#but have you considered i don’t have the time to pull that thing out unfold it and sit when i am dizzy?
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Hot To Go
Summary: During Nesta's bachelor party, everyone agrees to pick out an embarrassing shirt for someone else. Emerie is game to play along until she realizes her long-standing crush Morrigan will be at the same bar.
Good thing Mor has a sense of humor.
For @ablogofsapphicpanic | Read on AO3
Thank you @octobers-veryown for the last minute moodboard
Fic based on this tiktok
“Nesta, please,” Emerie complained, holding the tissue papered bag sitting in her lap. “We don’t have—”
“Open it,” Nesta interrupted, crowned queen of the weekend by a plastic silver tiara. A white sash crossed her body with the words BRIDE-TO-BE stamped across it in purple lettering. Nesta wanted a different kind of bachelorette party—one where they spent the majority of their long weekend indoors watching movies and reading books. There was a pool out back they’d spent the morning lounging beside but tonight Emerie Archeron had convinced her older sister that they should go to the bar just once.
And then meddlesome, annoying, stupid Elain had made the worst suggestion Emerie had ever heard. What if we picked out bad shirts for each other? What if Emerie slapped her across the face, what then? Nesta would be pissed and Elain would cry, that's what would happen. Emerie didn’t want to go to the bar where she’d be surrounded by men in too tight t-shirts and hair gelled to the heavens. And she certainly didn’t want to spend the night pulling those same drunk losers off her friends only to get called a whole host of slurs she didn’t care to repeat.
Their husbands and boyfriends will kill you for fun, I’m doing you a favor.
If only you could casually mention that to strangers. As if those pathetic dudes would listen. Emerie would have to call up Azriel again, and Azriel’s general demeanor would destroy the vibe she had spent so much time cultivating. Even when he was incandescently happy he was brooding. Gwyn would spend all her time sitting in his lap while Nesta, Emerie, and Elain all blushed furiously every time he spoke, as if there was anything terribly special about him. Objectively, she supposed he was handsome but so what? A lot of men were.
Emerie was the last person at the table. With reluctance, she pulled out the glittery pink paper that had clearly been put together by Elain. It was simply too pretty to have been done by anyone else.
Unfolding the black material, Emerie groaned when she saw the image printed on the fabric. A brown meatball wearing leather bondage gear stared back at her. Even if she hadn’t understood the pun, the shirt ensure everyone would get the joke thanks to the white lettering that read: Meatball Sub.
Elain clapped her hands together, eyes bright with delight. “I thought that was so funny.”
Don’t ruin this, Emerie thought to herself. Meeting the brown eyes of Nesta’s younger sister from across the table, she forced an easy smile on her face.
“It is funny,” she lied. It was stupid. But this was for Nesta, and Emerie loved Nesta more than she hated the shirt. She’d bought so many nice outfits for this trip—tight slacks and even tighter tanktops, bodycon dresses that weren’t her favorite but looked good, paired with tall heels that made her tower over her friends, and even cute little shorts and t-shirts that showed off her body should some hot girl in a bikini be wandering by.
“Lets change and then head out,” Nesta said, cheeks flushed with excitement. Emerie shot a look at Gwyn, who merely shrugged delicate shoulders in response. They were sharing a room in the cabin Emerie’s husband had graciously given up for the next four days—if cabin was even what it could be called. More like massive-beach-house-worth-millions, but Emerie wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. It was interesting to her the way rich people described their things. This was hardly a cabin and yet to Rhysand, maybe it was. Maybe he considered this slumming it, somehow.
“It’s just a couple hours,” Gwyn reminded Emerie once the door to their shared room was firmly shut.
“I hate these bars,” Emerie complained, flopping onto the twin bed closest to the window. “It’s spring break—they’re crawling with frat douche losers that have never been told no in their lives.”
“You know why she really wants to go, right?” Gwyn asked, pulling her shirt off to put the offensive one overtop.
“If you say Cassian—”
“He’s somewhere around here, and I think she just wants to see him,” Gwyn said with a relish. “He was giving her all that shit about staying in when she should be going wild. Now Nesta can show him she’s having fun his way, too.”
“And what happens when Az catches some loser putting his hands on you?” Emerie asked, rising up on her elbows to look at Gwyn.
“He’ll have to deal with it in an emotionally intelligent way.”
“Is that what he’s calling his fists these days?”
Gwyn grinned. “Just let her have this. One night of embarrassment for a weekend of quiet.”
“Fine.”
Emerie got ready like she would for any other club-like event, putting a full face of make up on and carefully curling her hair to make it look as though she’d come straight from the beach once she finger combed out the waves into messy waves. All that was left was the stupid shirt and a pair of skin tight leggings beneath.
There were never any interesting women at these places. It almost didn’t matter what she looked like, except Emerie took a small amount of satisfaction knowing that when a man inevitably called her an ugly bitch they’d be lying through their teeth.
Gwyn had done even less, slicking on some mascara and tinted chapstick before calling it a day. Of the three of them, these types of places made her the most uncomfortable. She’d go only for Nesta, and was likely only smiling because she believed Azriel was going to be there. Still, Gwyn never tried to accentuate how beautiful she was, nervous of the unwanted attention—as if what had happened to her was her fault.
“Want to stick together?” Emerie asked, noting the way Gwyn’s teal eyes filled with relief.
“Yes,” she breathed, rising to her feet. Emerie tugged at the too-big shirt that fell just beneath the curve of her ass, wishing she was wearing anything else.
“If it starts getting rowdy, we can go somewhere else,” Emerie promised, looping her arm through Gwyn’s.
“I was googling lesbian bars,” Gwyn said with a grin. “There’s one a couple blocks away if you want to…you know…”
“Shut up,” Emerie said, elbowing her friend gently in the ribs.
“It’s been a while,” Gwyn pressed on, undaunted by Emerie’s obvious embarrassment. “And I didn’t like the last girl, whatever her name was. Too…”
Emerie sighed. “Unfaithful?”
“That too,” Gwyn said with a scowl.
“I don’t think you meet marriageable women at bars,” Emerie reminded Gwyn, annoyed that Cassian had met Nesta in a college bar and was now marrying her. It had started off a chain reaction in their tiny friend group—Azriel was so obviously just biding his time, waiting for Cassian to get married so he could propose.
And then Emerie would be the only single person among married women. Would they even want to hang out with her anymore? Would they stay friends? It kept her up at night. Emerie knew if she gave voice to these insecurities, her friends would rush to reassure her it wasn’t true and she’d feel no better. She just wasn’t having the same luck in the romance department.
Squeezing into one car, Emerie managed to snag the passenger seat from Elain, who pouted in the back but otherwise said nothing. If nothing else, Emerie considered that a victory even if she was out voted and Taylor Swift blared the entire way to the bar.
“It’s busy,” Nesta said, eyes scanning the line of people waiting to get in.
“Send Elain up,” Emerie suggested, glancing at her older sister.
“In this?” Elain demanded as she held out her comically oversized shirt. “Don’t make me.”
It didn’t matter, ultimately. The bouncer caught sight of Nesta strolling by in heels and waved her in while eyeing her up and down. Nesta pretended she didn’t notice but both Emerie and Emerie did, glaring daggers from just behind her before handing over their ID.
And then they were inside. The music was so loud Emerie could barely hear herself think, teeth rattling in time with the beat. It was her job to elbow through the crowd hanging around the bar and scream everyone's order over the music before doling out drinks while watching the man who made them. Just in case. She didn’t like the way he was open mouthed staring at Elain, who seemed to have the effect on everyone who saw her.
While the rest of the group made their way to the dance floor, Gwyn and Emerie secured the last high top in a pretty secluded corner where the music didn’t seem to be quite so loud and they could talk.
“I’m gonna sit closer,” Gwyn told Emerie, putting her hand over top of Emerie’s as a man began walking toward them. He turned abruptly, realizing he’d have no luck over here which had been Gwyn’s obvious goal if her triumphant smile was anything to go by.
“Oh, look!” she said, pointing across the room. It was, just as Gwyn had predicted, Cassian and Azriel towering over the crowd, unaware that Nesta was a few feet away dancing in a god-awful shirt. As Emerie watched, she found Rhysand holding several drinks in one hand and cutting a path through a crowd that parted like the red sea. She’d have looked away, annoyed by the converging parties had she not noticed who was walking just behind Rhys.
There, in a red dress so tight it might have been painted against tanned skin, stood Morrigan. Emerie was embarrassed by how hot she thought Rhys’s cousin was, and yet… Christ. Her blonde hair cascaded like sunlight down her back and her brown eyes were crowned with gold just around the iris, visible even in the dim lighting of the club. Emerie had never been able to get words out in front of Morrigan, so she just avoided her, embarrassed to be a cliche. The lesbian with a crush on a straight girl—it was a constant theme in her life, especially when she was younger.
She’d asked Nesta about Morrigan once, who’d gone on a rant about Mor sleeping with Lucien’s dad, and Emerie had dropped the subject. There was no love lost between them—apparently Cassian and Mor had a thing a million years ago, too.
Still. She was the most beautiful woman Emerie had ever seen, and it was a shame that beauty would be wasted on some loser that would never really appreciate her.
“Oh, here they come,” Gwyn said, sitting up a little straighter in her chair. Cassian had caught sight of her and Gwyn, waving across the crowd as Rhys set drinks down in the booth she bet he’d paid actual money for. He beckoned for the two of them to join.
“Gwyn—”
“Rhys will pay our tab if we go,” she said, silencing any protests Emerie might offer. Rhys did always pay when they were all together and unlike Rhys, Emerie had to work for a living. If he was willing to foot the tab for overpriced drinks filled with more water than cheap vodka, who was she to say no?
They sauntered over, Emerie’s heart racing as Mor’s eyes fell on her. She whispered something to her cousin, who stood and traded places so when she and Gwyn arrived, Mor said, “Em! Sit by me.”
Gwyn was already—and predictably—in Azriel’s lap, whispering something in his ear that made his cheeks darken noticeably. So it was like that then, was it? Emerie plopped down while Rhys shoved at Az so he could edge out space on the end of the booth.
“What are you wearing?” Mor asked, her laugh more like a herald of bells. Emerie was flustered, breathing the same air and unable to take her eyes off Mor’s red painted mouth.
“Oh. Uh…”
“It was Elain’s idea!” Gwyn called from across the table, shooting Emerie a wink they all noticed.
Cassian rolled his eyes when he heard. “No offense, but…Meatball Sub?”
“It’s a pun,” Emerie explained in a deadpan, forgetting about Mor for just a second. Just until Mor scooted, her knee accidentally brushing Emeries. Had she meant to do that? “You know, like a meatball sub sandwich? But it’s wearing a gag, like a—”
“I get the joke!” Cassian snapped, eyes narrowed. Mor tipped her head back and laughed, unaware of how hard Emerie’s heart was beating at the sight.
“Are you sure, Cass?” Mor asked, leaning back against the padded booth so her palm was flat against the seat. Her pinky touched Emerie’s, causing Emerie to jerk her hand back as if she’d been burned. Was that an accident, too? She was terrified to look over and realize she’d read it wrong, and more scared to look over and even more scared to look and find Mor had meant to touch her.
Mor was just friendly, she reminded herself. She was always draped all over Emerie when they were out together. It was nothing—a mere accident.
Cassian scooted his way out to find Nesta, still scowling over at Mor and Emerie.
“So,” Mor said, turning entirely to face Emerie. She pulled her hand from the seat to rest her head against her fist. Eyes wholly focused on Emerie, she continued, “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”
“Oh…you know,” Emerie replied, suddenly embarrassed by the attention. “Nothing interesting.”
“I don’t believe that for a second. C’mon,” she cajoled, her free hand squeezing Emerie’s knee. “I want to hear about it anyway. I feel like we never get to talk and you’re so interesting!”
Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god—
“You first,” Emerie said, unsure where that came from. Mor grinned as she leaned closer, unaware of how the movement pushed her breasts up toward her neck. Emerie could see from the corner of her eye, though she was trying hard not to actually look.
“Oh, you know. I got dragged along to Cass’s bachelor party,” Mor began, looking around the bar. “This place sucks but if I smile at the bouncer, they let us all in for free.”
“Nesta did the same thing,” Emerie told Mor. “Where are you guys staying?”
She nodded with her head in the direction of the DJ. “ Rhys gave up the cabin so we’re at the resort. It’s pretty nice—I was at the pool all morning before Cass dragged us out here.”
“Same,” Emerie replied with a sigh as she leaned back in the booth. “Now I’m out…in this.”
“Stop,” Mor said as she toyed with Emerie’s sleeve. “I think it’s cute.”
“It’s not,” Emerie grumbled, heart racing all over again. Mor was so close and she smelled so good, it was making it hard to think.
“Is…is that something you’re interested in?” Mor asked casually, eyes drifting back to the shirt.
“No!” Emerie hastened to say, embarrassed all over again. “No, nothing like that.”
“So you don’t like being tied up?” Mor pressed, eyes practically burning a hole in Emerie’s skull.
“I…I’m not against it, I guess?” she managed, reaching for her glass to give her mouth something to do.
Mor began twirling a lock of golden hair around a perfectly manicured finger. “What room are you staying in?”
“The upstairs one with the twin beds,” she said quickly. Mor laid her land back against the table and this time Emerie noticed that while the ring and pinkie finger were long and sharp, the middle and pointer were shorter. Blunter.
Emerie looked up at Mor, who was watching her with cat-like intensity. Was she doing this on purpose?
“I have my own room,” she said casually, a sly smile spreading over a truly beautiful face. “That’s the benefit of being the only girl on a guy's trip.”
“That sounds nice.”
“It’s quiet,” Mor continued, dragging her finger over the condensation that had dripped to the table. “Overlooks the beach.”
Emerie offered a weak smile. “I’m jealous.”
“Want to see it?” Mor asked bluntly, sighing ever so slightly. “I’m bored of this place. Too many drunk guys that think every ass needs to be touched.”
“What about Cass—”
“He won’t care if I’m missing. I was invited out of pity, anyway. I’m sure you know Nesta isn’t my biggest fan.”
Mor was scooting closer, indicating Emerie should get out of the booth. Fishing her phone from her clutch, Emerie sent a quick text to Nesta and Gwyn.
Heading out with Mor for a bit—gonna get some air and talk a bit. Meet you back at the house.
Mor slunk off to tell Rhys, who glanced over at Emerie before saying something that earned a vicious punch to the shoulder. Rhys only grinned, gripping his arm, as Mor made her way back to Emerie.
“All good?”
“All good,” Emerie agreed, still impossibly nervous. They said nothing as they made their way out, fingers brushing each time the crowd surged around them, forcing them closer before they could spring apart again. Mor seemed comfortable with the whole thing and Emerie was jealous. She wanted Mor’s easy confidence.
“I heard you slept with Lucien’s dad,” Emerie blurted out the moment they were out beneath the starry summer sky.
Mor grinned. “Yeah? I did,” she said without embarrassment. “I didn’t know he was Lucien’s dad, in my defense. He was just…some hot guy I thought was interesting.”
“Is that your type, then?”
Mor’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Do you not know?”
Emerie shook her head no, throat coated with sand.
“I just figured…” Mor shook her head, her smile undimmed. “My type is tall, dark, and gorgeous. Lucien’s dad almost fits the bill…but I prefer women.”
“Oh,” Emerie said, unable to think of anything more clever to say. “I just figured…”
“I’m not opposed to men for a night, but I’d never date one. God, can you imagine?” she said with a laugh.
“No,” Emerie admitted with relief. “I saw Cassian and Azriel’s shared bathroom, I think I’ll pass.”
“I know, right? God, I used to clean it for them when they all shared a dorm room.”
“You’re better than me,” Emerie replied with a shudder. The thought of cleaning their shared bathroom made her want to vomit. She could only imagine how gross it must have looked.
“Cassian got it together when he met Nesta. He knew she wasn’t going to tolerate pee all over the toilet.”
“He’s right,” Emerie agreed with a laugh. “Nesta is immaculate.”
“And you?”
Emerie’s stomach flipped over as Mor’s shoulder brushed hers. “I uh…probably not as much. I keep a lot of plants at my place so it’s…you know…crowded.”
“Plants? Anything else?” Mor asked, eyes burning like the stars overhead.
“I have a cat,” Emerie told her, thinking of her little apartment back in Velaris. “Her name is Mist.”
“Like one of the thirteen,” Mor said knowingly, unaware of how Emerie’s knees shook.
“You like mythology?”
“Not really,” she admitted as they crossed the street toward the large resort just across the way. Palm trees swayed in the wind, breaking up the traffic nicely. “But Cass said you did, so…”
“Why would Cassian tell you that?” Emerie demanded without thinking. “That’s kind of weird.”
Mor’s cheeks flushed orange beneath the artificial lights overhead.
“I asked him what you liked,” she admitted.
“Why?” Emerie, at least, could guess why. She wasn’t that obtuse, after all. Still, she wanted to hear the words leave Mor’s pretty lips, if only to put her mind at ease.
“You’re beautiful,” Mor admitted as Emerie rushed ahead to open the door for her. Mor thought she was beautiful? A breeze could have carried her away. “I just figured Cass blabbed.”
“Nope. He kept it a total secret,” she said, unable to help her grin.
“Oh. Well…that…I just figured you knew and—”
“I have such a crush on you,” Emerie blurted out while Mor pressed the button for the elevator. “When I saw you tonight, and I realized I was wearing this shirt, I just…”
“Stop, I love it,” Mor lied, fingers skimmed the back of Emerie’s elbow. “You look so cute. Besides, I got to ask if you liked being tied up which made it totally worth it.”
“Is that why I’m here? To be your meatball sub?” Emerie joked, heart racing all the same.
“Hardly,” Mor replied with a laugh. “We can do whatever you want.”
“And if I wanted to kiss you?”
Mor sucked in a soft breath. “That would be nice.”
They were in an elevator—this wasn’t how Emerie imagined it. And right then, drinking in the sight of Mor who was nearly as tall as she was even in heels, Emerie thought he might die of want if she didn’t kiss Mor. Stepping closer, all Emerie could think about was how nice Mor smelled. Emerie just needed to know if Mor tasted half as good.
Sliding her fingers into Mor’s unbound hair, Emerie pressed her lips to Mor’s as Mor stepped back, hitting the mirrored wall with a soft, sweet sigh. Hell, she tasted sweeter than Emerie had imagined even as her lipstick smeared across Emerie’s mouth. She wanted to see it stained over her skin, too, proof that they’d been together.
One chaste kiss became two, became a third, until Emerie was practically flush against Mor. She’d forgotten where they were until the doors dinged open and the sound of voices pulled apart. The pair looked behind them to find a couple staring right back, eyes wide.
Emerie wasn’t going to apologize and was grateful when Mor didn’t either. She merely burst into giggles before slipping her hand in Emerie’s and tugging her out.
“Whoops,” Mor whispered, fishing her keycard out of her clutch. “Lost track of things in there.”
“Same,” Emerie agreed, heart thudding. “I uh…look. I really like you. And maybe I should go and just…call you? In the morning?”
“Or,” Mor suggested as she swung the door open wide, “you could stay with me tonight and let me buy you brunch in the morning? You can borrow one of my suits if you want and we could hang out by the pool?”
“I want to take you on a date,” Emerie said firmly, desperate to go inside.
“Okay,” Mor said, still standing in front of the open door. “So do I. Will you come inside, now?”
Emerie nodded, grateful to have gotten that out of the way. She’d sworn she wasn’t doing any more one night stands that ended in hurt feelings. That was especially important for her and Mor given they were going to be seeing so much of each other long after this ended.
Mor’s room was a suite, complete with a living room and a kitchen. The balcony doors were thrown open, allowing salty summer air to flood through the room. Taking her hand, Mor led Emerie down a short hallway to the room she’d obviously been sleeping in—the bed was still unmade. A little succulent sat on a nightstand and the room itself smelled like the candy sweet of Mor’s perfume. Emerie wanted to bury her face in the pillow and inhale deeply.
“You ruined my grand gesture,” Mor told her, closing the door quietly behind them. “Will you be my date to Cass’s wedding?”
The grin that spread across Emerie’s face threatened to split her in half. “Yeah. Of course I will.”
Mor exhaled. “Good. I’ll have the hottest date there.”
Emerie rolled her eyes, cheeks burning all the same. It would be her with the hottest date, but who needed to quibble, truly? Not when Mor was standing right in front of her, chin inclined with so much expectations. There was a bed right behind and if Emerie played her cards right, she’d know exactly how Mor tasted by the end of the night.
Indecision gripped her. Did she just kiss her? Touch her? Push her to the bed and strip her naked before committing Mor’s naked form to memory?
“Get out of your own head,” Mor whispered, sliding her hand around Emerie’s neck. “I don’t bite. Unless you want me to?”
“Maybe,” Emerie admitted, the thought filling her with heat.
This time, Mor took the lead. Slipping out of her heels, Mor had to lift up on her tiptoes in order to meet Emerie’s mouth and Emerie liked the sight of it. Or, maybe she merely liked the sight of Mor’s unabashed desire, a mirror for her own. It felt good to be wanted, especially by a woman Emerie had a crush on.
She could admire her good fortune later. Right then, Mor was tugging her back, falling to the unmade bed behind them with a soft, dreamy sigh. She was so soft and smelled like almonds and cherry, her lips stick from the gloss over her lipstick. Emerie was drunk on the taste of her tongue in her mouth, obsessed with Mor’s soft skin beneath her fingertips. Blonde curls swirled around her head like an angel and when Mor opened her eyes to look, Emerie found her eyes so dark they looked as though they were all iris. Were it not for that familiar ring of gold, she might have been lost.
Mor reached up and brushed a lock of Emerie’s hair behind her ear. “You’re so pretty,” Mor sighed sweetly.
“No, you,” Emerie replied like a petulant school child. Mor laughed and Emerie kissed her again, teeth clashing as they giggled. It took a moment for the silliness to fade back into undiluted desire. Emerie slid to the side of Mor’s body, one leg draped over her hip as she tried to decide what she ought to do.
Mor seemed to notice her indecision or perhaps knew that she was impossibly nervous. “Lay back,” she whispered with sultry eyes. Emerie did as she was told, fingers bunching the white sheets with more nerves. Mor straddled her waist before running a finger over Emerie’s exposed collarbone.
Mor pulled her leggings off, pausing at the shirt for a moment before sliding her fingers beneath the fabric to drag her knuckles over Emerie’s bare skin as she lifted it over her head. Emerie shivered, goosebumps trailing behind Mor’s touch, her desperation to touch and taste every inch of Mor reaching a fever pitch. She did feel a moment of embarrassment when Mor looked down her body, hidden only by an unremarkable bra and a pair of nude panties. If she’d known…
Mor sighed, leaning to kiss Emerie again with more passion before. Emerie felt clumsy and almost embarrassed as she, too, unhooked Mor’s zipper and slid it down, but fair was fair, right? And she wanted to feel Mor’s breasts pressed against her chest, wanted to see if all of her was as smooth as she seemed.
Mor was in a matching lace set and somehow Emerie imagined that was just how she always was. Every bra came with a matching pair of panties, every day was carefully planned. Mor was immaculate in a way Emerie could never hope to emulate, which only made her like Mor more.
“What do you like?” Mor whispered, breath warm against Emerie’s face. “Do you like…?”
“Everything,” Emerie breathed. “All of it.”
“Everything?” Mor asked, amusement sparkling. With a touch, she had Emerie’s bra unhooked and when had she even gotten her hand back there? Mor cocked her head, golden hair spilling over her naked shoulder as she looked at Emerie. “Giving? Receiving?”
“Yeah,” Emerie began, rising up earnestly. “Let me—”
Mor pushed her gently to the bed, shaking her head back and forth. “Me first.”
“What do you like?”
“You,” Mor replied with a grin, unhooking her own bra casually before dropping it off the side of the bed. Emerie felt her brain short circuit, hands moving on their own accord to touch rosy nipples and soft skin. How was Mor real? Surely she was hallucinating and would wake up any moment in some dirty bar bathroom, still dressed in that terrible shirt while Mor continued to ignore her existence.
Emerie got what she wanted, dream or not. Mor leaned down, pressing her breasts against Mor to kiss her again, and again, her tongue stroking Emerie’s with a feverish hunger that left her breathless and desperate. She could have died happy just kissing Mor. They were silk on silk, kissing like they had all the time in the world. Emerie wanted to savor it, to drag the moment out for an eternity.
Mor’s fingers slid down Emerie’s stomach, skimming over hip bones as she asked, “Can I?” “Yes,” Emerie panted, arching her hips just enough to offer full, unbridled permission. Mor removed her plain panties, leaving Emerie laid bare before Mor’s hungry brown eyes. Mor didn’t linger, dragging her lips over Emerie’s bare skin as she settled between Emerie’s parted thighs. Oh, god.
Emerie gasped, tangling her fingers back in Mor’s hair, passion and need rising in her throat. Every little brush of Mors body against her own was a wildfire. Emerie couldn’t stop touching—Mor’s silky hair, her smooth back, the slope of her neck. She needed to map out Mor’s body with her fingertips first, though she wanted to trace each soft curve with her tongue next.
Emerie gathered up Mor’s thick, blonde curls as Mor settled herself against the sheets, peering up for just a moment. Just to confirm, Emerie realized, that she still wanted this. Emerie exhaled a breath and tugged, silent permission to the unasked question.
I’ll die if you don’t, she wanted to say.
“Tell me to stop,” Mor breathed, pushing Emerie’s legs further apart, “if I do something you don’t like.”
Emerie’s brain had stopped entirely. All she knew was Mor between her thighs, her finger slowly exploring the wet expanse of Emerie’s aching, tender flesh. Emerie had expected her to lower her mouth—or maybe she’d hoped, at any rate—but Mor was content merely to watch and touch, drawing forth Emerie’s undeniable arousal. Mor kissed the insides of Emerie’s legs, moving slowly upwards towards the thatch of trimmed curls just above her pussy.
“You’re so pretty,” Mor whispered into the hair, kissing there, too. “I like this.”
Emerie sighed again, relaxing against the pillow. Excitement bloomed hot in her stomach, traveling past her navel like little frissons of electricity. Mor, too, took a steadying breath and Emerie wondered if it was possible the unshakable Mor was nervous, too.
Emerie almost asked, but then Mor’s face was against Emerie, tongue licking and Emerie moaned, the only form of language left to her. Mor exhaled again, her warm breath fanning against Emerie’s overheated pussy. Emerie felt overstimulated already, keyed up and excited. Every fantasy she’d ever had of this exact scenario paled in comparison to the real thing. Every touch was soft and precise, the touch of someone who knew what she was doing and liked doing it. Mor moaned, fingers gripping Emerie’s thighs to push her even wider, until Emerie merely draped them over Mor’s shoulders.
The sight was so erotic that Emerie could have come from that alone. Digging her heels against Mor’s shoulder blades, Emerie whispered soft encouragement.
“That’s perfect,” she hissed as Mor’s tongue lapped at her aching, needy clit. Emerie couldn’t stop staring, wished she had a camera so she could see everything Mor was doing with her mouth, too. Mor, too, seemed transfixed, eyes bouncing between Emerie’s face and what was happening between her legs.
Mor’s eyes occasionally fluttered shut, the sight punctuated by the softest, appreciative moan. It looked as if Mor wanted to savor the taste of Emerie, wanted to drag things out as long as possible. Emerie wanted that, too, desperately counting in her head to stave off the building arousal pooling low against her spine.
Mor’s finger rimmed around her opening, offering the lightest pressure without penetrating. Her tongue stayed firmly on her clit, slowly increasing the speed until Emerie was panting and tugging at Mor’s hair, needy and desperate. She was so close, was practically flying off that edge into nothing.
“Oh God, Mor—” Emerie choked out her release, arching so hard her toes curled and white hot spots bloomed in her vision. Every muscle in her body was taut and she felt nothing, was nothing but the pleasure rolling through her.
Emerie sat up the very first moment she was able, reaching for Mor to put her in her lap, their legs tangled, bodies rocking together and Emerie kissed Mor hungrily. She could taste her own arousal on Mor’s mouth, her tongue chasing after it greedily.
Emerie slid her hand between their bodies, delighted to feel Mor was practically dripping wet.
“You don’t have–”
“Please?” Was all Emerie could think to say. She wanted to reciprocate like she’d never wanted in her life. Mor kissed her again and again, each kiss sliding one to the other until Emerie was dizzy and needy again. Emerie forced herself to focus, repositioning them so it was Mor back against the pillows and Emerie straddling her body.
Emerie could still feel the remnants of that orgasm throbbing through her, prompting her to rub against Mor even as she mimicked everything Mor had done. Feyer was clumsier, too needy to be half as sensual as Mor had been. Still, Mor whined when Emerie reached for a nipple, rolling it between her fingers until it was stiff and rosy red. The same color as Mor’s lipstick stained mouth.
Emerie experimented, grazing her teeth just a little. Mor moaned, eyes rolling upwards in her skull as her body undulated against Emerie’s. It was enough to keep Emerie going, to suck and nip and lick until Mor was practically panting, her tanned skin flushed the prettiest shade of pink.
Every inch of Mor was a dream—smooth, lush curves were soft beneath Emerie’s wandering hands. She marveled as she slid lower and lower, suddenly eye level with Mor’s glistening, pink pussy.
Fuck she was beautiful.
Emerie stared a beat too long before she couldn’t stop herself from spreading Mor open wider, parting to truly look.
“Is this what you want?” Emerie whispered.
“Please,” came Mor’s trembling reply. That was the confidence Emerie needed to lower her mouth and take that first taste.
It was nothing like she’d imagined and better than she’d ever expected. Her whole body lit up at the musky sweetness of Mor’s body and the way Mor’s thighs trembled around Emerie’s head. Emerie enthusiastically swiped again, licking only for herself in that first moment. Just to know, to become accustomed to the wet, slick, soft feel of Mor’s pussy and how it made her own body feel.
Her arousal sharpened when Mor dragged her long nails over Emerie’s scalp, holding her hair while watching with intensely dark eyes. Emerie focused, thinking of what Mor had done for her. She swirled her tongue over the trembling nub of flesh and was rewarded with a breathy, “Oh God, don’t stop.”
As if Emerie could. She replicated what Mor had done with her finger, pushing just against the opening of her pussy and circling, her tongue steady and hot. Mor writhed against her face, coating her in the slick release building in her body. And when Mor came with a breathy cry, Emerie felt it reverberate in her chest.
It was Mor who reached for her this time, dragging her up to lay on her side so they could press their bodies against the other and kiss. Emerie tangled her arms around Mors neck while Mor caressed her face, their combined release erotic in Emerie’s mouth. Nothing had ever tasted better and she found herself wanting Mor again just as soon as she caught her breath.
Mor leaned her arm over the edge of the bed, picking up Emerie’s ugly shirt. “Can I have this?” she asked, mascara smeared just beneath her eyes.
“Why?”
“It smells like you,” Mor said, pressing the fabric against her nose. “And I think it's funny.”
Propping her head up on her fist, Emerie smiled. “Is that all it takes? One bad shirt?”
“What can I say,” Mor replied, pressing a kiss to Emerie’s cheek. “I’m easy.”
Emerie only smiled.
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Me: So, I have these dizzy spells that take me when I am walking and I almost fall bc of them. I also have trouble standing for any period of time because of my poor balance, which is made worse by the above mentioned dizzy spells.
My doctor: have you considered sitting down when this happens?
Me: Gee, thank you Sherlock! I really never thought that sitting down could solve my problem with standing up. But did you hear the part where I told you I kind of like walking and the point is for me to still be able to go out of the house for more than 1 hour at a time?
#i am deeply grateful for the medical support i have#but doctors can be dumb as fuck sometimes!#granted this was not my specialist for pain and weird stuff but still#he studied the samd basics of medicine and should be able to connect the dots#i am aware a cane or other mobility aid can cause other issues#but it’s also for specific situations i’d need one so it’s not the end of the world#i just want to be able to visit a city without relying on an unknown benches situation and falling over bc of a dizzy spell#but noooo#we don’t want young people to rely on canes bc they could become dependent!#fuck them#i just want to be able to live by myself if only a little bit!#so fucking listen to me and propose relevant solutions!#the doc proposed carrying around one of those small stools fishers use#but have you considered i don’t have the time to pull that thing out unfold it and sit when i am dizzy?#rant#personal post#heds#hypermobile ehlers danlos#actually disabled
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Side Effects of Affection
Pairing: Mingi x plus sized female reader (explicitly stated)
Genre: one shot, smut, fluff, established relationship
Rating: Mature/18+ — minors DNI
Warnings: reader is described as being curvy/plus sized!! — established relationship, pet names, discussions of doctors/gynocologists not listening to you (briefly), potential side effects of hormonal birth control (i ripped these from the one I used to be on) Explicit sexual content: manhandling, praise, body worship if you squint, oral (f. receiving), dumbification also if you squint, fingering, face sitting, masturbation (male), multiple orgasms, lighthearted discussions of a vasectomy lol
Word count: 3.7k
Author Note: I started writing this months ago for @kiestrokes birthday and I am an adhd gremlin so I never finished it. But now it’s Mingi’s birthday so I decided to push myself to finish! So I hope you like it babes 🖤 also if anyone comes at me sideways about the reader being plus sized: you will be blocked ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
[Masterlist]
“Babe we have to stop at the pharmacy,” you huffed, slamming the door shut as you slid into the passenger seat. You were already annoyed that you had to go back to the gynecologist despite being there less than a week before, but seeing a new doctor who wasn’t your usual, plus his decision to ignore your request with no real reason why had soured your whole outlook on the day.
“What’s up babe?” Mingi asked, his eyebrows furrowing in concern as he leaned over the center console to cup your face in his hand, “Are you okay? What’d they say?”
“The usual run around, bullshit doctor stuff,” you shrugged, settling into your seat with a frustrated pout. “He wants me to start another new birth control before he’ll even consider a fucking IUD, despite that being what I asked for. And I’m sure it’s gonna suck just as much as the one I just stopped taking.”
“I mean… I know it sucks but he’s a doctor. I mean, he should like, know things, right? I know it sucks to get periods and have to remember to take them every day but—“ he shrugged but you cut him off with a scoff and a glare. Of course Mingi didn’t get it, how could he?
“Mingi, baby, I know he’s a doctor but I live in my body. Remembering to take them and bleeding once a month is the least of my problems. Just wait, when we get home I’ll show you.”
—
You threw the foil packet of pills on the coffee table, holding onto the folded sheet that listed the potential side effects. “Alright, get comfortable, this is gonna take some time,” you instructed your boyfriend, watching him settle onto the floor with his back against the couch, pillow in his lap. He stared up at you expectantly, a content smile on his face. “Alright so this,” you said shaking the paper, “is the warning label for my birth control.”
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Wait so there’s a warning for your birth control?” You simply raised your eyebrow at him, and began to unfold the paper.
With every crinkly unfurling Mingi made sounds of pain and disbelief, but you ignored him until the sheet had been completely unfolded – the nearly 3 foot long sheet looked almost comical in your hands, “Yes, my love, there is most definitely a warning label for my birth control. We don’t have all night so I’ll give you the highlights.”
“Baby, I had no idea,” he frowned, eyes softening slightly as he sunk into his frame, looking smaller and more boyish than he usually did.
“I know you didn’t, honey, but you should know this just in case I start complaining about these things,” you smiled, heart softening at your boyfriend’s actions. He reached out to you and took your hand, pulling you around the coffee table to stand in front of him before burrowing his face into your soft, plush stomach.
“Go on babe, I’m listening,” he mumbled.
“Alright so here are the most common, affecting 1 in every 10 people who take these. Yeast infections, mood swings which can include the worsening or onset of depression, it can cause altered sexual desire, nervousness, and dizziness. Can cause you to feel sick, get random abdominal pain, acne, pain in your tits, and enlargement and/or discharge from your tits. They can also cause painful menstruation, irregular bleeding, no or reduced bleeding, and changes in weight.”
You cautioned a look down at your boyfriend, who was currently frowning into your stomach. However, he didn’t say anything nor make eye-contact with you, so you took it as permission to continue.
“Alright, so now the more uncommon, which could affect up to 1 in 100 people. There could be changes in appetite – oh wow that actually makes sense – elevated blood pressure, abdominal cramps and bloating, which we already have from the periods but whatever. There can also be rashes, skin discoloration which continue even after you stop taking the pills. It can also cause excessive hair growth or hair loss, and – good lord – altered blood fats including increased triglycerides.”
The startled sound from your boyfriend pulled your attention from the paper in your hands down to your boyfriend, who was looking up at you in horror. “Your birth control can do all of that? Why? Why is that allowed?”
You laughed softly, shrugging. “I don’t know, honey. I’ve asked myself that so many times. But don’t worry, as far as I know, I’m fine.”
“But how do we know you’re fine? I don’t think you should take these anymore,” he mumbled sadly.
His reaction tore at your heart; he was so genuinely distraught at the thought of you getting sick from your birth control. “Baby, I’m okay. Please don’t stress too much about it,” you cooed, scratching his scalp gently. “There’s only a bit more, and they’re the rare ones, okay?” You asked, making him nod sadly. You suppressed a giggle; you couldn’t believe your boyfriend, who so many people were intimidated by, was whining like a puppy because of your birth control.
“Just keep going, I wanna know what to look out for just in case.”
“Alright, well, there can be severe allergic reactions of various types, it can cause glucose intolerance, eye irritation when wearing contact lenses, fucking jaundice apparently? And painful reddish skin nodules. And the super rare side effects are apparently liver tumors, lupus, inflammation of the optic nerve, blood clots your fucking eyes, large intestine and pancreas inflammation, gallbladder disease and gallstones, and a blood disease called that causes kidney failure. Good christ, I didn’t even know about some of these,” you sighed, shaking your head as you balled up the sheet and threw it on the table next to you.
He looked up at you, tears brimming in his eyes, “Baby… you deal with all that… just to let me nut in you?”
The absolute devastation in his eyes normally would have made you melt, but his blunt phrasing forced you to bite your lip to keep from laughing in his face. How could you when he looked so genuinely distraught? You settled for a sympathetic nod.
He whined again pitifully, frown deepening. You saw an idea pass through him before you felt his hands start massaging your plush thighs, working his way up your leg softly, going under the hem of your dress before stopping when his hands met the fat of your ass. “Let me make it up to you baby, please?”
You really couldn’t help but laugh now; leave it to your boyfriend to try and apologize with sex – an apology for something he really had nothing to do with anyway. But who were you to deny him? You figured it would help get that sad expression off his face and knowing how pussy drunk he got, the whole conversation would likely be forgotten for the time-being.
“Alright,” you sighed dramatically.
You weren’t expecting him to lift you off the floor, his hands not once leaving your skin as he made his way down the hall to your bedroom. Your laughter bounced off the walls as you went, limbs constricting around him in fear of being dropped.
“Mingi put me down, I can walk there on my own,” you giggled as he kicked open your bedroom door.
He dropped you on the bed, pulling his shirt off before settling between your legs with a shrug, his cheek resting on your exposed thigh, “I mean, yeah you could walk, but why waste the effort when I’m right here. Besides, I know you, and you like to make me chase you. And I don’t have the patience for that today.”
“Don’t have the patience? Are you that excited about getting in my pants, Mingi?” you asked, sitting up on your elbows to look at him.
“Of course I am, have you seen you?” he replied, looking almost offended at your question.
No matter how much time you had spent with Mingi, you were always surprised at how genuine he was. There was never any question of what he wanted, or what he meant. He always told you exactly how he felt; especially when it came to his desire for you.
“Come here, baby,” you pleaded, “I need to kiss you right now.”
He scrambled forward to slot his lips over yours, allowing you to slink your arms around his wide shoulders, knees falling open to accommodate his narrow waist. His weight on you was comforting and warm – it soothed all the parts of your brain that hadn’t stopped firing since the doctor’s office. But it also stoked the flames of desire building in your gut.
The slow grind of his already hard cock against you had you gripping his hair, pulling him off you to moan, the sound echoing off the vaulted ceiling of your bedroom made him chuckle.
“Who’s excited now, baby,” he smirked down at you, raising an eyebrow.
“Don’t be smug, you know I want you just as much as you do,” you panted, releasing your grip on his hair and falling backwards into the pillows with your eyes closed.
You felt his rumbling laugh before the pressure of his body disappeared off you, sitting back onto his knees between your spread legs. His fingertips ghosted over you; trailing over your throat, down your chest, and coming to a stop on your hips. “Baby,” he questioned softly, making you hum in response, “Can I take your dress off?”
You nodded, feeling his hands spread out across the tops of your thighs, digging into the dimpled flesh momentarily before flipping up the edge of the skirt, exposing the black, polka dotted mesh you were wearing underneath. “Do you like them?” you asked.
“Of course I do,” he sighed, hands spreading out across your hips, fingertips pushing into your love-handles before hooking under the material. “Are these new?” He asked, snapping the nand against your skin. You hummed again in response, and then felt him tug on the fabric. You lifted your hips slightly before settling back onto the sheets. His hand caught the ditch of your knee, maneuvering your limb to get the soft underwear off you, before repeating the action with the other leg. “You’re so pretty baby, my pretty baby.”
The soft praise made your toes curl, a shuddered breath heaving out of you as your eyes fluttered open to look at him. The faded orange and yellow hair hung in his face, in front of his eyes, but that couldn’t hide his desire. He wasn’t looking at your face, his eyes were roaming over your exposed skin. The absolute need in his gaze gave you goosebumps.
“Mingi, baby,” you whined, squirming on the sheets in desperation, “Please.”
He didn’t bother responding to you verbally, his hands collecting the fabric of your dress, slowly dragging it up your frame, eyes chasing the hem as he went. “Arms up,” he rasped. You complied, letting him pull the dress off your body and toss it off the side of the bed before his eyes connected with yours. “I am so fucking in love with you,” he groaned, tipping forward, diving into space between your tits.
The sudden shift and the feeling of his mouth on your skin had you gasping, back arching into him. He slipped one of his arms under your lower back, keeping you arched and on display for him as he worked his mouth across your chest and neck.
“Mingi, please, I need you,” you whined, rolling your hips into his purposefully, nails dragging across his shoulders. He looked up at you through his eyelashes before detaching from your skin with a wet pop! The sight made heat flush across your skin and a wave of arousal to rocket through you. Mingi’s full, plush lips were cherry red, and his eyes were wild.
“Whatever you need baby,” he grinned, shifting his weight to one side before pulling your leg out from underneath him before repeating the action on the opposite side. Now eyelevel with your cunt. He made eye contact with you for a split second, obviously seeing whatever he needed in your gaze before disappearing into your folds.
The first touch of his tongue shot through you like lightning, zinging up your spine and ripping a breathless gasp out of you. “Fuck, you’re so good to me baby,” you sighed, watching as his eyebrows furrow as he settled himself further into the sheets. The sight of him between your legs was always something that turned your brain into mush. His shoulders wedged between your thighs folded you open almost obscenely, his fingers indented into the plush skin of your thigh, with his other sneaking up your torso to palm at your tits.
His tongue pushing into you made you gasp, eyes fluttering shut as you choked on air. “You’re thinking too hard, just relax,” he instructed, punctuating his sentence with a small nip to your thigh before diving back into your folds.
“Does it count if I’m only thinking about you?” you moaned, trying to relax into the sensations and pleasure Mingi was giving you.
“Yes,” he mumbled, remaining buried between your legs. “Stop thinking.”
You nodded, tangling your fingers into his shaggy hair. You weren’t sure if you could ever stop thinking about Mingi. He was on your mind 24/7. You wondered if he was safe and happy whenever he was away from you, and you were consumed with adoration for him when he was near you.
But Mingi proved you wrong when his skilled tongue started strumming against your clit. You could no longer create a coherent thought – all that existed was him, his mouth, and his hands on you.
“Shit, fuck, Mingi,” you keened breathlessly. The hum vibrated through your bones, making your eyes roll back.
“That’s right, my love, say my name,” he all but growled.
“Mingi,” you choked, feeling the pad of one of his fingers brush against your clit. Your hips hitched off the bed trying to chase the sensation. “Mingi, please!”
“So sensitive, baby. My pretty baby,” he cooed, making you whine. “I know, I’m being mean, I’m sorry. Lemme make it up to you.”
You weren’t sure what he meant until you felt one of his long, knobby fingers breach your walls, a deep groan leaving both of you in sync. You knew you were both beyond words at that point – your brain had been rendered useless by the man between your legs, and he was too focused, too fascinated by the view to make sense.
He went slow, working the digit in deep and intentionally, finding the spongy bump on her inner walls – chuckling breathlessly when your thighs tightened around his wrist, trapping his hand where it was. He simply bullied his shoulder between your knees, pushing them open and pinning one down to the bed.
You weren’t sure what to expect next, but the simultaneous sensation of his lips wrapping around your clit and another finger sinking into you left you reeling. Your body was buzzing and you felt as if you were floating, desire and arousal firing through your nerves rapidly. You couldn’t formulate the words to warn him you were close, too focused on what he was doing, and before you knew it you were cumming with a silent scream. Your whole body locked up as you rode out the ebbing waves of pleasure.
After a few moments, you deflated against the sheets, releasing the hold you had unintentionally put Mingi in.
“God you’re so fucking hot,” Mingi whined, dropping his head onto your thigh, pressing a series of wet kisses into the soft skin, tongue darting out to run across a stretch mark. “I need you to sit on my face. Like right now.”
Without warning, he flipped you both so he was laying on his back with you sitting on his chest. Your eyes widened as he smiled innocently up at you, hands already gliding up your back to try and convince you to do what he asked. “Baby, no.” You argued, making him furrow his eyebrows in concern. “You already fucked the bones out of my legs. I’ll give you head but I’m not sure I have the energy to keep myself from suffocating you if I sit on your—“
The truly pained whimper coming from underneath you made you freeze as you looked down, seeing Mingi’s pout and the genuine sadness in his eyes. “That’s not nice. You can’t say mean things about yourself like that. I don’t like it.”
“Honey, I was joking—“ you sighed, but he cut you off again.
“No, it’s not a joke to me. We said no more negative self-talk, remember?” He argued. You sighed, nodding — he was right. You had both agreed there would be no self deprecating jokes, or casual remarks that skewed negative about yourselves or each other after you both discussed your previous bouts of depression and self-loathing.
“You’re right, I’m sorry, it just slipped out,” you softened, brushing away the faded orange hair that was stuck to his forehead.
He nodded, humming in acceptance before the corner of his mouth turned up, his hands running up the backs of your thighs again. “I know how you can make it up to me.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as he worked his touches up to your ass, where they settled after a firm squeeze, “I mean you’re already here.”
“I thought this was you making it up to me for having to take birth control and all the horrible side effects I’m facing.”
“I mean, can it not be for both of us?”
“I’m not gonna last long,” you warned him.
“Don’t care,” he said bluntly, “You’re fucking hot so I’m probably going to nut in record time anyway.”
You stared at him for a second before bursting into laughter – you couldn’t help it. You knew you were probably biased, but you thought Mingi was the most endearing person you had ever met. And despite being absolutely ridiculous – the sentiment of his statement still made you shiver.
“Do you want me to—” you began to ask but he cut you off with a groan.
“No, no, fuck, don’t even talk about it or I’m gonna cum,” he ground out through gritted teeth before releasing a deep breath. “Alright, come sit on my face, now.”
The demand overrode any rational thought in your brain, causing you to rock forward, sitting on his face and grabbing the headboard.
He immediately went to work, sloppy and desperate. You couldn’t help but grind down into the feeling, chasing the rapidly building release. One of his hands gripped your waist, fingers flexing in the fat and divots as the other stroked his cock. You could feel his hips pitching off the bed every so often; the knowledge that you were the one making him so desperate drove you into a frenzy.
You couldn’t think of anything other than the pleasure you were feeling. It was quicker than you expected – your orgasm slammed into you like a train. Your vision went white, and your ears rang as you pitched yourself to the side, collapsing next to him. You vaguely registered hearing Mingi cum with a guttural groan of your name.
After a few moments, feeling came back to your limbs and the roar of your blood rushing in your ears subsided, and you opened your eyes to find Mingi hovering over you with a small smile.
“You okay, my love?” He asked, cupping your cheek.
The look in his eyes was pure love and adoration, and it made you positively soft for him. He was really criminally adorable.
If he was anyone else, you were sure he could have been a manipulative bastard – charming, funny, cute, and puppy dog eyes that made you fold instantly, and you knew so many people who would abuse that power. But this was Mingi, your Mingi. He would never intentionally hurt anyone; it simply never would have been a thought in his mind. And you loved him so much it made your bones ache. “I love you, you know that, right?”
“Of course I know, baby,” Mingi sighed happily, eyes closing with the force of his smile, “And I love you, more than anything. That's why I’ve decided something,” he said, flopping back onto the bed.
“Mmhmm, and what's that honey?” You asked, closing your eyes as you laced your fingers with his at your side.
“If you want, I’ll get a vasectomy,” he said brightly, making you sit up to stare at him in confusion. “That way, we can have all the sex we want and not have to worry about kids! And you can stop taking birth control, if you want to. Two birds, one stone.”
For a second you were convinced he had actually fucked your brain out as you tried to comprehend his words. You could not believe he was not only suggesting but willing to do something like that for you. “Fuck, Mingi you can’t hit me with some shit like that after what we just did,” you scoffed, willing the tears in your eyes to go away, before diving into his embrace, tucking your nose into the junction of his shoulder. “I still can’t feel my toes, babe, it’s not the time to decide if you’re gonna get a vasectomy.”
“Just think about it,” he shrugged, curling around you, keeping you tucked into him. “But I’d do anything for you. I mean it.”
“I love you too,” you whispered thickly, planting a chaste kiss on his neck.
He responded with a kiss to the top of your head, cradling your head in his hands. He was silent for a moment before asking, “Wait did you really cum so hard your toes went numb?” You giggled softly before nodding. “Nice,” he mumbled to himself.
“You’re ridiculous,” you sighed, pulling back to look at his face with an eye roll and a laugh.
“Maybe,” he shrugged. “But I’m yours. And you’re mine,” he smirked, leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours.
[Masterlist]
I’m just gonna tag some of my moots who I think would enjoy this: @kiestrokes @eureka-its-zico @j-a-nuary @gimmethatagustd @bibbykins @skyys-universe @minisugakoobies @chimivx
#song mingi#song mingi smut#mingi smut#mingi x reader#mingi fic#mingi fanfic#mingi fluff#ateez fic#ateez fanfic#ateez x reader#ateez smut#ateez#ateez imagines#atz smut#atz mingi#atz x reader#atz#mingi#happy mingi day
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No Way Out ch. 2
Dark!Rafe Cameron x f!Reader
Warnings: noncon, smut, abusive relationship, domestic violence, verbal abuse, drugs, choking
Things escalate in your relationship with Rafe to a boiling point
Blinding rage was the only thing that Rafe could focus on in the small jail cell.
He paced around the cramped space like a caged animal, ready to pounce on anything that walked by the door.
The past day was all too fresh in his mind, replaying like a loop that only fed into his need to get out.
“I’m just worried about how much blow you’ve been doing, Rafe! It’s not good for you.. It just makes you so much more-”
“So much more what?” He snapped back at you and you bit your tongue.
“I don’t know.”
“I think you do.”
“So much more angry,” you timidly replied. “You aren’t yourself when you’re using, baby.”
He rolled his eyes in annoyance, shaking his head with a scoff. “You don’t know what it’s like, Y/N! You don’t get how hard I have to work just for my dad to see what I am capable of. If you had any idea-”
“Oh, if I had any idea how hard it to have a rich dad?” You couldn’t stop the sarcasm from cutting through your voice.
“Watch it,” Rafe growled, a dangerous tone in his voice. You didn’t notice how close he had gotten to you.
“I just don’t think your daddy issues give you an excuse to be doing coke all the fucking ti-” before you could even perceive his movement, you felt a sharp sting blossom across your cheek and you vaguely registered that he had slapped you. Your head whipped to the side, tears springing up immediately.
Completely taken by surprise, you had no time to react before he shoved you to the ground. You fell hard backwards, hitting your elbows and bottom on the floor beneath you. You cried out in pain, cowering away from your boyfriend as he leered above you.
“Talk to me like that one more time and see what fucking happens,” he seethed. He lurched forward and grabbed your wrists with both hands, clenching hard and you let out a sob.
“You should consider yourself lucky!” sneered the blond. “I pay for everything you have! You would be out walking the streets without me.”
His breathing was heavy, but he hadn’t even broken a sweat yet. You shrieked when he yanked you to your feet by your throat, shaking you hard.
Your arms flailed out at his hands, clawing at them and trying to pull him off but it was no use. You gasped for breath, crying out as his fingers dug into your throat.
“P-please-!” Precious air that was running out fueled your pleading. Rafe’s eye twitched, lip curling before he pushed you back to the ground.
Gulping for breath between sobs, you glanced up at the man towering above you in fear. His hand was clenched in a fist, eyebrows furrowed as he shook with rage.
You were terrified by how hard he had choked you, the utter lack of regret in his eyes.
In the early days, fights like these were rare, and on the off occasion that he had laid a hand on you, it was never as intense, and the apology that followed was always 100x longer than the brief fight. Nowadays, you rarely even got an apology.
With a scowl, he examined his arms where you had scratched him and his darkened eyes met yours.
You didn’t fully know why you did what you did next. Or how it unfolded.
Maybe it was instinct. Maybe you were out of options, just so afraid that you did what any trapped animal would do.
You ran.
You pushed yourself off the floor in an instant, rushing out of the living room to the bathroom.
Rafe was bigger than you, stronger than you. Faster.
It was dumb luck that his reaction time was just a moment too slow.
You slammed the bathroom door, locking it behind you as fast as you could. Your heart thundered in your chest, thumping so hard you could hear the blood rushing in your ears.
The door behind you rattled as Rafe punched and kicked at it.
“Open the fucking door, Y/N!!” His fists pounded against the wood and you cowered as far from the door as you could.
Your mind was racing and only then you remembered the cell phone in your back pocket.
With shaky hands, you unlocked it, clicking the phone icon before dialing emergency services.
“Let me in! Open the fucking door bitch!!” He bellowed again. You winced every time the door shook, terrified he was going to knock it off it’s hinges. “I’m gonna fucking kill you!”
Quietly, you begged with the operator to send someone, giving your address to the woman on the phone.
“Please! He- He’s trying to break the door down,” you sobbed. “I’m scared he’s going to hurt me o-or worse!”
“Y/N, I swear to god when I get in there, you’re going to be sorry!” Rafe roared from the other side of the door. He cursed when he hit it too hard, apparently injuring his hand.
You couldn’t do anything but hide in the corner, hoping that he wouldn’t be able to get in before the cops arrived.
Sitting there on the floor felt like hours, but it was probably only a few minutes before you heard a pounding on the front door and you nearly passed out with relief.
The activity outside of the bathroom door stopped suddenly as Rafe realized what was happening. He cursed, loud enough for you to hear, but not nearly at the same volume before.
You knew it was safe to step out of the bathroom when you heard him greet the people at the front door. You brushed the tears from your eyes, trying to compose yourself.
“Good evening officers, what can I do for you tonight?” He was trying to act nonchalant, but there was a tense edge to his voice you couldn’t mistake.
You could hear muffled responses growing louder as you approached the door and you knew the officers must have noticed you, because the speaking stopped and Rafe turned to look at you.
Anger that only you could see flashed across his eyes, but even he knew better than to display it in front of cops. The blond stepped to the side to allow you to stand beside him, and he grabbed your hand lovingly as if to say, ‘look officers, everything is okay here.’
“Are you having any problems tonight ma’am?” One of the officers asked you with a concerned look.
Rafe’s grip on your hand tightened, warning you not to say anything. A lump formed in your throat. Did you even have it in you to say something?
With a sniffle, you plastered on a small smile, “N-no. We haven’t had any issues here.”
The officers looked slightly surprised at that, glancing at each other and exchanging a brief, wordless conversation.
“Well, procedure says that we have to interview you both separately.” One of them explained.
“This is just stupid,” Rafe complained. “I think we’d rather talk to you together, isn’t that right baby?”
Hesitantly, you nodded with lowered eyes, “Yeah.”
“Unfortunately, procedure is procedure, and we have to do it this way.” The woman explained, and her male partner nodded in agreement.
“How about I interview you,” she looked at you. “And my partner will interview you,” she said with a pointed look towards Rafe.
“Fine,” he spat out through gritted teeth, flashing you a warning look before he was led away to talk to the other cop.
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you were left alone, and the cop gave you another concerned look.
“What’s your name honey?”
You told her.
“What happened tonight, ma’am?” She asked you gently and you almost broke down right there. Tears sprung to your eyes and you took a deep breath to calm yourself.
“I-I was so scared,” you confessed. Her eyes wandered to your neck, able to make out the old bruises and the redness on your cheek that had only started to fade.
“He just gets so angry at me and-” a sob cut you off, voice breaking as you remembered the fight. “H-he was choking me, and.. I didn’t think he was going to stop.”
The tears were flowing more now as you recounted what had happened, and the cop gave you a sympathetic look. Your hands fell in your lap and her attention was drawn to your bare legs which were littered with tiny cuts from when Rafe had pushed you into glass the previous week.
She paused before speaking, “Listen, I don’t know how it’s going with my partner, Michael and your boyfriend, but I would feel comfortable taking your boyfriend down to the station based on what you’ve told me. How does that sound to you?”
Your eyes widened in surprise. You didn’t really know what you had expected when you called. You were just so scared with what he might do, you did the only thing you could think.
And now you were faced with an impossible decision.
Agree with this and let them take Rafe, and he would be let out who knows when. But say no, and you would have to face the wrath of Rafe tonight, and you knew that he was more pissed off than you had ever seen him.
Without even knowing that you had made up your mind, you found your head nodding, tears coming to your eyes.
You would deal with Rafe later. But tonight, you were just happy with the idea of sleeping alone for the first time in months.
~~~~~~~
“And so you’re saying you two had an argument, but it never got physical?”
“No, I would never lay a hand on her! You heard her yourself, we haven’t had any problems tonight.” Rafe smiled, southern charm laid on thick. He had dealt with police many times before, and when they weren’t sticking their noses into shit that he was involved in, he respected them.
But he also knew how to manipulate them.
The cops eyed Rafe’s hand and the scratches on his arm.
“Get into a bar fight?” He questioned.
“Ah no, got into a little motorcycle accident. Nothing too bad, just fell over, you know how it is,” the blond chuckled.
“And you don’t know who made the call?” The officer raised an eyebrow as he questioned the blond.
“No clue. Maybe some kids in the neighborhood made a prank call or something,” he laughed casually, throwing a polite smile at the man across from him.
The officer chuckled, “yeah we do get a lot of those.” He clicked his pen, flipping his notebook shut. “Well, I think I’ve got all I needed from you. Thank you very much sir. And uh, tell your dad I said hi.”
“Will do,” Rafe grinned, extending a hand to shake the officer’s.
“You just sit tight here, I gotta talk with my partner real quick and then I’ll update you on what’s going on.”
He walked away from the taller man. Rafe leaned against a tree in the park at the middle of the sprawling apartment complexes watching him walk back.
Most of what they discussed, he couldn’t make out and the female cop turned to look at him several times.
The only thing he did hear was “Hey, do you know who this guy is? That’s Rafe Cameron. Yeah, that Cameron.”
Eventually they both walked over and Rafe stood up straight as they approached.
“So, are we all good here?” He asked, charming smile ever present.
“Well,” she said, looking over at her partner. “Not quite.”
~~~~~~
You locked the front door, the only door, dutiful to make sure all of the windows were locked as well.
You knew that Rafe was going to be in jail for a few nights at least, but you wanted to be careful anyways.
Last night had been the best you had slept in months. No fears of wandering hands, or unwanted advances that you had no emotional capacity for.
Slipping into your bed and being able to be safe while you slept was all you had dreamed about for so long.
You curled up in the blanket, unaware of the sound of the front door opening softly as you tried to drift off to sleep.
The click of your bedroom door opening had you jolting awake though. And you were shocked to see a familiar figure leering in the doorway.
“H-h-how the fuck did you get in here?” You whispered in a panic, sitting up and alert in bed.
“Oh sweetheart, you didn’t think I had a spare made?” His tone was ice cold and mocking. You could almost feel the rage radiating off of him.
Rafe took a step into the room, closing and locking the door behind him and your stomach dropped.
“How are you here? You got taken away, I- I saw it,” you didn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe this was happening.
“Ward pulled a few strings, can’t have a stain on the Cameron name,” he spat out bitterly. Rafe stalked further into the room, nearing your bed, a predatory look in his eyes that almost stopped your heart.
Your eyes whipped to the phone on your bedside table and you lurched toward it at the same time that he did.
“Nuh uh. Not this time, sweetheart.” He wrestled with you, hands grabbing at the phone that he wretched from your grasp.
To your horror, he threw your phone against the wall, and you watched it smash to pieces.
Your only lifeline was gone.
You fought back hard against him, but the victor was inevitable. You both knew it from the minute he stepped into the room.
He threw you onto the bed, roughly grabbing at your thin nightwear. He tore your blouse, hands ripping the material as you hit him, trying desperately to stop his assault.
“Stop- stop fucking fighting!” He roared as he kicked your legs open, fumbling with his shorts and your crying intensified.
His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing hard as he forced himself into you. You let out a strained gasp at the feeling, head falling back against the pillow in shock. Rafe pinned you down against the bed by your throat, cock sliding in and out of you at a torturously fast pace.
“You thought you were gonna get rid of me that easy, Y/N?” Rafe jeered as he snapped his hips against yours. The pressure at your throat increased, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Are you really that stupid?”
You shook your head, tears falling past your lashes. Thoughts jumbled inside your head, the cloud of fear and arousal confused you.
“You got what you wanted. You called the cops, and they aren’t gonna help you,” his lip curled in sadistic pleasure as he belittled you.
His free hand found your wrist, pinning it to the bed as he twisted it painfully. You tried to turn your face away from him when he came close, but he grabbed your chin, holding you in place as his lips smothered yours. His tongue pushed its way into your mouth, lips moving against yours against your will.
A sick feeling was growing in your stomach, the sinful combination of pain and pleasure mixing within you.
Every thrust of his cock had you gasping and moaning against his lips. Your legs shook as he took his anger out on you, plunging deeper and harder than ever before.
The grip at your throat was getting harder, constricting your breathing even more. You gasped when he finally pulled his face away.
“You could have ruined everything,” Rafe seethed. Your teary eyes meant nothing to him. Nauseatingly, you realized that this was a punishment because you had dared to try to leave. Dared to say anything.
“I love you so much, Y/N. You know I do. You know I do. And I’ll be dead in the ground before I let you walk out on me.” He was fucking you frantically now, every thrust a cruel promise of his threats.
When he hit that spot that made you see stars again and again, you came undone. You bit your lip, crying out as your orgasm washed over you. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably, shame burning across your face, conflicted by your body’s reaction.
“Fuuck-” Rafe groaned loudly as you squeezed around his cock, and he came hard, pumping his hot load deep into your sore cunt, before he began to move his hips again.
And when his hungry, piercing eyes met yours again, you knew that the night was far from over.
#rafe cameron#outer banks#dark!rafe cameron#obx#dark rafe cameron#no way out#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron noncon#rafe cameron x reader
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The Death Eater Drabbles IV
“This is your second chance, here with me.”
Mattheo, Theo, Enzo, Draco and Blaise
Unspoken feelings can no longer be denied and choices must be made.
You don’t have to read part one, two or three, but it’ll make more sense if you do.
Warning: nope, just some angst and fluff
Personally, I like this one, because there’s so much emotion. This part can be seen as the end of the Death Eater Drabbles or as some kind of season finale, I haven’t decided yet. As always happy readings and feedback is very welcome.
Neither of you would act on it, but you could both feel it in your bones. You loved one another. There was no escaping it. It was in every look, in every silence in every touch. Each morning you would wonder if today was the day you would finally admit the obvious.
What neither of you knew, was that today was your last chance to say it.
“Here you go.” He says holding a warm cup and walking towards you, making you look up from your book. Suddenly you hear the door slam open, but before you can even recognise his voice Harry has already cast a spell that slams the slytherin into the wall. Hermoine follows quickly, binding his hands with one flick of her wand. Harry picks him from the ground holding him by the collar of his shirt. “You better hope Luna’s alive or this will be your last day!” With one harsh move Harry pushes him towards the door. You watch the scene unfold, eyes filled with horror.
Mattheo
Panic shoots through your body and you take a step between Mattheo and your friends. “What’s going on? What are you doing? You can’t take him.” Mattheo’s heart aches at the sound of your voice. This is exactly what he had wanted to avoid. You should’ve never started caring about him. “They have Luna!” Harry yells in your face. Her name rings in your ears. You feel like you can’t breathe as you realize Voldemort has her. “We’re going to try to trade him… for her.” Hermoine’s voice is filled with fear, she obviously doesn’t have much confidence in their plan.
Mattheo can only see your back but he can imagine the painful expression that must be on your face. His own fate worried him as well. Harry’s eyes were set to kill, but honestly death might be the better option since he knew not to expect a warm welcome from his father after getting caught.
Ignoring your still shocked face Ron reached for Mattheo’s arm pulling him towards the door. Harry and Hermoine follow him, leaving you as you process everything that’s happening. Suddenly, you snap out of it and clench your jaw as you reach for your wand. “You’re not taking him.” You tremble, but hold your wand firmly pointed at Harry. They all turn around and are shocked and confused to see you have your wand pointed at them. Except for Mattheo his eyes are filled with pain. I’m not worth the trouble, love. “We need to get Luna back.” Hermoine argues as she takes a step towards you, making you point your wand at her. “We’ll find another way.” She frowns and it’s then that Mattheo decides he cannot let you do this.
He walks towards you and your eyes move to his. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me, love. Think of Luna.” Your eyes get teary as you shake your head. “You won’t be fine. We have to find another way.” With his hands still tied together he reaches for your hand urging you to lower your wand. “This is your second chance, here with me.” You start sobbing and Mattheo closes his eyes hoping it will make the sound go away. With dead, heartbroken eyes Mattheo turns away from you. “We need to go now, we’re wasting precious time.” The only thing he could do for you now was save Luna. Harry, Ron and Hermoine nod, realizing what they just witnessed was pure heartbreak. For a moment you look down at the ground, tears streaming down. This is unfair.
“You must know where they are keeping her.” You whisper looking up at Mattheo’s back. “We could save her and you could stay.” You sound painfully hopeful, but it convinces your friends to consider your suggestion and look at Mattheo. He however turns to you, torn by what you’re asking of him, to betray all he knows. “Malfoy Manor? Someplace in the dark forest?” Hermoine urges, wishing for everyone's sake that he knows and he’ll tell. With dead eyes he looks at you. “There’s a tower near Marunween Lake. That’s where they would take her.” I want my second chance here with you. You rush towards him and grab his face to kiss him, tears still streaming down your cheeks. He chose to save Luna, he chose you.
Theodore
You immediately reach for Theodore’s arm pulling him towards you and away from the door. “What are you doing? He didn’t do anything.” You defend him with worried eyes. Theodore looks over at your figure softly shaking and your hand tightly holding on to the sleeve of his shirt. You were afraid to lose him and he hated to see you like this. Ron steps between you two, forcing you to let go of Theo. “They took Luna, they’ll hurt her.” He argues, putting no thought into Theodore’s fate. Your eyes go wide as you try to remember the last time you saw Luna. “We hope to get Luna back if we give them Nott.” With your thoughts still circling around Luna, Harry moves Theodore away from you and towards the door.
“No. You can’t do this.” You panic when you realize they’re still planning on taking Theodore. Hermoine notices how Theo closes his eyes at the sound of your begging. Harry walks over to you slightly frustrated. “He’s one of them. He’ll be fine and if not, one less death eater to worry about.” His words break your heart. “No-“ You start, but Theo turns towards you. “I am one of them, (y/n). Forget about me. You were never supposed to care in the first place.” It’s like all air leaves the room and it takes every bit of strength for you to breathe and speak. “But I do care!” Your loud voice startles everyone. “We’ll save Luna, just not by sacrificing you.” Slowly your friends catch on about what’s been going on between you two. “This is your second chance, Theo, here with me. You can still get out.”
Stop caring, (y/n), I beg you. Caring hurts. Theodore shakes his head and forces his tortured eyes to look away from you. There is nothing for me here. When you notice him turn away from you, desperation takes over and you grab his shirt pulling him towards you. You crash your lips on his with determination. “We’ll find another way to save Luna, I need you to stay.” Your hands cling to his shirt afraid to let go. Theo just stares at you. He has no words for you. “How?” Hermoine suddenly asks. “How can we save Luna?” Your eyes flicker around the room as you try to come up with something. “I think I know where they would take her.” Theodore’s words remove the heavy air from the room as hope fills everyone's eyes.
Theodore looks at you slowly allowing himself to believe in that second chance you were talking about. A chance with you. “The Marunween Lake tower.” His eyes don’t leave yours. “We’ll save her.” You whisper with determination, still clinging to Theodore. He nods and lets his head rest on yours. We’ll figure it out and I won’t leave.
Enzo
“Don’t.” You say with a stern voice as you take a step to defend Enzo. “Whatever’s going on he has nothing to do with it.” Your firm words startle everyone, but Hermoine is the first to shake it. “We need to save Luna. We need him so we can get her back.” Your eyes widen as it dawns on you. “How? What happened? Where is she?” Enzo wishes he could hold you and comfort you, but instead he’s tied up and should probably be more concerned about what will happen to him. Voldemort barely trusted him before, now he was most likely done for it.
Hermoine understands that you had a million questions, but bluntly pushes you aside to reach Enzo. There was simply no time to be wasted with Luna’s life on the line. “Enzo and I deserve a say in this. Trading him is a shitty plan and you can’t just throw him back out there.” The trio is getting a bit annoyed with you and your concern for their enemy. When Hermoine and Harry continue to guide Enzo towards the door you realize that they won’t listen so you make a drastic move. You point your wand at Ron, who was still standing near you.
“Enzo’s staying.” You say, again your stern voice is back. Hermoine and Harry go pale as they see a horrified Ron with your wand pointed at his face. Enzo panics, he really doesn’t want you to do anything stupid for his sake. “(Y/n), (y/n), don’t do that. Okay, don’t worry. I’ll be alright. I always find a way out of trouble.” Harry lets him walk towards you and as you wrap your arms around Enzo. “You deserve a second chance. You’re not a death eater Enzo.” You squeeze him and he allows himself to enjoy your warmth one last time. “I’ll get my second chance. Now you have to think about Luna.”
Harry, Ron and Hermoine are surprised that Enzo is the one talking reason and calming you. Clearly something had been going on between you two. When Enzo pulls away silent tears start to make their way down and Enzo feels his heart squeeze like it's been hit by a cruciatus curse. “This is your second chance… here with me.” Enzo’s eyes get watery as he presses a soft kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be fine and I’ll be back. In the meantime just don’t cook and cut your finger again.” He tries to make you smile, but it only lasts for a second and then the tears are back. So, Enzo bites his tongue and turns away, nodding at Harry that it's time to go.
Suddenly, Hermoine’s voice breaks the darkening sadness with a spark of light. “Look Enzo, maybe you can help us save Luna… Do you have any idea where they would keep her?” Enzo frowns, but after a moment he slowly nods. “I’m going to need a map, but I might have an idea.” You gasp as you finally feel like you can breathe again. You undo Hermoine’s spell binding Enzo’s hands and he immediately pulls you into a hug. “We’re going to save Luna and you’re going to stay with me.” You whisper with your head on his chest. Enzo nudges his noses against you demanding you look up and the moment you do his lips are on yours. Now that I have you in my arms I’m not letting you go. Ever.
Draco
“This is insane.” You say as your eyes fix on Draco’s frightened face. “What are you on about? We need to help Luna.” Ron’s agitated voice startles you for a moment and then you finally realize it. “They have Luna?” You whisper and Harry nods with a pained expression, clearly worried about her. Hermoine points her wand at Draco and tilts her head towards the door, but as soon as Draco takes a step towards the door you panic. “No, you can’t just trade him.” You protest, not concerned about what the trio might think of you. Draco’s frightening eyes turn soft. Oh, please (y/n). Go back to thinking of me as the villain. Don’t make things weird with your silly feelings.
“(Y/n)? It’s Malfoy. Why are we even debating this. We need to save Luna.” Harry can’t wrap his head around your concern for Draco. You look at Draco who shakes his head at the sadness in your eyes. “Let me go back to being a death eater.” You feel tears welling up. “I know you don’t want to. I know that if you had a choice you would stay.” Draco clenches his jaw. “If I had a choice I-“ He stops himself from confessing how much he cares about you and how badly he wants to stay with you. It wouldn’t do any good, so he turns cold. “I don’t have a choice. And you should be ashamed of yourself for caring about someone like me.” His icy voice makes the whole room feel cold, but you see through him and shake the coldness. “But I’m not.” You walk up to him and kiss him. With your hand still on the back of his head you pull away and look over at Harry. “You can’t trade Draco. You need to come up with another plan.” Harry can’t believe what he’s hearing and at the same time he knows that arguing with you is pointless.
Draco's gaze is still fixed on you, still not fully believing you just kissed him. “Okay.” Hermoine breathes, really confused and also happy for you, still very confused. “Different plan. Any suggestions?” Ron looks at Hermoine with raised eyebrows, his brain just completely shut down after seeing you kiss Malfoy. “I might have an idea.” Draco whispers, not very excited to betray Voldemort and his family, but also not wanting you to lose Luna. “I think I might know where Voldemort is keeping his prisoners. We could try and get her out.” Harry, Ron and Hermoine exchange debating looks as you stare at Draco with loving eyes. You’re not a villain.
Blaise
Watching Blaise be slammed into the wall and dragged away from hurt you more than you could’ve ever imagined. A single tear rolls over your cheek as you turn to Harry. “Please, don’t do this. A life among death eaters isn’t a life for him. You have to let him stay.” The three friends stare at you in shock, not considering sympathizing with Blaise. He on the other hand can’t help but feel himself fall in love with you more as he watches a second tear roll over your pretty face. “It doesn’t matter, (y/n).” Blaise speaks up and your eyes are almost afraid to meet him. “I got more than I deserved, spending these few weeks with you. But now you should think of your friend, Luna.” As the trio slowly starts to think about Blaise’s fate, you finally realize Luna’s life is in danger.
Blocking out all feelings of humanity for Blaise, Harry grabs his arm to guide him towards the door. Ron and Hermoine follow, starting to feel bad about this whole situation as they leave you behind. “Blaise, help us save Luna and stay with me.” Your voice trembles and is filled with desperation. You friends turn to look at you, but Blaise remains with his back turned towards you. He clenches his jaw and you walk past him to face him. “Stop pretending that you don’t care. I know you. This is your second chance, here with me, don’t let it pass by. Help us save Luna.” He avoids your eyes, but your words sink deep within him. You reach for his tied up hands and wrap yours around his. “Even if I wanted to help, there’s nothing I can do.” Blaise whispers, finally able to look at you.
Starting to sympathise and seeing possibilities, Harry speaks up. “For starters you could tell us where they might be keeping Luna and how we get in.” Blaise closes his eyes as his heart battles over what to do. “You’ll get to stay with (y/n).” Hermoine adds, trying to convince Blaise. He opens his eyes, immediately locking his eyes with you. “I’ll help. I’m pretty sure I know where they’re keeping Luna.” Your smile radiates happiness and Blaise can’t help but smile in return as the enormous weight on his shoulders drops. You can no longer contain your love for him and sling your arm around him, kissing him with indescribable passion. Ron quirks an eyebrow at your joy and Hermoine even lets out a chuckle.
#slytherin#slytherin boys#theodore nott#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott x reader#enzo berkshire#enzo berkshire imagine#enzo berkshire x reader#blaise zabini#blaise zabini imagine#blaise zabini x reader#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle#papercorgiworldwritings
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Billy Russo x reader x Matt Murdock x Frank Castle
Summary: A night out with the boys turned into something you never expected.
Notes: I was asked by a lovely anon to make a fic with Frank and Matt. Bonus if I could throw in Billy. Well, ask and you shall receive. It's the first time I've tried writing a foursome. A lot of poles, holes and peeps to keep track off. Hope i succeeded.
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Warnings: Oh, where do i begin? SMUT! 18+. Exhibitionism/voyerism, fingering (f receiving, both vaginal and anal), handjobs, grinding, unprotected sex (vaginal and anal. Remember lube and wrap up irl, folks), double penetration, gay/bi sex. This is a lot, y'all.
Words: 1.5 K
It was one of those evenings that you never want to end. Scattered across the table is empty beer and wine bottles, another few half drunk. Frank is sitting in the armchair in Matt’s apartment, Matt casually situated on his lap and peppering Frank's neck with soft kisses as you and Billy were sitting on the couch. It had started as a few friends having dinner, now turned into you all being very tipsy as the evening slowly turns into night.
As the night progressed, you found it harder and harder to keep your eyes of Frank and Matt, their touches growing bolder. The conversation had been rather normal, considering the lives you all lived, although a bit slurred by the amount of alcohol. For a brief moment, you wonder if you’ve ever seen the guys this intoxicated before or if Billy has even noticed the show unfolding right across from the two of you.
You are not even sure Frank and Matt are aware of what they are doing. First it was just soft touches, then kisses peppered onto each other's skin, which was enough to catch your attention. But the more they drank, the bolder they became. They seem like they don’t know what their actions are doing to you.
You can't tear your eyes away as Frank sucks gently on Matt’s neck, the look of pleasure on Matt’s face as Frank gives him yet another love bite. The alcohol seemed to make Matt lose his inhibitions, the blush on his cheeks only caused by the wine and not by the position he’s in.
You suddenly feel Billy shift beside you. Glancing down, you can’t help but notice bulge in his pants. He does nothing to hide it, his eyes fixed on Frank and Matt. You would lie if you said you’d never thought of Billy in a sexual way, but now as you glance between his legs, all you can think about is how he was like in bed.
You try to dismiss the thoughts as a mere result of too many beers, but you know it’s a lie. Eyes again on Frank and Matt, unable to tear your gaze away from Frank’s fingers. Slowly the fingers run up Matt’s thigh, just barely touching his bulge before sliding back down. A pattern he repeats and each time Frank’s fingers graze Matt’s bulge, he bites his lip.
The odd thing is how casual the men are. Just sitting there with the conversation still flowing lightly as if all three of them aren’t hard.
Without even realizing it, you had moved your hand to Billy’s thigh. When did you move it? Whether you’re affected by the show before you, the wine or simply just the intoxicating scent of Billy, you don’t know, but you slide your hand up higher. Billy seems to lean into your touch, his breathing now strained.
At this point you’re so turned on you need a release for the ache between your legs. You let your hand wander from Billy’s thigh down between his legs, cupping his cock through the denim. He responds with a sharp intake, his eyes begging you not to stop.
Unable to hold back any longer, Billy leans forward and claim your lips in a kiss. Soft at first, but soon turns heated as his tongue slip into your mouth.
You melt into the kiss, letting your eyes gaze at Frank and Matt one more time before closing your eyes. They were lost in each other, all conversation now forgotten. Consumes by lust, Billy pulls you onto his lap, kissing you more passionately by the minute. You moan softly when Billy’s hands start roaming your body, cupping your breasts. His thumb rubs gently circles on your sensitive buds, making you shiver.
As Billy’s mouth moves to your neck, sucking at your sensitive skin, your eyes wander to Frank and Matt. While you were lost in Billy’s touch, Matt moved on top of Frank, both of them naked from the waist up. Matt’s soft moans fills the air as his hips roll against Frank, a soft ‘fuck Red’ spoken in passion.
Between kisses, Billy pulls your t-shirt over your head, exposing your soft skin to him. When his mouth latch onto your nipple, his name falls from your lips in a soft whisper.
One hand slide between your bodies, making your shiver as his fingers touch you right where you need him the most, your panties already damp. Your soft moans now attract the attention from Frank and Matt, both of them stopping and looking at you two now.
Frank quickly opens Matt’s pants and his own, releasing both their cocks. Holding them both in his big hand, they watch you and Billy as he pumps them slowly. They look as Billy’s fingers hike up your skirt, pulling your panties to the side and make you gasp, when his fingers find your aching clit.
Frank and Matt can’t tear their eyes of you, seeing the way your back arch when Billy pushes his fingers inside you, his mouth capturing your nipple again. No inhibitions left, you let out a big moan, letting them all know how good Billy makes you feel.
Frank let’s go of Matt as he slips from Franks lap. Matt kneels, pulling Franks pants all the way off, before removing his own. With their eyes glued to you and Billy, their kisses turn heated as they stroke each other, enjoying the show.
Your hand finds its way into Billys pants, palming his hard cock. Pulling your hand out, you unzip his pants, allowing you to better stroke him. Billy groans when your hands wrap around his length, his own hands going down to his waistband, pulling his pants further down.
You pull your skirt up higher, exposing your ass to Frank and Matt as you lift yourself up before slowly lowering yourself onto Billy’s hard cock.
Matt looks at Frank, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. Frank just gives a soft smirk, disappearing for a second, only to return with some lube.
Your eyes spring open when you feel a finger softly rubbing your other entrance. Looking over your shoulder, you see Matt smile back at you as his finger tease your opening. Frank is kissing Matt’s neck, looking into your eyes. They give you the opportunity to say no. But you don’t. You had never had an experience like this and who knew if it would ever happen again? So you urge Matt on with a soft moan, begging him not to stop.
His finger slips in, causing you to whimper at the new sensation. His finger slowly works you open as you ride Billy’s cock, feeling an ecstasy you’ve never felt before.
Matt adds another finger as Frank wraps his hand around Matt’s cock, pumping it as Matt gets you ready. Frank is rock hard against Matt’s ass, the tip leaking at the sight before him.
As Matt slips his fingers from your ass, he feels Frank’s fingers at his own, groaning as he places the tip of his cock against your tight entrance. Gently, he pushes into you, marveling in the feeling of Billy’s cock, only your thin walls separating them.
You whimper at the sensation of two cocks filling you, both of them pushing you closer to the edge. Frank, not wanting to be left out, pushes Matt’s legs apart, watching as both Matt and Billy’s cocks thrust into you.
Frank push into Matt, inch by inch, feeling how Matt clench around him. He wasn’t gonna last long, the sight and noises from the others already threatening to push him over the edge. Frank stills, just for a moment, to join in the pace with the rest of you and then start thrusting into Matt.
Slowly, as you all find the rhythm, the pace quickens, bringing you all closer to a much-needed release. One by one you come. First Billy, filling you to the brim with his cum as he gazes deeply into your eyes. The feeling of Billy falling apart for you, makes you come with a soft moan, his name falling from your lips.
When you come, you clench around Matt’s cock, the sensation triggering Matt to come hard and that in turn makes Frank come, the sound of Matt’s ecstasy too much for him.
The air is filled with soft pants as you all come down from your highs, none of you moving as your bodies still shiver in the aftershocks of your shared pleasure.
Slowly, you start to detach from each other, all of the men very soft with you, making sure you’re okay. The atmosphere in the room is a bit awkward, none of you looking the others in the eyes. That’s until Billy chuckles, breaking the tension with a simple question.
“Same time next week?”
You all smile, not sure if you’ll ever do it again, but... never say never.
tagging: @e-dubbc11 @itwasthereaminuteago @theradioactivespidergwen @k-marzolf @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @murdock-and-the-sea @chvoswxtch @lucy-sky @mattmurdocksscars @saintmurd0ck @idaofinfinity @fluffyprettykitty @kayhi808 @danzer8705 @sio-ina-bottle @darlingshane @anna-hawk @feelmyskinonyourskin @chellestrash @chelseasdagger @loveroftoomanyfandoms @boliv-jenta
#billy russo x reader#matt murdock x reader#frank castle x reader#matt murdock x frank castle#billy russo fanfiction#matt murdock fanfiction#frank castle fanfiction#billy russo#matt murdock#frank castle
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Untouchable - Five Hargreeves
You can find the 2 request here: anonymous 1, anonymous 2.
Resume: The villain falls in love with the girl.
Trope: “ Who did this to you?” “Touch her and you are dead.” “i´ll find you in every lifetime”
Couple: Five Hargreeves /Fem!Reader.
Warnings: A LOT OF ANGST, swearing, mention of death, blood, fight between the Hargreeves and the Sparrows,a little enemies to lovers in the end, fluff, SMUT, degrading talk.
Word count: 15k.
A/N: Spoiler from season 3.
OMG THIS IS HUGE JAHHSHDAHSDJAHDHND it turned out bigger than i expected.
Because I have a lot of requests in my box, I compile orders that are similar and put together, but I took care to added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down.
We not tolerate any pedophilia here!! I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter, MHA and others fandoms.
English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.
Requests are OPEN. Love you ❤️
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Honor comes from the Latin honoris. Indicating a person who lives with honesty and probity, basing their way of life on the dictates of morality. A principle that leads someone to have a righteous, virtuous conduct, which allows to enjoy a good reputation in society.
Five Hargreeves thought of himself as a callous man with no honor and, somehow, able to drown out the voice of morality in his head. He was very knowledgeable about literature and history, and his physics and math skills could surpass Tesla's, but philosophy for him was a bunch of weak principles and dictated by people who didn't really know the world, who didn't pass 1% of what he passed by, who did not see what he saw. Not even Socrates, Plato or Machiavelli had known the worst of humanity like him, the truth about realities. A big part of his existence came down to surviving, fighting, winning, crushing everything that threatened his life.
His cynical outlook on life led him to pragmatism, and he knows that if he wants something done, he will have to do it himself.
His actions were more about getting things done than about displaying a display of rebellion or power. However, Five was not afraid of pain or even killing. He didn't mind being the author of the worst massacres if it meant going back to his family.
Five Hargreeves don't give a damn about being the villain of the story. He did what had to be done.
It was why, when The Handle ordered him to carry out the death sentence of a Duke and Duchess in 1730, Five did not question or hesitate.
Even though in the back of his mind, in a very small part of his brain, the question arose as to why people from such an old and outdated date, he did nothing about it, much less pulled the thread from the ball of yarn that would trigger a series of questions in a row. His job was not to ask why, to investigate step by step, to go through file by file. Five wasn't on The Commission to know the reason for each death, he was on the execution.
So he went, letting the suitcase unfold before his eyes an ancient era, from a faraway time, introducing him to carriages, flowing dresses, gigantic balls. And, as much as some people considered that era poetic, Five never liked lack of practicality.
So he killed the couple as quickly as possible, determined to escape from the need to spend more hours in that old-fashioned place.
It was like any other murder he had committed over the years on The Commission; he came, killed, and left. No looking back, no questions, no hesitation. Drowning in the deepest wave any second feelings that might have submerged, ensuring his emotions were chained very well at the bottom of the ocean.
It was easy, normal, routine. He was once again the villain, and could sleep very well the night with that.
But something began to change gradually in the atmosphere, in the air.
On some mornings, it was as if Five's hands were tingling for no apparent reason, eager to catch up something he had no idea what it was. On some afternoons, his heart vibrated in his chest, like a ground being punished by an earthquake, shaking his balanced state of mind. And, on some dawns, Five's mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert, thirsty for something that not even the coldest water could appease.
Wherever he was the air stayed suddenly thin, stuffy. And sometimes, in the middle of a mission, the wind seemed to blow in only one direction, hitting Hargreeves' back as if pushing him to go in a path. At those moments, his heart returned fluttered in his chest, as if he knew that one north was calling him and was that where he needed to go.
Everything inside Hargreeves began to be affected by strange reactions, spurred by banal, mundane events.
An in a few seconds, if Five stood completely still, silencing his thoughts and hollowing out any inner voices, he could hear something in the wind calling for him. Small seconds that swept away any balance that one day he ever had.
Five Hargreeves was going through a peripeteia, and he had no idea what was causing it.
What hell is going on?
It was wen, on an afternoon where the sun hid with shame among the dark gray clouds, The Handler gave him another murder.
In 1750.
His soul shuddered inside him in that second, echoing through his bones, keeping Five's egyptian green eyes fixed on the paper in his hands, unable to look away from the bold numbers that indicated the date of his next mission.
The icy breeze ruffled his dark hair, but he didn't move. There seemed to be something important and unspoken in the air, and this time, the voice calling his name on the wind grew softly louder. Now, it didn't seem to come from the back of his mind anymore, but from a place far away.
Five looked around, in an instinctive movement in the pathetic and vain attempt to find the source of that voice.
Nothing. As always.
“Five.” The Handler snapped her fingers in front of his face “May I have your precious attention?" The irony didn't go unnoticed, but his eyes flickered to hers. “As I was saying, the time and place of this mission is strictly important. Viscount Sebastian needs to be killed in his office at midnight, in the middle of his daughter's debut ball, not a minute less and nowhere else.”
Hargreeves gave a nod. Not because he had devoted all of his attention to her, just because he wanted her to stop talking. Much of his concentration was still on the way his body and the hemisphere around him behaved. Mission times and places were standard, no need to focus on this nonsense and listen to someone reiterate the rules as if Five were a child.
He was 26 years old, a child was the last thing he was.
Something seemed to be happening, occult like a current that rattles under the sea. And the knowledge that he couldn't see the bottom of the ocean unnerved every cell in his body. Hargreeves couldn't stand things he couldn't perceive, understand how it works, take it apart and put it back together again.
This time, when Five returned to the eighteenth century, with 20 years having passed in that time after his visit and only 2 weeks for him, what hit him first was not the impracticality, the carriages, the big dresses. But the wind. Strong, cold, bringing with it the voice who called his name for weeks, now loud and clear.
The dark strands of his body prickled, and he could feel his heartbeat in his throat. Suddenly, anxiety snaked through his body like venom, stirring every fiber in his body, pumping something into his veins that made his blood heat like lava. An emotion he couldn't name what it was.
In the last mission, Five had a string of complaints about the way the black waistcoat squeezed the white linen shirt over his abdomen, and how heavy the straight-cut coat felt heavy under his shoulders. But in this time, he wasn't bothered with the clothes he had to wear so as not to attract attention and go unnoticed.
Now, with his heart pounding in his chest, his throat dry and the constant feeling that he had to be somewhere urgently, his clothes were the last things on his mind.
It was an emotion that squeezed the pit of his stomach, made his hands itch and his body shot with an adrenaline that screamed that he needed to move. That he had a more important place to be. All the sensations he'd felt leisurely over the weeks now came back with absurd force, as if he were getting close to the source of it all.
What was happening?
The moon in that far away era shone sovereignly in the sky, blessing the houses, carriages and large mansions with cascades of distilled light in the purest color of silver.
Las time, the feeling that came over Five was to get out of there as quickly as possible. But now, looking around in search of the source of the voice calling him in the wind, the last thing on his mind was leaving.
His watch still read eight o'clock, but the sensation was like he was already late.
The most practical plan was to stay hidden somewhere near the mansion where the ball was being held. Avoiding crowds, witnesses, minimizing risk and being a shadow. As always did. The most rational thing to do was to stay away from that place at all costs, until the inevitable arrived and he was forced to enter through one of the windows.
He should have done it. But he didn't.
Just as a sailor follows a siren's song on the high seas, Five followed that voice on the wind. His brain screamed for him to seek a hiding place, but his soul rebelled with an absurd ferocity, ricocheting tremors through all his bones and ordering his legs to follow a path his conscious did not know. His whole mind was confused, but his soul carried a certainty that no other living being had ever had in they life.
With no other option, stunned by the sensations in his own body, he found himself walking towards the front door of the only place he was supposed to avoid until midnight.
If Five Hargreeves had to describe what was happening to his five senses, he would say that his vision was mildly blurred, as if were searching for focus. The smell was of climax and the ambient sounds were drowned out by his own heartbeat. It was like being there in flesh and blood, but not in soul.
He didn't focus on the details of the world around him, but he knew when he finished climbing the front steps. He couldn't focus on the conversation around him, but he knew that a few people were walking beside him.
His mind saw everything, but processed nothing.
It was a mistake not to be 100% aware of the environment, not to study each individual's body language, not to constantly calculate the odds of a move going wrong. But... it was as if something prevented him from emerging to the surface.
Five didn't respond when the butler greeted him at the entrance to the great hall, but looked around as the wind from outside hit his back and his name rang in his ears once more.
It was a female voice. Now he could tell.
Going deeper into the hall, the melody of the orchestra invaded his ears while thousands of people, talking, dancing and drinking, took his view. Everything resembled a blur on a painting, the sounds were still muffled as if Five were at the bottom of the sea, and the smell transitioned between flowers, feminine perfume and poetry.
Five Hargreeves was a pragmatic, cynical and austere man. Everything that made up his being was based on rationality, laws of physics and mathematical concepts, he wasn't oscillated by tender things and he certainly wasn't carried away by things of the heart or soul.
He always followed what rationality dictated. Until now.
Until now.
Like a violin string that ruptured, Hargreeves was gripped by the feeling that something very important was about to happen.
Something that would not only change his existence forever, but change him for eternity. This fact stared him at back, bold, warm and as inevitable as the setting sun. And very hair on his body stood on end at once while everything inside him pulsed with a brutality that could shake his bones.
Now, the sound of the orchestra was drowned out by the soundtrack of his life, which was coming closer to apex by the second. It was like being submerged in a slow-motion, in a moment that preceded an momentous event.
As magnets are pulled one by the other in an impassable way, his eyes, as if they already knew where to look, were drawn to a figure among the others who danced in the middle of the hall.
You.
Was like an explosion. Loud and brutal. He suddenly submerged from the bottom of the sea, bewildered, desperate, out of breath. The stupor released itself all at once, bringing his mind back to the reality. Instantaneously, nothing was blurred anymore, sounds weren't muffled, and he abruptly returned to his conscious state.
But his soul was not so lucky.
Like being whipped by live eels, his heart pounded in his chest with such fury that he leaned over forward millimeters, his throat was drier than the Egyptian desert and now his hands itched in a hellish, bestial, uncontrollable way.
Five Hargreeves has released himself from a wave of numbness only to be hit by a tsunami of sensation.
His eyes were seeing everything clearly now, but he couldn't take his attention away from the female figure dancing in the middle of the room, her bouffant gown swirling gracefully across the floor as if deities were blowing the fabrics.
There were a lot of people around him, in front of him, behind him, but Five Hargreeves only had eyes for you.
In an insane, magical and inexplicable logic, Five had the purest certainty that it was your voice that called him in the wind, that was by the desire to touch your skin that his hands itched.
Five would never be able to explain it to other people, but at that moment, there was nothing more concrete on Earth, in physics and science, than the certainty that was because of you that his soul felt, so many times, that he should be somewhere else.
Like the indubitability that you need oxygen to breathe, touching your skin has become just as indispensable. It was a matter of needing, something that now not only itched his hands, but corroded the bones in his fingers.
There was no reason for all those absurd feelings, Five had never even seen you before. But rationality had no space in that moment.
There, in that rift between the past, future and parallel realities, there was no discernment, lucidity, judgment. It was a hideaway free of any cohesiveness, with the smell of romance, an atmosphere full of emotion, passion and poetry. A distant era that allowed, for the first time in many years, that the soul of Five Hargreeves to take control of his body.
He moved, one step after another, his focus petrified on you. With each centimeter closer to your body, the more he felt able to breathe again, relieving the brutal anxiety that had been beating him for weeks, giving a truce to the martyrdom that lacerate him day after day without even him even knowing why.
You had finished your dance, clapping along with the other guests for the orchestra that started the new melody, this time more lyrical.
Your hair, the tone of which seemed to be the personification of poetry, of art, was tied in a bun that allowed a few strands to fall under your neck, the skin of your bust was speckled with a few little droplets of sweat, the perfect amount to glisten under the yellowish light of the candles in the chandelier, making a divine, almost celestial aurora radiate from you. The dark blue gown referred back to the night sky in its greatest splendor, highlight your full breasts at the straight neckline and opening at the hips in a skirt that preached the illusion of you being floating across the hall. Your lips were a red that Five had never seen in his life. A red that seemed to exist only to serve you, enhancing the color of your eyes.
You were like a mirage. An oasis in the farthest desert. One of those paintings that people come from all over the world to see in person, capable of sweeping, taking they breath away, making they cry for having to live with the burden of never having the possibility of knowing you in life.
The romantic period was going on in that century, society was tired of trends in intellectual thinking, rationalization, industrialization and the veneration of science. People longed for an escape into emotionally charged images and fantastical fiction in the visual arts and literature. And Five Hargreeves was certain that you were one of the greatest inspirations of this movement.
It was so clear that you were the influence of John Waterhouse's paintings, sweeping the hearts of artists and illuminating poets. Lord Byron was thinking of you when he created the short lyric poem “She Walks in Beauty”, completely fascinated by you.
That thought shuddered Five's soul even more. And an acidic emotion rose in his throat and burned his eyes. In his chest was injected the feeling that he was facing one of the greatest beauties in history, the person the poems and paintings were based on, the inspiration for so many names of literature and art that would become renowned.
There, in front of him, was more than a person. It was a piece of history, art, literature, a beauty that was immortalized and that would be admired even after centuries.
Five had already gone to different times in the past, but nothing touched his soul as much as now. As much as you.
Five Hargreeves went in your direction like a sailor following a siren's song across the seven seas.
You were relatively distracted when he got to you. Lungs catching breath from the last dance, body preparing for the next, your mind was on that ballroom but your heart was far away.
It was universally true that girls your age should revel in balls like this one. Full of potential husbands, dancing and music, governed by a perfect night for falling in love.
You came to like it in the past, but now, after so many similar events, everything didn't have the same magic anymore.
You've heard enough stories - filled with adrenaline, pirate ships and dangerous waters - to crave adventure in your life.
It was also noticed that you spent too much time with your books, and that the consequence of spending so many hours in the fictional world brought you very high standards for men and love. The whispers through the darkened streets were that you would end up a spinster. Since you took no interest in any gentleman who courted your hand.
In your defense, it wasn't your fault. The men in your reality were terribly...tasteless.
That was until he showed up.
You don't know where he emerged, or what lineage he was from, much less his name.
But he came towards you like that was more important than breathing. In a virile, perfect posture. As if he knew all the secrets of the world and was able to show you them.
One of the first things you noticed were the eyes. The room was partially dark, lit only by the flickering candles in the candelabra, but the darkness only made his eyes clearer. Intense greens. Of such a pure emerald tone that it shone like a mystical cat, calling you to sink in his greenish sea.
The stranger had hair as black as midnight, which fell softly and romantically over a face with firm features; jaw as sharp as a razor and a nose full of masculine personality. Although was well dressed, all his clothes, with the exception of the white linen shirt, were as dark as the strands of his hair, something unusual among the sophisticated gentlemen who were invited.
Looking at that gorgeous face, you were left speechless.
The deities had been generous to this man, gifting him with bold, aristocratic features and iris as green as Egypt's most precious jewels. The mystery and secrets contained within in those eyes were a fascinating contrast.
“Can I have this dance?” Just a sentence.
He didn't introduce himself, he didn't say who he was. He just dropped that sentence as if it was the only thing he really cared to say.
The gravity of his words made your heart flutter. What a beautiful voice that man had. With a provocative huskiness, a touch of superb, as if he were an oracle at his peak in ancient Greece.
The sound seemed to seep into your body and run through you like warm honey.
The truth was, you had reserved the dance for another gentleman, but in that second, you couldn't care less.
“Of course, milord.” That's what you said, accepting the hand he extended to you.
Never taking his eyes off yours, an unfamiliar sensation washed over your mortal body and engulfed everyone around you.
You wondered if it was just the stuff of your imagination or if he too felt the electricity whip through his body as he positioned you closer to dance.
Single women weren't allowed to touch men's hands if you weren't wearing gloves, and that rule had never bothered you. Until now.
Until be affected by an insane, visceral desire to feel that man's skin. Of experiencing the heat radiating from his hand against yours, of feeling those white fingers, slender and pale, holding your denude skin. You've never been touched by a man without a layer of clothing intervening. No brushing of elbows, no bumped of fingers, no errant caresses.
And you wondered what it was about that man that made you aware of this deprivation.
That stranger radiated secrets in an inexplicable but extremely palpable way in the air and you wanted to feel the touch of mystery on your skin more than you wanted to breathe. A will as strong as fear, as intense as hunger.
Your soul screamed in frustration because of the dress when his hand cupped your cover waist. In a touch so firm it only existed in the romance novels you read. Your heart raced, your breath disappeared, and you didn't notice when you rested your hand on his shoulder and your feet began to follow the rhythm of the waltz.
It was pathetic the intensity of your emotions for a man you had just met and didn't even know his name.
But, it was like you'd found something didn't even know you'd lost.
Well… if it was the lack of knowledge of his name that was making things a little difficult…
“Aren't you going to tell me your name? Mine is Y/n”
Your voice, sweet as molasses, velvety as suede, made the hairs on the back of Five's neck stand on end. He recognized the timbre now, he had already heard you calling for him in the wind, but nothing surpassed hearing you from inches away.
This was one of those moments where, if you asked Five why he was doing this, he couldn't answer. He couldn't find any logical answers to his actions, reactions, thoughts. But, once again, this rift in space and time was an environment free of rationality. He didn't need this here. He felt he didn't need to. Not when had you in his arms.
A name…
Five Hargreeves was the name of a villain. Someone who would carry on his shoulders to the grave the weight of the thousands of souls he killed. Someone whose hands were marked, eternally, with thick, hot blood. A proof that his destiny was traced directly to hell.
His name was the personification of a freak created to be a hero, an orphan in the apocalypse, a man who belonged nowhere in the timeline, someone without family for many decades.
He looked at the hands that held you. The hands of a serial killer. And then he looked at you, full of beauty, life, happiness and innocence. It was like committing a crime against nature to hold something so pure in such infamous, disgraced, death-scarred hands.
And something inside he twisted with something like pain…disgust, for the fist time.
His soul didn't want to hold you in the hands of Five Hargreeves.
Five Hargreeves was the villain. And he didn't want to be that man right there.
His mouth, which looked so beautiful yet so dangerous, softly approached the foot of your ear, while the body of you two continued to follow the steps of the waltz. "We don't need names here."
A current of electricity slammed into your body like a whiplash from a live eel, raising goose bumps on parts of your skin you didn't even know you had.
My goodness, it was a sin for a single man to have that much charm.
Sensible young women would have turned away at once. Practical girls who appreciated rationality, sincerity and transparency, who had no estimate for games, mystery and sensuality, would have rolled their eyes.
But you were not sensible, practical or appreciative of the good customs of the epoch.
You were romantic, hungry for a good charade, adventure. And that man seemed to be built by those two things.
The world was just a shapeless blur, other people were no more than wandering silhouettes, and the atmosphere was enraptured by the flickering orange light of the candles in the candelabra.
The smell was of poetry, romance and freedom, which intoxicated the brain and alcoholize any common sense. Was like a magical place in the middle of space and time, a rift that allowed just being. Time passed slowly, as if dancing together with you two.
‘One second can change many things...’
Just as Five could hear his father's voice saying 'I told you so' during his years in the apocalypse, he could hear his words now.
‘you can crumble empires, win battles...’
Five swirled you around before pulling you into his arms once more, his heart pounding with each passing moment.
Neither of you realized it, but every second you spent together, every step, more messed up the timeline.
You smiled full of romance and magic as he leaned you back, his hand firm on your spine, bringing you to the surface and returning to dance around the hall with the waltz that dandle yours bodies.
‘you can fall in love.’
With every strong step the two of you took on the floor, in an apocalypse dance, realities were immediately misaligned. With each spin, lines of events were exploded into other universes. With each look shared, with each smile, with each heartbeat full of romance, people were erased, born, disappeared.
An apocalypse was brewing somewhere because of his hands on your body.
A mystical waltz that brought the ascension of chaos in other timelines.
Neither of you two knew about it. But if Five knew, he wouldn't keep his hands off you anyway. Five Hargreeves was the villain in many realities. And he would accept the burden of being in a few more if it meant having you in his arms.
In an inexplicable and irrational way, what was happening now had more importance than everything he had ever lived and would live through in his entire life.
"You dance very well." You praised him, and his hands on you tighten a little more.
"No more than you". Then he gave that smile.
The half smile that lifted only one corner of his mouth. Malicious, sagacious, sphinx. Who promised to know all the mysteries of the world and show you all the sins of life.
What man was that?
So full of charm, sensuality, beauty. He seemed out of this world and you found yourself wishing that time would freeze in that moment, that you could hold onto your chest and live in that dance for the rest of your life.
There was something different in the air. A soul-deep feeling that whispered that your life would never be the same again.
Not after this man.
“It is not difficult to find women who dance.” You joked. "You've certainly danced with others to know."
Yes, with his mother and Allison.
But even if he had been dancing with all the women in the world, they would have disappeared in that moment.
No memories memory experiences with other women could stand out at that moment.
"If I danced, they all disappeared the moment I waltzed with you." He realized he might have said the right thing, because he could see the breath go out of your lungs and cheekbones flush deliciously.
God in heaven… this girl was breathtakingly beautiful.
Five led you around the hall masterfully, committing your features to his mind like the tattoo on his wrist. Permanently, eternally.
Suddenly, he was struck down by the insane desire to know more about you. To hear more of your voice, to taste the way the words flowed from your lips like the purest honey.
You were like a drug, an obsession. An addiction that had stuck with him since the first time he came into that century, since he breathed the same air as you, since he coexisted under the same night sky as you. There was insane logic in the fact that his soul felt your presence without even seeing you on that first mission. He would never be able to explain it, but somehow it made sense inside in him.
Five Hargreeves didn't think about what would happen when he had to leave. He didn't think about the withdrawal his body would suffer when he was away from you.
Much less noticed the way there seemed to be something important in the air. If he had been in full intellectual faculties and grounded in rationality, he would have managed to understand that that something was the temporal lines collapsing, an apocalypse forming elsewhere, pure and perfect chaos destroying parallel realities.
But he was not being led by rationality. And even if he was, he wouldn't have minded a few worlds burning if it meant having you next to his body. He didn't care. But The Commission was a different case.
But Five Hargreeves wasn't thinking about any of that.
He conducted a conversation with you the way he conducted that waltz. He discovered that you liked the high seas even though you were never allowed to be on a ship. You loved nature and enjoyed good books. He heard your eagerness to know the world and learn about different cultures, that you wanted to unravel the mysteries of Egypt, see the architecture of Greece, visit Spain and wanted to go swim in the beaches of Brazil. You were an adventurer, and Five's heart skipped a beat for it.
But in a corner of his soul, deep down, he felt an ache reverberate through his bones. The urge to tell you about the world came with overwhelming force, and something inside him died when he realized he could never tell you the truth about the subjects you cared about.
He could never tell all that the world already knew about Egypt, about its tombs and its pharaohs. He could never be able to show the beauty of Brazil's beaches that become famous tourist spots, and he reserved a note in his brain that you would have loved to visit Genipabu in Brazil, a beach with huge sand dunes that seemed to be the junction of a huge desert whit a beach. He could not tell you what science, oceanography and marine biologists already knew about the oceans. He could never say about the cruises that roamed the seas in all the luxury and comfort, much less about the planes.
Five Hargreeves would never be able to show you the world. And his soul decided to torture itself even more thinking about what it would be like if you were from his time. The things you would do, the freedom you could enjoy.
He could show you anything you wanted, tell you the secrets of the universe…His secrets.
When the waltz was over, on a note as dramatic as the situation, you couldn't say goodbye to him. Your soul, enchanted and completely enraptured by the man in front of you, vehemently refused to remove your hand over his. It seemed that every molecule in your body, every corner of your spirit, every fiber of your being, had defined that it was with that man that they wanted to stay. Forever.
What was foolish.
The truth was that the sensation of poetry, romance and magic that surrounded you two throughout the dance, had evaporated from the air like mist in the sun.
Now the sure that you two weren't meant to be together hung in the air like a black cloud, thundering and flashing.
This feeling oppressed you with an overwhelming force, so tangible it was possible to cut it with a razor.
No words needed to be said, but it was stamped into the environment, filling every millimeter and gap, putting that magical dance into a category that would never go beyond that: a dance.
A feeling of melancholy jabbed your throat like a scorpion's sting, injecting an emotion of sadness and helplessness into your blood like distilled poison.
You didn't want that to be the end. You didn't want to say goodbye. Even with everything in the air indicating that whatever existed between the two of you, ended here, now.
Five's eyes seemed to exude the same as you. Feeling the end heavy and resounding in the air, reverberating like thunder, as every corner of his soul roared the opposite.
The green sea of his irises looked like it was in the middle of a storm. Full of pain, anger. With colossal waves and revolts, which promised to destroy everything they saw ahead. Just like the oceans did in the apocalyptic events in the era of Younger Dryas.
Somehow, without having to utter a single sentence, you both knew you were feeling the same thing. Wishing, with all their might, that this wasn't the end, that they were able to hold time against their chest in a tight, desperate embrace, an attempt to freeze the pointers.
At that moment, Five clamored, to any god who would listen, that you not be taken from his arms.
However, like the evil joke that was his life, his thoughts were cut short by the chiming of the clock. 11 chimes. That echoed in his soul like the trumpets of hell, laughing at him, mocking him, making fun of a murderer thinking he would be graced with something like you.
Five Hargreeves was a villain. And he was destined to have the things villains deserve. And none of this things included someone like you.
In that sadistic moment, Five finally understood a sentence from one of the books Grace read to them at night; ‘If I were to kiss you then go to hell, I would. So then I can brag with the devils I saw heaven without ever entering it.’
Yes. Now he understood.
Five Hargreeves leaned in, bringing the back of your hand to his lips, laying a kiss that, however much it was impeded by the muslin layer of your glove, he prayed that this kiss could transmit all the feelings he could never say.
This are the only kiss he could give you. That sentence echoed in his head like a fact, as sure as the sky is blue, as true as the salt in the oceans.
And when he went to the core of hell, paying for all his sins, he would brag to the other demons that he had been to heaven without ever having entered it.
You wish you'd said something, asked where he was from, stopped him from going. But none of that happened. This was one of those moments that we regret forever, that are branded in a red-hot iron in the soul, in the mind, in the body. Everything inside you was screaming to go after him when Five turned arund and walked into the sea of guests.
But he disappeared in the waves before you could even move your feet.
No one had to tell you, but you knew you'd never see him again. And your heart would never beat for another.
-----------
Five Hargreeves has had to do a lot of horrible things over the years. Actions he wasn't proud of but he knew needed to be done, nights awash in blood and the smell of death.
But nothing has wobble him as much as you have.
His soul, body and mind, trained since he was a child not to develop any weakness that would prevent him from being a perfect hero, then perfected and aggravated by the Commission to be the unbeatable assassin, were rarely stirred by feelings.
He was cynical, hard-nosed, crotchety and arrogant. He never got carried away by emotions and, as much as his desire to save his family is pure, he will cross any ethical lines for the greater good. And all of that made him the Commission's best weapon.
Until now.
Until his emotions messed up not just one, but thousands of timelines. Created catastrophes, formed apocalypses, killed people. Hargreeves meeting you was something that could never have happened. Repudiated not just by nature but by the gods.
Having you in his arms was like a crime against the timeline, against the balance of the world.
And heavens and hells would make him pay. With work, blood, or his heart. Promising to take not only the soul, but any hope of laying eyes on you once again. As Icarus had his downfall for the sun, so Hargreeves had for you. In a triumphal ruin.
“Do you have any idea what you caused ?!” It was the first thing The Handler said as soon as Five returned from his mission, seconds after he had killed his target.
Her voice was loud, suffused with anger and rage and… despair.
Five frowned, soul still aching from having to leave you, your warmth still in his arms.
He didn't have the head to deal with her right now. Not when he had so much to process.
“A death.”
“Don't play smart on me!” Her roar was loud enough for Hargreeves to realize that something really serious was going on. The Handler was many things, but she never got worked up without good reason.
The clatter of her heels echoed through the room as she walked towards him, her eyes full of fierce emotion.
“You had only one job to do! One! Kill the man and get out of there. Like always!" Her voice was as rough as desert sand. “But not only did you mess up entire timelines, but created apocalypses on thousands of worlds that were to happen only thousands of years later!"
Five's mind was racing like a Catarina wheel, spinning at full throttle as it tried to put the pieces together. He blinked once, twice, his heart starting to race with the feeling that something devastating was about to be revealed.
He looked at The Handler, who understood his look. "That's right! Your little feat of dancing with that girl shattered thousands of timelines! People were killed, disappeared, events took a completely different course because of your little impertinence!"
She pulled his arm towards the thousands of screens that monitored infinite realities. And what he saw was chaos. Pure and perfect.
Some worlds succumbed to fire, others to water, others to war. But they had devastation as a resemblance.
Five can hear the voices of other Commission workers in the background, in another corridor, other rooms. Some sounded desperate, others irritated, and others helpless, but all seemed concerned. He couldn't even say that he didn't know that little things had chain reactions. Because he knew.
There was nothing to justify his actions, for he didn't even have a good reason for himself.
But the truth was, even staring the apocalypse in the face across nine different monitors, he felt no…remorse.
There wasn't a part of him that would have done differently, that wouldn't have touched you, that wouldn't have known you.
Deep in his soul Hargreeves knew he didn't care how many worlds he had destroyed just by touching you. He was going to hell anyway, it was better to have a memory of you to remember for eternity.
"...we'll have to kill her." It was just that sentence that Five's messed up mind paid attention to.
Then everything stopped.
The weather, the conversations. The world seemed to have held their breath, suspended, staring at Five.
Everything inside him fell silent into scary silence, and he turned slowly toward The Handler, all his senses heightened, heart still, mind clear.
She seemed to notice his state. "What did you expect?! You know how things work. Causers of apocalypse get killed, that's our job! And because of that dance of yours, this girl has caused nine different apocalypses.”
There was a kind of insane, evil logic to the situation. The last riddle of gods and life to see Five Hargreeves on his knees. Broken, empty. To punish his sins, taking from him what he took from so many people.
They engineered his downfall perfectly, writing with a red-hot iron on his soul the sentence that he could never be happy. His curse, the price to pay. Cosmic fit.
What the fucking hell.
“I'll send some agent to kill her immediately and...”
But Five Hargreeves has never been one to accept sentences imposed on him with his head down. Limitations, rules. He made his own destiny, no matter what he told him, and lived with the consequences.
No god, destiny or universe dictated his life.
Everything inside him roared like a beast. Exploding, bursting, sending any control flying away.
In an action without any hesitation, delicacy or ambiguities, his hand closed on The Handler's arm. In a firm, strong, tense grip that started hurt her very soon.
She looked at him in a mixture of shock and annoyance. There were very few people in the world willing to face a woman on her level, some too fearful, others who value life too much.
But Five Hargreeves was none of those things.
He'd never known any predator he should fear, everyone knew he was capable of anything and everything. Maybe there was no line he was able from crossing, or plan he wasn't capable of executing.
Five Hargreeves was the predator she should fear.
And The Handler realized that. For in that pair of eyes she saw danger, rage, pure and perfect hate. His sea of green gave way to red, glittering waves, shining with all the blood he had already spilled. And with a warning that he wouldn't mind spilling more.
“Stay. away. from. her. ” he guided each word with a tighter grip on her delicate arm, sure to leave marks that won't go away anytime soon.
Bewildered, she looked at him like a man possessed, filled with a rage that could fuel hell all by itself. The Handler had never seen him in that state, he was always angry, annoyed, acidic, but that… that was hatred, a bloodthirsty hate.
Five Hargreeves promised to go to hell and drag anyone with him without saying a word.
For the first time in her life, The Handler was afraid.
“Five...you know her need to die...”
"Listen to me" He vociferate, shaking her by the arm. “I don't give a fuck what you have to say. I swear, for all that exists in this world, that if you lay one finger on her, there will be nowhere on earth you can fuck hide from me.”
Five Hargreeves was a tall, masculine man, wrapped in a macabre and sinister aura when he wanted to. He pulled The Handler closer, his face filled with colossal rage being etched like a tattoo into her soul.
“I don't give a fuck about how many worlds are ending, I don't give a fuck if fucking people are dying! You won't touch her until the day I'm dead! And you can bet that, even seven feet under the ground, I'll find a way to take you with me to hell if you do fucking something to her."
You were untouchable.
All of his work on The Commission was about killing a number of people to save even more. But he would never, ever, sacrifice you for the greater good. Not even if it meant millions of dead people.
It didn't matter as long as you weren't one of the dead.
Without waiting for further discussion, he led The Handler towards the exit door, leading her out of the room and locking the door when he returned.
Five wasn't stupid or naive to think that she would follow his orders. The handler might be afraid of him, but she knew how to get what she wanted, no matter how long it took. And now that he'd bruised her ego, Five knew she'd make it her primary mission to kill you.
Something he would never let happen.
If someone asked where so much anger, so much sense of protection came from, Five Hargreeves couldn't say.
Because he didn't even know.
In the same way that he still didn't understand everything that had happened, everything that he had been feeling, he still hadn't reasoned where such primitive, territorialist impulses came from.
He had no idea where it all came from, but he was sure he could never let anything bad happen to you.
In a twisted and somewhat obscure way, you had gained a villain as a protector. A fallen angel who didn't promise to do good to people, but only to you. Who swore allegiance not to humanity, but solemnly, exclusively, to you.
It was a sensation that filled his entire body like boiling lava. And Five put his hand in the fire for the certainty that he would never be able to get rid of his feelings for you again.
His soul said that, as long as he was alive, he would be yours.
Making his mind work faster than it ever had before, Five Hargreeves concluded that every record of you had to go. There could no longer be documents proving that you were part of humanity.
That once you had a name, a house, a reality. Five would have to erase you from any and all records.
Forever.
The only way to keep you out of the hands of the people who had access to every form of terrestrial existence, was to erase you from the world. Only then, hidden from the Commission, could you live happily. Fully.
But throwing all your documents away was signing the sentence that he was took the risk of never getting to see you again. Without them, finding someone was nearly impossible, much less accessing their reality.
Five could start a calculation to find you one day, but that could take years, ages, and even if he memorized your documents number by number, did the calculations and managed to get to you without any side effects, The Commission could follow him and find you.
And finding a civilian's documents was much easier than finding a special agent like him and throwing them away too.
Once again, his life was a cruel joke of the gods, which served as entertainment for any higher power.
Five strongly believed that, if there was anything above or below him, they designed his life for they own amusement.
Five Hargreeves spent hours in the file room, locked in that cubicle, not letting anyone in, not getting out. Once he disappeared with your documents, he would be declared a traitor and deserter, where his punishment would not only be more years of work, but death.
The world was spinning. Head ached. A sound gnawed at his mind, a scratch without melody, like a rustle of paper. Someone had taken a scream, a memory and a fear, crumpled it into a jagged ball, and used it to stuff Five's skull.
He need to think of a plan that covered all the rough edges, but his eyes were bombarded with futures he didn't want to think about. Every time he blinked he felt the tragedy lurking in a dark and dismal corner, ready to catch him in their sharp mouths and take him somewhere he feared to go.
A place where the worst had happened to you.
Suddenly, the world was filled with secrets, fears and terror. Just as his soul took control of him in that night, it was the same in this moment.
Five Hargreeves wasn't someone to get carried away by anything, but the feeling that something very bad was about to happen to you haunted him to the bone.
That would be the perfect ending to his sinful life story; having the one person who touched his feelings so powerfully killed in the same way he killed so many other people.
Life was taking its toll on all the things he had done.
For a second, he was afraid of that reckoning. Because the worst is not the bullet hitting yourself, but someone you like.
The feeling outside of being torn apart. All the patches and pieces of what it was to be Five Hargreeves - which he had been painstakingly piecing together throughout his life - were coming loose again, all at once.
The clock was ticking, the hours were ticking, and he knew that just as he was coming up with a plan, so was The Handler.
It was a macabre race against time, in which if he lost, he had the feeling he would never fully recover. Not without a part of his soul dying along with you.
When he found your documents, the photo they had of you was a portrait made in that last century, a small painting of your face, eternalizing your smile.
Suddenly, the memory of how you'd smiled at him like that gripped him like a demon. And when the memories of you intensified, they brought no comfort, just only fear and dread.
Five Hargreeves could not live with himself if those memories were tainted by the knowledge that he was the cause of his tragedy. He would never be able to remember those tender moments again if memories of you were vandalized by images of how you were killed.
It was too late to remedy the consequences of what he had unleashed. The macabre possibilities of what The Handler could do to you were there, tattooed on his brain, as if they would snap open and bolt to reality at any moment. So, as panic rose, Five Hargreeves' mind slammed shut like a heavy book.
He wouldn't let any of that happen. Never.
After scheming and checking all the plans in his mind, Five decided that he had already orchestrated the almost perfect scheme.
He would destroy all of your documents and, when he had done that, he could no longer remain on the Commission. Thus, he would steal the mission from one of the agents about killing John F. Kennedy, the time that most closely matched his calculations to return to the family in 2019.
Then Five Hargreeves would evade The Commission and deal with them without being an employee anymore. And even if they went after him, they would never find you.
Not even Five.
And so it was done.
-----------
Five Hargreeves went through the reunion with his family, faced the commission agents coming after him to kill him, dealt with The Handler and put up with his siblings drama.
In a matter of weeks, he had already gotten himself into so much trouble and confusion that sometimes he didn't even have time to breathe. Processing events and digesting them had become a luxury he no longer had, and saving the world from one apocalypse and falling into another had seemed to become a family pastime.
But there were nights. Cold, when the moon reached its apex in the sky and the rain poured down on the ground, when he was finally able to be alone and clear his mind. In those rare moments, the only thing on his mind was you.
Always you.
His point of peace, his refuge from his constant stress and pressure was in the images of you. In the way your body fit perfectly in his hands, in the way your gaze, enchanted and completely shining, did not leave his.
Five Hargreeves felt that, like him at that moment, there was no other place you would rather be.
Twenty years could go by, but he would still feel what it was like to have your warmth in his arms, in the smell that your perfume exhaled and in the way the candles in the candelabra glowed on your skin.
You were like a goddess, dancing at that ball as if the world would never be graced with such beauty again.
When Five Hargreeves closed his eyes, he could see you perfectly. Swirling around as if the ground were your clouds and everyone there were mere mortals, watching what the angels in heaven looked like.
It was like a dark paradise. He managed to slake some of that suffocating tightness in his chest whenever he returned to those memories, but it resulted in more flagellations in his poor, tortured soul. The notion that he would never have anything but memories, dreams, and mowed wishes, would skin him alive until his last days. Five would forever be haunted by the notion that, even when he died, you wouldn't be waiting on the other side.
You would be in heaven. And he belonged in hell.
But, it was worth it.
All the pain, all the desperation his soul struggled with, all the shortness of breath that coiled in his lungs, all the feeling of being stabbed with a dagger knowing his would never lay hands on you again, it was all worth it when he reviewed your face in his memories.
Five Hargreeves didn't clamored for relief from his pain, balm for the cuts deep in his soul, a minute's mercy. No, he accepted all of his fate with his head held high.
He clamored for you to be okay. Safe, happy. Free from any worries or tribulations.
He wished you had forgotten about him, erased that night from your blood, because it would be impossible to live if he knew you were suffering just like him.
Five Hargreeves had never given you a single kiss, tucked your hair in his fingers and tasted your tongue, but he didn't need it. His soul didn't need that to fall madly in love with you.
Yes, pure and perfect passion. It was the only logical explanation for how he felt about you.
Even though he never tasted your skin in his mouth, or touched you without the interference of a piece of clothing, Five Hargreeves was in love with you.
And it would be for the rest of his life.
-----------
All the Hargreeves siblings thought all was well when the Commission was defeated and they got a briefcase to take them back at home. The nightmare of the second apocalypse had already passed and now the feeling that invaded their bodies was one of relief. For a second, Klaus thought that everything would now be back on track; with the family together, stronger ties and improved relationships.
Everyone thought so, actually.
The shimmering blue flash engulfed all the brothers, passing through the barriers of space and time, leaving the Hargreeves in the mansion where they grew up and spent most of their lives. Everyone looked happy, relaxed. And Five also shared the same relief.
Until that fateful moment.
Until a draft of wind enter through the window behind him and hitting his back, bringing a feeling that immediately made every hair on his body stand on end.
In a matter of seconds, all sense of relief, calm, and peace were shattered, exploding one by one with the same aggressiveness of a nuclear bomb.
The world seemed to stumble and stoped, the colors of the hemisphere fluidized into a vintage orange, flickering, almost as if the lighting came from candles.
As much as his siblings were laughing and making noises, everything for Five was quiet, in a tacit silence. The sound of cars on the streets did not exist anymore, the conversations disappeared, and, little by little, the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat. Increasing in tempo gradually, like a soundtrack.
Then, in the apex of silence, when Five could already hear the blood rushing through his veins, he listened.
Five.
Your voice in the wind, almost like a whisper. Calling for him. Just like you did a long time ago.
His soul gave a scream that shook him to the very bones, and he didn't notice when his eyes widened and his breath hitched. Suddenly, his whole body came back to life, being pulled sharply from the bottom of the ocean, submerging, desperately, breathless, astonished. Abruptly, the heat returned to his hands, to his cheeks, to his heart. Five could feel warmth coursing through his body as if they had rekindled the flame of his soul.
Was like resurrect.
He looked back in one jerk, spinning in place, heart pounding in his ribcage, his frantic, frantic eyes darting around every corner.
Nothing.
“Hey, are you okay?” Klaus looked back, focusing on his brother, but Five didn't respond.
He walked past Klaus as if he couldn't hear him, his eyes and hands trembling visibly, his step tight. Five chased the wind current as if he were chased his life, oblivious to anything or anyone.
His siblings, finding the situation strange, followed him without hesitation, accompanying the owner with green eyes entering more in the house. They had no idea what to expect, or what to think, but they stopped behind Five as he froze in the middle of the living room, eyes petrified, wide, fixed on a very specific spot at the top of the stairs.
But nobody noticed what he saw.
While all the Hargreeves were taken aback by Reginald's appearance in the outer corner of the room, stunned and petrified, growing more and more stunned as their father went on to explain the situation, Five couldn't take his eyes off the top of the stairs. Nothing in the world would have made him look elsewhere.
You.
You.
Fucking hell...you.
There, standing next to people he didn't care to find out who they were, looking down, observing at the people who had just entered.
Suddenly, everything inside him was whipped by currents of electricity, as if he'd been struck by lightning.
An argument seemed to be brewing in the background, but Five Hargreeves didn't fucking care. May the world explode, may everything end up in dust, fire or water. He didn't want to know.
You were there. With the sunlight coming through the large windows behind your back, and illuminating your silhouette as if you were a deity, a goddess, a muse. You shone. Like the gates of heaven.
At that moment, the soul of Five Hargreeves fell to his knees in front of you. For you.
An extremely strong emotion invaded him without asking permission, destroying everything he once was. Five felt like crying.
As a war in the background unfolded, the people who were beside you started to descend the stairs one by one. But he couldn't take his eyes off you.
“Five. Five.” Luther seemed to call out to him in the background, but he didn't care.
You walked down the steps the same way you glided through that ballroom, as if the floor were your clouds. Yours robes were uniform this time, but Five was pretty sure that behind that high collar, your skin harbored a birthmark on your collarbone. Your hair was down, but he knew how you looked with your strands tied up.
With each step you took, more his pulse quickened. It was like a dream, a mirage, his oasis in the scorching desert. At some point in the battle against the Commission he had died, and that was his dream.
However, Luther's hand gripped his arm, forcing his green eyes to meet his brother's.
“Dude, what's wrong with you? Didn't you hear dad saying that we're in another reality?”
“I am not your father.” Reginald countered. “Not in this reality.”
Five frowned, rationality slowly returning to his body, his brain taking over once more.
A parallel reality. That explained a lot.
A reality where…you existed.
Holy shit.
Someone said the Hargreeves had better go, and Five would have laughed out loud if he hadn't submerged in thoughts.
If they really was in a parallel reality, that meant you didn't remember him. You didn't even know him. The version who have danced with him was still in another century, in a timeline far, far away.
But…Five looked up. You radiated the same beauty of the romantic period as before, your skin still looked feather soft, your lips still where able to take away his complete self-control, your eyes still have… the same glow that he remembered so many times during so many nights.
You didn't know him, but that didn't matter. Because Five knew you.
He suffered the worst of martyrdoms all this time, and now that he'd finally, finally found you once more, he wasn't going to leave.
Even if it meant having to make you fall in love with him all over again.
In fact, Five Hargreeves would dedicate his entire lives to making you fall in love with him all over again in every reality there is. He would have as many times as necessary a first dance with you.
He didn't realize it, but his lips lifted in a smile. In a snap of fingers, everything reached a apex, higher than the buildings, higher even to the clouds. All the problems evaporated like mist in the sun, and being in a parallel reality, with a father that wasn't his, in a house that wasn't the one he grew up in, seemed to be extremely insignificant.
For the first time in a long time, Five Hargreeves was happy. And nothing would change that.
That's when, amidst all the arguing the Hargreeves and Sparrows were having around, your eyes met his. And for him it was like coming home after an excruciating winter.
You cocked your head slightly to the side, intrigued by the way that man was looking at you so…surrendered.
You understood the gravity of the situation, of those strangers breaking into your home and trying to claim everything as theirs. You were also irritated just like your siblings.
But... when you looked at that man… with eyes so green and hair so dark, something inside you caught your breath.
A shiver went up your spine. And maybe you were crazy, but you can swear that felt your soul heave a sigh of…relief. A strange, emotional feeling reverberated through your spirit as if…somehow you'd just found what you've spent so long waiting to met again.
It don’t make sense.
As the confrontation unfolded between the two families, you couldn't help but notice that, minute by minute, you found yourself wanting to look at this man more. As if it were never going to be enough, as if the second you turned your head, you were overcome with an insane urge to see more.
You should be focused on trying to get those strangers out of your house, not admiring one of them.
But Five realized that. A spark inside him vibrated with hope, and he delighted in being able to relive the feeling of what it was like to be looked at by you again.
But before he or you could even do anything, the physical feud between the two families broke out with astonishing speed, spreading like the plague. Diego, as usual, was the first to go into battle, followed by Luther and Allison.
See, you didn't consider yourself a confrontational person. Your peculiarity was to manipulate the natural elements and, although that made you one of the strongest figures among your siblings, you had a more adventurous spirit than a fighter.
There was no such homeric thirst in your blood to be the best, the strongest, the most brutal. Ben said that was the most unattractive thing about you, but Sloane saw this feature with good eyes. Like you, she wasn't much inclined to brutality.
The fight drove you and Five away from each other, separated by rooms, siblings and war. You saw your family appeal to brute aggression very quickly, while, if you're honest, you didn't want to hurt anyone. Is trut that you were irritated by the way they claimed your house as theirs, but you didn't think they were bad people.
Or all this bland resolutions were for the fact that you didn't want to hurt him. Because, in some way you couldn't explain, you knew he wouldn't hurt you.
But that's when Alphonso yelled at you from upstairs. “Y/N! Do fucking something too!”
Everyone was scattered around the house, but you still remained downstairs, in the living room, arranging a way to help without being very aggressive like your siblings were being. You had no intention of killing or seriously injuring them, but you also weren't willing to put up with the scolding your brothers would give you if you continued to be omitte.
So, when one of the strangers came running to get away from something, the tail of his dark overcoat dancing in the air and his black hat toppling along the path, your reaction was to do the one thing that couldn't seem to do any real damage.
In a wave of the hand, the windows were shattered by large, sprawling tree roots, that came out of the garden earth like thick snakes and entered the house in a steady stream.
The man gave a high-pitched scream, but his feet were already entwined by the roots and he was knocked to the ground.
The roots, which spilled earth over the floor and exhaled a forest smell, wrapped themselves around the man's body up to his chest, with the only purpose of immobilizing him.
You weren't putting force or brutality, and you were sure the roots were just putting considerable pressure on, like a bandage around an injured arm. But the man didn't seem to notice this, because he kept screaming.
The fear should still be clouding his senses, and you revealed the situation. For it wasn't often that someone was wrapped around by giant roots that moved of their own accord. In your place, you would have reacted that way too.
“Hey, hey” you tried to get closer “It's ok, they won't hurt you and…”
But your speech was interrupted by shrill hum, which cut through the air with force and passed like a bullet in front of your face, shaking a few locks of your hair.
The speed were frightening, and for a second your heart stopped in your chest.
The fright made you take two steps back immediately, but in a matter of seconds any feeling was replaced by a very strong burning in your left cheek. In the same second, a hot liquid began to ooze from your injured skin like water in a current, spreading pain wherever went.
Two seconds that were able to put you face to face with death. Because that attack was not joking.
The bearded man ran to help the one who was lying on the ground, forcing his freedom between the roots that were now weak due to your distraction.
Unlike you, Diego didn't care about the things he had to do to save his family. He was willing to injure, inflict permanent damage, even killing if that was the only way out.
He would have a guilty conscience later, but in the heat of the moment, he wouldn't hesitate. Diego did this to the Commission agents hours ago, and he would do this to you if he had to.
As sure as the sky was blue, the Sparrows were the enemy. And he was the hero. Thats it. Two polar opposites, destined to face each other into the death.
And that was why he didn't hesitate to attack when he saw Klaus lying on the floor, screaming as if he were being killed. After getting a small taste of the kind of things your powers were capable of doing, it was pretty clear that you were one of the first ones that needed to go down.
So Diego didn't hesitate either when he pulled Klaus off the ground, and wielded yet another dagger. Aiming not to hurt, but to kill.
But love could drive even the smartest minds crazy.
Because when the dagger was thrown in the air, a blue flash invaded the scene and a male body enveloped yours, pushing both of you aside in a rough, protective, intense gesture.
Five Hargreeves was on the stair railing, fighting Jayme, when Klaus's screams grab his attention.
He didn't have much time to process what he was seeing, but the moment one of Diego's daggers slashed across your cheek, the primal, visceral instinct he'd felt so long ago, with The Handler on The Commission, roared through him like an angry beast.
So when another dagger was wielded and thrown into the air, he didn't think twice, didn't hesitate, didn't blink.
Dropping everything behind, Five Hargreeves dove into the blue flash, having you as the only focus in mind.
As soon as the crash of his body with yours caused you both to leave the deadly path, the arms, masculine and wide, wrapped around your back as if he were holding the only anchorage on the high seas in the middle of a storm.
His heart was pounding in his chest, and as much that adrenaline, primal instinct and rage were bubbling through his body, he still managed to feel his soul sighing in deep relief when felt your warmth again in his arms.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?"
Diego's angry roar seemed to shake the walls, but didn't stop the obstinate, angry look that swallowed Five's expression.
“Diego…” his voice didn't match the situation the Hargreeves found themselves in. His tone was serious, steady, so calm it was terrifying, like the warning of darkness to the light. “Stay away from her.”
His brother's confused and perplexed look couldn't have been more accentuated. And even Klaus, known for being the least serious about situations, looked completely astonished.
Five Hargreeves didn't held you like he was preventing a murder. No. He held you like Cerberus should have held the only person he was ever loyal to.
"You are fucking crazy?!" Diego gestured with his hands “Let go the enemy now!”
The Hargreeves have been through a lot, seen a lot. Many of them being absurd, beyond any rationality or law of physics, moments in which they had to deal with situations that were not possible to be of this world.
But nothing, and no one, could have prepared Diego and Klaus for what they heard from Five;
"Never."
The moment was dispersed when Viktor appeared in the room, shaking, hurt, out of his mind.
His head fell back in a single gesture, his arms opened up and the fists closed, as white lights began to shoot out from within his eyes and chest.
Five Hargreeves knew what that meant.
He didn't think twice before running to the side, hiding you behind the bar counter and lowering you two bodies to the floor.
His body in front of yours, blocking access to the roughest impact in you.
You two had three seconds, three seconds to look into each other's eyes before the flash explodes.
And in that three seconds, the only thing that passed in the soul of both of you was the feeling of finally being where should be.
-----------
"They're stupid villains who think they're smart!" Ben was furious in the kitchen, pacing back and forth.
The last few days had passed like this. With Ben angry about the invasion, Ben angry about the fight, Ben angry about Marcus disappearing, Ben angry about... well... he was always angry.
Of all your siblings, he had the worst temper. Fei and Christopher were practically his dogs, going along with all of Ben's stupid plans just because... you really didn't know why they followed him so fervently, but had a theory that it was because they both thought they would have more power when Ben's plans came to fruition.
A hierarchical system that filled the family with toxicity.
On the other hand, there were Jayme and Alphonso. You never really understood the two, but you described them as bullies. A duo who liked the power they had and how they managed to exert it over people.
The only one you could relate to more deeply was Sloane.
"It would have been better if Y/n had made an attack." Alphonso brought your name up in conversation, his gaze full of rancor.
"Fuck off, asshole" It was the only thing you deigned to say, because you didn't have the patience to deal with his comments at the time.
The truth is, since the invasion, you couldn't get him out of your mind.
It was like a drug, an addiction, that had seeped into your blood from the first time you laid eyes on him. There was something there, something you could never explain.
He should be the enemy. Your enemy. But…
The way he saved you from the knives, the way his arms wrapped around you. Almost like he already knows how to hold you. How to protect you.
Your heart couldn't slow down whenever your thoughts returned to that man. From the memory of him placing his body in front of you, standing at the forefront of the explosion.
He saved you. Everytime. And there was something that told you he would save you every chance he got.
The truth was…you wanted to see him. Know his name. Talk with him.
There was no longer a fiber of your being that saw the situation as your siblingsdid, your body was facing the complete opposite north.
You wanted to touch him, not fight with him.
When time passed, and Luther showed up at the mansion as someone who was kidnapped, you, again, did not see the situation as a beneficial opportunity for your family. But for you.
Suddenly, your entire soul was gripped by a completely unsettling anxiety that made your hands itch, stomach churn, and your legs unable to stay still.
Then you were swept by a feeling of deep sadness, as if you'd already experienced what it was like to spend your whole life wanting to see that man and never getting.
There was no more logic, rationality or coherence to what you were feeling, but finding him was as indispensable as breathing.
That's why you volunteered - more like an imposition - that you would be the one to escort Luther home the moment Ben said he could leave.
“It was kind of you to accompany me” The blond man smiled at you, as the two of you walked through the night streets.
"It was nothing."
You tried to sound casual, but with every step toward your destination, the more your hands itched, the more your heart was racing, and in a moment, you found yourself picking up the pace to get there faster.
“I have to confess that you were a topic of discussion between my brothers.” Luther laughed, his odd way of bringing up the subject and not mincing words.
But that got your attention. "What do you mean?"
“A-ahem…well…from what I understand, Diego wanted to kill you, but Five stopped him and…”
Five…Five
His name was Five.
Something inside you stirred. An unfamiliar emotion, but one that made a smile rise to yourcheeks.
“Five” you tried to say aloud, and his name just… felt right on your lips.
You went the rest of the way not being able to pay attention to a single syllable Luther was saying. You don't wanted to be rude, but you just… couldn't stop thinking about Five.
“How long before we get there?” you cut off something Luther was saying about Sloane, and the blond eyebrows drawing together in strangeness.
“Actually” he looked at the big hotel in front of him “We already arrived and…”
But you couldn't stop yourself. All of your muscles felt like they had undergone countless electrical discharges, your heart was faster than any living soul has ever been, and your blood was rushing through your veins like marathon runners.
You increased your pace considerably, quickly climbing the steps and opening the doors of that building as if you had just walked through the gates of paradise.
You needed to see him.
Luther came up behind you, giving you a suspicious look and walking towards a bar, where the outlines of several people were talking.
-----------
"I returned." Luther's voice brought Five out of his thoughts, and a part of her brain tried to remember the time his brother had left.
And he didn't find any answers.
To his defence, Five's mind had been elsewhere these days. Moments when he rewound in his mind once, twice, three times. Not even the impending new apocalypse knocking on the door seemed to have any effect on Five.
To be honest, he… saw no point in trying to save the world this time. Meeting you once was a miracle, but meeting you again, in an entirely different reality and without The Commission making things difficult, seemed like too much of a luxury for him to ignore.
The truth was that in the first attempt to escape the apocalypse he ended up sending the family to different times, with intervals of years between each one. And, deep down, he didn't know if he could handle trying to take you with him to another reality and end up losing you too.
Five had been through this once before. He knew pain too well not to be willing to risk it.
“What is the enemy doing here?!"
Diego's voice snapped Five out of his thoughts, and an electric current shot through his head and reverberated down to his toes. Immediately, without any hesitation, his eyes flew away, finding not just Luther - whit several bags in hand - but you beside him.
You.
Something inside him ignited, his heart raced and, for a moment, the whole world around him fell away.
But just for a moment, because Diego was already getting up from his seat.
“Hey. Hey!” Five teleported away, once again placing the body in front of you . “What the hell do you think you are doing?”
“What would anyone do to the enemy! What are you doing? Defending a stranger again?!"
“She is not a stranger, Diego. Now be quiet in your place before I have to do it for you.”
"She is not?" Klaus and Viktor said in unison
"I'm not?" Your voice, the only one that mattered to him, came from behind his back, quieter than the others but loud enough for him to hear.
Five turned towards you, turning his back on his siblings.
Unlike how he looked at Diego, his eyes held all the softness and attention in the world when they met yours. A small smile appeared at the corner of his left mouth, a secret smile, hidden from the world but revealed only to you.
"It's a long story," he admitted, having no idea how to start. How to tell something that even to him don't make sense.
“I came to see you.” you rewarded his honesty with another truth, a gleam crossing his eyes like shooting stars. “I have time to listen.”
A smile blossomed on his lips, and Five was overcome by the purest feeling of happiness. Without saying anything, or giving anyone satisfaction, his hand laced into yours, and he disappeared with you in the blue flash.
-----------
Any sensible, practical, centered woman, would have laughed at what Five had just told you. Anyone who didn't get carried away by matters of the heart and didn't believe that two people, when destined to be together, are helped even by the wind, would have turned around and walked away.
But you weren't a sensible woman, nor practical, much less centered.
Your being was composed of romance, adventure and magic. You fervently believed in destiny, soulmates and that some loves are capable of overcoming the barrier of space and time.
What's more, if all that wasn't enough, you also felt, from your soul to your bones, sensations that couldn't be explained. Feelings he was also saying he felt too.
You believed in him. And that fact came as soft as the droplets of dew, as the brightness of the moon.
After his account came to end, with him letting himself be vulnerable in telling all the thoughts that ever crossed his mind about you, the urge to say just one thing screamed your blood rumbling.
“You’re no the villain in my story” your words hung in the air.
“I am,” Five's voice brimmed with a liquid honesty that was able to chill your bones, but nothing in his words hinted at remorse for the things he'd already done. “But i'll be the villain for you. Not to you.
I'll let worlds burn again if it means keeping you alive.
In a problematic way, that I'll never be able to explain, I don't feel guilty about doing something if it means your safety.”
Five Hargreeves expected many things. Many different reactions. Many words of contradiction. But never what happened next.
Your mouth, without any hesitation, joined his in a kiss that was capable of making his world explode. His body was ignited by a fire that swallowed even his soul, washing away all his sins and giving a demon a taste of heaven.
So what was it like to kiss a goddess? An angel, a muse.
If before, without even touching your skin without the interference of clothing, Five would have happily accepted going to hell, now, with your hot mouth melting into his like warm honey, he would accept the torture of eternal fire with a smile on his face.
And when the small kiss intensified into something much bigger, his hands, warm and masculine, wrapped possessively around your waist.
There was no going back. There was no turning back. Five would keep you for himself in the same selfishness that a villain steals a princess. And there was no hero in the world capable of pulling you away of his clutches.
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” He found the last bit of strength to let you know when your hands untied his tie “I could really hurt you.”
But all good intentions evaporated when your eyes, eager and full of desire, blinked at him. There was an addictive sweetness in that look. The way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, the way your eyes held tinges of delicious submission but hid an incendiary fire behind them.
Fucking damn. He wanted you so badly.
"I don't care." Your breathless whisper invaded the room.
But he didn't know if you understood the seriousness of the situation.
“Y/n.” his hands cupped your face. “I spent a lot of time contenting just for the way you looked at me. Spending sleepless nights reliving what it was like to feel the contour of your waist in my hand.” His voice was serious, deep, rough like sand scraping against stone. “Do you have any idea of the things I'm going to do to you now that I can finally, finally, have you?” his pitch lowered a few notes, like a predator talking to its prey.
You didn't know it, but only imagination made yours thighs tighten.
“I can destroy you.” his lips went to the foot of your ear, down to the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent and tasting you. “I can leave your body purple, your breasts bitten, your hips marked by the aggressiveness of mine whenever I enter on you.”
A moan escaped your mouth, fingers tightening on his arms, head lolling to the side.
Oh lord, please he do that.
Five's hands went up to your shoulders, in a touch that became more and more possessive, gluttonous, as if he wanted to swallow you.
“I can spend hours fucking you.” his fingers lowered the straps of your dress, letting the fabric fall unceremoniously to the floor. Five pulled his face away enough to be able to look at your body fully, and a husky growl followed right away. “I can kill you.”
Here, in that moment, Five Hargreeves was giving you one last chance to give up, to make him tame the villain he was and who would destroy you for any other man.
If you slept with Five Hargreeves, you would never stop being his.
"Do it." but you didn't have an ounce of self-preservation in the inner body "please."
You didn't have to beg twice. His hands pulled your legs up, making you place your feet on his hips and hug him with your legs. Your back hit the closed bedroom door as Hargreeves' mouth claimed all it could of his. Twisting your tongue around his, biting and sucking on your bottom lip, he was beginning to mark you as his in a single kiss.
“You have no idea how much I want you.” his confession was more of a hoarse groan, hands fumbling with his belt and lowering the waistband of his pants.
Under other circumstances, he would have sucked you until drive you unconscious, pushing your walls with his fingers until you begged for his cock. But he didn't have the presence of mind to do that now. Not now. Not today.
He warned of the consequences of wanting to continue at that moment. But you wanted, you begged, and now he was no longer afraid of being able to fuck you with all the vehemence he needed.
Your moans invaded the room very quickly, your waist, even if limited by the door, moved in his groin, exorcising any common sense and control that Five once had.
He pushed your panties to the side impolitely and entered you in one single, glorious, primal thrust.
His cock slid in with extreme ease, being completely soaked by the way your pussy was so slick.
“Oh fucking hell” his growl sent even more waves of pleasure to your uterus, and you pressed your mouth to his neck to keep from screaming.
That's when he withdrew and pushed himself into you. Strong, brute. Hitting until found the bottom of the well.
His thrusts began relentlessly, thrusting in and out of you aggressively, possessively, almost animalistic. Five's hands were all over yourbody, fingerprinting every bit of your flesh. The nails digging into your waist when you contracted and squeezed him within your plush walls.
“Fuck. fuck.” his groans mingled with the attrition of the bodies of you two against the door, which sent loud, telltale noises throughout the hotel.
But you would rather die than stop.
His cock suddenly hit a place that made your moans come out too loud. Tears began to pool in the corner of your eyes, and your toes curled.
“Oh do you feel this, baby?” Five teased you, digging himself as deep as possible anatomically and rubbing the tip of his cock there, eliciting sly, desperate cries from you "That's your cervix."
Then he went back to fucking you aggressively, this time pulling his chest away from you and digging his hands hard into the flesh of your hips, pulling you towards him at a intensity that could only be described as animalistic.
This was better than anything he had ever tasted in his life. Better than any sin. Better than any whiskey.
His cock desecrated your pussy like it was the only thing that mattered in the world, pulling thick liquids out of you that enveloped him in pasty white rings.
Five Hargreeves would ensure that whenever you thought of any man, your mind was invaded by the way he fucked you.
"I will… I will…" your tearful voice blended with the noise of the door slamming and your bodies bumping into each other.
“Thats right, baby” his mouth covered your “cum for me. cum so I can fill that gluttonous pussy with my cum.”
If the way he thrust in and out of you wasn't enough to make you come, his lines had done the job.
You came in a glorious explosion of stars, colors and sensations. Your body contracted with absurd force and relaxed like the best of massages. Your arms went limp around his neck, and you could feel his cock tremble and the hot, thick liquid fill your entire pussy.
The noise of the door stopped, his moans calmed down and now the only thing that could be heard was the heavy breathing in the air.
You thought it was over, until Five climbs a hand to your neck and lets out a broken growl "'You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat, baby."
His cock moved inside you, moving in and out smoothly, pushing his cum even deeper inside you. Make sure you gobble it all up.
“Did you think we were done, princess?” he chuckled evilly, his lips moving closer until they were inches from yours. "I'm just getting started. I'm going to show you how much I've wanted you this whole fucking time.”
#number five#five headcanons#five fanfiction#five x reader#five imagine#five hargreeves x reader#five hargreeves#five hargreeves imagine#five hargreeves smut#five hargreaves x you#five hargreeves x y/n#number 5#number five x reader#number 5 x reader#number 5 imagine#tua smut#fanfic smut#tua season 3#five hargreeves angst#five hargreeves fluff#number five smut#number five x you#The Umbrella Academy#the umbrella academy fanfiction#the umbrella academy imagine#the umbrella academy smut#Smut#smut five
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IT WILL COME BACK
(you know better, babe)
𖦹彡⋆｡˚ summary: ellie makes it her goal to talk to you again after a one night stand.
see part one here
𖦹彡⋆｡˚ warnings: nsfw (implied), language
𖦹彡⋆｡˚ a/n: this is the worst thing ive ever written please god do not base my skill off of this i lost inspiration 😭😭😭😭 pleasee im so sorry..,,,.,. also no smut in this part my bad sorry gay people
alsooo readers username on ig is hoezier if you don’t like it simply pretend it’s something else😁
reader is female with a reputation for one night stands
this is also very much loser!ellie idk man idk she gets more confident later in the fic tho
ellie was fucked - no pun intended. you literally just gave her the best sex of her life and immediately after you were pulled away from her without even so much as a goodbye.
if ellie ever finds out who called the cops, she swears to herself that she’s going to punch them right in their fucking face for cutting her time with you short.
there was something about you that made her yearn to have you near her again. she was trying to forget about you, but you were becoming a craving she couldn’t shake, despite barely even speaking to one another. your small encounter with ellie left an impact on her.
she knew basically nothing about you besides your name, but she did learn that you were… very experienced. she could gather that much based on how confident you were, and how it took you just minutes to figure out how to make her feel the best she’s ever felt. you knew what you were doing, and ellie didn’t even try to resist your advances, letting her body be taken by you.
ellie was not submissive, she barely even let any of the other people she’s slept with take the dominant position… so why did she let you, of all people, take control without her even putting up a fight? you were under her skin like an itch that was impossible to scratch.
ellie arrived back at her dorm later that night, but the feeling that she left something unfinished hung over her like a shadow.
she pulled out her phone, which was a shitty attempt at a distraction; no matter how many tiktok videos she watches, her thoughts were consistently and stubbornly directed to you. her brain couldn't wrap around how you became entrenched within her mind so easily.
she needed to tell someone about this and get if off her chest. she opened up her contacts and her thumb hovers over dina’s number. she debates on even telling her friend about this for a minute… falling for someone she barely knows is definitely not something she ever wanted to happen. she sighs, and presses the call button, very painfully aware of how embarrassing the situation is.
“hey!” dina answers after a few rings, “what’s up?”
“dina, i’m dying. i’m screwed.”
“what’d you do this time?”
ellie groans before explaining the situation that unfolded just hours before, words gushing forth as she explains the events of the night.
dina interrupts ellie’s rant after a few moments, laughing as she speaks. “—okay, slow down. what’s her name?”
the second your name spills out of ellie’s mouth, dina inhales in a sharp breath of air.
“what? what’s wrong?” ellie asked, “do you know her?”
“if she’s who i think she is… i wouldn’t get attached.”
“…why?”
“i’m sorry, i just— she’s slept with a few girls i know and she usually does not ever talk to them again.”
“well it’s too late for me, i’m already attached; you don’t know the half of it. but there was something there between us, a spark or whatever. i don’t know, maybe she felt it, too.”’
“that’s not a spark. that’s a fire. because your brain has got to be fucking burning down if you’re even considering reaching out to her.”
“…do you have her instagram?”
“ellie. no.”
ellie sighs, kicking off her shoes and flopping on her bed, “i’ll just say hi and see where it goes. she probably won’t even respond, it’ll be fine.”
“i want you to know i think this is a terrible idea… but i sent you her username.”
“fuck yeah! thank you, dina.”
fuck your reputation, ellie was gonna make you hers one way or another.
you stare at your screen for a second.
ellie… that’s a pretty name.
it suits her.
she went out of her way to find you, it’s kind of sweet. half the other people you’ve hooked up with don’t give a shit about you after you’re done; you can’t be mad at them, though, considering you do the same.
ellie was just a rare case, you’ll forget about her in a few days.
…right?
you know that getting attached is never a good idea, that’s why you barely bothered to learn her name. in all honesty, you didn’t really care to learn the names of anyone you’ve slept with, the only reason why you did was because you didn’t want to look impolite. despite feeling like an asshole, you set your phone down on your bedside table and attempt to shove the thoughts of this girl—ellie—away. you were already constantly thinking about her, messaging her would just make this whole situation harder on you.
you refuse to get more attached than you already are.
unfortunately for you, your attempts to get ellie off your mind are proving unsuccessful. you’d never admit it, but she was getting to you more than anyone else you’ve been with before.
it’s a struggle to go about your day normally when you’re constantly on the lookout for this stupid girl you cannot get your mind off of for some godforsaken reason; you did not want to run into her and make this situation more awkward than it already is.
the stars are not on your side, apparently, because when you enter the coffee shop you usually do homework at, you see her in the corner. she’s on her phone, scrolling idly through it.
great!
your body cries out for her touch, the invisible string of attraction that tied you to her pulled you in closer and closer and you mentally curse yourself for feeling this strongly about her.
you can’t shake the feeling that you should go over there and say something, anything. but what would you even say?
“hey, sorry i ignored you, you just make me feel things i’ve never felt before and it’s making me question everything because i’ve never felt this way about any of my other hookups.”
…that doesn’t seem like the best option, so you inch closer to the door you just came in from before turning and leaving completely.
‘god’ you think, ‘what the fuck is happening to me?’
unbeknownst to you, ellie sees you. she sees you walk in, look at her, and immediately leave.
ellie is well aware of your reputation, but it still stings that you don’t care the way that she does. she knows that you probably don’t care much about anyone that you’ve slept with, that it’s not just her you don’t seem to care about, and she tries to be okay with it.
she packed up her stuff, unwilling to sit in the coffee shop while she was sulking, but as she was doing so, her phone lit up with a notification.
‘take that, dina,’ ellie thinks, ‘she wants me… i think?’
#max writes ☆#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x y/n#ellie williams x you#the last of us#tlou#wlw#wlw smut#i don’t even wanna tag this#idk why im so insecure about this sorry if it’s annoying im just WHAJFJSJFJFJJDJJDWJKDD
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💌💋 - love letter, first kiss.
satan × gen!reader. fluff.
warnings: very brief angry satan.
content: you've accidentally read satan's unfinished love letter to you.
back to the 500 follower event: here.
the sound of a bell rang distantly in your ears. you looked up from your notes with a frown, locking eyes with satan as he cast you a confused look. “MC, don’t you have devildom law in your last block?”
“ah, the study block is done already?” you flipped your d.d.d. over, taking a look at the time. “this class is going to kill me. the more he talks, the less i feel like i know,” you sighed. hastily, you gathered your papers from the table, sliding them into your folder. “pass me my textbook?”
satan leaned forward in his chair, gathering the textbook and the papers underneath it before placing them in your hands. “that teacher was always difficult,” the blond mused while he leaned back again. “if you need help with that class, just ask me. i’ll help you through it.”
your eyes lit up at the idea. “yes please.” satan didn’t expect you to say yes so easily; his eyes flickered with surprise and the tips of his ears turned pink at your eagerness. “you don’t have class this period, right? will you just stay here?”
“most likely. this library is always more peaceful than the study at home.”
“then, can i come back here and meet you after my class?” satan replied with a nod and a dismissive wave, shooing you away before you ended up late for law class.
you barely made it in time, sprinting up to the doorway just as the second bell echoed through the halls. exhaling in relief, you plopped down into your chair and settled your bag at your feet. however, your relief was short-lived. the teacher had begun handing out a surprise test, much to your dismay. but another part of you was glad you didn’t have to listen to another lecture today. by the time you finished your test, more than half of class time had passed. with nothing else to do other than watch the clock tick by, you pulled your notes out of your bag, deciding to double check that your answers for the test would suffice.
when you opened your textbook, an unfamiliar piece of paper fluttered down to the floor. you blinked at it, confused. quietly, you shifted your chair backwards just enough to reach under the desk, swiping it off the ground before straightening back up. with a curious gaze, you unfolded it, the mysterious content revealing itself to you.
My dearest MC. My dearest, MC.
I’ve spent a long time thinking about how I might tell you these things. I considered over a phone call first, thinking that my voice would get my intentions across. But then it occurred to me that if I wanted you to hear my voice, then I should tell you in person. And I realised further that I might not be brave enough to tell you these things face to face just yet. So, I thought maybe just texting you would be the way to go. It was my main plan for some time, until I saw a character in Levi’s anime reject a confession through text because it wasn’t “genuine”. I ended up stumped. At least, until I came across the idea of a love letter in a novel of mine. And so, I’m writing this love letter to you in the hopes that you’ll accept it; accept me. Ever since you’ve come to the Devildom, you’ve taught me more than any teacher, any novel or any tome ever could. Not only have you taught me practical skills, but you’ve also taught me so much emotionally, and that means more to me than anything. For anyone to brave me, the embodiment of wrath, it felt impossible. But you came in, albeit not as quietly as I would have expected a normal human to come in, and tore down the walls I hid myself in. MC, were it not for you, my relationship with my brothers would have taken much longer to improve. I am still learning how to deal with them, and how to deal with my anger, but you taught me that I am more than my anger, and that I am more than the creature that split from Lucifer. First and foremost, I need to say thank you. For being the human that you are. Though you can be chaotic, reckless, and a bit overwhelming at times, I cannot imagine a life without you in it. You’ve weaved yourself a place with me; with everyone. And now that I’ve had you for so long, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you go. MC, there are a lot more things I’d like to say. But considering what kind of a letter this is, I have to at least say it once. I
the unsigned letter cut off abruptly. at some point, tears had pooled at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over onto the paper, where a name should have been left. it was no mystery as to who wrote the letter; he had most likely slid it into your textbook by accident while he was trying to help you collect your papers. suddenly, the bell rang loudly, signalling the end of class. you wiped your tears away with the back of your hand, throwing all your belongings into your bag and keeping only the letter in hand as you dashed down the hallways. halfway to the library, you saw satan peering into an empty classroom, expression rather frantic for someone who didn’t have any classes left for the day.
“satan!” you called out to him, sliding to a stop just in front of him.
“MC?” the demon shifted to face you. panic was etched into his gaze, and he had to take a quick breath to calm himself before speaking again. “i’m just looking for something right now, i can meet you in the library after i’ve-”
“is it this?” the letter swayed as you held it out to him, the words clearly visible in it’s unfolded state.
satan acted fast, tearing it from your grasp as his expression changed into something that looked like fear. “where did you get this?” his voice was low, question sounding more like a demand.
“it was in my textbook,” you said as you struggled to catch your breath. “i think you might have put it in there by accident when you were helping me pack up earlier-”
the avatar of wrath turned away from you. “go home,” he snapped, crumpling the letter into a ball.
you took a careful step towards him. “what?”
“i said, go home.” satan trembled ever so slightly, his knuckles white as he dug his nails into his palms. “forget what you read, and don’t ever bring it up to me.”
“wait a minute, let’s talk about this.” you pleaded gently, but satan was stubborn.
without warning, his horns manifested from his head, and his tail became known as it whipped against the floor with a loud crack. “i’ve already embarrassed myself enough by letting you read something that was never supposed to be read by you. i don’t need you to reject me along with it.” he glared at you from over his shoulder, eyes glinting with anger, fear, and for a split second, sorrow. “get out of my sight.”
“would you just-!” satan began stalking away, but you refused to let this, or him, go. you lunged forward, your hand catching his wrist just before he got too far. satan attempted to pull his arm free, jerking it towards himself, but you held strong. you stumbled towards him, causing you to use his body as a pillow instead of smashing directly into the wall. “just listen to me!” you shouted now, glad that hallways were vacated of students at this time of day.
“why should i?!” his voice continued to grow louder as he took a step backwards.
“because i’m not going to reject you!” finally, satan held his tongue. his eyes flashed with doubt, but for a fraction of a second, there was hope as well. “satan,” you breathed his name softly, loosening your grip on his wrist. slowly, you slid your hand down, wrapping your fingers around his. “i really, really liked what you wrote.” you watched as his stare fell to your joined hands. “i wanted to ask about the letter because it wasn’t finished. i…” heat rushed to your cheeks now that you were realising what kind of conversation this was becoming. at some point, your heart had jumped up into your throat, beating so loud that you wondered if satan could hear it. “i want to know how the letter ends.”
the storm that raged in his gaze steadily calmed, clearing into the sea of emerald that you knew so well. “you do?” for once, satan spoke meekly. wrath was gone, replaced instead with a demon who had yet to find his place in this world.
“i do.” little by little, your free hand inched up to his face, hovering just below his chin. when satan made no move to push you away, you took the leap, cupping his jaw and brushing your thumb over his cheek. “how does the letter end?”
satan made a choked sound. the way you treated him so gently was something he could never have imagined for himself. for someone like him, love was just a construct; it was an idea, meant to never fully appear in his lifetime. but here you were anyway, waiting to hear those three words that satan thought he would never get to say. “it ends with…” satan stopped to see your reaction, trying to make sure you weren’t doing this just to get him to calm down. but you remained steadfast, waiting until he was ready. “i love you.” the words tumbled out, the simple phrase stirring a barrage of emotions inside his already troubled soul.
“you know, if i wrote a letter to you, i’d end my letter with the same thing.”
“you would?”
“i would.”
satan stepped closer to you, his face close enough to yours that his breath fanned across your cheeks. he released a shaky breath, fingers tightening around you as he tried to process everything he was feeling.
“satan?” he didn’t say anything in return. instead, he cast you an expectant look; one made up of both fear and wonder. “i love you too.”
the tears fell silently, cascading down his cheeks and onto your hands. tenderly, you pulled his face even closer, smiling at him as you placed a kiss just below his eye. satan shuddered at the action, but he refused to move away. you did the same on the other side of his face, catching his teardrops before they fell to the floor. and when they stopped appearing, you leaned towards him again, lips slotting over his.
satan all but melted into you, affection as strong as his wrath beginning to sweep through him. your lips against his felt both like a tidal wave and an undisturbed lake. your love felt unconditional, unending. and although the situation was a bit chaotic, reckless, and just a bit overwhelming, satan wouldn’t trade it for anything else.
a/n: pls someone get the reference in the love letter pls pls
reblogs are really appreciated (´ω｀) ♡
#obey me#obey me swd#obey me shall we date#obey me nightbringer#obey me satan#obey me satan x you#obey me satan x reader#obey me satan x mc#satan x mc#satan x you#satan x reader#obey me fluff#aris writes 🐈⬛#aris hits 500 🐈⬛
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dating demetri volturi🏹
warnings: implied smut, fluff,
ʚɞ
⤻ demetri is a very attentive man.
⤻ i’m talking he is the type to know how you’re feeling just by the way you breathe - don’t get me wrong this has proven to be rather useful, however it can occasionally get.. overwhelming.
⤻not because he forces you to tell him or anything! but like it bugs him to no end if you don’t feel like talking about it because all he wants to do is make you feel better.
⤻ he definitely loves to be physically intimate (not just like that, ya nasties).
⤻ as in always holding your hand, hand on the small of your back, small pecks when you enter a room… small gestures.
⤻ i headcanon him to be rather protective.
⤻ he likes taking care of you. he likes keeping you from harm. he likes looking out for you. that sort of thing.
⤻ he’s quite… dominating? (this is not just outside of the bedroom… ;) )
⤻ he wants you to feel safe with him and so if you don’t he will feel quite defeated and will try to do things to show you that you are.
⤻he’s very traditional with his lover - minus the traditional views. he takes the idea of “courting” rather seriously and will make sure you get the absolute princess treatment.
⤻ he loves giving you cute little nicknames, some of which you have absolutely zero idea of what they mean… you just hope they’re not inappropriate.
-darling, sweetheart, tesoro,dolce, princess, ect.
⤻ during intimate moments, he will constantly make sure you’re comfortable. kissing you softly and whispering sweet nothings into your ear… cutie stuff like that.
⤻ he’s not overly jealous as he knows you love him, however he has his moments (he’s a vampire… what do you expect?)
⤻ you can see straight through his stoic facade, pulling at his arms so he will unfold them and stepping closer.
- “please give me a kiss, dem…” “don’t look at me like that, princess. you know i cant say no when you do that..” (sfndnsk🥺)
⤻ however he does have his more… rough… moments
⤻ mainly as a result of built up frustration or pent up emotions that he’s kept to himself and this makes for a very, very fun playtime for you.
⤻ occasionally you have to remind him to be gentle, typically when he’s kissing your neck considering your scent is quite prominent there…
- “don’t be so rough… you can’t leave any marks” “but you smell so ravishing, darling”
⤻ he loves your scent. he will happily pull you into his arms and press his nose into your hair and/or neck for any period of time.
⤻ he’s always down to try anything at least once (let’s be real he probably already has… he just refuses to speak of his previous rendezvous because they’re unimportant to him now that he has you)
⤻ is not even a little bit regretful of the times where he’s late to a trial or a meeting… he would rather spend time with you anyway.
⤻ he ALWAYS will make sure he has at least five minutes to tend to you after said moments, rough or not.
⤻ he’ll hold you, kiss your forehead, play with your hair, run you a bath… whatever you want or need you get.
⤻overall i think he’d be such a sweet lover 🥹
ʚɞ
#demetri volturi#alec volturi#felix volturi#jane volturi#volturi#demetri volturi x reader#demetri volturi imagine#twilight#the twilight saga#twilight imagines#twilight volturi#headcanons
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( 📍 ) UGLY CHRISTMAS SWEATERS — BEOMGYU
[ DAY SIX ] of the advent calendar !
( 📍 ) SYNOPSIS . convincing your boyfriend to wear ugly christmas sweaters with you might not be that hard after all..
( ᥫ᭡ ) PAIRING . bf!beomgyu x gn!reader
( 📍 ) GENRE . fluff ~~ WORD COUNT 0.5K+ ( 545 )
( ᥫ᭡ ) WARNINGS . gyu got a little attitude (sassy men) BUT its tolerable .. imo .. other than that, nothing else ?
( 📍 ) NOTE . i heart beomgyu 😊🤍
“You’re telling me that we—no, I’m gonna be wearing that?” Beomgyu gingerly lifts one of the sweaters, holding it as if it were a bag of 2 weeks old garbage. “For our friend’s Christmas party?” The clash of colors and patterns really confused him; it seems like the designer operated on a whim.
"Come on, it’s not even bad! The theme was ugly Christmas sweaters, and I picked out the best onesI think they're cute," you retorted, defending the sweaters you'd ordered weeks ago.
"This is far from cute! Your taste in fashion must be questionable," he scoffs, nonchalantly returning the sweaters to their initial resting place on the chair.
"I've practically styled your entire wardrobe, and you've received so many compliments because of me!" you argue.
"Alright, but your sweater choices are still terrible!" Beomgyu counters.
Ignoring his protests, you insistently hold the sweater in front of him, trying to picture the look despite his puzzled expression.
“Not in a million years will you catch me wearing that,” Beomgyu declares, hands up in protest.
But, you didn’t care whatsoever as your determination knows no bounds. “Stop moving, you're making this harder.”
“What—” he starts, but you're already on a mission, determined to make him at least consider the sweater.
“It does suit you.”
“Thanks for the compliment, but you can't just say that by imagining how I'd look in it!”
“Why don't you try it on?” You extended your hand, catching him off guard. His reaction was too slow, and you ended up tossing it at him. “I'll wait.”
Beomgyu sighed, unfolding the sweater and eyeing it with skepticism. “Fine, but don't get your hopes up.”
As he struggled to put it on, you couldn't help but laugh at the sight. The vibrant colors clashed with his usual style, making it even more amusing.
“Ta-da! Happy now?” Beomgyu struck a pose, a mockingly exaggerated smile on his face.
You chuckled, "Look! It doesn't even look that bad! You can totally pull it off."
Rolling his eyes, Beomgyu played along, "Sure, sure. It looks fantastic on me. Just a bunch of silly trees and tiny elves on this sweater with squiggly lines—seriously, what were you thinking when you added this to the cart?"
You shrugged, unfazed by his words. Beomgyu often exaggerated things, and you were accustomed to it. “I expect you to stick with this—we've got just an hour until the party.”
“But can’t we switch—” His complaining tone faded as you rushed down the stairs with the matching sweater in your hand. Quickly draping it over your white shirt, you settled on the couch in the living room. As you scrolled on your phone to pass the time, you later heard shuffling in the background.
“Ready to go?” you looked up, seeing your boyfriend in the sweater you bought—he hadn’t changed it. You gave him a big smile, rising from your seat.
“Looking good there, Choi.”
“Keep it up and I’ll run up the stairs to change,” he teased, soon linking arms with you as you headed towards the door.
“Honestly, though, I don’t think I look too shabby in this,” he asserted, eliciting a giggle from you.
“What can I say? I have an eye for what works.”
“Maybe you're onto something.”
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#⛄️ — advent calendar 23’ !#k-labels#kflixnet#k-films#tomorrow x together#txt#txt beomgyu#txt headcanons#txt scenarios#txt imagines#txt drabbles#txt ff#txt x reader#beomgyu headcanons#beomgyu scenarios#beomgyu imagines#beomgyu drabbles#beomgyu ff#beomgyu x reader#kpop#kpop headcanons#kpop imagines#kpop scenarios#kpop x reader#kpop fluff#kpop ff#kpop fanfic#kpop drabbles#txt fluff#txt fanfic
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THE GOLDEN TRIO .ᐟ
includes: otoya eita x fem!reader x karasu tabito. everything is platonic, a few swear words, not so intended harry potter golden trio reference — wc: 523
At first, you thought of them as arrogant and stupid. Oh, how wrong could you be. After becoming their so-called “girl best friend,” you get to see a side of them they never really show to anyone; it’s a very exclusive side reserved only for you.
It’s quite funny how you became friends. It all started after the U-20 match when Otoya spotted you at the bowling alley and found you really pretty. He mustered up the courage to ask you out on a date, but little did he know that you weren’t easily impressed. You began teasing him by pointing out his flaws, like saying his hair looked like a turnip or joking about his lack of romantic success despite his popularity. Your playful banter continued until he pleaded on his knees for you to stop. Meanwhile, Karasu couldn’t contain his laughter, amused by the whole situation unfolding in the background.
After all that, Karasu introduced himself and Otoya, but you already knew who they were because they stood out in the U-20 match. Without missing a beat, they immediately asked which one of them was cooler, expecting a response that favoured one of them.
However, you took a moment to consider and then casually replied, “Itoshi Rin.” A smile played on your lips as you chuckled, watching their expressions deflate in defeat.
The dynamic between the three of you is undeniably unique and perhaps even questionable at times. You’d have to listen to all of Otoya’s flimsy attempts to woo girls, and there you were, telling him that those girls were assholes, and he shouldn’t date them because they would only ruin his life and dignity.
And then there’s Karasu, always judging all his friends from Blue Lock and sharing all sorts of stories with you. Like that one time Shidou tried to fight Rin but ended up getting electrocuted and tied up as a result. He thought, “Damn, that could never be me, man. I don’t understand that guy. He even got a hard-on during the U-20 match! Can you believe it?”
As time went on, the bond between the three of you grew stronger, and you found yourself often playing the role of mediator in your conversations. Whenever Karasu said something that offended Otoya or expressed a different opinion, Otoya would turn to you, seeking your perspective. Your response would vary depending on your mood and the circumstances at hand.
You also now have two intimidating men barking at people who try to hit on you or make you uncomfortable. They wouldn’t hesitate to punch someone in the face if they ever looked at you the wrong way.
You wouldn’t hesitate to surprise them with random gifts that reminded you of each of them. For example, you might have bought Karasu a crow plush because it reminded you of him, or a ninja figure with the same hair colour as Otoya. They were always pleasantly surprised by these gestures and wondered how you could afford such things. Whenever they asked about the source of your funds, you would simply reply with a mischievous wink and say, “It’s a secret.”
NOTES. i pulled this out of my ass its kinda wonky but whatever i need more karasu otoya content
LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! ‹3
#( ru’s works )#blue lock#blue lock x reader#blue lock x you#blue lock x y/n#blue lock imagines#bllk#bllk x reader#bllk x you#bllk x y/n#otoya eita#eita otoya#otoya x reader#otoya eita x reader#eita otoya x reader#eita x reader#karasu tabito#tabito karasu#karasu x reader#karasu tabito x reader#tabito karasu x reader#tabito x reader
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hii! may i request akira kurusu x female reader where the reader wears akira’s clothing or shirt and he catches her wearing them? ( romantic ) :D have a good day 💓
It is criminal how long this has been in the drafts :( I apologise anon yet I hope you enjoy
Exchange
⭐️ akira x reader
Despite being the leader of the most renowned group of thieves in the world, Akira arguably had the most humble dress sense out of all the members. Only rocking his designer glasses, the rest of his attire remained honest and simple, perhaps out of habit to avoid standing out so much.
You had desperately tried to convince him to give you some of his clothing yet you were only met with a dismissive “next time”, or “they’re dirty”. Ascending the stairs of Leblanc’s attic, you scanned the familiar space for Akira’s presence to give him the pastries he so eagerly asked for on your way to the cafe.
Setting the goods on his organised crafting table, a flash of blue caught your attention amongst the bleakness of his room; at the edge of his bed sat an unfolded collared shirt practically calling your name.
You peeked your head down the stairs, double-checking the boy was nowhere to be seen and that Sojiro was still busy dealing with the strangely high volume of customers that seemed to be making a whole lot of noise over something.
“I mean, he’ll never know right?” you affirmed, holding onto the collar of the shirt. You layer it on over your already light vest top, covering up the printed design as you button up the seemingly inexpensive attire. Was he going somewhere tonight? It was quite unbecoming of him to leave his things about; perhaps he was in a rush. Your ruminations came to an end when you crossed the room to the mirror and admired your impromptu costume change.
You twisted your torso in the mirror, ogling the back side of the pressed shirt. “Well I’ll be damned. Boy’s got style I’ll give it to him.”
“Thank… you?”
Your head snapped towards the staircase, face slack jawed and dancing between horror and disbelief. Lo and behold, there Akira stood, barely moving himself as he takes in the scene before him.
“Welcome back?” Perhaps if you don’t mention it he won’t either. His previous dismissive nature on the subject admittedly made the situation more anxiety-inducing. But even in your shocked state you still notice the blush settling on his cheeks as he gives you a once-over.
Clearing his throat he walks deeper into his room. “I see someone’s gotten comfy already.”
His unrelenting gaze is not helping. At all. He’s just standing there with a stupid expression on his face that makes your heart rate do things it should be. You’re finding it hard to string a response together but manage to muster enough composure to bring explaining.
“I was just dropping off the stuff you asked for, and then I saw this on the bed and I kinda felt compelled to try it on.. sorry? I’ll take it off right now-“
“That won’t be necessary,” he begins, closing the distance between you two. “It looks great. You look great.” You raise your head to meet his eyes as he places a hand to the side of your face, the heat radiating from it making you feel slightly less embarrassed as his temperature was definitely higher than it usually is.
“Thanks…” you say. His surprise is replaced by warmth that circulates throughout his body, cradling your face like his life depended on it. As you lean into his touch, you feel a gentle kiss placed on your forehead, revelling in the wave of affection.
“So, does this mean we share a wardrobe now?” Pulling back from his touch, you try your luck for a more permanent access to his apparel.
He scoffs, adjusting his glasses. “Oh you can wear them whenever you want. So long as you drop one of those by every time.” He gestures to the desk.
You consider his offer.
“Deal.”
⭐️ eventually the pastry requirement fizzled out, the thief’s heart weighing heavy after countless payments of sweet delicacies. Just seeing you enjoy yourself was payment enough.
Cross-posted on A03 @mystcirrus !
#persona 5#akira kurusu x reader#akira x reader#persona 5 royal#x reader#akira kurusu#ren amamiya#persona 5 protagonist#persona series
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November Prompt 6: Stargaze
Words: 1.4k | Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader
You glance down at the folded slip of parchment Blaise had tucked into your Potions book on the way out of class and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious. After all, Blaise has never shown any interest in you during your seven years together at Hogwarts, and you don’t even consider yourselves associates. It’d also be risky on his part to initiate anything with you with rumors swirling around about his best friend, Draco Malfoy having a crush on you.
Just minutes later, you stumble outside of class with your friend, Solora Hazelridge by your side.
“What is this?” She asks, giving you no time to respond before plucking the parchment from your book.
“Sol!”
“A love letter, I presume?” She giggles while unfolding the paper and giving it a read with raised brows. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a date.”
“Date!?”
A few students turn in your direction in the emptying corridor and you shush yourself quickly.
“Though, if you’re dating someone, don’t you think that’s something your best friend should know about?” She hums, followed by a pout of her cherry red lips.
You roll your eyes and reply with a sigh, “I’m not seeing anyone, let alone dating.” Then, you snatch the paper from her hands and read it yourself.
“Not what the little love letter suggests,” she giggles while the two of you strut into The Great Hall, going back and forth on who you think the letter is from. “It has to be Draco, Y/n.”
“Because of the stupid rumor?”
“Especially because of the rumor,” she assures. “Besides, Draco’s never been known to like anyone. A rumor like that doesn’t just start out of nowhere.”
You plop your books and quill next to your placemat and slither onto the bench.
“It can when you have enemies.”
She rolls her icy blue eyes before her response.
“I’ll ask him then.”
“Solora, wait… no,” you mutter and grasp her hand before she can stand up. “I’ll just meet this person tonight and I’ll see who it is.”
“All alone?” She taunts and twirls her thick, black curls around her finger.
“Yes,” you tease. “All alone. Besides, there isn’t much you can do on the observation deck of the Astronomy Tower anyways.”
“Trust me, Y/n, there’s a lot of things you can do up there,” she giggles.
Hours later, you find yourself staring at the piece of parchment again.
meet me at the top of the astronomy tower at dusk.
You waited until everyone in the dorm had fallen asleep before grabbing the cloak Harry had leant to you earlier this week for sneaking into the Restricted Section for research. Even being the prized Head Girl had its restrictions at this time of night.
Careful to not trigger any alarms, you slip the cloak on and slither through the corridors without much lighting until you reach the third floor of the tower. From there, you tiptoe up stairs and avoid any open corridors where professors may be lurking.
By the time you reach the observation deck, you let out a breathy pant and pull back the cloak in the darkness to fully catch your breath.
Once your breathing is under control, you glance around the deck, seeing no one, nor anything that would stand out. But from here, you can see even the dimmest of stars in the distance, and this draws you out into the open.
Tiny stars glisten in the sky like snowflakes in the winter, beautiful and infinite. And you settle down on wooden planks, making sure to keep the cloak at arms length before lying back.
You stay like this for a while, completely forgetting that you were supposed to meet someone here until you hear shuffling on the stairs below. You freeze, completely forgetting all defensive tactics you’ve learned over the years, only to sigh in relief at the sight of Draco Malfoy stepping from the shadows.
You stand to your feet, leaving your wand behind to greet him.
“You came?” Draco breathes, almost as relieved as you were when you realized it was him and not a professor.
“Wait… you’re the one that wrote the note? You had Blaise deliver it?”
Draco steps closer to the railing, overlooking the courtyard below. The breeze of fleeting summer nights blows through his blonde tresses and a chuckle slips from his mouth.
“You were expecting someone else?”
Your curiosity guides you closer, next to him, and you grasp the railing for support. You can’t look at him, not with breeze feeling like heaven against your scorching skin.
“I pondered, but I didn’t want to believe the rumors. A Slytherin and a Hufflepuff?” You scoff. “And even then, most of my friends aren’t a fan of The Malfoys. It’d never work.”
Draco suppresses a laugh and you turn towards him, all the more confused.
“What is it?”
“It’s you,” he manages through a chuckle. “You’re already assuming the worst of me. I haven’t gotten a chance to prove myself.”
“Prove yourself?” You question and cross your arms over your chest. “What exactly can you prove? Everything I’ve stated is true.”
“Exactly,” he admits. “It’s all true. My family doesn’t associate with the Potters, Weasleys or… Grangers of the world. Our houses could coexist on different sides of the Earth if needed, but all I’m hearing is what others think, and not about how you feel.”
All your heat rises to your cheeks and you start to feel lightheaded at the thought of Draco actually being right for once.
He grasps your arm to steady your shakiness and leads you away from the rail until you’re standing where you’d left your belongings in the middle of the room.
“Just spend this night with me and you can decide for yourself. If you never want to see me again, then I’ll make sure to stop the rumors myself. But if you want to continue this, then we can meet here again tomorrow.”
You nod and follow his lead of sitting back down on the wooden floor.
At first you still can’t bring yourself to look at him and this time it’s not because of the beautiful stars or the wonderful breeze. It’s because every atom in your body is craving for him to move in closer, to make some sort of connection that will solidify the rumors.
“You sure you’re alright? You look like Ron did when he ate slugs back in second year.”
“That was ghastly, don’t remind me,” you groan and drop your hand to your stomach, retching at the memory.
Draco clicks his tongue and pulls his robe around him like a blanket.
“Care to join?” He nods towards you, arm outstretched to let you in, and you hesitantly accept.
Draco’s arm around your shoulder is such a foreign feeling, but as the night progresses, you find so much comfort in the small gesture. Soon you’re nuzzling into his shoulder, taking in the scent of fresh apples that linger in the fabric of his emerald sweater.
“You smell nice,” you mutter against him, allowing your nose to linger a bit longer than it should.
“You too,” he chirps. “Like vanilla and toffee… and the books in the library.”
You giggle softly against him. You never knew you smelled this way, let alone knew that he cared.
“Draco?” You breathe, now pressing your chin into the top of his shoulder where his icy irises meet the warmth of yours.
Any thought or question leaves your lips the moment his eyes meet yours. You wonder how you’ve been staring at the stars in the sky all these hours when the stars in his eyes are so much brighter.
Draco’s brows rise and his nose scrunches softly. You can tell he isn’t used to having someone this close, isn’t used to letting someone in, but all that goes away when you gaze into each other. Every layer of bricks he’s built comes tumbling down the moment your right hand slithers into his platinum blonde hair and settles at the nape of his neck.
His breathing hitches against your face and you both lean in slowly, taking in one last breath of crisp air before the warmth engulfs you both.
His robe slips off both your shoulders and he guides you back against it, nestling his hips between your legs without pulling his lips from yours. His hands burn against the flesh that had come exposed on your hips in the shuffle and you moan softly against him.
When he finally pulls away, allowing you both to breathe, it’s as if all the stars, even the dimmest in the sky, have gathered in his eyes. And in this moment, all you know, is that you wouldn’t mind stargazing with Draco Malfoy everyday, for the rest of your existence.
Please be sure to check out my other latest fics:
⚡︎ November Prompt Challenge (days 1-30)
⚡︎ For You Always - reader x Snape
~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms) & (bts imagines/drabbles)
Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡
#fanfic#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter#fanfiction#draco fanfiction#draco malfoy#malfoy family#draco lucius malfoy#draco x reader#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy x you#draco malfoy x y/n#draco x y/n#draco x you#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy fluff#draco fluff#draco angst#draco malfoy angst#draco smut#draco malfoy smut#severus snape#sirius black#hermoine granger#hogwarts imagine#hogwarts au#dracotok#slytherin#hufflepuff#the marauders
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HI!! okay so with the magical euphoria thingy i screamed into my pillow like twenty million times while reading AUDHSHXH /pOS YOUR WRITING IS AUAHDHAHX!!:?:!;!;:!, ANYWAY.
whumpee uses WAY too much magic in a fight. they’re completely giddy, out of it, and have just horrifically defeated something/someone.
looks around and notices that everyone is silent and terrified of what whumpee is capable of, because holy fuck. they did not need to go that far????
meanwhile whumpee thinks they were doing the right thing and, still incredibly excited from winning, runs over to caretaker!! and doesn’t understand why caretaker flinches away from them!! ^_^
sorry for the heinous grammar its like almost midnight rn :(((
(context)
I’m glad you liked my writing! I’m grinning like a fool rn.
And yes!!! Not every battle ends with Whumpee exhausted and ready to collapse. Sometimes they’re still sparking with energy, too deep into the high to realize they’re acting oddly, but not deep enough to be entirely gone. And honestly? For the people who care about them, for the people who are afraid of them, I think that state would be far, far worse. Awake but not quite aware. Unpredictable.
So like, hear me out.
The squadron is returning back to camp after a long day of missions. Their mage is still with them, in both senses of the word. They’re not fallen into total lunacy yet, still conscious and mobile. Whumpee’s bouncing on their toes, head swiveling on their shoulders like an excited puppy. They’re chatting excitedly, near incomprehensibly, at a soldier that made the mistake of getting too close. The soldier can only nod along to the stream of consciousness leaving Whumpee’s lips.
Caretaker is keeping a hold on Whumpee’s arm, making sure they don’t run off. They know Whumpee will be fine after a night’s rest.
It’s a rare moment of calm. They’re sore and exhausted, but the warm pride of a job well done leaves them feeling satisfied. The atmosphere is light as they trudge through the forest. Peaceful, all things considered.
But then Whumpee freezes, body stiffening all at once as something catches their attention. They turn, eyes focusing on something. A flash of enemy colors flicks in their vision–
Whumpee’s moving before Caretaker can react. Light bursts from their hands, illuminating the dark forest, and the squadron freezes on instinct. Whumpee’s attention, fractured and fleeting moments ago, has sharpened into a deadly edge to focus on a single figure.
Whumpee reaches out a single glowing hand, fingers curling as if grabbing something.
Flanked by two petrified guards, hands shackled behind his back, is a single enemy soldier taken as prisoner. His eyes widen as Whumpee’s attention focuses on him, the man’s bruised and exhausted face contorted in terror. His mouth is open in silent, terrified scream.
Just as Caretaker is reaching out to stop them, Whumpee reaches out with an open hand. Their fingers curl inward as if grabbing something. With a sharp movement their hand is pulled back, fingers clenched shut. The prisoner’s body lurches forward in response.
The crackle of energy cracks through the air, and suddenly something red and dripping and squirming is hovering mere feet from the man. He’s never laid eyes on it before, but the emptiness in his chest tells him exact
The human heart, still beating, falls to the forest floor. Its owner falls a moment later.
Silence follows. Fear and shock runs through the squadron, their minds struggling to comprehend what had just unfolded. Some freeze like a deer in the headlights, terrified that moving will bring Whumpee’s wrath. Others are inching their hands towards their belts, looking for a weapon. Others still are simply trembling from shock, suddenly and violently reminded of the danger in their midsts.
The terror that grips Caretaker is different. They’re afraid for Whumpee. Training kicking into overdrive, Caretaker’s eyes dart over the scene, calculating. Assessing the panic, assessing how long they have until fear turns into action.
They know they have to take control of the situation. Caretaker’s footsteps are firm as they approach Whumpee, exuding confidence they don’t feel, and praying it's enough to keep the situation from escalating.
Caretaker places a hand on Whumpee’s shoulder. Whumpee turns to face them, expression blank
“Whumpee,” Caretaker speaks with trained calmness, voice gentle yet firm. Their smile is a weak, trembling thing, doing little to mask their anxiety. The smile Whumpee gives in return is genuine and bright, oblivious. “We need him alive. We’re taking him in for questioning, remember?”
Whumpee doesn’t respond. Their eyes are more clouded than they were a moment before, their sanity strained even further by that display of power. For a long, breathless moment Whumpee simply stares, a vacant smile plastered over their face.
Caretaker keeps their expression calm, but the tension is suffocating them. All they can hear is the gurgling of a dying man.
And then the moment breaks. Whumpee blinks, and awareness flicks back into their eyes. A tittering giggle creeks out from between their teeth.
“Oh! Right, yes. We need that one alive, don’t we?” Whumpee laughs.
The clearing is still as Whumpee all but skips over to the twitching body. They grab the heart from where it dropped.The muscle is still pulsing weakly, spilling blood over Whumpee’s arms. They don’t seem to notice.
Whumpee calls their magic again, the organ vanishing in a flash. In that same instance, the prisoner’s eyes fly open, bloodless lips widening with a desperate gasp. His next inhale comes out as a sob. He curls inward, limbs close to his chest, as if desperate to keep his heart in its place.
Whumpee doesn’t even give the man a second glance. As their would-be victim sobs, broken and terrified, on the ground, Whumpee happily returns to Caretaker’s side. They reach their hand, now coated a deep red, expectantly towards Caretaker. Caretaker holds Whumpee’s hand with a trained smile, and tries not to flinch at the warm wetness.
Caretaker starts walking, not daring to look back. They know the terrified, hateful, dangerous looks they’ll see if they did.
Whumpee doesn’t notice the way Caretaker's grip tightens, or how they’re maneuvered to walk some distance away from the other soldiers.
The rest of the trip is done in silence.
#okay yeah this does deviate slightly from the ask but#close enough in my defense i got excited and ran a tad wild#Love unaware displays of horrifying power!!#Remeber that the person giggiling drunkenly in your party is more than capible of killing you at any moment <3#magical whumpee#unaware whumper#whumpee turned whumper#delirious whumpee#out of it whumpee#an ask tag#whump#whumpee#caretaker#whumblr#my stuff
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Imagine...Joel Inviting You To Come To Wyoming
Pairing: Joel Miller x reader
A/N: The Last of Us fanfic anyone?? First time venturing into this fandom (and doing a non-Jensen Ackles character) and ngl, kinda terrified. *posts fic to go run and hide*
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“Joel. Joel.” You pushed on his shoulder, met with a grunt in response. “Get up.”
“What,” he grumbled. You sat up, shoving him harder this time. “Y/N I swear-“
“Look.” He grumbled beside you again and sat up with a frown. Out of the corner of your eye you saw his lip twitch up momentarily.
“Is that a smile Joel Miller?” you teased, bumping his ribs.
“Watch it, Y/L/N.” He leaned forward, staring out the window. It’d been a long time since you’d seen a rainbow, even longer since you’d appreciated one. “Think it’s done raining?”
“Sky looks clear to the west,” you said, shifting on the ground, moving off of your sleeping bag. He grunted as he stretched, grabbing his bag and taking a drink from a water bottle inside. You got your bag packed away and shoved at the bottom of your backpack.
He’d slept on some couch cushions, mumbling half of the four hours he got.
“You coming?” he grunted. You slipped on your jacket and bag, raising your eyebrows. “We should move.”
“Wait. You were serious about letting me go back to Wyoming with you?”
He stared at you as he got to his feet, backpack over his large shoulders in a matter of seconds. “Wouldn’t have told you about it in the first place if I wasn’t.”
“I thought you didn’t like me.” Joel stared out the window, sighing to himself. “You’re kinda-“
“I know.” He nodded his head for you to join him. You stood over by his side, glancing up at him. “You risked your neck for a stranger and saved my ass. Only thing you asked for in return was a morsel of food, if I had it.”
“And?”
“And been awhile since I met another decent person on their own,” he said, keeping his gaze outside.
“You don’t seem the type to trust easily.”
“If this is a long con, you’re doing a hell of a job considering it’s been days,” he said. Finally you felt his eyes on you, your head turning up to meet them. They lacked the cautiousness from your first encounter, replaced with a look of understanding. “So. You coming back with me?”
“Depends. You in some sort of weird ass cult? I’ve run into a few cons myself.” He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a slip of paper. “What’s this?”
He just stared so you took it, unfolding it carefully.
Hey there! Joel’s a bit of an asshole and emotionally repressed and shit but if you’re reading this, then he trusts you more than he doesn’t. I don’t know, he thought I’d be better at putting this down into words or shit. Anyway, you should trust him back cause he’s someone I didn’t used to trust either but then I did and it was kinda a good thing. Just give the dude a chance.
Ellie
“This doesn’t really say anything,” you said, handing it back.
“Kid means well,” he said, shoving it back in his jeans.
“I’m supposed to trust you cause you have a kid?” you asked.
“No. Trust me cause your gut says so and if I wanted to do something to you, I would have done it last night.” He crossed his arms, staring at the fading rainbow in the distance. “She’s ain’t my kid. She’s just a kid.”
“Right. Just some random cursing child that knows you’re ‘emotionally repressed’ you don’t totally give a shit about.”
He stiffened his shoulders, glancing down at you. “You going to come with me or what?”
“I think your not kid kid was right on the you being an ass thing.” You pursed your lips. “I’ll go if you tell me a real fact about yourself.”
He was quiet, staring at you for a long moment, eyes shifting to watch the last traces of the rainbow disappear.
“I lost my daughter the day the world went to shit.” You breathed deeply. That explained this Ellie kid a bit. “And you?”
“Wasn’t the deal.”
“Never agreed to a deal.” He turned back to you as clouds rolled in, your gaze forcefully finding his.
“I killed my parents when I found them ripping my brother to shreds. I was twelve.”
“How’d you take down two adults?” he asked, eyebrows raised in a way that you didn’t like.
“I knew where they kept the shotgun,” was all you said, hand going to your forearm, squeezing it. “Shitty day.”
“Yes it was.” You turned around, heading for the exit. “We ought to head out before the rain catches us.”
“Y/N.” You stopped, glancing over your shoulder. He tossed you a small bag, a glance inside revealing jerky and a bit of old cheese. “In case we get separated on the way.”
“This is all your food,” you said as he walked past.
“No it ain’t,” he lied, adjusting his rifle. You smiled, tucking it away in your bag. “You’re gonna have to earn your keep in Wyoming.”
“Uh huh,” you said, Joel frowning at you. “You’re a big softie under all that grr.”
He rolled his eyes and started to head downstairs. “Move it. I want to be on the road in five.”
“Okay, Softie.” He growled as you laughed quietly. “Shouldn’t have given me that note if you didn’t want me to know how sweet you are.”
“I’m regretting this already,” he sighed. “You’re nearly as bad as the kid.”
“You’ll warm up to the nickname by the time we get there. Softie.”
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#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller#tlou fanfiction#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us#tlou#tlou fic#pedro pascal#joel miller imagine
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