are. ha! i guess make us even MORE

famous!”

˚ · • . ° . ˚ · • . ° . ˚ · • . ° ˚ · • .

and there you all were, right at the entrance of the

carpet. you stood there focusing on your breathing,

and a ringing in your ears started. you kept shaking

your head to push it away, and veneer approached

you, putting a hand on your arm.

“pre show jitters?” he asked with a grin. you

snickered. “now where did you hear that

expression?”

he blinked at you, then shook his head. “let’s,

uh..anyway,” he gave you a quick kiss to your cheek.

“you’ll do great. i know it. act like they’re all idiots

and you’re the hottest and greatest one there.” you

shook your head at his foolishness, smiling.

“thank you, ven.” he let go of your arm and velvet

turned around to look at you two.

“‘kay, we’re on, veneer, we enter first, y/n, come

behind us and follow on my side.” she demanded,

and you both nodded.

and so it began, as soon as they hit the carpet, the

flashes and voices got louder and brighter. you

waited a moment, then strut your way behind them,

stopping beside velvets side when they did. gasps of

awe started, and more flashes appeared.

“the stylist!”

“they’re here again?”

“oh my ..”

your heart pounded and fluttered and you looked

ober the crowd with a confidence you didn’t know

you had.

the siblings posed and gave the audience what they

wanted, sort of leaving you by your own. veneer

looked back at you for a brief moment, giving you a

reassuring smile that basically told you, “do you.” and

so you did.

you then posed, gazed and smiled at the paparazzi.

you noticed all the other celebrities, some you were

fans of yourself, but most of the attention was on you

three. as you are looking at the paparazzi, you

recognized one of them.

oh , it was the interview. kid ritz, was that his name?

he looked at you a certain way, like his eyes were

going to bulge out of his head. you couldn’t tell

if you were uncomfortable or flattered, so you shown

a smile to him specifically. he looked away, he

seemed to be nervous. you found this amusing. you

decided to act for his camera only, turning around

and looking over your shoulder with a sly smile.

people crowded around him as they tried to capture

you in this moment , and the boy couldn’t seem to

concentrate on taking the pictures.

that’s when velvet approached you , posing right

behind your shoulder which drove them up the wall.

she smiled as she hooked her arm in yours with

veneer in her other.

“that’s enough now. let’s go,” she brought you two to

the stairs that lead to the entrance of the party you

were actually supposed to attending.

once inside, velvet let go of you and groaned. “god, it

is so tiring being famous sometimes.” she brushed

her outfit down. “alright, let’s go stuff our faces and

talk with people we hate. shall we?” she purposed

to veneer sarcastically , making her way to the what-

looked-like-a-ballroom part of the party. she dragged

veneer with her, him turning his head to wink at you.

you blushed and held one hand overtop of the other

in front of you. looking around, you adored the

interior of the building, a beautiful chandelier

sparking below victorian paintings on the dome roof.

your adoration was then interrupted when you heard

someone clearing their throat behind you.

you whipped around, frightened, and seen kid ritz

standing there , his face tinted pink. you blinked a

few times before smiling awkwardly. “oh, hello.”

“hi, we’ve never spoken before. i’ve interviewed you

with velvet and veneer before. i’m kid ritz.” he

introduced himself , a type of confidence in his voice.

he was not like this earlier.

your smile turning genuine, you nodded. “right, i

know you. it’s nice to properly know you.”

ritzs eyes trailed down your face all the way to the

end of your outfit, speaking as they went back up,

“their stylist , yeah? you did this up too?” he

asked, poking his cheek with his tongue. you gulped

and cleared your throat.

“oh, no, velvet did this. i think she did it stunningly..”

you trailed off as you looked down at your outfit,

brushing down a flap. now leaned against a wall

beside you, kid ritz put his pointer finger under your

chin and lifted it up, moving it smoothly across your

face to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“mmh, i’d say it matches your eyes.”

your moth went agape, and you suddenly realized

what he was doing. “oh, i—“

“mhm, it does, doesn’t it?” a voice came from behind

kid ritz, where veneer was standing with his hands in

his pockets, staring holes into ritz’ head. the

interviewer smiled , turning to face him but keeping

close to you.

“oh, veneer, how are y—“

“great , good. y/n’s good too. i think i can , uh,” he

approached you and stood slightly in front of you.

“take it from here. velvet would like to talk to you.” he

notified, pointing his head towards her who spoke to

other celebrities in the distance.

kid ritz looked at him disapprovingly and exhaled

slowly through his nose. he then smiled and

shrugged. “sure! no problem,” he looked over veneers

shoulder towards you. “nice talk, y/n.”

veneer glared at him and seemed to straighten his

posture vaguely as he walked away. finally being able

to breathe, you let out a shaky breath. he turned ,

walking past you. “follow.”

you listened, keeping a distance as you followed him

to a walk in closet out of the main room. you walked

in first, his back facing you as he closed the door. he

laughed to himself.

“i was waiting… waiting for that to happen.” he

began, turning to look at you. he wasn’t angry at this

point, just jealous. you said nothing.

“he looked at you like.. you were a piece of meat.” he

spoke through his teeth. he approached you, taking

your wrist as he pressed a kiss to your pulse point. he

looked at you.

“if he… oh, if he ever speaks to you or so-god-help-

me touches you when you’re not near me and it’s not

fame related, you tell me, y/n.” he insisted, leaving

you a

little speechless. he isn’t usually like this, even when

it came to creeps on the internet. you nodded, but he

shook his head, pulling you towards him by your

wrist, his hip pushing you gently against the wall.

“i need to hear you say it. say you don’t want him.”

he was near inches away from your face , you felt the

heat of his face radiate onto yours. your wrist against

the wall, you felt a little helpless. you wanted to kiss

him more than anything.

“i dont. i don’t want him, veneer, you.. you..” your

glossy eyes looked up at his deep, roused ones.

beneath the hatred he felt, all he could

think of was how you looked in that outfit and

wishing your eyes could only be locked with his

forever. no one else. you might’ve as well swallowed

his soul, because the trance you had him in was

supernatural.

a strange idea emerged in your mind, and you took

action, biting your inner lip until blood surfaced, and

veneer took notice , looking concerned.

“y/n, what—“

your lips crashed onto his, pressing your body

against him to fit the curve of his. a strangled sound

escaped his throat as if he lost a fight to an addiction

he couldn’t use all day, which, be did. your free hand

glided up his waist and to his collar, pulling him

closer as his hand slid up to yours against the wall,

locking fingers.

your tongue dipped into his mouth for a instant , in

advance to you breaking the kiss. he now had a stain

of red on his tubercles. his eyes were low and full of

affection. “there.” you whispered, licking your lower

lip. “now we’re intertwined.” you batted your

eyelashes at him with a smile. he looked a little

shocked but that expression was quickly changed

with a look of comfort.

“you are… something else.” he quickly kissed you one

last time, breaking the contact. you smiled slyly,

putting a hand on your hip. “you are… jealous. very

jealous.” you teased and he rolled his eyes.

“am not. i just don’t like when poor punks talk to my

partner.”

“that’s uh, that’s what jealousy is.”

“y/n.” veneer shot you a look and you laughed.

in front of him, you went to open the door, but before

you could , the door swung open first.your heart

stopped.

it was velvet. she blinked very slowly, her expression

unamused.

“get in the god damn car. i don’t have anything to

say to you two.” she said blankly, walking away. you

looked back at veneer who was holding back

laughter.

“i don’t think we’re ever doing a red carpet together

again.”

“absolutely not.” he agreed with a nod, taking your

hand as he lead you out to the crowd, leaving you

baffled.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧︵︵‿︵‿ ︵‿

a/n : this took me so long to publish just for it to be so sucky 😞 anywayyyyy i hope the person that requested this liked it!!! i’m now on christmas break so i’m slightly less busy , as always lmk if there’s anything i can do to improve the characters personalities 🫶🏻

#trolls #trolls band together #trolls veneer #velvet and veneer #veneer x reader #fluff #oneshot #trolls 3 #trolls fandom #trolls fanfic #kid ritz

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soulofapatrick · 8 months

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Behind Closed Doors - Henry Fox x Male Reader

Summary: Henry is in your bed having sneaked into the Whitehouse with the help of Amy and it's been nearly six months since you've seen each other

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Smut; very gay smut; anal fingering; anal sex; blowjobs; fluff

Y/N’s POV

The laptop screen flickers to life, casting a cold, bluish hue across the dimly lit room. On the screen, Prince Henry is the epitome of regal composure, his posture immaculate, his expression stoic and controlled. The tension in his shoulders is palpable, the lines etched on his forehead telling tales of the countless responsibilities that rest on his shoulders. His azure eyes, although mesmerising, appear guarded, a perpetual veil of restraint concealing the depths of his emotions. The smile that graced his lips is a well practiced one, polite and diplomatic, but it never truly reaches his eyes, leaving them to shimmer with a distant glint.

I glance away from the screen to the very same Prince fast asleep beside me. The contrast striking.

Here, in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, Prince Henry is just Henry. He’s a world away from the formalities of his public and royal life. He lies on his side, his body sprawled in a relaxed, unguarded manner that defies the rigid protocols of royalty. His chest rises and falls in a gentle, even rhythm, his breaths syncing with the tranquility of the moment. The meticulously coiffed hair that graced my screen is now a disheveled mess, each strand of his golden locks framing his face in wild abandon. His cheeks are tinged with a natural, healthy flush, a stark contrast to the pale veneer he often wears in public.

As I observe him, I can’t help but notice the subtle shifts in his expression as he dreams. The stoic mask he wears for the world has slipped away, revealing the true Prince Henry beneath. A small, contented smile plays on his lips, and it’s genuine - unburdened by the expectations of diplomacy. It’s a smile that comes from the heart. In his slumber, he’s just a man, stripped of titles and obligations, free to express his emotions without restraint.

I can’t help myself, reaching out and gently brushing my fingers against his cheek, marvelling at the softness of his skin and the warmth beneath. He stirs slightly, nuzzling his face into the pillow, seeking comfort and letting out a small snuffle before those beautiful eyes flutter open sleepily.

The cool, distant glint in his azure eyes has been replaced with a sense of serenity and vulnerability. He blinks a few times, adjusting to the soft lighting in the room, and then he turns his gaze towards me. It’s a moment of unspoken connection, as if we share a secret, a world of our own.

With a lazy, contented smile, Henry reaches out to gently take my laptop from my hands, placing it on the bedside table. Then, in a slow and deliberate move, he grips the front of my pyjama shirt and tugs until I find myself hovering over him.

Our lips meet in a tired, yet passionate kiss. It’s a kiss that speaks of comfort and love. Our mouths move together, synchronised in a dance of affection, and I can taste the lingering sweetness of sleep on his lips. It’s a gentle, unhurried kiss, having all the time in the world as no one knows he’s here in America or the Whitehouse let alone half naked in my bed.

Henry’s hands, warm and exploring, roam over my back, causing a shiver to run down my spine. His blunt nails trail sensually, raking down my skin in a way that elicits a gasp from me. It’s a delightful mix of pleasure and surprise, encouraging him further. He seizes the opportunity, slipping his tongue past my parted lips, deepening the kiss. Our tongues dance together, an intricate and passionate tango, conveying desire and longing. The taste of him, mingled with the faintest hint of mint from his toothpaste, is intoxicating.

My hands, guiding by instinct and desire, find their way to his tousled hair, My fingers thread through the golden strands, and I revel in the sensation of the soft, silken locks between my fingertips. Our bodies press closer together, the heat and desire building between us like an irresistible force.

Suddenly, in a move that leaves me breathless, Henry flips us over, his body now hovering above mine. His lips trail down from my mouth to my neck, and I’m arching into his touch, granting him better access, a soft man escaping my lips. His hands find my hips, pressing them into the mattress to keep them still, a silent declaration of his intentions. His warm breath against my skin as he places tender kisses along the sensitive curve of my neck. Each kiss sends waves of pleasure radiating through my body, and I clutch the sheets beneath us, my heart pounding with anticipation and my dick jumps in my boxers.

Henry’s movements are deliberate, and his plump lips leave a trail of fire in their wake as they journey downward from my neck. Each kiss, every brush of his mouth against my skin, sends a surge of pleasure radiating through my body. As his lips continue their descent, I arch my back, offering more of my chest, and a soft sigh escapes my lips. His hands, still on my hips, hold me firmly in place when his thumbs dip under the waistband of my boxers. I can’t stop the whimper or the way my hips jerk when he grazes his teeth down my lower stomach.

“Now, now Darling,” Henry murmurs, voice a velvet whisper that washes over me like a soothing balm. It’s gentle and loving, a stark contrast to the passionate urgency of our actions. His words are tender, carrying an undertone of teasing and deep affection, “Be a good boy for me.”

“Fuuuckkkk,” I’m throwing my head back when he mouths over my almost painful erection, the thin layer of my boxers making me want to scream, “Hen, please.” I’m whining and he’s grinning up at me through those pretty eyelashes, eyes dark and wanting. He’s tugging my boxers down my thighs and discarding them somewhere to my left before he’s mouthing at my hips and inner thighs. Lips trailing across every bit of skin except where I want him… where I need him.

Then suddenly, his tongue is on my lower stomach, lapping at the precum leaking onto my bare skin from the teasing and it takes everything in me not to grab his hair and stop this teasing or he will just drag it out even more. I think I let out a strangled sound, too loud for these walls when Henry finally wraps those fantasy inducing lips around the head of my aching dick as he also shoves three fingers in my mouth to muffle the sounds. Obediently, I begin to suck on them, lathering them up with saliva while he teases his tongue over the frenulum and hollowing out his cheeks.

Before long his fingers are slipping from my lips and are circling my entrance, my whole body tensing in anticipation which has Henry pulling away, “Darling, you need to relax.”

He pushes a finger pass the tight ring of muscles at the same time swallowing me down whole, my body jerking with pain and pleasure. His free hand is rubbing soothing circles against my hip, trying to relax me enough for him to add another finger and loosen me up enough. His throat constricts, trying to gag around me and I have to throw a hand over my mouth as my older brother’s room is just next door.

Almost too soon he’s pulling away, drawing himself up and his azure eyes meet mine, a silent question there. I don’t reply, wrapping my legs around his waist and finally tangling my hands in his soft locks to drag him into an almost bruising kiss. Somewhere between him stripping me and now he’s rid himself of his boxers. His right hand caresses my cheek while his other moves to help guide himself in place, the tip pushing past the ring of muscles. I can’t help but tense up at the intrusion but then his lips are on mine, sweet and delicate, coaxing whimpers from me as he slowly pushes into me.

“It’s okay Darling,” He cooes against my lips, “That’s it Sweetheart, just breathe.” He finds my hands, intertwining our fingers as he begin to rock his hips, watching my face for my reaction. I can’t stop the wince, hips twitching as Henry tries to find a steady rhythm, his lips parted and eyes fluttering shut for a second, breath coming out in gasps as he seems to be holding himself back to not hurt me. The sight of him like this and stretch of him filling me oh so full has my dick twitching between us and his eyes fly open again. It’s a prickling sensation, somewhere between pain and pleasure and has me needing something more.

“Henry, please.” I don’t know what I’m asking for, clenching around his thick length and rocking my hips down to meet his, drawing out a low sound from him and his head falls against my shoulder.

“Darling,” He moans out, pushing back in quickly, hitting that bundle of nerves that has my hips jerking and him grinning into the crook of my neck. My hands scrabble for purchase when his grip my hips again, settling in his hair and raking down his back. It’s not just the physical connection with Henry as our bodies intertwine, it’s as if time itself slows down and we exist in a world of our own making. Every touch, every caress, carries the weight of emotions that can’t be expressed in words.

Every rock of his hips hits that bundle of nerves, and I can’t help rocking my hips up to meet his, my back arching into every movement. I’m sure I’m speaking, sounds leaving my throat as Henry picks up his pace, making me see stars.

“Kiss me.” I hear myself whine and Henry’s chest rumbles with a broken chuckle before his lips brush teasingly against mine. His hands grip my hips almost bruisingly, pulling my hips down to meet his harsh thrusts as that knot in my stomach begins to tighten. Low and guttural sounds rumble in his chest as out bodies shine with a thin layer of sweat, his blond locks sticking to his forehead, pale skin flushing as he makes love to me. Henry and I have had sex and made love before but this feels different, more intimate somehow as he whispers sweet nothings against my neck, nose nuzzling my jaw and lips soft and breath hot. The coil in my stomach tightening as he lets my hands go to wrap around me and pull me closer to him, my hands finding his hair and tugging his lips back to mine as a sound leaves his kiss swollen lips again. It’s all hot and heavy and sensual, full of love and passion and a promise of forever.

“Almost there Baby,” he’s murmuring and I think I’ve lost the ability to speak as all I can do is nod so fast I think I’m going to break my neck. I’m whimpering, my hands trying to fins purchase on his back, nails raking almost painfully down his smooth and muscular skin. One of his hands ghost down my chest and stomach to wrap around my throbbing erection, barely making one full jerk before that coil snaps and I’m crying his name with no care for how loud we are. My whole body convulses and shakes as my vision whites out and I’m clamping around him. He bites down on my bottom lip almost painfully as he comes, his seed filling me up. The aching pain of him pulsating inside me makes me almost come again, a new feeling that adds to the pleasure and I think I might pass out from the bliss of it all.

“Baby, hey, Y/N.” Henry’s murmurs to me and his thumbs soothing my cheeks gently, “There you ar pretty boy.” He peppers kisses all over my face, and I can't help but let out an almost embarrassing giggle, despite our passionate activities just moments ago. His hips are still moving in gentle circles of overstimulation against mine, but his focus now is solely on me, his affectionate touches like a soothing balm.

"BREAKFAST WHEN YOU TWO ARE DONE!" Alex pounds his fists on my door, making me jump, and I instinctively tense up, causing us both to wince. Henry carefully pulls out, his gaze never leaving mine.

”BE QUIETER NEXT TIME!" June’s voice rings through the door as well, and we exchange amused glances before bursting into quiet laughter.

"Breakfast?" Henry asks softly, his arms wrapping around me as he pulls me close, his warmth enveloping me in a cocoon of love.

I shake my head, my heart full of contentment. "Hell no."

With a loving smile, Henry leans in and captures my lips in a sweet, lingering kiss. It's a kiss that speaks of all the emotions we've shared, the love that binds us, and the intimacy that's brought us even closer.

As our lips part, Henry murmurs, "I love you, Y/N."

I smile back at him, my heart swelling with affection. "I love you too, Henry."

In each other's arms, we drift off to sleep, the world outside forgotten, and our love the only thing that matters. Wrapped in the warmth of our embrace, we know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, we have each other—a love that's deep, passionate, and unbreakable.I’ll deal with the outcome of Alex and June later but for now, it’s just me and Henry and that’s all I need.

-------------

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gwilymz · 2 years

Text

i wanna be your mantra--kendall roy x reader

heyy here i am with my kendall x reader oneshot as promised... i hope at least someone enjoys xoxo thank you!

pairing: kendall roy x reader

synopsis: you are kendall’s assistant, but your dynamic is unconventional, and toeing the line of toxic. so, when he interrupts your night to ask a favor of you, it’s hard to say no, and neither of you expect it to end with him on top of you in the back of the company limo.

p.s. based on this ask, so thank you for the inspo!

word count: 5.8k (sry)

warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex, semi-public sex (?), dirty talk, praise/degradation kink, oral (F receiving), etc. etc.

———

Your and Kendall's relationship could be explained in three words: complicated, tense, obsessive.

You worked for him--under him, technically. But not literally. Unfortunately. The job was exhausting: late nights in the city without the fun, lavish dinners paid for by exploitation, and fueled by passive aggression. For the Roy's, relationships were strictly transactional, and you had grown to suppress your sensitivities around them. You had become good at the facade; the veneer that you were confident, and that nothing, no matter how vile and vicious, could ever make you cry. And, after a couple of years, you had surprisingly never cried in front of the Roys: that was saved for corners, the bathroom, anywhere they couldn’t find your vulnerability.

But, after working for Kendall for almost two and a half years, it was inevitable that the shiny copper exterior of your personalities would erode, to show the more aged complexion of who you were, a rusty mint that wasn’t quite ugly, but instead just real, genuine.

There had been a dozen or so nights when the professionalism of your relationship with Kendall had been challenged. Especially when Kendall was deep in the throes of his substance abuse, there were months when it seemed like every night Kendall would tell you to come over, that he needed someone--anybody--to be with him.

And, it would’ve been easy to oblige, to leave the house in lip gloss and not realize the symbolism behind your applying it. But you always said no, mostly because him saying he would be willing to invite anyone over made it seem like you weren’t the antidote, but just a temporary distraction, somebody who just probably had nothing better to do.

And sometimes, work was odd with him. He had never outright flirted with you, but the air would change when you would casually mention a date to him; he would roll his eyes and bite his lip so hard it turned a stark white, different from the warm pink you were so used to looking at. So keen on looking at.

And sometimes you did the same. If Roman or Shiv or anyone joked about a past--or current--hookup of Kendall’s, you would become bitchy, short, immeasurably immature. It was completely unprofessional to give your boss the cold shoulder, but that was the relationship you had. It was inexplicably unconventional, full of a tension that made others avoid entering a room when its cloud would loom over, daunting and unpredictable.

Kendall often thought about how much you fucking annoyed him, too. He told it to everyone and anyone who would listen, but most of the time, he told it to you, explicitly, without care for your feelings. Maybe he should have felt bad, guilty–but something deep within him loved it. Loved the power he had over you, how sometimes your big eyes would look into his, brows furrowed with bewilderment, holding your tongue because you knew Kendall didn’t really particularly enjoy being interrupted.

“Y/N, what the fuck is your problem?” Kendall slammed the door of his office, holding his phone flush to his ear, his free arm leaned against the wall. “I told you to tell Johnston we can wait on the meeting, not to fucking tell him it's off--I swear to God if this--,”

You rushed to get a word in, interrupting him. “Listen, I did tell him that--”

“Don’t fucking interrupt me. I’m not finished.”

“Okay, my bad.” You backtracked. You were on your way to the office, a tray of cappuccinos in hand, balancing them as you pressed the button to the elevator.

“I need you to figure this out. I’m not fucking dealing with this. If this deal with him is out, I never want to fucking see you again.”

Kendall been vicious like this a lot--he had pushed papers off desks, slammed doors, even smashed a laptop or two, but his words always hurt the most. Sharp and venomous, they pierced you, pushing their poison into your veins, making it so hard to forget their presence--they would literally pump through you, repeating themselves, a mantra of your shortcomings.

The tears came without your permission--usually you could choke them back, attribute them to something else, or feign your way to freedom, but it was difficult, as you reached Kendall’s office, to get away with any of these tactics.

You left one of the coffees on his desk, opting to call Johnston--the owner of a small social-media start up--to fix your mistake. As you dialed, slowly closing the cold glass door of Kendall’s office, he gestured for you to hang up.

“No, don’t call,” he shook his head, taking a sip from the to-go cup. It was tiny in his hand; you could see his veins pulsing, a tell-tale sign he was upset, riddled with stress.

“You just told me--”

“I know I did.” He interrupted. “I figured if I want this done right, I should probably do it myself.”

Again, with the words--they always hurt. You didn’t know where the gall came from. “Picking up quotes, are we?”

“Excuse me?” He questioned, leaning against his desk.

“I’m just sure you hear that a lot, after all your fucks, you know.”

The silence hung in the air, ballooning with unspoken expletives, insults, the incessant odor of years’ old sexual tension.

He motioned for you to come over to him, pulling his suit jacket off and throwing it across his chair. When you were close enough, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you, so he could whisper into your ear.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that. Are we clear?” He dropped your wrist. “Look at me. Are we fucking clear?”

You nodded. “Yes, I’m sorry.”

Kendall tilted your chin up, looking into your eyes firmly, with a dominance that made your knees feel weak and your throat dry with a germinating anxiety. “Why don’t you take the day off? We obviously aren’t seeing eye to eye today. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You furrowed your brows, confused. A day off and Kendall weren’t words that meshed together. “But–”

“No.” He was firm, ushering you out of the door. “I’ll fucking see you tomorrow. A day won’t kill you. We don’t even like each other. Obviously.”

And then the door was shut, the wind pushing your hair back with a malicious force. He was punishing you; he knew you were a workaholic–that’s why he hired you. Even the salary didn’t keep people around for long; Kendall was intense, problematic, a true Roy in every sense of its connotation. But you were clever, a perfectionist, and addicted to the one thing that didn’t come by all too often: being praised by Kendall.

The feeling of his unbridled appreciation–a laugh at your jokes, a term of ownership, the subtle she works for me–was euphoric. And their scarcity was what made them so coveted to you, a reward more valuable than your biweekly check.

You left, annoyed. Tired of matching quality with quantity and never receiving more than a “Alright, I need you to do this now.” You were spreading yourself exceptionally thin, so thin that your feelings had become transparent and incompatible with the opaque front of your usual robotic, emotionless facade.

Maybe the day off wasn’t a bad idea, and maybe you needed a drink, and maybe you needed someone to take your mind off of how fucking annoying your boss was.

So there you were, hours later, in a taut green dress and black heels across from a friend of your friend’s boyfriend. You feigned interest in his job, laughed a little too hard at his jokes, and looked to him for affection–any kind of fleeting admiration, just a tinge of longing. Even if it expired the next morning and grew sour and curdled, you were desperate, searching for his placeholder. But you didn’t want to admit to yourself just who you were referring to. So you didn’t. You pretended like Kendall didn’t bother you–until he literally bothered you again.

“I thought I said we would see each other tomorrow,” Kendall placed his hands on your shoulders, making steady eye contact with your date. You couldn’t see him, but you knew his look was lethal; as easily as his eyes could reflect deject and sorrow, they could also emanate a concentrated hatred that had to have taken decades of practice–or mirroring his father. You felt the grip on the back of your chair tighten. “It’s only been a few hours.”

You turned around, setting your drink down as quietly as possible–as if the consistent pumping of a generic, bassy tempo wouldn’t already drown its subtle clink. Looking up at him through your eyelashes, you raised your eyebrows. “So you’re following me now?”

“Following, no. I thought you wouldn’t be here, you know, uh, since you always have a fuckin’ stick up your ass.”

Your date butted in, thoroughly confused. “Uh, who is this?”

“My boss.” You answered, nonchalantly. As if that wouldn’t raise more questions, such as why his hands had migrated to your shoulders, and why your legs visibly squeezed together at initial contact, an involuntary reflex.

“Speaking of,” Kendall moved both of his hands to one shoulder, squeezing tighter. “We should talk about Johnston. I, uh, changed my mind about a few things.”

“Can it not wait until tomorrow?” You quipped through gritted teeth.

“It can’t.” He gave your date–if you could even call it that–a tight-lipped smile. “Come on, now.” His hands pressed down on your shoulders harder; it felt like all the strength you had left had been channeled into him. You were weak around him, unable to stand up without having pathetically wobbly knees that you attributed to your heels.

Once you had stood up, Kendall’s hand was on your lower back, leading you to a back corner. It was dark; the soft, ambient lighting of the rest of the bar had stopped sharply, leaving you and Kendall obscured, the only source of sight the periodic opening and closing of the nearby bathroom door.

“How did you know I was here?” You asked, throwing his hand away from you. Your eyebrow twitched, angry at how the only consistent thing about Kendall was the sheer power he had over you to make you do whatever the fuck he wanted.

“I didn’t.” Kendall deadpanned. Even in the dark, it was obvious he was looking at your physique in the dress you had worn, an olive green silk slip that hugged your torso. Slightly promiscuous, but classy, elegant.

“Bullshit.”

Kendall pulled you closer as the door to the bathroom swung open. You looked like a bickering couple, and that made your heart palpitate, a shallow longing piercing the skin of your chest. “Fine, Greg told me.”

“How the fuck does Greg know where I am?” You knit your brows together, confused.

Kendall squeezed your shoulder, one of his rare, toothy grins emerging through the beacon of light from the cracked door next to him. “You fuckin’ recommended this place to him or something. I thought you there was a slim chance you might be here if you weren’t home.”

“And you knew I wasn’t home?”

“You didn’t answer your phone. Usually means you’re at work or out somewhere. I don’t fuckin’ know. Shot in the dark.” Kendall took a deep breath, his eyes following a waitress taking a few flutes of bronze champagne to a table across the room. “Listen, I actually do need something of you. And I’m actually going to get on my knees and fucking beg you.”

Kendall actually began to drop, until you intercepted, pulling him up by his elbow. “Jesus Christ,” You whispered. “What do you need? I’m off the clock right now.”

“That’s why I’m begging.”

“Okay, just spit it out.”

He sighed deeply, pulling the collar of his crisp shirt away from his neck. “There’s the gala tonight–”

“No.” You shrugged. “Absolutely fucking not.”

“I haven’t finished.” He paused. “What’s wrong with a gala?”

“It’s not a gala. It’s a Waystar gala full of fucking Roys.”

Kendall rolled his eyes. “You work for a Roy, I’d watch it.”

“Just–” You rubbed your temples. “Continue.”

“Wow, fuckin’ thank you.” He said facetiously. “There’s the gala tonight, I had a date. I cancelled on her. Called Johnston, and he said that the deal is back on, but he wants to come tonight. To, uh, see the Waystar spirit or some shit?”

You stared at him blankly. “There is no spirit. People who come in with spirit leave with an alarming deficit of fucking spirit.”

Kendall pressed his hands together. “Okay, this is when I literally start begging. I’m going to get on my fucking knees and plead. I’ll, uh, fucking buy you whatever you want.”

Your cheeks flushed; it felt like you were high or drunk or something beyond that. For once, you had the upper hand on Kendall; you held the golden, winning card.

“Please.” Kendall reiterated. A flash of something—vulnerability, guilt—flashed over his features. But it dissipated as quickly as it had appeared.

You thought about it. It wasn’t like the date with the man-whose-name-you-would-never-quite-remember was going well; that within itself proved it. But Kendall’s entitlement, the waltz he always did where he would step into a situation and flip it to favor whatever the fuck he wanted—fucking annoyed you.

“I don’t understand this. You.” You shrugged, opting for a non-answer.

Kendall mirrored your shrug. “What’s there to understand.” He worded it like a statement, like nothing he did ever deserved the hanging of the unknown, the hesitant stamp of a question mark.

“I’m busy. I’m here doing something.” The cocktail you had downed before “running into” Kendall had boosted your confidence, and a newfound lust for this strange feeling to persist settled deep in your belly, an autumn leaf swaying onto the newly dead winter grass. “Why does it fucking matter if I’m there?”

Kendall weaved his fingers together. “I think it would be good for the deal if you came with me. As my date. Just as a business thing. Purely Business. Keep the gala open to everyone, show him it's tight-knit, it's friendly–it’s not just the Roys coming to keep their name on the inheritance check.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. It was cold; a metallic draft of air pinched your exposed skin. “Okay. Not a bad idea. But I work there. It’s gonna seem like everyone was forced.”

“Just–” He began. “It’s low stakes. Just come with me, you can get tipsy on free champagne, ride home in a limo.”

“You’re acting like I even have a choice to decline.”

Kendall checked his watch, leaning into you. “You can decline. But I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

“Fear mongering. That’s cute.” You linked your arm in his. “I’ll go. But not because of that.”

“Atta girl.”

—--

The gala was at 9; it was nearing then, but Kendall had ducked you into the limo, insisting you looked perfect for the occasion. You tried not to let those words ring like a mantra; the inside of your head was radio silence after the elusive compliment–no matter how trivial it was to Kendall at the moment. It almost felt like you were actually his date.

As the doors to the limo shut, it was just you and Kendall in the back, engulfed in a silence that was tactile, sticky with tension and apprehension about the gala, the deal, if this was actually about what Kendall said it was.

It was cold outside, and you sat next to each other in the prim limousine, legs flush against his as the limo winded through the twisted back roads, out of the sleepless swarm of the city and into the lazy nook of the suburbs, where willow trees swayed instead of the hands of passersby, yearning for a taxi.

Kendall shifted, not uncomfortable, but perhaps a little bit; he felt odd at how much he fucking burned for you. You looked amazing in the dress. In his mind was you, in that dress on repeat–a silent reel fueled by a lust so obsessive it could only belong to a bereft Kendall Roy. He leaned his head back on the hot leather seat, thinking about how the curve of your hips looked in the taut silk of your dress, your cleavage when you bent over, your ass.

You turned to him, desperate to fill the heavy silence with something. “Should we prepare? Like what we’re going to say to Johnston about the deal?”

Kendall snapped out of his haze, a fuzzy head high that could only be brought on by you. “Oh, um, I was just thinking we would focus more on the moment. I’m not too worried.”

You leaned forward. Kendall’s eyes flitted away from your cleavage. “Kendall, focusing on the moment?”

“Happens every once in a while, usually when I’m–”

“On a coke binge?” You regretted saying it, but Kendall giggled, surprisingly.

“You’re not wrong.” Your necklace dangled as you leaned into him due to the turning of the limo into a cobblestone driveway.

The bubble of intimacy of the backseat–your bodies pushed together from the cold and unspoken yearning–was popped as the driver opened the back door, letting you and Kendall out. You felt awkward, completely unsure of what to do. You had been to one other Waystar Gala and had promised yourself you would never go to another one for as long as you lived. They were usually chock-full of drama, and every attendee without the shiny Roy name tag was usually a pawn in some dirty Royco scam of theirs. But Kendall in a suit and those hazel eyes–you couldn’t say no even if you fucking wanted to.

You walked towards the venue, a huge country club near the Hamptons, far away from the chaotic, capitalist jungle of Manhattan. Here, it was quiet; you could only hear the faint clink of glasses, feigned laughter, the clicking of overpriced dress shoes against wooden floors.

Kendall was assured in his movements, much more than you were. He strode up to meet your pace, pulling you in by your waist. “You’re freezing, Y/N.” His fingertips grazed your shoulder blade, pricked with goosebumps. “Do you want my jacket?”

You shook your head. “No, no.” You answered. “We’ll be inside in a second.”

This new Kendall–you didn’t know how to feel about him. You had never really seen him before; you were used to the pulsing vein in his neck, a patronizing tone, pacing back and forth and the unmistakably stressful go, go, go attitude that always possessed him. Here, he was calm, soft-spoken, charming, chivalrous.

Weirdly, you missed the Kendall that was rude and entitled, the one who would fuck you over in a second if that meant he got what he wanted.

“You nervous?” Kendall replied. The wooden door opened, a rush of energy seething into your bloodstream, amalgamating with the hours-old alcohol. He could feel the tenseness in your muscles. Whether that was a side effect from his touch, or the looming torture of what the gala would bring–you were unsure.

“A little.” You admitted.

Kendall tapped on his coat pocket. “We could take the edge off.”

You shook your head. “No, Kendall. I’m not–”

“Fucking relax,” Kendall dug in the pocket, pulling out a heavy lighter. “It’s a joint.”

You rolled your eyes, looking around. The coast was clear; Logan and Marcia were talking to Roman and Shiv, not worried about Kendall’s perceived absence. Something you had gleaned about the family dynamic was that due to Kendall’s erratic past, it was more of a silent wish than an expectation that he showed up to most things.

“Fine.” You responded. “I’m only taking a couple hits.”

Kendall shook his head. “No. We’re smoking the whole thing. Halfsies.”

Smoking on the back balcony was a dream. The white smoke haloed around the two of you, tendrils of pungent air pulling the two of you together. You hadn’t spoken much since the ceremonial lighting of the joint, but you didn’t feel like you needed to. It could just be you and him and the ashen remains of marijuana, and it felt okay, peaceful. The problem between you two always just seemed to coincide with work. And talking. And your control issues.

“I have to admit something to you.” Kendall tapped the bud of the joint against the railing of the balcony. “Johnston isn’t here.”

You leaned forward, against the railing, plucking the remains of the joint from Kendall’s grasp. “What are you talking about?”

“He broke the deal off. He said we were ‘fucking suffocating to be around’.”

“What?” You asked, in shock. “Then why am I here?”

Kendall shoved his hands in his pockets, annoyed. “Like it’s so fucking bad.”

“I was on a date, Kendall. And you come in and act like I have an obligation to fucking come here, and then it was a lie, and I’m the bitch for being mad?” You crossed your arms over your chest, and Kendall pinched himself, a deterrent to not look at your breasts.

“Fuck off,” He said. “That wasn’t a date, that dude was an asshole.”

“From the 20 seconds you were near him?”

Kendall shrugged. “He’s a finance guy in Manhattan; pick your poison, do you want gonorrhea or a prenup first?”

“What?” You were delirious from the cold, the weed, his lies.

“He’s sleazy.”

“Why do you fucking care? Why am I here? You had a date–”

“Yes, I had a date, and then I cancelled on her because I would have rather you came. And you did come. And now you’re fucking yelling at me.”

You softened your voice, inhaling deeply. “What was wrong with the other date?”

“Nothing–I don’t know.”

You raised your eyebrows, a silent Okay, and?

“I just feel like–”

You interrupted. “You know what? I feel like this arrangement isn’t really working.”

“What arrangement?”

“Me and you. Working together. I mean, you take me to this gala under false pretenses when in reality I’m just your arm candy slash employee, and it feels like we’re toddlers shoved into those We’re gonna get along shirts. I just don’t understand this. I don’t understand you.”

Kendall swallowed. “Are you quitting?”

Your voice felt inverted, small. “I don’t know.” The bluntness of Kendall’s question confused you; the lack of nuance made it seem like he didn’t care, like it was good riddance to you. Maybe he wanted another assistant, one who gave him what he wanted regardless of her personal qualms, one who said “yes sir,” or “no sir,” and batted her eyelashes and was submissive to his incessant necessity for power.

Kendall took another drag from the joint; it was ashen, deteriorating in his grasp. It felt symbolic. “You shouldn’t quit. I think you should stay at Waystar. With me.”

“With you. That’s an interesting way to word it.” You quipped.

“I agree.” Kendall stepped closer to you, the heels of his leather shoes clacking against the ground. “Do you know how many times my dad or Shiv or Tom–and Roman especially– have told me to get rid of you?”

You were taken aback, hurt. “Wh-what?”

“Not because they don’t like you,” Kendall began. He leaned against the balcony, looking down at the limo parked in the middle of the cobblestone driveway. The license plate glimmered against the sliver of the moon, hanging in the sky like a pendant. “It’s because they see that I’m weaker when I’m around you. I’m fucking erratic and I act nineteen.”

You looked at his profile, but he averted eye contact.

“Like, I’m an asshole to you, but you don’t just take it and I like that. But you also have this fucking hold over me that I can’t explain.”

“Can you try to explain?”

Kendall chuckled. “I mean, like, when I saw you on that date. Pure coincidence that you were there, by the way; I was going to meet my date to this thing there. But then I saw you and I kind of just ghosted her.”

You joined him at the balcony, looking below. Another limousine had pulled up; a group of older businessmen and their wives in high neck silk dresses flooded out. “Oh,” was all you could muster.

“And I felt this deep anger when I saw you with that guy,” Kendall turned to you. “I was jealous and fucking protective.”

“Jealous?” The limo driver turned the engine off, leaving the keys on the front seat. As if blinking tiredly, the headlights fizzled out, and the driveway was empty, serene.

“Yes, I’m so fucking jealous.”

You looked at him, and finally, he turned to you. The silence allowed you to hear each other’s pulses thumping with the anticipation of the lust you both shared; it was ripened, sweet to the point of almost being rotten.

Breaking the silence, Kendall had an idea. “Let’s go for a ride.”

Kendall pulled your hand into his, and then you were running down the spiral staircase, past the other guests who wanted to speak with the fleeting Roy who was breathless, high, and for once, didn’t fucking care about Waystar, or meetings or finances.

He ran to the limo, catching his breath as he reached the one with the keys still perched on the driver’s seat. “Let’s hope they’re not locked in.”

“Ken, where are we going?” You smiled, dizzy from the change of pace, how he gleamed around you.

“Wherever the fuck you want.”

And then you were in the front seat. The heat was on and so was the engine, but Kendall sat, faced forward. A look of determination was etched into his face.

“What?” You asked.

Kendall spoke up. “I have to tell you–you look fucking perfect in that dress.” His hand held the back of your head and your heart leapt; it felt like it had jumped to the other side of your chest.

You didn’t know what to do; there were only two choices, what a shitty choose-your-own-adventure. But it was always important to go with your gut, even if it was spoiled by butterflies and the most overgrown lust you had ever had for anyone in your fucking life.

You closed the gap, pulling him in by his tie as his hands found your waist, pulling you on top of him. The horn honked, and Kendall smiled against you as he palmed your ass, his tongue swiping across your teeth. You opened your mouth, moaning into him.

“I fucking need you.” He said. “I fucking hate how much I need you.” He slid your core against his clothed cock, his head falling back at the feeling of the friction.

And then you were in the backseat, and he was on top of you. He pulled your heels off as you undid his tie. Kendall pushed your wrists together and held them above your head as he kissed your neck, pulling the straps of your dress down with his teeth.

“Kendall,” You moaned, arching into him. The moment was heated, of course, but also tinged with anger, a vicious hatred of how fucked up your dynamic was and how you were just about to fuck it up some more.

His mouth latched to your nipple as he palmed your other breast, letting go of your wrists, your hands quickly finding his head. You ground your hips against his, desperate for him. Any of him. You were soaked; you had been since he took that first drag of the joint, and you despised how easy you were for him, how willing. One cheap compliment and here you were, aching for him, his clothed cock nestled between your legs. It belonged there, and you knew it.

Kendall groaned into you as a trail of wet kisses led him back to your awaiting mouth. They were kisses that broke the rubber band of years worth of tension, of pent-up hatred that had metamorphized into something possibly akin to love.

He hiked your dress up around your waist, and pushed his hand against your cunt. You were shaking for him, wet and needy.

“Is this okay?” He asked. His thumb rubbed lazy circles on your clit, and you moaned out, bucking into his touch. Of course it was.

“Yes, fuck, Kendall.” You were flustered, so frustrated at how much you had to have him, at how you were letting him–your boss–take you at a company gala in the fucking company limo. “Why are you such a fucking asshole?” You hissed as he took his fingers away, yanking your thong down and putting your legs over his shoulder as he licked a thick stripe over your folds. He kissed your outer lips, so soft with his ministrations that it made you want to rip his hair out.

He moaned at your taste, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your thighs until his tongue lapped hungrily around your clit, two fingers pushing their way into your cunt. You were soaked for him; you thanked god that the seats were leather.

Kendall was messy yet precise; his hands gripped your thighs so hard he could feel your pulse. Your hands found his head, and you ground against his tongue as he ate you, starved.

He came up for air, still pumping his fingers into you. “Oh, I’m a fucking asshole?” He grabbed your jaw. “Always teasing me. Always fucking talking back.”

You whimpered when his fingers stopped pumping, begging for more with your eyes, with the rolling of your hips against him.

“See how it feels?” He pulled his fingers out completely. “Open your mouth for me. No fucking backtalk.”

You nodded, obliging. Kendall was bent over you, your legs around his waist. One of his hands was braced against the seat, the other holding your face in place, forcing you to look at him. His thumb pulled at your bottom lip as he spit into your mouth, urging you to swallow.

“Fuck.” He said. Looking down at you, your hair sprawled out on the seat, cheeks flushed and lips red and raw–he realized what he hated about you was that he fucking loved you, and everyone saw it but you. “Do you know how much I’ve thought about fucking you?”

“I have too. All the time.” You said, flustered. “Kendall, please.”

“Please, what?” He was cocky again.

“Fuck me.” You reached for his belt, and Kendall pressed the lock button on the door. The windows were fogged with steam, your silhouettes obscured by the tinted windows.

You could hear chatter moving closer to the driveway; the gala was probably ending soon.

Kendall shoved your hands away and unbuckled his belt, shimmying out of his neatly pressed pants as you unbuttoned his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. He tasted like you, like your sweat, your cunt.

“Fuck me, what?” Kendall teased.

“Fuck me, please,” You writhed in his touch as he lined himself up with your entrance. You wanted him and you wanted him raw.

He rubbed the head of his cock against your clit, intent on teasing you, even if it made him ache in the process. Some things never changed. “God, your pussy is so wet.”

You pulled him closer with your legs, and he pushed into you, all at once. He hissed as he bottomed out, emitting a deep groan from the bottom of his throat.

“Fuck you,” He said. “Your cunt’s better than I ever fuckin’ imagined.”

You moaned, urging him to fuck you, to do something. “I’m wet,” You began. “All for you.”

“Yes,” He thrusted. “All for me.”

And then he was pounding into you, holding you to his chest. The sounds were obscene, slapping and wet and filthy, but you didn’t care about the gala outside or the fact that the boss you hated yet loved was fucking you. Deeply.

He hit that spot in you that made you scream, rolling his hips as he kissed you with an animalistic fervor.

“You better shut up,” He whispered in your ear. “Or they’re all gonna know what a fucking slut you’re being for your boss.”

Kendall pushed your legs back, hitting that deep spot that made you shake and squeeze around his cock. As your mouth opened, Kendall latched his hand over it, bending down to talk in your ear.

“Feels so fucking good.” He purred. “Fucking you raw.”

You heard the click of footsteps upon the uneven driveway, the polite farewells exchanged by the gala’s guests.

Kendall went even faster, his cock twitching at how overwhelmed you were, clawing at him, moaning into his neck, begging for more.

He felt himself getting close, the high from the joint intensifying his sensations tenfold.

“I’m gonna cum,” He moaned into your ear, his hands grabbing your tits, your ass–any part of you that he could.

He was about to pull out, but you locked your ankles around his waist, keeping him there, with you.

“Cum in me, I want your cum.” You arched into him.

That’s all it took for his orgasm to spill over, his hips jerking as his cum spurted in hot ropes inside you.

“Take my fucking cum. Be a good girl for once.” He cried.

His thumb rubbed against your clit, using your wetness and his as sufficient lubricant. You were already close, and his cock was still in you, semi-hard and twitching.

“Cum around my cock, sweet girl.” He whispered.

The voices were closer, and it felt harder to let go, until Kendall’s thumb pressed harder against you, his hips moving lazily against you.

His voice was softer now, nicer. “I want you to cum. I want to feel you.”

A few more slow thrusts and him playing with your aching clit was all it took for you to let go, your back bowing as you moaned his name so loud he had to press his hand against your mouth to shut you up.

Your moans were muffled, your legs shaking as Kendall finally pulled out, working you through your high.

“You’re so pretty, it pisses me off.” He grabbed your cheeks and kissed you, biting your lip, grabbing at your exposed ass. You could still feel his cum in you.

Your chest was heaving, and Kendall pulled your dress back up, adjusting your straps and smoothing your hair down with a delicate care you had never seen in him before.

“Are we ever gonna talk about this again?” You asked, putting his tie back on.

Kendall’s heart fluttered at the gesture, but wept at the question. “I think it would be impossible not to, Y/N.” After thinking for a second, he added, “Sex that good doesn’t just happen. It’s made.”

#kendall roy #kendall roy fic #kendall roy fanfic #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy smut #succession #succession fic #succession fanfic #succession x reader #roman roy #shiv roy #tom wambsgans #greg hirsch

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axolotlwrites · 10 months

Text

Sunshine

Sebastian x Male Reader !NSFW

CONTENT WARNING:

Gay sex, anal, blowjob, use of the phrases good boy and pretty boy, sebastian takes, reader gives, lots of uses of the word cock, not beta read lol

Sebastian calls you, his boyfriend, and asks to meet at the tavern. What could be so important that he calls you to come out in the middle of the night?

Criticism and feedback requested, and welcomed. I'm new, and looking to improve.

The tavern was unusually empty tonight. Elliot, Emily, Pam, and Gus were still here, but otherwise, all was quiet. Sam and Abigail weren't going to be here tonight, and 5 were kind of worried. You'd been going steady with Sebastian for a couple of months now, but when Sebastian called you and told you he wanted to talk, he sounded deadly serious. That laid back, eternally apathetic veneer melted away, the stress clear in his voice. Whatever he wanted to talk about, it was eating at him. And now, the mystery and questioning of what exactly had him like that was eating at you too. You could only distract yourself with thoughts of chickens and plants for so long.

The stress was amplified when you heard the tavern doors swing open. Your head snapped over to the side, watching him as he walked in. Purple hoodie, hair swept to the side, eternal frown, all the same place you left it. He bee-lined towards you, not even acknowledging Emily's greeting or meeting your eyes before plopping down next to you.

"Hey, Sebby. You alright?" He shifted in his seat, looking up at you before looking back down again. His leg was shaking in place. You scooted closer to him, placing your hand on his leg, and his breathing got faster. "Sebastian? What's wrong, baby?" His body shivered when you said that, in a way you'd never seen him do before. He looked at you, finally keeping his gaze on yours. His eyes were half-lidded, his face flushed red, and he was sweating slightly. And before you knew it, he was on you.

His hands planted against your chest as he rushed you down and started to kiss up your jaw. "Need you, Sunshine. Need you badly." He brought his hand up to your neck, bringing you in to kiss him. Your lips locked with his, the kiss hot and heavy. His lips were soft, and his tongue immediately darted into your mouth. Your hands moved to his neck and back, keeping him close in your embrace. A small moan rumbles in his throat as he pushes himself, trying to get closer in whatever space there is. You could smell his scent, thick and heady, of cigarette smoke and motorcycle oil. He mentioned earlier that he was gonna work on it today, but as his hand started to slip under your shirt, his motorcycle was the last thing you wanted to ride. As his kisses start to dip lower into your collarbone, you get a glimpse over his shoulder and see Gus staring straight back at you.

Your back stiffens immediately, and you snap your hand to his, grabbing it. "Sebastian, we need to go." He looks up from kissing your collarbone, seeing the look in your eyes as you and Gus engage in the world's most judgemental staring competition. He looks back at Gus, the look in his eyes enough to put the fear of Yoba into any man. Without any hesitation, he stands, pulling you along with him. You're already out the door before you can even apologize for the show you were putting on. He drags you out of the tavern, but you don't let him pull you any further. You stop, pulling him back before pushing him against the wall of the tavern.

You were out in the open, and anyone who decided to take a night-time stroll through the town would see the way you plant kisses along his jaw and grind your body against his. "You're so fucking horny for me, aren't you, Sebby? So needy for my touch, making out in the middle of the tavern… you've never been like this for me, but I'm liking it." As your jeans move against his sweatpants, the clothed bulges between you become more pronounced. Finally he speaks, soft and hushed. "I've been thinking about you all day. Couldn't get you out of my head." His hands glide up to your face, holding it as he finally confesses, "Nobody's ever gotten me like this before, this… needy. I need you, Sunshine." You move away from him slightly, making eye contact as your hands move away from him. "As much as I'd love to fuck you, right here, right now, where anyone could see us… I feel like we'd both be more comfortable at my place." Some semblance of clarity finally reaches him in his addled state, and he finally nods. "Yeah, I'd rather we weren't known as the guys who bang in public… my mom would get pissed." At that you laugh and nod, the tension in your body finally relaxing as you grab his hand and start to walk. He follows, closely pulling his hood up as the rain starts to fall on the cold autumn night.

You're barely even through the front door before you've got him pinned against it. Your lips are on his, one hand moving to his ass and the other palming his crotch. His arms wrap around your back, pulling you close as your kiss deepens for only a mere second before having to pull back for air. In between pants of air, he mumbles something under his breath, a small blush starting to creep up on his face. You grin, before bringing a hand up to his face. "Didn't catch that, babe. Say it one more time." His blush reaches a fever pitch, before he finally squeaks out, "I wanna suck your cock really bad please."

That catches you by surprise, but you try not to let it show on your face as you pull away, unbuckling your belt as you do so. "Do you, uh want to get to the bedroom, or-" You didn't even get to finish your sentence before he was on his knees in front of you, shoving your pants down your legs before finally coming face to face with the last bit of clothing covering your already hard cock. He starts to tug at his own sweatpants as he strokes your clothed dick, feeling it quickly rise and throb for him. "You're so damn hard." He says, finally pulling your underpants down and coming face to face with the whole thing. It nearly slapped him as it sprung back up, his hot breath running along your stiff cock. You could feel every small breath and every little twitch as he admired it. "You've got a… a really nice dick, Sunshine." He said, finally bringing his hand up to your cock, slowly wrapping it around it as he looked up at you. Sebastian gave you one last small smile, before finally wrapping his lips around the head of your cock.

"Fuck, Sebastian…" His tongue glides along your head, as he wastes no time trying to take you deeper into his mouth. Despite what presumably little experience he had, he was giving it to you like a pro. He was sucking along your length, your hands slowly settling themselves into his hair as your body relaxes into his. His tongue was almost masterful as he reached all the sensitive spots along your cock. He looked so cute and pretty down there, his hand slowly pumping on his own dick as he tried his hardest to pleasure you. Your hands hadn't left the hair under his hood, even as you pushed it down to get a better look at his cute little face. "So good for me… such a good boy," you whispered, watching as the hand pumping his cock became just a little bit faster, and the blush on his face became a little bit redder. "Oh, you like that, Sebastian? You like being called a good boy?" He nodded, pulling your cock out of your mouth, saying while still slightly out of breath, "Call me pretty, please." You moaned as his lips wrapped around your cock again, "Such a pretty fucking boy for me." His hand moves away from his cock, covered in pre-cum, as he tries to stave off his own orgasm. He gives the head of your cock one last lick and kiss before pulling off once more. His head lolls to the side, a smug grin on his face as your cock is practically dripping with pre. "You, uh, wanna fuck me Sunshine?"

You don't even answer in an understandable language, only nodding as shallow breaths seep from your mouth like steam on a cold day. Slowly, Sebastian keeps stroking his dick as he stands up and walks to the wall. He leans against it, beckoning towards you. Sebastian watches as you walk towards him, legs almost unsteady as his, and bring yourself into his embrace. You bring your hands down to his waist pulling up one of his legs and bringing it up to make space for you as your cock finally slips past his and pokes up into his ass.

The realization comes to you of the silence of the whole ordeal, excluding some dirty talk. The way you understand each other with so few words. The way you both moan and whimper in each other's arms. And as you kiss him on the lips, and finally push past the last ring of resistance and into his body, you finally feel whole tonight. Your body starts to move slowly against his, your pumps shallow, despite your excitement. "Sebby," you moan, pumping into him again, "I love you." Dispelling some of the lustfulness and finally introducing more love into the experience, he brings you into another, deeper kiss. "Love you too, Sunshine." At that, your body speeds up, your dick sliding in and out of his asshole. You plant your face in his neck and start to bite and lick along his collarbone. You can feel the way his ass gives, meeting little resistance as you finally start to pound into him. The clapping of skin on skin starts to ring across the room like a crowd watching an exhilarating performance, and he finally starts to moan into your ear. "Fuck your good boy… keep fucking me," over and over he repeats it, a divine chant in a holy ritual as you fuck his ass. The rhythm becomes solid, like a drum beat in a slow rock song, you bring yourself into him over and over again. Your words are barely coherent, small utterances of appreciation and love being lost among the grunts and moans, and he is in no better of a condition. His hand launches up to your shoulder as he exclaims, "Fuck, Sunshine, I'm gonna cum!" You bite into his neck, sure to leave a bruise as he cries out in moans and whimpers, his cum launching out in large spurts onto his hoodie as he finally finishes. "Sebastian… cumming…" you barely manage to get out, before unloading into his asshole, your cock slowly softening as you pump rope after rope into his ass.

You would probably guide him, both of you on unsteady legs, to bed later. But right then and there, you sat and held him in your arms. Right then and there, you were his Sunshine.

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radation · 4 months

Note

Can you do ler!venner + lee!velvet and put her in a real bad lee mood, having to admitting she wants to be tickled and to tickle her.

FREAKING YESS!!! IDK IF IM THE FIRST TO MAKE A FIC ABT VELVET AND VENEER BUT YESSS!!!!!

Tickly day for vel.

It was a normal day in mount rageous, the twins had an interview they were expecting in a few days time so they were warming up. Veneer was in his room, talking to himself about what the interviewer could ask and what he could respond with.

However, velvet was on her bed, trying her best to concentrate but just couldn’t get the feeling of wanting to be tickled out of her head, making her blush. Velvet sometimes hated to be tickled but she did have occasions where she did want them, she was on her bed huffing and puffing.

“Come on velvet! Focus! Now, the interviewer could say something like “what are your goals after becoming famous popstars” and I could say “oh well we….we uhm…ugh! Come on velvet!”

she spent like 2 hours trying to get her crap together but no matter what, she couldn’t shake the whole “wanting to be tickled” thing. So she had no choice but to go to her brother.

she opened the door to find her brother pacing around the room talking to himself.

Veneer: yes, I do have a jetpack but it’s- oh hey velvet!

*he greeted her with a smile*

Velvet: h-hey, *she waved awkwardly as the blush on her face grew*

*a moment of silence was casted upon them*

Veneer: you okay?-

Velvet: oh yeah I’m great! Totally fine! A-are you? *she sat on his bed with an awkward smile*

*he sighed and sat next to her*

Veneer: are you sure you’re okay sis…? You know can tell me about anything right?

That comment made her even more flustered, she sighed, she wanted to tell her brother but couldnt bring herself to do it.

Velvet: yeah well uhm…can you…

Veneer: hm? *he smiled softly*

Velvet: can you…c-call crimp yeah call crimp!

Veneer: uhh…she’s on her holiday?

Velvet: right…

Veneer: velvet, what’s really going on? You know I’ll never judge you. *he placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring look*

Velvet: uhm…can you do…that one thing?

Veneer: w-what thing…? *he gave her a puzzled look*

Velvet: ugh! Like… *her face got even more red* like you know! *she wiggles her fingers* that!

Veneer: vel, how on mount rageous am I supposed to know what this *he mocked her as he said the word “this”* is??

Velvet:…right…*her face flushed* well veneer, do you know how siblings bond?

Veneer: oh yeah! They can bond in many ways! Hanging out, playing, wrestling, teasing, tickling-

Velvet: THAT! *she pointed*

*veneer jumped*

Veneer: what…?

Velvet: sorry, that what you just said.

Veneer: tickling?

Velvet: *her face flushed* mhm, that.

*veneer seemed puzzled*

Veneer: what about tickling?

Velvet: can you….uhm…can you…do…ugh! *she buried her face* never mind.

*veneer took a second to realize*

Veneer: ohhhh!!! *he smirked* oh velvet, my dear sister, enlighten me, what is it do you wish for.

*velvet knows that when veneer starts speaking Shakespeare that means he is teasing her*

Velvet: veneer I swear!

Veneer: oh no, if you want me to tickle you, admit it.

Velvet: *her face is blushing really hard* but you know I can’t and what I want!!

Veneer: i know you can and i know I do, but Ofcourse, you have to admit it so I can be sure~

Velvet: veneer!

Veneer: velvet~

Velvet: ugh I hate you!

Veneer: aw come on! Just say it~

Velvet: veneer! *she whined*

Veneer: come on~ otherwise no tickling.

Velvet: ugh…can you…

*veneer watched with a smirk*

Velvet: can you….t-t…ti…ckle…me… *she mumbled*

Veneer: can’t hear ya. *he placed his hand on her his ear*

Velvet: ugh! Can you…

*veneer waited with a smug look on his face*

Velvet: tickle…me…

Veneer: there it is! Come here. *he giggled and pulled her close and began tickling her stomach*

*velvet yelped and tried her best not to squirm too much*

Velvet: veheneher!

Veneer: hm? This is what you wanted isn’t it?~

Velvet: yehehah buhut

Veneer: so shush. *he chuckled and kept tickling her stomach*

Velvet: *squeal* BAHAHAHAH! VEHENEHEHR!!!

*veneer began massaging her hips*

Veneer: what?! I’m just massaging! *he giggled as he spoke*

*velvet began thrashing around squirmed*

Velvet: YOHOU KNOHOW WHAHAT YOHOHURE DOHOIHING!!

Veneer: oh shut up vel! You like it and that’s that. *he teased with a smirk*

Velvet: NOHOHO VEHENEHEHR!! HAHAHH!

*she laughed and squirmed on the bed, veneer quickly pinned her and used his free hand to tickle her armpits, ripping a squeal out of her*

Velvet: NOHOHO!! HAHAHAHAH! VHENEHR! IHI- HAHAHHA! *she tried to enjoy it but since it was a sensitive spot for her, she couldn’t help but try her best to lower her arms*

Veneer: there we go! Now we are getting all the spots, aye vel?~

Velvet: SHUHUT UHUP!!

Veneer: oh but you like this hm?~

*velvet just kept laughing and tried her best not to squirm, she didn’t wanna admit it just yet but she really was enjoying it*

*veneer let her go but straddled her and sat on her thighs*

Veneer: now let’s see if your sides want a little tickle as well hm vel? *he raised his eyebrow with a smirk and began massaging and tickling her sides*

Velvet: *squeal* vehenehher! HaheHAHAH!!

Veneer: that’s my name~

*he noticed she was trying everything to not push him away, he smiled softly and just kept up his act*

Velvet: it tiihicklehes!!! Hehahahah!

Veneer: well I hope it does? *he chuckled, he let go of her and began tickling her thighs*

Veneer: I know I did your hips but we can’t forget these sensitive guys right here~

Velvet: Eep! Vehenehehr! EhhaHAHAHAH! StohoOHOHOP! *both velvet and veneer knew that was a lie*

Veneer: nah, I’ll keep going, these little thighs won’t tickle themselves you know? *he chuckled and kept it up*

If you did not know, velvet’s face was so red that if someone didn’t know the context of the situation, they would’ve mistaken her for a cherry.

*veneer smirked*

Veneer: you sure seem pretty red vel, you okay? *he teased and without warning, dug his fingers behind her knees and tickled her all over and around her knees*

Velvet: *yelp* venHEHEHR! NohoOHOT therHHEHEHRE!! *soon tears began to form in her eyes from laughter*

Veneer: not where? Oh not here? Hmm…nah, I’m good here thanks. *he kept it up, he had a good grip while velvet kicked, she really hated how she tried to stop him even though she wants this*

Veneer: oh let’s not forget about this little place right…. *he wrapped his arm around her ankles and began tickling her feet using his free hand* here!

*velvet screamed*

Velvet: VEHENEHEHR! NOHOHOHO!! *she squirmed as her clenched her fist and hit the bed*

Veneer: veneer yes~

*velvet’s face just got redder by every tease he could give*

Velvet: EHEHNOOHOUHGH! STOHOHOP!!

Veneer: but whyyyyy???~

Velvet: STAHAHHAP! IHIH BAHAHAHAHAH!!!

Veneer: hmm…no.

Velvet: PLEHAHAHSE!! *she tapped him to let him know she has had enough*

*he giggled and let her go*

Veneer: oh one more thing!

Velvet: *she panted* h-huh…?

*he blew a raspberry on her stomach*

*velvet screamed hard*

Velvet: NOHOHO!! VEHE-HAHAHHAAHHA!

*velvet threw her head back laughing as she arched her back and tried to push his head away, soon going into a silent laughter, now she really had enough. Veneer quickly stopped and giggled*

Velvet: oh god….that was….unnecessary!

Veneer: but it was worth it. *he smirked and rubbed her stomach to get rid of those ghostly tickles*

*soon velvet managed to compose herself, she had a small tint of pink on her cheeks as she gained control of her breathing and adjusted herself*

Velvet: veneer…?

Veneer: yeah sis?

Velvet: thank you, I know I can be a bit bossy at times but…I really do love you and I wouldn’t switch you for any other brother in the world, I’m so glad we don’t judge each other and we are always there for each other, and we always will be. *she smiled softly and hugged her brother*

*veneer smiled softly and hugged his sister*

Veneer: I love you vel.

Velvet: I love you too ven.

~the end~

Hope yall enjoyed! I know I really enjoyed making this, I had to like take breaks because even the teasing made me like wigekquabdgwk.

#veneer #velvet #veneerandvelvet #trolls3 #trolls3tickle #trolls3ticklefic #veneerler #veneerticklefic #velvetlee #velvetticklefic #trolls3tickleveneer #trolls3ticklevelvet #trolls3ticklevelvetanfveneer #velvetandveneerticklefic

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indigobloom531 · 16 days

Text

Sleepover - Velneer Story Pt. 2

here's part two for you lovely people! enjoy :D if you haven't read part one yet, here's the link:

https://www.tumblr.com/indigobloom531/747188624702013440/sleepover-velneer-story-pt-1

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Veneer and Velvet didn’t speak a word to each other for the rest of the time the movie was going. Velvet acted like she hated the movie, making little comments about the odd way the actors would deliver their lines or when the camera would film at an odd angle, but she seemed to secretly enjoy it, enough to where she never said a word to Veneer. Even after the movie was done, as they started to get ready for bed, did the friends say anything to each other until after they were done brushing their teeth.

“Uh, Vels?” Veneer said, poking his head through the open door to the bathroom, where Velvet had just gotten done with wiping off her makeup. Velvet hummed in response. “Um… Where will you be sleeping?” Veneer awkwardly asked, stopping Velvet in her tracks. She looks over at her friend, blushing slightly. ‘Huh, that’s odd,’ Veneer thought. ‘Vel’s blush must have not come off all the way.’

“I’ll probably just sleep on the couch, I don’t wanna have to sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag.”

“Oh, well, you could always… Sleep in my bed. With me.” Veneer laughs nervously, scratching the back of his head. Velvet’s face flushes a deep red color and smiles slightly.

“Uhh, I think I’m fine.” she says, chuckling lightly at the odd suggestion. Veneer laughs awkwardly but he mentally facepalms himself for making things so weird.

“Ok, well, goodnight.” he says, exiting the bathroom and walking towards his bedroom.

“‘Night.”

As soon as Veneer closes his bedroom door, he flops down on his bed, groaning frustratedly. ‘I never got to tell her how I feel. Maybe it was meant to be that way.’ he thinks to himself, small tears pricking at the sides of his eyes. That “something” on his shoulder seemed awfully quiet now.

All of Veneer’s emotions and feelings for Velvet have been under wraps for years, and he couldn’t stand the thought of having it stay that way. So why was it so hard to talk to her, then?

–

A few hours later, at about three in the morning, Veneer woke up abruptly. He looks around his room, squinting from one of his room lights still being on. He stretches and yawns, properly arranging himself in his bed and turns off his room light.

Veneer tosses and turns, but no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t go back to sleep. Frustrated, Veneer groans tiredly into his pillow. It’s like that little “something” was trying to keep him back from sleeping, as if Veneer were to sleep he’d miss out on something.

Suddenly, he hears his bedroom door creak open. Veneer wearily looks up from his pillow, noticing Velvet walking towards Veneer’s bed. She sets her pillow down next to Veneer’s.

“Hi.” the latter greets Velvet tiredly.

“The couch was super uncomfortable. I could barely sleep.” Velvet sighs, resting her back against the headboard. Veneer chuckles.

“I can’t sleep, either.”

“Great, so you don’t mind me being in here, then?” Velvet asks. Veneer sits up next to Velvet, blushing slightly.

“Nope.”

The two sit in silence, both wide awake yet slightly dazed from being up at such a late hour. Suddenly, Velvet speaks up.

“Ven, what was that thing you wanted to tell me earlier, when I first got here?” she asks, the whites of her eyes shining in the dark as she gives Veneer a suspicious look. Veneer blushes harder, thinking back on that moment.

“Ha, ha! Oh yeah, that…” he chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his head. “It was nothing.”

Velvet scoffs. “Seriously? I’ve known you long enough to know that if you have something on your mind, you make sure to tell me. Now come on, tell me what’s bothering you.”

It surprised Veneer that Velvet would pay attention to something so little like that. He sighs.

“I wanted to tell you that I… I…” Veneer can feel his heart beat faster every passing second. Now was his chance to confess, and this time, he was actually going to do it.

“...I like you, Velvet. Like-like you. A lot.” he sighs nervously, his anxiety crippling in the fact that he couldn’t see Velvet’s reaction in the dark. “I’ve always been afraid to tell you my feelings because I didn’t want you to be mad at me, or to ruin our friendship. But, I care for you a lot, and I’d do anything for you. I’d even kidnap a troll for you, if you really wanted it.” Veneer’s voice cracked slightly, he was on the verge of tears. He closes his eyes and looks down. He had no idea what to expect from Velvet.

Veneer felt Velvet’s hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to face his friend. “Ven… You like me?” Velvet asked in an indistinguishable tone of voice. Veneer swallowed the knot starting to form in his throat. “Yes…” he answered shyly.

Velvet’s flexible noodle arms fly around Veneer to pull him into a tight, affectionate hug. “Oh, you beautiful idiot, you should have told me sooner,” Velvet hugged Veneer tighter, if that was even possible. “I like you, too.” Velvet says quietly, so quiet that she was unsure if she actually said it.

Veneer- on the other hand- felt like he was going to burst. Not only because of the hug, but also the words that came out of Velvet’s mouth. After all of these years of having feelings for Velvet and wanting to confess to her, Veneer finally did, and Velvet likes him back. Veneer couldn’t have been happier. He pulls away from the hug to look at Velvet’s face. Veneer had never seen Velvet this happy before, her energy bouncing off her face and glowing in the dark of the room. Veneer reaches his hands up to Velvet’s jaw, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

“Oh Velvet, how I love you…” he sighs happily, his face inching closer to Velvet’s. The latter’s smile drops into a pout when Veneer stops.

“...What are you doing?” she asks, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know if it would be ok to kiss you without asking first.” Veneer says, looking down at Velvet’s lips wistfully. Velvet groans.

“Veneer, you softie-” she started to say but was cut off by Veneer placing his lips on hers, locking the new couple together in a passionate kiss.

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annndddddddd that's it everyone! WOOO FINALLY THIS STORY IS FINISHED. what did y'all think of it???? :D

#velneer #velvet and veneer #velvet x veneer (not as siblings)#velvet trolls #veneer trolls #trolls velvet #trolls veneer #trolls tbt #trollstbt #velvet and veneer fanfic #velvet and veneer trolls

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jagged1 · 5 months

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Ignorance is Bliss, But Those Rosy Days Are Gone

Fandom: Outlast Rating: Teen Characters: Eddie Gluskin/Waylon Park, Jeremy Blaire/Waylon Park, Rick Trager Summary: In the midst of a relationship that's slowly drifting away from him, Waylon meets a bar performer who understands. Contains: Cheating, lies of omission, mental health problems, murder. Somehow Jeremy and Rick are the (relatively more) sympathetic characters here. There's also a Spotify playlist. Word Count: ~3300 AO3 link

“Breaking news: A deadly stabbing occurred last night. Local businessman, Jeremy Blaire, was found dead after being brutally attacked. Police are investigating both his death and the disappearance of his fiancé, Waylon Park.”

Stepping into the lounge is always a breathtaking experience. Jeremy has been a regular for years and once they went from 'just dating' to a couple, he promptly introduced Waylon to it. The burst of warm air when the doors open, the warm lighting that spills onto the sidewalk, and the low indistinct murmur of overlapping conversation makes for an overwhelmingly inviting welcome whenever they spend a night out there.

They have an unofficial booth, the circular plush seating perfect for intimate conversation or hosting any number of business partners as needed. It also provides them an unobstructed view of the stage and its rotation of performers.

The latest of them is a startlingly large man, compared to the piano he plays. He makes it look like a toy, but his fingers dance across the keys in smooth, beautiful motions. The first time he sang, Waylon was expecting a deep baritone, but was instead surprised by a softer pitch. It hasn't been long, but he's probably his favorite.

Jeremy chuckles at the way Waylon smiles when it's the man's night on stage. He doesn't mind indulging Waylon's whims and it makes it easier for him to slip away from their booth and into Rick's to discuss business. It's been a growing necessity to meet up during their off hours to manage the new direction of the company.

It's on one of these nights that Waylon runs into the performer at the bar. It's hard not to notice a giant of a man wedging his way through the small crowd, before coming to a stop beside him. The bartender is down at the other end and while he would usually never bother someone on their break, the opportunity to compliment the man is too perfect to pass on.

"Excuse me," Waylon says as he lightly taps the man's elbow, "I just wanted to tell you that you play beautifully." The alcohol he's already had makes his smile softer and looser than it normally would be, but it's fitting.

"Thank you. It's always nice to hear that, especially from regulars, such as yourself." The man smiles back, equally gentle and without the veneer of politeness he's learned to recognize from Jeremy's work associates. It makes Waylon smile just a bit wider in contentment.

Suddenly the man blinks and gives a small shake of his head. "Oh dear, where are my manners? My name is Eddie. May I have yours?"

"Waylon."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Waylon."

"You as well, Eddie."

Why’d you have to be so cute? It's impossible to ignore you

Waylon starts to give Eddie a friendly nod and a wave whenever he's playing. If Waylon’s alone, Eddie stops by to check how he's doing when he has a free moment.

Waylon almost wants to ask Jeremy if it's alright he's striking up such a friendship with Eddie, but it seems like something he shouldn't speak of. It's not as if it matters, Jeremy's been sitting with Rick more and more lately. He feels a little lonely, but having Eddie around makes it better.

"So, how did you get into this line of work?" Waylon sips his drink, licking his lips clean of alcohol. "You play wonderfully. I sort of expected you to want to do something…bigger."

Eddie raises his eyebrow, his own glass of water on the table. "Bigger, darling?" He chuckles. "Is our lovely establishment not enough for you?"

Waylon coughs, a light flush on his cheeks. "You know what I mean. Instead of playing a few nights a week at a, truly, beautiful lounge, I sort of expected someone with your skill to be part of, I don't know, a larger band. Maybe an orchestra or headlining a bigger venue." He shrugs. "I don't know much about the music scene, but you're really good." He takes another sip, hiding his embarrassed expression as best he can with Eddie staring holes into his head.

Eddie looks away and hums, absently tracing his finger around the rim of his glass. "Growing up was difficult. My father was very strict and I took after my mother more than he liked. Singing was something we shared and it helped me get through some rough times. It still helps me now. I don't want to turn it into something more, not when I'm doing just fine. Sometimes my lyrics get away from me, but no one pays much attention to the background music.” At that, he curls his lip up in a sarcastic and sly smile.

"Well it's their loss."

Somehow, Eddie's smile grows even more amused.

Let's take a trip down a dark place, baby Look for me now, I'm not that crazy Let's talk about what makes you happy

It's a rare instance when Waylon gets invited over to Rick's table. They usually try to keep their private lives separate from work, but it's been getting harder and harder to spend time together. Maybe Jeremy thought this would be a good compromise, but he just feels awkward and uncomfortable.

Rick is the type of man who just has an inherently underhanded feel to him. He's done nothing to deserve any suspicion or rude behavior, but Waylon can't shake the feeling of being looked at as a commodity and not a person.

He can't wait until dinner is over and he can excuse himself back to his table.

It gets to the point where they might as well not even arrive together with how quickly Jeremy leaves to talk with Rick. He drops Waylon off in the booth, pecks him on the cheek, and rushes off, coat swirling behind him.

Eddie doesn’t ask; he just opens his arms for a hug. He sinks into it gratefully.

Is anyone else feeling lonely? It just can’t be me only Losing our cool so slowly

One night Waylon follows Eddie home after his shift. He lets himself fall into his bed and out of his head, soaking in his attentive care. Eddie's hands burn on his overheated, sweat slicked skin. His lips and tongue map what feel like every inch of him, but the sting of teeth never comes. When he finally pushes into Waylon, he buries his head in Eddie’s neck, eyes shut tight, and holds onto the brightest thing he has in his life right now.

He stays long enough to shower before heading home to a mostly dark apartment. The only light is in Jeremy’s office and Waylon can feel the heavy and expectant air of the silence through the door.

He hesitates for a moment, shifting his weight back and forth before turning towards their room.

They never speak of it.

Jeremy cuts back significantly on the amount of meetings he has. They go out on their first real date in months. Eddie and Waylon are suddenly back to being almost strangers with how closely Jeremy sticks to Waylon. It’s everything he’s wanted for weeks.

(He misses Eddie.)

The ring shines even in the soft lighting of the lounge and Waylon is terribly aware of the weight on his left hand as the phantom smell of roses lingers.

Eddies catches sight of it immediately and his face twists into something unreadable before settling on a smile.

That's what you get for falling again You can never get him out of your head

It's late and they're walking home when a huge shadow peels itself away from the wall of an alleyway. Waylon barely has a moment to be surprised before the glint of metal flashing in the lamplight strikes out, right through Jeremy's throat.

A splash of hot blood flies through the air and hits him directly in the face, causing him to flinch and shut his eyes from the sudden impact. He can hear the thud of Jeremy's body dropping to the ground, the sound of someone hitting- no, stabbing someone (Jeremy). He can't breathe and even with his eyes closed he can feel his vision go fuzzy around the edges and the next thing he knows is nothing at all.

Eddie follows Blaire to the ground, blood roaring in his ears, drowning out any conscious thought. He needs to get rid of this- this disgusting- this worthless man. He doesn't deserve Waylon, Eddie is so much better than him, so much better for him. He just needs a chance to prove it without Waylon feeling caught between them. He knows what they shared was special, he knows Waylon feels it too, they just need to be free.

The softer thump of Waylon falling manages to break through the fog of his rage. He's always acutely aware of him, has been since that first meeting at the bar. He heaves himself off the bloody, shredded corpse and turns to Waylon, out cold against the pavement.

That won't do.

He tucks the knife safely away into his coat, before kneeling to pick Waylon up in the gentlest manner possible. His face is scratched from the gravel, blood slowly welling up on his cheek and lip, mixing with that filth's.

He carefully shifts his hold on him, settling Waylon's head into the crook of his neck and shoulder. It's where he belongs, where Eddie can keep him safe from a cold world, full of cold people.

He melts back into the shadows of the alley, his precious love in his arms and nothing left in their way.

Slowly, Waylon begins to stir. His eyelids feel as if they're stuck together, but for some reason he's hesitant to reach up and rub them. There's something drifting around the edges of his memory he does and doesn't want to know.

He hears the creak of a door opening and closing softly and ignores it. Jeremy has always kept odd hours.

Then something wet touches his face and his desire to remain blissfully unaware vanishes. He flings his arm out, pushing whatever it is away and tears his eyes open, looking around wildly.

It takes a moment to sink in that he recognizes this room, is intimately familiar with it for how little time he's spent here. Eddie stands by the bed, a dark red-brown stained cloth in hand.

Memories rush forward and Waylon gasps, tucking himself into a ball, hands flying up to cover his face. The rough, tacky texture he feels has him jerking them away in horror as he stares. Someone wiped them clean, but there's traces of blood left behind in the grooves of his fingers and his nail folds.

'No…'

"No," he breathes. "No,no, no, no, NO!" Each no grows louder and louder until he screams the last. "That's not- it wasn't- he didn't-" He stops and spins to face Eddie. "How did I get here? Where's Jeremy?" He pleads, gripping the blankets tightly.

Eddie approaches him slowly, as though any sudden movement will set him off. He might not be wrong. Waylon feels like his skin is too tight for him. Whether it's from nerves or the blood, he doesn't know.

"Shh, Waylon, darling, calm down." Eddie extends his arm slowly, hand brushing Waylon's hair out of his face. "You're safe. I brought you here."

He can't help but lean into Eddie’s touch, needing the comfort it brings him. "And Jeremy?"

"Dead."

Waylon's heart stops for a moment, before speeding up and rising into his throat. A creaky "no" escapes from between his lips.

"Yes." It's said so matter-of-factly that he freezes before slumping into himself. Eddie doesn't say anything and lets him absorb it quietly, a comforting presence by his side.

I been living in a bad dream

Waylon takes Eddie’s offer of a change of clothes and the use of his shower, steadfastly ignoring his reflection as he stands under the hottest water he can stand. By the end of it, he's scrubbed himself a tender, raw pink. He still feels the phantom sensation of dried blood stretched tight across his skin, but the water's already begun to run cold and he can hear Eddie pacing just beyond the door.

It's time to face the music.

He gently pushes open the door, both to be polite and not hit Eddie with it and to delay their conversation just a little longer.

It's not nearly enough time.

Eddie is right there, waiting with his arms wide open. Waylon steps easily into his embrace, tucking himself close. He still feels so cold, but Eddie’s warmth helps. It takes long moments before he can bring himself to ask, "What happened?"

Eddie cards his fingers through Waylon's damp hair, idly twisting the ends around his fingers. "You were attacked. By the time I saw you, he was already gone. I could only think about taking you away from it all and bringing you here."

Waylon shudders and clings closer to Eddie. "What about Jeremy? Did you call anyone?"

"It never occurred to me. I just wanted to keep you safe."

"We should tell someone..."

"They'll likely find him soon. Don't think about it, darling."

Waylon jerks his head up in surprise. "Don't think about it? How can I not? My fiancé's dead, because of some- some lunatic! I don't know who they are, what they want, why this happened- I don't know anything!" His knuckles are white with how tightly he's holding onto Eddie’s shirt, eyes wide and voice cracking shrilly in his hysterics.

"Shhh, calm down. You're safe, Waylon. He didn't want to hurt you, otherwise you wouldn't be here with me." Eddie gently rocks them back and forth, petting Waylon gently.

"But why?" Waylon pleads. "Why did this happen?"

"Why does anyone do anything?"

He has nothing to say to that.

Morning comes and Waylon dreads what the news could be saying. He wants to pretend it's not real, that this is a weird dream he conjured up as a "what if he picked Eddie" scenario, but even with their issues, he's not cruel enough to wish death on Jeremy.

Ignoring it won't help though, so he reluctantly asks Eddie to turn it on.

Waylon goes limp in surprise, body slumping to the ground even as his heart jackrabbits in his chest. "Oh my god, I have to call them, I have to tell them-"

Eddie cuts him off, even as he kneels down to rest a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Tell them what? You didn't see anything."

"But they're looking for me when they need to be looking for whoever ki-" The word sticks in his throat and Waylon tries again. "Whoever attacked us." His voice is a weak, watery little thing, but he pushes on. "And I can't keep hiding here forever, Eddie."

"But I need you, too."

Waylon reaches up to hold onto Eddie’s wrist. "Eddie…" He gently rubs his thumb across the delicate skin there. "I'll come back, I promise."

"You can't promise me that. You didn't before and I need you, Waylon. I can't let you go, not again." His grip flexes on Waylon's shoulder and he's struck by how strong Eddie is.

"Eddie-"

He continues right over him, speech faster and more manic than he's ever heard before. "I love you. I love you so much and I'll do anything for you. I'll be so good to you, so please. Please don't go." His pale eyes are fever bright with unexpected desperation and Waylon has a terrible feeling.

"Eddie," he chokes, "what did you do?"

"What I needed to; he was keeping you away from me, I had to."

Waylon jerks away from his touch, the full body flinch knocking him off his knees and onto his ass. "Nonono, I didn't hear that, no, you're- you're lying, you have to be!"

Eddie surges forward, hands clamping tightly onto Waylon's upper arms, grip tight enough to bruise if he wished. "Why aren't you listening? I said I did it for you, and I meant it! Why don't you understand?!" He searches Waylon's gaze for something, desperate in his frenzy. Whatever he's looking for, he doesn't find it and that wild look in his eyes fades and morphs into something cold and furious. He loosens his grip, dropping one arm entirely, only to raise his open palm up and slap Waylon hard across the face.

He staggers from the force, slumping awkwardly into Eddie's grasp. The crack of skin on skin echoes in the deathly quiet and neither man moves, scarcely evens breathes for one. Two. Three.

The tension in the air suddenly snaps, a horrified gasp breaking the standstill. "Waylon." Eddie's voice is strained and his hand spasms once before letting go completely. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I- I didn't- I- it wasn't-," he stutters.

Waylon can only lie there in shock and pain, struggling to understand.

Eddie holds his head, one hand running through his hair repeatedly in an anxious gesture. The normally neat strands are a mess and Waylon can't stop staring at them, fixated on this truly insignificant detail.

Finally, Eddie manages to speak, his eyes wide and darting constantly between Waylon and the floor. "I never meant to hurt you." He chokes a humorless laugh at Waylon's uncomprehending silence. "I won't blame you for not believing me. I… I thought I was better, but, evidently, I've been fooling myself."

The frenetic energy that's been building up in him suddenly disappears and Eddie looks so defeated that Waylon jerks in surprise.

Eddie misunderstands and hisses in pain. "I know it won't ever be enough, but I'm sorry, Waylon. I'll let you go, I'll tell the police everything, I'll go away and never see you again. I'll do whatever it is you want of me."

That is what causes Waylon to finally catch up, shaking himself awake from his stupor, scrambling to sit upright and grab onto Eddie’s sleeve. "No! You can't!"

"Why not?"

Maybe Waylon should be ashamed, but all he can think is 'I can't be alone.' What he says is "I can't lose you too."

Eddie shudders, body going limp and reaching out gently for his hand.

There's a moment where Waylon struggles. He killed Jeremy. He killed Jeremy. But he also was there for him when Jeremy wasn't and the ache in his chest from losing one, then the other throbs. He doesn't think he can handle losing both at once. He knows he can't.

He slips his hand into Eddie’s and never looks back.

I wanna live better days Never look back and say It could have been me

A dreamy lounge with a rotating cast of performers continues on. Two near permanently reserved tables become open seating. One pianist resolutely avoids looking at one in particular.

Rick screams obscenities down the hall, slamming his fists against the door. "It was a setup, you witless imbeciles!" His hands are beaten bloody, streaks running down his forearms and smeared into his hair where he's shoved it out of his face. "I didn't kill Jeremy Blaire and I didn't kidnap Waylon Park!"

The guard rolls his eyes. "Tell it to the judge. Oh wait, you already did. Didn't work out so well for you, did it, buddy?"

The strangled noise he makes startles a bellowing laugh from the guard.

Just once, months after it all ends, he thinks about what could have been. It's a fleeting thought, fluttering at the edges of his mind before disappearing like smoke.

It doesn't matter. He has Eddie and they've pulled off the greatest performance of their lives. He's had enough fantasies to last a lifetime. He settles deeper into his corner of the couch, waiting for Eddie to come home.

That's all he needs.

#outlast #outlast whistleblower #waylon park #eddie gluskin #jeremy blaire #richard trager #weddie #jerway #my writing #my fic

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in-the-shadow-of-the-blog · 9 months

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Caught in the Rain (Leander Edition)

Summary: Taking shelter from the rain becomes more intimate than Leander and MC were expecting. (Leander Prewett x f!MC)

Rating: PG

Warnings: Kissing in public

Word count: 1.1k

—

Dark gray clouds gathered over the village, drawing Leander’s ire-filled gaze. “Are you sure you don’t want to head back to Hogwarts?”

“I just need to make one last stop at Spintwitches and then we can go.” MC nudged his shoulder with his own - well, as near as their height different would allow. “Come on, Leander, this was supposed to be fun. You’ve seemed a little preoccupied.”

“It was fun when the sun was out,” Leander grumbled. A look at her disappointed face pulled a sigh from him. “I guess I just have something on my mind. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” MC asked, staying in step with him as they continued through the village.

Leander glanced at the people milling about the lanes nearby. “This isn’t really the place. Maybe when we’re somewhere a little more private.”

She gave him a look. What, exactly, was the conversation he had in mind? She thought about pressing him, but a rumble of thunder shook the air. Their eyes turned toward the sky, and a raindrop landed right in MC’s eye.

“Ouch!” She blinked away the stinging intrusion as the rain began in earnest.

Leander took her wrist, pulling her down the way among the crowd of people searching for refuge from the downpour. The rain fell hard and fast, and they were already getting soaked. “I know just the place.” MC felt herself pulled through a pair of double doors before she could respond.

They were greeted by a cacophony of sound and a press of bodies filling the space in front of them. “I guess I’m not the only one who thought the Three Broomsticks was a good place for waiting out the rain,” Leander mused as they jostled through the crowd.

MC grabbed his wrist, his skin heating at her touch. “Come on, I have an idea.”

She tugged him around the bar to the wooden steps leading up to the second level. The tables were full, but there was room for them to stand by the balustrade. MC sighed. “It’s a little quieter up here.”

Leander suppressed a shiver. “I just wish the fire wasn’t so bloody far away.”

The way her damp clothes hung on her frame was getting on MC’s nerves as well. If only they’d been able to grab a butterbeer to warm them up. Maybe some conversation would take their mind off it.“Wasn’t there something you wanted to speak to me about?”

“I…” Leander shook his head. “Never mind. It can wait.”

“Oh.” Disappointment was thick in MC’s voice. Leander had looked somewhat serious when he said he wanted to talk. She looked forward to those moments when Leander was open with her, shedding the veneer he wore in front of others. They were few, occurring in the rare moments they were alone together.

“I must look a mess,” said Leander, trying to bring order to his sopping hair.

“No more than I do,” smiled MC, shaking rain from her clothes.

“You’re perfect.” Leander thought his face might have become the shade as his hair. “I mean, you’re not a mess at all.”

“Neither are you. Well…” MC trailed off. She noticed he had done a rather poor job of taming his hair without a mirror. “May I?” she asked, reaching for his messy locks.

“Of course,” said Leander, the pink flush to his cheeks barely noticeable in the dim light.

Brushing her fingers through Leander’s silky strands, MC smoothed his hair back into place. She smiled, satisfied at the results, despite the lingering dampness of the rain. “That’s better.”

The stopped for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes. “MC…” Leander wasn’t able to finish his sentence. He was interrupted by MC ungraciously bumping into him, caused by someone else bumping into her from behind. Some unknown drink slopped onto the floor, splashing onto her shoes.

The man who had bumped into her could only be a few years older than they were, and in different circumstances he might have been handsome. That illusion was quickly dispelled when he opened his mouth. “‘Ello, sweetheart,” he slurred, leering at MC. “Mind how you go.”

MC drew back from the man, and his rather unpleasant smell. “You’re the one who bumped into me,” MC retorted.

He ignored her. “Fancy some company, pretty thing?”

MC bristled. “Excuse you?”

Leander took a step forward, putting himself between MC and the stranger. “Step off, mate.”

The stranger looked him over and scoffed. “Or what?”

Flipping his wand into his hand, Leander drew himself up to his full height. Though a little lanky, he was taller than the smarmy man in front of him, and he could look menacing when he wanted to. “I don’t want any trouble.”

They were attracting the attention of nearby patrons, a few concerned whispers ripping through the crowded room. The stranger raised his hands in surrender, taking a step back. “No need for that, young man,” he said, glancing at the unwanted attention now aimed at him. “I’ll be on my way.”

Leander remained in front of MC, glaring the man down until he was out of sight. MC knew she could handle herself, probably better than Leander could, but there was something unsettling about the man. She was glad she had someone in her corner, so to speak. Besides, it was rather cute seeing Leander so protective.

MC laid a hand on his arms, and Leander’s attention swiveled back to her. “Thank you, Leander. That was quite chivalrous of you; Gryffindor would be proud.”

“MC…” Leander began again, trailing off he searched for the words he needed.

He didn’t find them. Instead, he leaned down, gently pressing his lips to hers. He pulled back, searching her eyes for an answer to what he had just done.

MC trailed her fingers along his jaw, smiling up at him. “I’ve wanted you to do that for a long time.”

He struggled to school his surprised expression. “You have?”

MC nodded. “Mmhm.” She pulled him closer, meeting him in another kiss.

The heat between them might have been enough to dry their clothes. Leander’s hand splayed across the small of her back, holding her close, while MC gripped his shoulders. His mouth was warm against hers, and she melted into him. MC heard the patter of rain against the stained glass behind her, but Leander’s presence filled the rest of her senses.

They broke apart, catching their breath. Leander looked dazed, but a little pleased with himself. MC raised an eyebrow. “Leander, is this what you wanted to talk to me about?”

He shrugged sheepishly. “I’ve always found that actions speak louder than words, anyway.”

—

Masterlist

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #leander prewett #leander prewett x mc

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bhutantuffindia · 2 years

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It is quite true that doors create the first impression of your home or office. One always desires to put sophisticated doors with high-quality wood to match the interiors of your home. You can enhance the aesthetics of your home or office using stylish and durable Bhutan Tuff veneer doors. Veneer means a thin, sliced layer of wood. Veneer doors are crafted by glueing layers of veneer on the surface of a wooden door. The process may involve glueing one or multiple veneer layers on wooden panels. It is mostly done for decorative purposes to give a wooden effect to a plain top.

#veneer flush doors

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speakarch · 2 years

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Wooden door design for home

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#African wooden #Arabian teak #Burma teak #door design #flush main door #Main Door #teak #teak wood #teak wooden door #Veneer #wood #wooden door #Wooden door design

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the-art-of-ancunin · 4 months

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The Mask & The Mirror [Chapter 7]

Explicit | Enemies to Lovers | Multi-Chapter | Contains BG3 Spoilers

Pairing: Ascended!Astarion x Original Female Character

Chapter Warning(s): Inner turmoil, slight angst, Astarion being a bit of a bitch 🤷🏻‍♀️

Please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 3.2K

Ancunin Palace - an imposing fortress of twisted dark spires and unforgiving stone - cast a long and foreboding shadow over what was once the great city of Baldur's Gate. While a great many things had remained the same in the century that had passed since the fall of the Absolute, an even greater number of things had changed...the Council of Four was no more - not really, anyhow...and it seemed that as the years continued to pass, more and more eyes were either closed forever or were turned red. Within the Welcoming Hall of the ominous castle, Gale Dekarios stood, hands clasped politely behind his back as a cadre of his old friends spawn watched him carefully. They lined the chamber like eerie sentinels, their pallid flesh and haunting sunken eyes exuding an aura that in another life would have made the wizard quite uncomfortable. The air was heavy with the sickly sweet scent of ancient blood and the weight of countless centuries of suffering. Despite having not set foot in that cursed place for nearly one hundred years, it appeared much the same as it had as far as the man could recall. Some small changes in decor, perhaps, but still very much embedded with the same horrors and oppression as it had been under its previous Master.

"Love what you’ve done with the place," Gale jested, the attempt at levity falling flat as it met the unyielding silence of the undead watchmen.

As if on cue, the large double doors groaned open, an auditory testament to their use. Astarion Ancunin, the Vampire Lord, slinked into the room with a grace that belied his predatory nature, his crimson gaze locking onto his visitor. "Questioning my taste, are we, Gale? I'd expect nothing less from a man who’s dressed in the same robes for several decades."

The man simply offered a smile, though it did not quite mask the apprehension in his chest – a tight coil ready to snap. He extended a hand towards Astarion, a gesture of old camaraderie that now felt foreign between them.

The elf regarded the outstretched hand with a cold indifference before shifting his attention to Gale's face, his own expression a carefully crafted veneer of disinterest. Then, with a fluid motion befitting his royal station, he descended into the embrace of his gilded throne. It was as though he fell in slow motion, each inch calculated, precise, mocking.

"Looking well, Astarion," He commented, retracting his hand. His voice was steady, but inside, he felt the slight sting of rejection, a bitter reminder of fractures time hadn't healed.

"Of course I do," Astarion replied breezily, casting a critical eye over Gale. His finger traced an invisible line along his face, mimicking the crow's feet etched at the corners of the wizard’s tired eyes. "Pity the same can't be said for you. Age has scattered gray across your visage like ashes upon an abandoned hearth."

Gale pressed his lips together, forming a thin line. He could feel the heat beneath his skin, the flush of indignation, but he held it back, damming the river of retorts that threatened to spill forth. "It is good to see that your charm remains as... piquant as ever," he responded, somehow managing to remain amiable in the face of such taunting.

"Charm? A mere trifle among my talents," The vampire drawled, a smirk playing upon his lips. "Now, let us dispense with the pleasantries, hm? You've come for a purpose, have you not?"

Astarion’s gaze was like a cold blade against the man’s resolve, slicing through the small talk with an air of impatience. "Say your piece, old friend. And be swift about it; you've interrupted matters of—shall we say—grave importance."

Gale let out a scoff that was as hollow as the laughter of the undead attendants who flanked the room like grotesque statues. "Oh, my. Forgive me for tearing you away from your...erm…craftsmanship but for a moment," he said, eyes flickering to the impassive faces of the vampire spawn. Under his breath, he murmured, "No offense intended." Their silence was his only answer, as expected.

"It’s adorable that you’d think for even a moment that I’m referring to these…creatures," Astarion laughed, amusement dancing across his face. "But I would remind you that you are on my property, Gale, and surely I needn’t explain myself in the comfort of my own home. Not to the likes of you, anyhow." The pale lord's posture relaxed into the throne, an arrogant king in his court.

The man nodded, the tightness in his chest unwinding enough to draw breath for what must be said. "Of course not. I am here on behalf of the Lords of Waterdeep," he revealed, his voice steady despite the gravity of his words. "To investigate the annihilation of Duskshore."

"Ugh, really?" The vampire sneered, "This is well beyond Waterdeep’s reach, and you know it. The investigation into Duskshore's tragic end lies firmly within the jurisdiction of Baldur's Gate, not to some frightened old men in the north.”

"Normally, I would agree," Gale conceded, his thoughts briefly touching on the desolate sight of the once-thriving city, now silent as a tomb. "But being that its end was so abrupt and unusual, the Lords deemed it necessary to conduct an independent investigation into this matter."

The Wizard of Waterdeep stood firm under the Vampire Ascendent’s scrutinizing gaze, aware that each word he spoke was a stone in the foundation of what needed to be done. He required answers, and he was convinced that Astarion held them, whether he would admit it or not.

"Miss? Is everything alright in there? Are you hurt?" The concern in the spawn's voice was obligatory at best.

Yuri's heart raced, her breathing shallow as she positioned herself just out of sight from the door. She could almost sense the vampire spawn's suspicion through the heavy wood, the quiet alertness of a predator. With a swift, deliberate motion, she sent the oil lamp that she had snatched from her bedside table crashing to the floor, the sound of shattering glass splitting the stillness of her quarters. Without missing a beat, she forced out a pained, well-practiced cry.

"Fuck, I’ve cut myself," she lied, the agony in her voice sounded so genuine, she herself could almost be convinced, "I hate to ask…but I could really use some assistance dressing the wound."

After a brief moment, the door creaked open. The spawn stepped inside cautiously, as if every fiber of his being told him this was a terrible idea. Yuri's smile grew as she unleashed the spell she had been holding within her grasp, a surge of pink energy flowed from her fingertips and swirled around the unwitting creature before her.

“Hello, dear,” She cooed as she stepped around to face the vampling.

“Hello, Miss,” He answered, a warm smile spreading across his thin lips.

"Could you tell me something? This ‘Gale’ you spoke of earlier…he wouldn’t happen to be the infamous Wizard of Waterdeep, now would he?" she asked, voice gentle, coaxing.

"I’m not entirely sure, to be truthful…but, I believe so," the spawn answered, the magic making his will pliable as clay.

"Where might I find him, dear?"

"In the Audience chamber with Master," came the docile reply.

"Directions, love."

The spawn complied, pointing the way with a languid hand. And then, the final touch—she asked to have the man’s keys. The enchanted spawn presented them without hesitation, and Yuri locked him in the room, a satisfied grin touching her lips as she set off down the corridor.

The splendor of the chamber, with its soaring arches and beautiful tapestries faded into the periphery as he squared his shoulders, focusing on the pale elf who lounged before him. The throne upon which Astarion reclined was a masterwork of twisted iron, complete with gold and ruby accents, echoing its owner's cruel elegance.

Gale's voice cut through the thick, musty air of the audience chamber with a clarity that spoke to the gravity of his words. "Duskshore's end was no natural disaster, as I’m sure you are well aware. It was rent asunder by magics most foul and potent."

"Evocation magic," He continued, the weight of each syllable seeming to rattle the very stones beneath their feet. "Of a caliber I've scarcely encountered."

Astarion's eyes narrowed, the sneer on his lips curdling into something darker. "Hm, interesting… and you wouldn’t possibly be here to insinuate that I—" he began, rising from his throne like a tempest given form.

"Would have been so foolish?" The wizard interjected, holding his old friend’s gaze unflinchingly. His heart pounded against his ribs, but he allowed none of it to surface. "You, who finds such delight in the personal touch of your particular brand of cruelty? Of course not."

The vampire paused, his expression unreadable for a moment that stretched on for far too long. Then, sinking back onto his throne, he let out a chuckle devoid of humor. "Fair enough. My tastes do run a bit more towards the…intimate end of things."

Gale's mind raced, searching for leverage, for any sign of deception.

Nothing.

He wove his next words carefully, taking into consideration the balance of power in the room. "Given the severity of the attack and the fact that Duskshore's fate occurred within the shadow of Baldur's Gate, I'm sure you understand why the council would not feel comfortable leaving this matter solely in the hands of local governance."

"Indeed," Astarion drawled, his fingers steepling before him. "Wise of them to send a 'neutral' party."

"Neutrality does have its advantages," He replied, though his thoughts churned with doubt.

"Advantages, yes," The pale elf said, his eyes glinting with a predatory light. "But also... limitations."

"Perhaps," Gale conceded, his own gaze never wavering. "But necessary ones. Now, do you have any knowledge of what transpired? Any information could prove to be most crucial."

The Sovereign regarded him with a calculating stillness, then sighed theatrically. "I haven’t the slightest idea what happened - you have my word. And I would see it noted that if the council suspects me capable of such recklessness, well…perish the thought."

"Such assurances are a luxury we can’t afford at the moment," Gale replied gently.

"Mm...well, rest assured," Astarion finally stated, his voice low and laced with something that might have passed for sincerity in another life, "I have no desire to see all of my hard work reduced to ash by some unseen hand."

"Then we are aligned in purpose," The wizard acknowledged, hoping his relief did not seep into his words. "Let us find this perpetrator before they strike again. Together."

"Of course," The elf murmured, his gaze lingering on Gale for a moment longer before he waved a dismissive hand. "You will have my full cooperation. Just be careful not to overstep."

The beauty of the Audience Chamber was lost on Yuri as she slipped in through the side door, her eyes landing immediately on the two men who occupied the room, mid-conversation. The air between them crackled with tension like the charged moments before a storm, but she was pleased to see that it was indeed her wizard that had come to visit. The drow’s entrance, however, seemed to cut through the atmosphere like a knife, leaving a palpable slice of silence in her wake.

The vampire’s crimson eyes flashed to her, a tumultuous sea churning with surprise that quickly gave way to a darker undercurrent of possessiveness and fury. Gale, however, seemed to crumble under a different weight—the shock in his large brown eyes melting into worry, his body tensing.

"Yuri," Astarion began, his voice a controlled tremor that belied his effort to keep the raging fury at bay. "It is... most unwise to wander these halls unescorted."

"I apologize, my love," Yuri spoke, her voice as delicate as the silver strands that framed her face. She wove her lie with care, casting it out like a lifeline. "I asked the gentleman you had appointed to watch over me if he could fetch me some strawberries…I’m afraid the dizziness took me a bit by surprise this time, and I thought that some food might help alleviate it. But they’ve not returned, and the door—it was left unlocked. I only meant to find them. I swear."

Her heart thrummed against her ribs, a panicked bird desperate to escape its cage, as she awaited his response.

He studied her for a moment longer before his expression softened into something resembling understanding. He nodded, the subtle gesture calling her to him like a siren's song. "Come here, my dear," he said, the anger now hidden behind a curtain of gentleness.

She moved towards him, her steps measured as if crossing a battlefield, throwing Gale a subtle glance. The wizard's concern was etched deep within the lines of his face, a silent communication that spoke volumes of their past—a history marred by burning sarcasm and hard-won trust.

As she reached the Sovereign, he gently pulled her into his lap with the ease of one claiming a prized possession, his touch both protective and proprietary. "Did I take too much earlier?" he murmured, the words a soft caress against her ear.

"Perhaps," She admitted sheepishly, "I didn't feel weak until I tried to stand." She forced her voice to remain steady, despite the anxiety that roiled within.

"Ah," he tutted, clicking his tongue with feigned remorse while his fingers brushed her cheek in an intimate stroke. "My apologies, sweet girl. I indulged a bit more than necessary, I admit. It’s just so very difficult to pull away from something so…luscious," His breath was warm against her skin as he nuzzled into the crook of her neck, each motion calculated and deliberate.

Yuri's mind raced even as her body remained a passive canvas for his affections. How could she signal her plight to Gale without alerting Astarion? Every touch from the high-elf was a brand, marking her in ways that went beyond the physical. And yet, she knew she must tread carefully, for a single misstep could spell doom for more than just herself.

Gale's voice cut through the chamber, a sharp note of incredulity laced with concern. "Yuri, what in the Nine Hells are you doing here?"

Astarion's eyes narrowed to slits at the wizard's boldness, his grip on her tightening at his words. She could feel the pulse of his power coursing through the room, an undercurrent of danger beneath his serene facade.

"I was captured," she began, her voice a soft echo of fear and resolve, "By the Zhentarim. They beat me and left me for dead, as though my life were nothing but refuse." Her gaze flickered momentarily between the two men. "Astarion saved me. Nursed me back from death's door." Turning her head, she brushed her nose against Astarion's cheek, her breath catching as she played her part. "Isn't that right, love?"

"Indeed it is," Astarion confirmed with a predatory grin, his hand smoothing down her side before firmly cupping the curve of her ass, ownership emanating from the deliberate touch.

The wizard stepped closer, his voice a low, desperate plea. "Look at me, Yuri."

"Keep your distance, biir," The vampire growled, a warning clear in his tone.

She met Gale's gaze, and she saw relief flood his features as he took in the familiar lavender of her eyes. Still, confusion furrowed his brow, and she could see him struggling to piece together the fractured narrative before him.

"Why have we heard nothing from you?" He pressed on, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tana and Lyra have been looking everywhere for you. I’ve been looking everywhere for you!"

"Have you?" Yuri retorted, her heart breaking within her chest. "Have any of you really looked for me beyond what’s been convenient for you? Am I truly to believe anything besides that my friend's efforts have been just as fleeting as your own? For you’ve only found me just now, by mere happenstance." The words felt like acid on her tongue, and inwardly, she winced as they left her lips. She told herself that she had to be convincing and prayed that Gale would be smart enough to see through her.

His shoulders sagged, the weight of her accusation visibly pressing down upon him. "You know that's not fair, Yuri. You know you don't mean that."

She struggled to fight back tears as Astarion's lips began to trail kisses along her neck, his mouth branding her skin as if to display the changed circumstances to their mutual acquaintance. She knew his affection was a performance, yet the message behind it was unmistakable: she belonged to him.

The drow fought to keep her expression neutral, to maintain the delicate balance between survival and betrayal. As Astarion's touch lingered on her skin and Gale's pained eyes searched hers, she was reminded that the line she walked was razor-thin.

The air was thick with tension, a tangible presence that wove between the three figures like an invisible serpent. Yuri’s pulse hammered in her ears, each beat a desperate, unspoken plea for her friend to recognize her well enough to know that something was wrong. Her gaze lingered on him for just a moment longer before she posed a question, her voice a soft melody of feigned curiosity.

"What brings you here, Gale? What urgent matter calls you away from your precious Waterdeep?"

Before he could utter a single word, Astarion interjected, his tone dripping with a possessive smoothness. "He is here on business, sent by the Lords of Waterdeep to assist me with uncovering whatever it was that caused Duskshore to meet such a tragic fate.”

"Well then, thank you in advance for your help," She said, her words laced with gratitude that didn't quite ring true. She glanced at the man before her again, hoping beyond hope to see any indication that he understood what was happening. "And Waterdeep...do you happen to know if they have plans to send aid for the refugees now burdening our city?"

The vampire’s lips curled into an approving grin as he seized the opportunity. "Ah, a very good question, my treasure. Have the esteemed Lords mentioned sending any practical help?"

Gale hesitated, his attention shifting between Yuri's carefully constructed expression and the high-elf's expectant gaze. "I cannot speak to the council's intentions with certainty on that particular matter, but I shall inquire on your behalf if you wish it."

"Please do," Astarion answered simply, dismissing the man with a wave of his hand. "Now if it’s all the same to you, it’s been quite a day and my darling and I would like to retire for the evening. You'll find accommodations at the Elfsong Tavern. The upstairs suite remains practically untouched— you shall stay there as our treat until your investigation is finished."

"Thank you, Astarion. And Yuri," Gale said, his voice heavy with unspoken words, "it's good to see you safe." He cast her one last searching glance before turning to leave, followed closely by a small escort of spawn.

As the chamber door closed behind him, Astarion's fangs grazed Yuri's earlobe, sending a shiver down her spine. "My, my. What a perfect little consort," he murmured, his voice a silky threat.

She turned her head, her smile as fragile as glass, yet radiant enough to appease him. "Could I trouble you for some food now, my love? I’m still a bit wobbly."

"Anything for you, my sweet," He purred, his eyes glinting with a dark satisfaction. "Anything at all."

A/N: Hello, hello! I hope this update wasn't entirely garbage. I did my damndest, I promise! If you'd like to offer some feedback or just like/reblog if you're liking the story so far, that would be super cool and much appreciated! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed the update, and I shall see you guys again real soon with the next! XoXo

[ biir - "garbage", An Elven term used as an insult against those of half-elven and human heritage. Info courtesy of this post by @spacebarbarianweird ]

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