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ssahotchnerr · 6 months

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Hey love, could you pretty please do an Aaron x reader where it’s there wedding day and she starts getting real bad anxiety about marrying him. Not because she doesn’t want to but because she feels like he is surrounded by so many amazing people who uplift him that she could never compare. Just in the mood for fluffy comfort Aaron 🥹

enough

cw; fem!reader, a LOT of angst but it's comforting??, heavy 5x9 references (i'm sobbing actually), anxiety descriptions, aaron cries 😭, comfort and a happy ending don't worry!!!! wc; 2.4k

"nervous jitters?"

"you could say that." you replied - while staring off into space, while bouncing your crossed leg, while kicking your slipper on and off your heel. your head moved downward as your fingers clutched onto the seat of the chair you were sat in, harshly enough for your knuckles to turn white.

jj pulled the curling wand away from your face an inch, "careful, try not to move."

"sorry."

yet another wave of guilt rippled through you, as this wasn't how you should feel on your wedding day.

last night, you were surrounded by the people you now consider family, celebrating a new chapter. or rather, a beginning. aaron's permanent grin was engraved in your mind; you've never seen him so carefree, happily conversing with his colleagues, gazing at you as if he'd won the lottery (to him, he had). you were positive there wasn't a second where his arms hadn't been wrapped around you.

before parting ways for the night, he had pulled you to the side, to a more secluded area. he gave you long, sweet, deep kisses, holding your body close to his, as you weren't going to see each other until the two of you officially, and finally, became one.

just as him, you had been on a similar high, more than ready for this next adventure, in pure disbelief that in less than twenty-four hours, you'd be a hotchner. so now, whatever this was, had quite literally come out of absolutely nowhere.

when you awoke this morning, rather than the excitement you had expected, you were greeted with an empty, terrifying pit in your stomach.

as the day carried on, pre-wedding activities in full motion, it followed, and the void within only grew and grew. it was gravely unsettling; you were more fidgety, on edge, you hadn't been your usual talkative self. and despite being surrounded by your newfound family - jj, penelope, and emily more specifically - you couldn't help but choose to remain alone in your thoughts.

jj studied your face through the mirror, before securing your hairpiece in place. "there." her hands found your shoulders, giving them a comforting squeeze. "sit tight, i'll be right back."

you nodded, blinking your eyes to prevent the budding tears from slipping - and to not ruin penelope's handiwork, mascara sure to stain your cheeks. she left, leaving you alone.

but as promised jj returned no more than five minutes later, only she remained at the doorway, her head peeking in. "someone's here to see you."

after giving you a consoling smile, as if she knew - profilers - she vanished, leaving door slightly ajar.

your hand had only just touched the knob when the door moved a centimeter back, slight pressure holding it still to refrain from opening fully.

"don't open it all the way."

"aaron?" at the sound of his voice, you fought the instant urge to sob. but the utmost amount of comfort filled you too. it took a second, but you found your voice, "you're not supposed to be here."

"well technically, i just can't see you."

"still." you insisted. your tone was flat, rather than being full of giddiness due to your future husband sneakily paying you a forbidden visit - like it should've. "they're going to be looking for you."

"then let them." aaron answered simply, not concerned about that in the slightest. "are you alright?"

you immediately fell silent, and aaron patiently waited a minute, but still - nothing. the extended period of quietness, scared him, given the day's event.

please, not cold feet.

and given the current circumstances, there was only so much he could do. aaron dropped his hand to his side, weaving through the small gap. "here, give me your hand."

your hand quickly found his, the promptness allowing aaron to breathe. the familiar weight felt like home; your hand always fitting perfectly within his. your hands always cold, his warm. yours soft, his rough.

his thumb drew circles on the back of your hand, an invitation to open up. "what's on your mind?"

you bit your lip in thought, taking a heavy enough breath aaron could hear it without straining his ears.

"honey?"

"first, i want to preface this that i do want to marry you. i don't want you thinking otherwise." your voice was firm, meaning every word.

"okay..." here was a brief hesitancy in his voice despite your promise; a tinge of worry, some question. however, he managed to keep his voice steady, for the most part. you, however, still recognized the waver of uncertainty.

"just," you released a breath, your voice small. "i envy you."

aaron was quiet for a moment, and when he did speak, the confusion was obvious in his voice. "you envy me?"

"you have," you took a breath, gripping onto his hand. "so many wonderful amazing people around you... i don't even know where to start. they've been with you, stuck with you, for far longer than i have. how do i compare to that? god, dave's practically paying for this whole thing. because of you, for you. no matter who you would've married, he would've done exactly the same. i'm not special."

"sweethear-"

"i want to be enough for you." tears pinched at your eyes, your hold on his hand lessening - which frighteningly felt like you were letting go completely. "you deserve," you took another breath, and this one rattled through you. "everything. and i'm afraid i never will be."

aaron only clutched onto your hand tighter, refusing to part. his eyes squeezed shut for a moment, taking a silent, deep breath. "are you wearing your dress yet?"

after all that, you weren't too sure of how he would respond, but you certainly hadn't expected that. "no? once-"

aaron released your hand. and after looking in both directions of the hall to be certain he was in the clear, he swiftly entered, the door clicking shut behind him.

"aaron." you stared at him, your eyes wide in alarm. you barely had the time to process him in his tuxedo, or have the thought to push him out. "you can't be-"

"enough?" aaron looked at you, baffled. exasperation, pain, and love all present in his eyes. "how can you say that?"

"i-"

"you... are everything. my everything." he moved to your left, pacing away for a moment, quickly internalizing a way to get it across solidly, so you wouldn't dare question otherwise again. he blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "did i ever tell you, what haley told me before she died?"

you blinked in surprise, but shook your head. while you knew the story, offered reassurances after nightmares and the topic of haley had never been off limits, aaron had never gone into detail over... the final moments. you never pushed, never asked - if it was something he chose to keep to himself, to have that part of haley close to him and only him - of course you respected that. they were vulnerable, painful memories, not easy to relive.

he sobered, his posture and expression changing before you, alight with a ghost of the past. a tender, solemn fondness was in his tone as he recalled the line. "'love is the most important thing.'"

your eyes studied his face, silently urging him to continue.

"and while our relationship had it's hardships, she wanted jack to believe in it - love - and had me promise her that i'd show him."

"aaron..."

"he believes, because of you."

"i-"

"i believe," his eyes found yours, full of a sincereness you've never seen from him. "because of you."

you opened your mouth to speak again, but no words came out.

"haley was right." he chuckled softly, with a small shake of his head, "honestly, and while i understand why now, for a long time i was furious she made me promise that. because i wouldn't be able to keep my word. before that... day, i'd already given up. lost hope that i could find it again, that it was even possible, or whether i deserved it. haley and i were together for a long time, you know that. being with her was all i knew, what i was used to, and part of me thought maybe someday, we'd manage to work things out. and suddenly, she was gone. it was too late - i was too late. i failed her, and i'd continue to fail her."

"and then you came into my life, and turned my world around completely. never did i think i would love again, let alone get on one knee and ask someone to marry me. but here we are. here you are."

aaron took your face into his hands, as delicately as he possibly could - as if he feared he would break you.

"because of you, i kept my promise to haley. jack knows, he sees the love i have for you every day. and although he 'ew's' at the sight of us kissing here and there, he'll grow up understanding. he'll know the importance, as promised."

"and you saved me. you saved from a looming downward spiral. i saw it happen to gideon, it's happened to countless others within the bureau, and i could've been the next. i told someone once; it's consuming, this job will eat you up if you let it. but instead of letting it, instead of ruining my relationship with jack, you managed to pull me from that impending darkness i was headed toward."

tears were continuously trickling down your cheeks, utterly speechless.

"you're enough. god you're more than enough. and if that doesn't... i'll prove it to you everyday if i have to. if you'll let me." a broken exhale left his lips, choked up. "i promise."

still unable to find the words, and actions speaking louder, your fingers grabbed onto his tux, pulling his body to yours and wrapping your arms around his middle, burying your face into his chest. in the back of your mind, you made a mental apology to penelope, and hoped you weren't soiling aaron's dress shirt too badly.

aaron's shoulders dropped at the contact, in relief. he pressed his lips to the top of your head, his arms wrapping around your shoulders and holding you close. next, he's the one who took a shaky breath.

"so, i'm the one who should be afraid."

"what?" your voice cracked, peering up at him, your chin on his torso.

"baggage." aaron sighed, tearing his eyes away from yours, his hands running along your back soothingly - or rather, to soothe himself. "i'm the widowed father. i'm the one who's never around. i'm the one who's scarred, in more ways than one. i don't want to limit you, to keep you from a life you've always imagined for yourself. like i did with haley."

"don't say that."

"every day, i wonder why i'm the one you chose to be with. wonder why you love me. i think that it's too good to be true, that i'll wake up. or someday, you will."

"aaron."

he sighed, tears sliding down his cheek.

"you are not scarred, aaron hotchner." you cupped his face and angled him so he was looking at you, wiping the droplets away with the pads of your thumb. "far from it. the life i imagine, is with you. this is it." you found it in you to let out a small laugh, refreshing after the morning you've had. "that's why i was so worried."

he also couldn't help but laugh gently through his tears. "you shouldn't be."

your hand slid to the back of his neck, winding your fingers through the nape of his hair. "you've, very unfairly, dealt with the unfathomable. the unimaginable. but that doesn't make you broken. i find it admirable actually, and it's one of the things i love about you. you're strong aaron. to go through something like that, and come out on the other side of it, both the tragedy and the recovery part of it. a lot of people wouldn't be able to do the same."

aaron looked at you, listening, his head tilting as he leaned into your touch.

"despite what you think, you're a good father. i adore you with jack. and with the horrors you see, every day, you still come home with a calm face. you never fail to give us your all - your sweet loving self. you're always present, even if you're physically aren't here. because you're out there making this world a safer place for so many others. for jack, for me. you really don't give yourself enough credit."

aaron remained silent, his gaze beginning to tear away from yours. but you stopped him, with a finger under his chin to direct his focus back to you.

"you may have scars, but they aren't you. they may contribute, but they aren't you."

"are you sure?" his voice fell to a whisper, eyes desperately searching yours, his own dampened.

you nodded earnestly, your bottom lip quivering a small amount. "i've never been more sure of anything. i promise."

and with that, aaron's lips found yours, kissing you even more deeply than he had the previous night. from the urgency that soon developed, it was clear just how needed this conversation was, on both ends. providing closure, clarity. the kiss sent a buzz right through you, instantaneously making up for the all the lost time you had spent brooding.

you forced yourself to pull away - only when air was needed, and to simply stop. you would've gladly kissed him longer, and aaron likewise, but the two of you were on a schedule.

his forehead fell against yours, a rather boyish, adorable smile on his face. "so, are we good?"

you nodded, your lips pulling into a smile as well, the giddiness you've been missing finally present. you reached up, gently blotting away any lingering tears of his. "we've always been."

"wedding still on?"

you rolled your eyes, gently smacking his chest and making him laugh. "duh."

"okay." he grinned, pecking your lips gently. "i better go. if someone catches me in here-"

"-you'll be in trouble."

"big trouble." he grinned, pulling your hands forward to bring you in for yet another kiss. "i love you. you never saw me."

you chased his lips - just one more. "never did."

aaron laughed, his brown eyes just sparkling. "i'll see you soon. you know where to find me, i'll be waiting."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x fem!reader #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x you

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soapoet · 6 months

Text

Your first time with them (18+)

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Shufflemancy: Bad seed by Beach weather

Your first time with your person is like the reward of a good hunt, the prey finally caught, and the chase coming to an end to make room for the feast. It may have been an extended game of knowing looks and eyes burning with desire across the room. It may have not been appropriate then, and for some this could mark the end of a right person wrong time scenario. Either one of you may have ended a relationship the other was anticipating, knowing their door would be the first to be knocked on once these prior entanglements had been cut loose and moved on from. There really seems to be no surprise here, as you were already intimate through longing stares. Those wandering eyes frequently looking to catch glimpses of prized skin you knew was inevitable for you to claim.

Time seems to be a scarce currency after this dreadful wait, so none is wasted. The push and pull dynamic that was there all along finally expresses itself physically, with almost aggressive passion, as though the two of you are getting back at each other for the wait. You both want everything all at once but try to pace yourselves to the best of your abilities, hard though it seems, considering you both want to sink your teeth into each other. Clothes, another irritating barrier it seems, come off on the way down halls and over thresholds, desire and desperation painting the bedroom walls long before you finally collapse into the sheets to claim and to be claimed.

You are both active participants, and this is not an act that happens to one at the hands of the other, but a dynamic escapade leaving you both breathless. Movement crafted in perfect synchronicity as though your bodies were meant to partake in this dance together all along. This could go on for quite a while as you're making up for lost time, and the need to merge with each other fully, to make two become one, becomes all-consuming, and the pleasure intoxicating like the finest, most exquisite wine. This is truly all those illicit daydreams becoming realised at last, hands and eyes and lips and tongues demanding to find and imprint upon everything you could not before, back when it was forbidden or impossible to make true due to unfortunate and frustrating circumstances. This release of anticipation, the thrist quenched at last, lends so much stamina and passion, the desire to continue on and on and on, to dive back into the linens when your breaths are caught time after time, to again and again chase down pleasure and lay claim to the hills and valleys of flesh you've yearned for.

02.

Shufflemancy: Dress by Taylor Swift

The chemistry was undeniable for quite a while, wasn't it? Though it was thinly veiled in confusion and many doubts and what ifs, the both of you could see it all along. Just how perfectly you could fit like puzzle pieces together in an intricate web of art. It seemed to be but a matter of time before the sparks would cause everything to catch on fire. You may have spent a bit of time in mutual pining, and worse yet, the both of you were well aware, though doubts clouded your judgement. Certain you were deluding yourself, reading much too far into it, there always had to be some rational explanation, and yet, each and every time you two would meet, those doubts and their noise were nowhere to be seen. The only music playing which you knew for certain were the feelings you held for the other, and how every glance and word and the language spoken by their physical body told you that it was true. That the feeling was mutual.

Something that stands out to me is that there is next to no physical contact prior to the first time with your person. You spend quite a bit of time in each other's presence, though somewhat sparce, few and far in between, and when you do the air in the room seems ablaze as your minds mingle when you speak. But physically? You may sit or stand close enough, but there is almost like a barrier between you, a yellow tape saying do not cross, invisible to all but the two of you who seem so aware of this ravine without a suspension bridge. Once contact is made it is done in earnest. Pressure previously held back now boiling over in an overwhelming mess. It may be that both of you struggle to find the balance between rough and gentle. A desperate explosion of need once the leash has been let go of and you two may finally lunge at each other, tugging and pulling at fabric and limbs to quickly tie yourselves into a double knot.

For some of you this can occur first inside an official building of sorts, or where this display of affection and desire appears improper or ill-advised. An office, a classroom, dormitory, studio, somebody else's home, or any place where there are people not too far and the chance of getting caught is high and your actions considered very risky. There will be a pause and an interruption to these advances, mostly due to your own sensibilities. Nervous smiles and quiet sorry's exchanged for the sudden charge and uncontrolled eruption of passion, and even quieter arrangements made to continue this journey in a better location at a better time. Even then, once truly given privacy and freedom to explore each other, few articles of clothing make it off your bodies as you embrace, because the need has by then grown immeasurable and requires immediate release, and may be rather rough around the edges, with desperation leaving behind many marks across flushed skin.

03.

Shufflemancy: I'm with you by Vance Joy

How delightful and sweet it can be, the intimacy between two who have journeyed through life together for long enough to truly know and trust each other. This connection feels quite pure and quaint, but giddy and bright like a fizzy drink. There is a firm and stable foundation which the two of you stand upon, always able to lean on one another, with so many secrets to share and jokes no other could understand whispered, or simply relayed in knowing looks. For some, this is a lifelong friend, a bond built upon over many years, and for others this is one of those friends who you meet seemingly once in a lifetime, wherein two weeks is all it takes to feel as though you have spent decades side by side.

So what then, when those delicate feelings begin to grow and bud and bloom? For a while you may both hide those petals, certain that though they are so soft and delicate, they would cut and tear that which you have built together. It slowly but surely grows past any veils you try to hide them behind, and the two of you both notice, yet dare not say. This line right between friendship and something more, such a scary one to cross, a terrifying leap of faith to take when the concern is that something so precious could shatter upon impact and forever change and make strangers out of dear friends and could-be-loves who could not.

One of you will finally blurt it out. It may be a little sudden, even awkward in its delivery, yet so endearing in its honesty. The dynamic between the two of you at last called out for what it is, and what it has become over the past weeks or months, or how it perhaps always was but neither dared to rock the boat in fear of ruin. And it is met with such relief. Intimacy may not even happen right away, just a gentle hand finding its match and lips brushing against the other. So cautiously exploring uncharted territory. Intimacy itself will feel a little silly too, like the many barriers, buckles and zippers and hooks and all suddenly appear so complicated and in need of instruction manuals. Many giggles are shared as you fumble through it together. Your first time is very sweet and romantic, a little bit of a mess as you stumble through this sudden shift of what you have now become, but happy accidents nevertheless, and one which feels like a sigh of relief and gentle bliss as you spill and blend together like watercolour on paper.

04.

Shufflemancy: Don't delete the kisses by Wolf Alice

Oh my dear, you may feel quite nervous about the mere thought of letting someone close to you like this. To bare it all before another, such a frighteningly vulnerable position to put yourself in. You could have avoided this for a long time, some of you even wonder if there perhaps was something wrong with you, faulty wiring, or worse yet, feeling altogether broken beyond repair. You may have quite a few concerns for a variety of reasons. For some of you it could be a haunting past or terrible past lovers, and for others, excruciating insecurity and inability to relax and let the currents take you away, much too preoccupied with worries about how you look and sound to be in the moment at ease in your own skin. For a few, all the aforementioned reasons mixed into one.

A huge amount of trust is required before your defences ease up and you agree to lower the drawbridge to your castle. Your person could be your first, or at the very least the first to make you feel safe and allowed to have a say in the script. This could ultimately be your idea, a concept entirely new to you, as you are the one to pursue an intimate touch and allow the other in. Regardless which role you fall into, you feel more in control and it is less intimidating when you know that the reins are in your hands, with a lover who is so careful and gentle with you and knows you so truly, wishing you no harm.

Your first time with this person very much serves as a mark in your timeline as a huge leap of faith and overcoming fear and insecurity. They make you feel beautiful and safe, like a priceless figurine of glass, an heirloom meant to be handled with great and gentle care, respect, and devotion. Everything is slow and steady, and very sensual. Very much a feast to all the senses which will be firing all your nerves and make you feel weak and leave you trembling. It is as though time stops to make a bubble for just the two of you, to have no need to rush, to make sure the both of you are alright and enjoy every featherlight touch and sweet caress. A lot of eye contact is made, in particular when you make it over the hill and find that love has a face and it is right in front of you, and you're held close with such tender care you may shed a few tears.

05.

Shufflemancy: Take me to church by Hozier

Very peculiar energy, slightly confusing, much like the connection itself. You or your person may at the time be experiencing a very tumultuous period in life. Something is cruelly weighing heavy on you and you're feeling worried and hopeless and lost, and seeking any sort of lifeline to hold on to. And that lifeline quickly turns out to be the other person, akin to a buoy away from the shores, something to cling to in crashing waves when your body tires and feels unable to stay afloat and much less swim back to land. For some, it is possible that this stress is sourced from this person specifically due to the state of your connection at the time.

Feelings have grown but the roses around your heart carry thorns, so though they are striking in their beauty, they threaten to wound you more and faster and deeper when you are around them and they make your poor heart flutter. For some of you, this time may not even be the first time, instead the first time it feels special, carrying a purpose beyond mere pleasure. This could be a casual thing, the reunion with an ex, a friends with benefits scenario, something which was never supposed to be more than what was bargained for or supposedly left in the past. Yet somewhere, at some point in time, lines were crossed but no renegotiations took place, and for a time, which may have felt agonisingly long, you were left suspended in the air amongst the clouds of uncertainty and doubt.

Things really come to a head, as suddenly both internal and external circumstances add up to far too much to bear, and you simply crumble to pieces before them and they are fortunately quick to catch you and attempt holding together those shattered pieces. A confession through sobs, not even in the safety of a cozy bedroom but possibly in a car, a stranger's home, a storage room, or someplace else that makes this revelation of the roses blooming feel that much more misplaced and unsafe. Yet it is met with such grace and the aching heart taken in a protective embrace and the thorns pushed aside. Though the circumstance feels strange and the timing poor, it happens. One pair of hands desperate and in need of closing the gap between you, nails breaking skin whilst drowning and gasping for air like you're truly going to sink. The other pair gently but firmly taking command of your body and keeping you sane and there in the present, afloat and safe and breathing heavily, pinning you down with the weight of a body you'll come to see akin to a blanket made for anxiety, as now this person truly sees you and hears you and cares for you so deeply you might cry from a bittersweet mix of the relief of a survivor and the joy of victory.

06.

Shufflemancy: Break my heart by Dua Lipa

Quite a thorough person, eh? In all that they do, your person is meticulous and strives for perfection. Intimacy is no exception. This person is likely to be more traditional, and wine and dine you for a while at first and really take their time because they look for the perfect mate, a life partner. They wish not to make mistakes and choose poorly, because it would create such an unnecessary mess of heartbreak and wasted time and effort. Though they seem a little on the chillier side, they are romantic and have a taste for finer indulgences. And thus, intimacy with you is certainly a planned event well in advance with everything just right as if the occasion is an offering to a deity worth worship.

The wait, the slower pace of the connection itself, may be to you as new, refreshing and welcome as it is frustrating. You could've experienced previous encounters which burnt quick and fast but also faded just as swiftly, so the careful and by-the-book attentive diligence of this person is so promising and makes you feel quite special. Yet you feel the ever-increasing desire growing almost painful at the very core of your being. Nearly frightened by the power which the other holds over you. The almost urgent need for friction, for the warmth of the flame, only held back by the certainty of knowing they'd only deny you and your rushed advances because they want to take their time to fit you into their life and create the perfect step by step choreography to your romance.

Until finally, dimly lit rooms with cascading golden hues reflecting off of silks, soft tunes from the other room where a pair of empty glasses stand, as you fall into soft sheets and dainty petals. There, at last, devoured whole, consumed by desire and claimed by what you've yearned for so earnestly for so long you could've sworn you were going mad. Release, the green light to finally leap off the edge and let yourself be at the mercy of freefall. This person is observant, and determined to learn of every freckle, every nook, and send shivers skipping across your skin wherever they go on their quest to map you out like a tireless explorer on an adventure and in search of treasure. They communicate so clearly and seem so intuitive, as though they have a degree in your body language and are going for a doctorate through trial an error, and finding just the right pace and pressure to send you to the skies above to unite with the stars.

#pac reading #18+ tarot #energy reading #intuitive reading #love reading #love pac #pick a card reading #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile #tarotblr #soapy.post

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thehighladywrites · 3 months

Text

- “if it is so wrong, why does it feel so good?”

pairing: stalker/perv!azriel x reader, nesta, elain and feyre mentioned

summary: stalking and perving is azriel’s favorite activities. What happens when you finally drop the oblivious mask and confront him

warnings: dark content, stalking, perving (on literally everyone), breaking and entering, stealing panties, az having a darker side, getting turned on by your fear, az eating you out, reader being bold and hot as fuck omg,

amara’s note: okay this is very short bc it’s my first time writing a dark fic. Also i hope you like it and pls read the warnings.

Azriel knows he is some sort of sick freak. He knows he should resist his sinful glances at Feyre when she's cozied up on Rhysand's lap. He flexes a little extra just to spark Nesta's desires, fully aware of her fantasies. And as for Elain, well, let's just say he's playing a forbidden game of spying while she bends over to plant her greens.

Azriel's is extremely aware he shouldn't be harboring forbidden desires or indulging in the secret pleasure of stalking someone as seemingly innocent as yourself.

Azriel, the ultimate mastermind, keeps everyone guessing. Who would suspect the quiet, brooding and publicly respected spymaster to be a closeted perv and sick stalker? It's his most guarded secret hidden beneath the intimidating exterior.

Little does Azriel know, you're fully aware of his perverse behavior—his wandering eyes and spying shadows. It surprises you that no one has figured him out yet; after all, it seems quite apparent, doesn't it?

You don’t miss his lurking shadows following you around for hours. A regular fae would’ve missed it but not you. You’ve grown accustomed to him and his ways. You know him better than anyone else and you definitely know of his stalker tendencies.

Azriel believes he's smooth, avoiding outright ogling. Instead, he strategically glances at you during training with Cassian and while sharpening his weapons, subtly appreciating the way your body moves.

Pervert azriel walks up to you, complimenting your form, claiming while it’s good there’s something you need to fix. You don’t mind if he needs to grab your waist while fixing your pose right? And of course you’ll excuse him if he accidentally brushes against your boobs and ass. I mean he just wants to help you perfect your form!

He watches you walking through Velaris from the shadows, always hiding one of his shadows with you. He tells himself that he does it for your safety. Who knows, you might be attacked and he needs to be ready.

He absolutely doesn’t want to hear how much of a hypocrite he is for also stalking you in the safety of your home aswell.

Azriel steals your panties, silently breaking into your room as he looks through your drawers, skimming through the collection of panties. He promises himself it’s the last time, though he’s made the same pledge seven times before.

Azriel's stalking tendencies lead him to roam through your belongings, touching everything to become familiar with your world. He goes to your vanity, picking up your perfumes, and indulges in the forbidden pleasure of smelling the one thing he desires most—you.

Lying in your bed, his head on your pillow, he starts shifting in the sheets, inhaling more of your scent. He revels in the trespass and wrongness of being in your bed, knowing that you might catch a hint of his own scent lingering there, a twisted thought crossing his mind that it could confuse, frighten, or even arouse you.

His cock swells at the thought of you scared, heart beating fast, trying to place who the scent belongs to.

He looks around and finds one of your shirts on the bed and picks it up to his nose.

Then he does the one thing he swore he would never stoop to. He pulls out his already hard cock and strokes it while inhaling your scent from the shirt.

—

He has timed you and learned your schedule hence why he now knows that you’ll be in the shower for the next twenty minutes, giving him the perfect opportunity for his perverse activities. He’ll pick up the laciest most intricate pair, keeping it in his room as some sort of trophy with the other stuff he has taken from you. No one can enter into his room anyways, it’s safe…

Pervert Azriel looks through the little crack in your door as you stand there posing infront of a mirror while wearing pretty much nothing. A lacy little lingerie set as you touch your body, hands traveling all over your tits, waist, ass then up through your hair as you spin around, admiring yourself.

You know Azriel is standing at your door, he isn’t really all that subtle with his hand down his pants as he jerks off at the sight of you.

It’s almost enough to make your eyes roll back into the back of your head, fucking gods, he’s pathetic.

You wanted to fuck him for the longest time. He could just ask you to fuck and you’d say yes yet here he is thinking he’s slick as he pervs on you. Even with all that in mind, there’s a sick, twisted adrenaline rush spreading through your body at the thought of the esteemed and highly respected spymaster doing something so dark and wrong like this.

“I know you're there, Az. Come out,” you say, a wicked smile forming on your face as you plot to utterly humiliate him.

His entire body freezes and Azriel cautiously emerges from the shadows, realizing he's been caught. You maintain that mischievous grin, ready to unleash your plan. The air thickens with anticipation as the confrontation unfolds.

“Az?”

He looks like he’s about to jump out of the nearest window as he looks at you through the mirror.

“Yes?”

“Why are you such a disgusting little pervert? Here I am trying on some clothes and you’re just perving on me. How do you think that makes me feel? I mean I could be super afraid and you wouldn’t have any remorse? Who does something like that?”

Azriel's face heats up at the mocking question, flushing as he tries to respond.

“Az, I asked you a question,” you assert, walking over to him. His embarrassment is palpable as he apologizes, rambling about not knowing what came over him, begging you not to tell anyone.

You already know the answer, and a knowing smile plays on your lips as he seeks forgiveness.

“You’ve done a very bad thing, Azriel. Bad people deserve to be punished. You of all people understand that, right?”

Pushing him back onto one of the sofas in your room, you creep closer, leaning over to whisper. Looking down at him, you place your hand on his cheek, letting your nails dig in a little.

“I think you deserved to be punished.”

Azriel's heart raced, fearing exposure for his hidden activities. Was this it? Would you punish him by revealing his actions to everyone?

Before he could plead for forgiveness, you stood up, walking back to your bed and beckoning him over with two fingers.

As he approached, ready to sit, you extended your leg, placing your foot on his stomach, halting him in his tracks..

“Not so fast,” you assert, a wicked smile playing on your lips. “The bed is reserved for me. You can kneel on the floor.”

Azriel complies, gracefully sinking to his knees. His gaze meets yours, his beautiful eyes revealing a mixture of submission and desire.

“You’re going to eat my pussy. If you manage to make me cum, I won’t tell anyone about your disgusting behavior, understand?”

He couldn't believe what was unfolding. Was he really about to taste you? About to experience the fantasy he'd daydreamed about every single day? He nods, but a disapproving tsk follows.

“I need more than a nod, Azriel. Do you understand?”

A quick, “Yes, I understand,” escapes his lips.

You can't help but smile at the swiftness of his compliance.

“That’s good. Now, I’ll be taking off my bra and panties and they’re very expensive and new so they better not go missing.”

Azriel affirms his understanding and then proceeds to drool over the way you slowly strip infront of him before you spread your legs and tell him to start.

He grabs your thighs and pulls you closer to the edge as he dips his head down to run his tounge up and down your slit, tasting you before playing with your clit.

You gasp in pleasure, letting out moans as your hands find their way to his hair, urging him to keep going.

Azriel’s hands dig into your thighs that are currently smushing his head. He decides to let you continue, telling himself that if he dies like this, he'd go down as the happiest person in history.

“T-that’s it, right there.”

A breathy moan escapes your lips as you feel two of his fingers enter you. Your hands grab his dark soft hair as he started pumping his fingers, relishing at the way your soaking cunt is squelching and squeezing him.

You whimper at the way his thick fingers strecth you out then curl against that secret spot, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You start to slowly fuck yourself on them, eager for more of him.

“You taste even better than I imagined, fuck.”

His desperate voice only spurred you on.

It doesn’t take much longer for that feeling to build up in your stomach, the tight cord eventually snapping. You squeeze and throb around his fingers as you cum hard, letting out whines and mumbles.

Azriel helps you ride out your high, memorizing every facial expression in case this is the last time you ever let him this close again.

He pulls out his fingers and lick them clean then goes back and licks your pussy clean.

You let out a giggle at the sight before you, casting him a look of fake sympathy as you pull yourself together.

“Well, look at that. Seems like I’ll be keeping your secret after all. I mean, what a shame to loose such a good little pussy eater, right? I might just keep you around.”

You beckon him to rise, tossing your underwear onto the sofa before heading to the bathroom to clean up.

Glancing back at his flushed face and heavy breathing, you offer a secret smile.

“Who knows, next time I might even let you fuck me.”

Turning around, you leave him to his thoughts as the shower starts.

Azriel stands there for a moment, his desire evident. Unable to resist, he takes your panties and bra, always craving something of yours.

He promises to himself that he won't do it for an eighth time before hurrying back to his room, to finally help himself

🏷️ taglist: @stasiereads @clairebear08 @daycourtofficial @historiaxvanserra @rowaelinsdaughter @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @redbleedingrose @danikamariewrites @readychilledwine @nocasdatsgay

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all-things-fic · 4 months

Text

Sugar // HS

AN: This is old, but given how ol’ Harry has popped up outta nowhere, I couldn’t resist. Really sorry if the read more doesn’t work properly, I’m on mobile.

Sending love x

***

Anguilla was a special place for you both.

It had its way of drawing you back to it time and time again. Whenever you wanted that little bit of winter sun, to ease the blues that may have been drawn from you with the grey skies of England.

Anguilla had been the first real place that you and Harry had chosen to holiday. It felt like your first real couple holiday. Where you shed all worry and apprehension about being seen with him in a setting that was absolutely nothing but romantic.

Anguilla had been the place where you’d had one of your nastiest fights too. The kind that had you sat in the backseat of a taxi ride home, close together in presence but the furthest apart in mind. The threat of packing your luggage and getting the next flight home fizzling through the silent energy.

And it was because of that - the highs and lows - it was only right to also christen this place with the crown of being your first born’s babymoon.

Thinking back on fond memories as you lay along the four poster daybed, was how you’d come to find yourself most days on this holiday. Looking out on your private beach and watching your husband of just shy of two years fight his way around a paddleboard or a surfboard, whichever has taken his fancy that morning.

The Caribbean seas were known to be calm, but not this part of the island. Harry knew about that one better than you, and seeing him so active sometimes made you feel like you were being far too lazy, using the pregnancy as an excuse.

Truth was, you had been struggling. Heartburn was crazy and you’d started to swell in your hands and ankles from water retention. While Harry swore to you it was just the heat. You hadn’t forgotten how he’d said that it was probably just the flight that had caused it.

You loved that about him though. That he tried to always make you feel better. Regardless of how neglectful you felt toward him, he wouldn’t hear you utter such words. You were carrying his baby, you were nothing but beautiful to him. You knew he thought that from the way he marvelled in you every single day. Both with and without the spoken word.

It was like he was mesmerised. You were a bit of a forbidden fruit to him, especially when it came to intimacy. Being touched in your current shape made you cringe. You’d spent a lot of the past week covered up, under the four poster daybed you currently found yourself upon and felt like some lewd voyeur as you stared out into the ocean, under the guise of reading, and watched your husband leave the ocean.

Harry was every inch golden, regardless of the length of time he spent covered up by a wetsuit. His face, which had been slightly sunburnt, now turning that mixture of bronze and dirty tan where his melanocytes cells had increased unevenly in the sun, resulting in darker and lighter patches of skin.

He was every inch handsome and strong and he was aging far better than you (much to your delight and your resentment). He still smiled like he was the same twenty-six year old you had first set your eyes on, in that dingy London bar while on a night out with friends that you were so adamant you didn’t want to attend.

But boy, you were glad you had.

Both back then and so vehemently still to this day.

You looked on, watching as he stood his surfboard in the sand. Abruptly pushing it down and working on untying the board from around his ankle. A force that you knew would be heavy. Had he always been this manly or were you just having a moment?

He was drenched. Wet through. You could tell regardless of how far away he was and you found yourself wondering how salty his skin would taste against your lips. Left leg wrapping tightly over your right at the ankle to quell the feeling of emptiness between your thighs.

Eyes squinting slightly behind your sunglasses, you fought the urge you so badly felt behind your twitching hands, to lift them from your eyes and push them back into your hair. For some strange reason you didn’t want him to know you were affected by him like this.

Harry knew however. Of course he knew. He was in the same position. It was why he was taking his time. Jutting his chin up towards the cloudless blue skies and pulling slowly at the zip of his wetsuit, feeling the too tight fabric become less taut against his damp skin.

Pruney fingers pulled at the Neoprene material, hands peeling it away and ears enjoying the sound it made while doing so. You noticed he’d dropped his head with a smile now, wet tendrils falling down and obscuring your view of the way his face dipped and concaved so majestically when he was pleased with himself.

That annoyed you. You wanted to see that face.

Sinking lower into the bed, you pulled your book higher to hide your pout and felt dirtier now that nothing but your eyes were visible over the top of the book.

He seemed totally unphased but you were sure he knew you were watching him as he finished removing the top half from his body and revealing himself to you. Golden and smattered with more ink than ever. Ink now upon his skin just for you, mixed nicely in between the memories and the mistakes from before.

Seeing his feet digging into the sand, you felt a jolt of excitement course through you. Hand lifting to rest gently against your stomach, you attributed the flutter to your child. “Is that Daddy making his way back to us?”

Harry’s feet burned under the white sand as he found himself walking from the water's edge and closer to the daybed. He squinted, bringing his hand up to his forehead to try and get a better look at you as he approached.

You took great delight in the way his ring caught the sun from his action. Lips pulling into a triumphant grin at the thought and knowledge of how he was yours.

Smug didn’t even begin to cover it.

As he got closer, his eyes surveyed the scene that was in front of him. His wife laid out, relaxed, on a four poster bed. Chilled drinks and fruits off to the side ready for both of you to leisurely enjoy.

You hiding behind the book humoured him to no end. He loved it when you thought you were being clever. Just not clever enough, eh? He’d probably say it to you as well before the day was out.

His presence at the bottom of the bed was felt long before he physically arrived. You refused to look up at him, however he noticed the rounded apples of your cheeks as the pages of your book hid your smiling mouth from him.

Hands tying the loose sleeves of his wetsuit around his waist, your peripheral vision allowed you to take in the way his hands moved efficiently to tie a secure knot into the sleeves.

“Took your time,” you started. “Thought I was gonna have to start playing the Baywatch theme tune just to get you to move a little bit quicker.”

His lips quirked at that, him taking a deep breath through his nose as he felt the corners of his eyes wrinkle with joy. Laughter lines they called them, right? He knew they had only deepened from all the years he had spent laughing with you so far.

“Books tha’ interesting ‘s it,” he sarcastically acknowledged, enjoying the confirmation that you weren’t reading at all. “What chapter you on now?”

Your non-verbal response was to turn the book around for him to catch a glimpse of the pages. He cackled when the text came into focus. You hadn't moved from the page you’d opened up to that morning as he slipped off the bed, and let the ocean before his lover for a few hours.

“Stellar effort, darling. I admire your sell,” he clenched his fist and shook it once to emphasise his words. Your sell being the way you’d made it look as if you had moved further along with your novel of choice for holiday reading. “Gonna take you in the boardroom wi’me next time wi’a poker face like tha’.”

“Take me in the boardroom,” you repeated his words back to him, much slower than his delivery.

From your tone, he tilted his head up, using both of his hands to brush back his wet hair from falling around his face. He blew out a puff of air, his lips looking so much bigger and more inviting when his mouth made that shape.

“Jesus woman, give a man chance to breathe.”

His deep tone forced you to push your face into the book, trying to fight the urge to squeal like a silly little school girl. The chuckle that filled your ears was bliss. It was one of his dirty sniggers, the kind that he would do by keeping his mouth closed so that the sound left more of his nose in a breathy sound but the vibration of his throat was prominent.

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, instead letting your hands fall away from the book as it remained in place from your horizontal state.

The dip to the bed was the next thing you felt, Harry placing his knees close to bottom left of the bed and pausing. It was calming silent apart from the sound of the crashing waves, and you found yourself peeking out from underneath the pages.

The sight you saw was far too soft, if a little bit intriguing. Harry was frowning lightly as he untied the knots of the tassels that held the netted white curtains framing the wooden posts of the bed.

“Unless,” he started, his voice concentrated. “You’re letting me taste you, then I’m gladly suffocating.”

Peeking out of the side of the book, you noticed how he hadn’t taken his eyes away from the way his nimble fingers were unloosening the fabric. You saw the way his facial expression changed when he triumphantly and gently tugged on the curtain to pull it across one side of the daybed.

“Don’t come near me, you’re wet-”

“‘S usually nice that way. The wetter the better, so to say.”

Usually you would’ve whacked him with the book by now, or threw a pillow at his head but all you found yourself doing was laying there and listening. Feeling a heat fill your face as your imagination was moving two steps ahead of Harry’s each time. Or so you thought, anyway.

Walking on his knees along the mattress, Harry made his way across the bed to the opposite set of net curtains.

“Why’re you shutting the curtains, I don’t want no funny business-“

Harry paused his movement, looking up at you under his drying hair thanks to the thick heat enveloping you both.

“Sure about that, darling,” he asked, fingers still against the knot. When you didn’t respond he continued to untie and pull the curtain across the opposite side of the best. “Thought so,” he mumbled.

Staying silent sometimes worked to your advantage, part of you slightly intrigued as to how he was going to play it. The book that covered your face, was gently lifted away by Harry. A soft whine leaving your lips.

“You’re gonna make me lose my place,” you made your high-pitched complaint known, only to be greeted by an amused chuckle.

“‘S the book more interesting than me is it,” he said slowly closing the item and pushing it away. “Nah. Now the fruit I can understand,” he started, feeling the way you looked up at him as he peered at the tray of healthy goodness and rubbed his hands together. “What have we got ‘ere? Cherries, strawberries, watermelon- your favourite.”

Before you could stop yourself, you reached for his hand that hung above you.

He was your favourite.

Your soft tug to his fingers had him dropping his gaze, his fingers curling around yours. His hands had changed to you lately, looking thicker and veiner. You could never bring yourself to say it out loud though, not to him directly anyway. You were sure he’d just laugh, if he didn’t already know that is.

You were positive he probably did. The amount of times you’d taken to playing with his fingers, or gently running the tips of your fingers across the dips of his knuckles and the veins on the backs of his hands. Those hands helped to make your baby, they’d help to take care of said baby in a number of months time too.

“Want summat?” He asked, eyes peering down at you behind his slowly drying tendrils. “Wha’ can I do fo’yer?”

Looking down at you, he took in the way you eyes blinked up at him.

“‘M already on m’knees for yer, wha’ more could you want? Want me closer?” He smirked, lowering himself down to lie on his side next to you thanks to your wordless nod. Head resting on his hand as he leant on his elbow, he reached up to scoop your hair out of your face and lift your lips to his. Voice lowering as his lips puckered against yours, he added, “Could do one better I s’pose? Put m’head between your legs.”

Shaky breath left your lips as he hummed. “Gonna let me do that fo’you.”

“‘S been ages since you last did,” he continued, hands smoothing down your back in circle motions, pulling you closer to his body so that you were almost flush against him.

“It’s not pretty down there,” you grimaced thinking of how your last shaving job had been harder to achieve thanks to your growing bump.

“‘S that not up to me to decide,” he asked, deeply. “Left a bit f’me to play with, yeah? ‘Ope so.”

“God Harry, stop being such a little boy,” you tried to hide your embarrassment, skin flamed for how open he was regardless of his boyish tendencies.

His snigger into the skin of your shoulder warmed you further, “‘m definitely not a little boy when I’m wanking m’self off, all over your hair.”

His comment lingered in the sexually charged air. Lips sucking gently and soft breathing barely heard over the crashing waves. Being close to him was what you craved. The sound of him coaxing you to be a little daring.

“Messy like one.”

“Messy like one,” he repeated, face amused as he looked down at you. “‘S better messy. When you can hear it, eh. All down my chin and rubbed into your thighs. Means we’ve enjoyed ourselves, don’t it.”

You found yourself opening your legs slightly at the sound of his voice and Harry took the opportunity to press his damp, wetsuit covered, thigh into the gap.

“Can feel ‘ow warm yer are for me-“ he groaned. “Let me in. Gi‘me a kiss.”

The deep inhale through his nose as he took your lips with his caused you to clench at his defined chest. He pulled off, a slight frown to his brow, “Christ nearly took a chunk of me wi’ya then.”

“Not close enough-“

“Let me in then, let me have a feast,” he hummed. “‘On your back f’me.”

Rolling to your back was easy when you had a man that weighed almost thirteen stone to guide you. Was easier when he caressed you with kisses that made you melt into him.

“You look bloody wonderful, d’ya know tha’,” he mumbled against your lips. His hand wandered as he spoke, fingers stilling at your rounded hips and dipping into your skin.

“You’re just trying to butter me up so you can get your end away,” you spoke in monotone, with your eyes closed.

“‘S it working?”

You giggled at his muffled question, his head pressed into the fabric of your beach coverup as your stomach shook lightly from your delight and laughter.

“Shift this out the way,” he gruffly spoke, pushing at the sheer item that covered your stomach. “Wan’ your belly.”

Your belly has become his kryptonite. The way it had grown and began to round out nicely. Popping into the bump that you had found yourself longing for the minute you found out that you were pregnant.

But it was also the part that you were self-conscious of. The dusting of stretch marks starting to appear, even if only light and small, among the ones that you’d experienced from when you were filling out as a teenager.

For Harry though, this was life. You were growing his son or daughter - the gender you didn’t know and weren’t going to find out either. Much to your dismay and his delight.

“One of the only surprises left in life,” he said, over a conversation around messy kisses and even messier tears from your panic of how your usual planning self wasn’t going to get a look in. “We’ve got this covered, Mommy. We don’t need to know. We’re sorted. Let us have that moment, that excitement for the entire nine months. The guessing and the little arguments over your cravings meaning that we’re definitely having a boy, or the way your shape is changing meaning we’re definitely having a girl.”

And that was a moment that you thought back on fondly now, cause he’d been right on his thinking. Those moments had been some of your best and most intimate conversations when he liked to purposely go against your guess and say the complete opposite. He loved seeing the fire in your eyes flare up as you both got friendly and competitive with each other. It was healthy to be this way and ultimately exciting and fun for you both.

You were in your thoughts so much that you almost jumped when you felt Harry’s hand get close to your belly button.

“Sensitive,” you softly whined, hearing his hushed apology against your lower body.

“‘M sorry, forgot,” he softly apologised, nose nudging gently at the underside of your bump. You felt him going lower with no desire to stop him, you intimate area letting you know that you wanted this far more than you were willing to admit.

“Had some watermelon for brunch? He mumbled into the sensitive skin of your thigh. “Saved me some?”

You whimpered in response, feeling the way the backs of his fingers rubbed gently up your clothed intimate area. His eyes were mesmerised by the turquoise blue of your bikini bottoms in contrast to your hair and softly tanned skin.

“Colour really pops, doll,” he mumbled more so to himself, watching the way your hands covered your face, elbows pointing to the sky at his words. “Love it when you show me how pink you are. Show me.”

“Stop,” you choked, lifting for him as you felt his face drop into your lower stomach and nosy along the hem of your bikini bottoms. His teeth drew up the material, pulling it away from your skin with a soft tension.

You wanted anything but him to stop.

“Can smell you from ‘ere, gagging for me,” his voice regardless of how it was muffled around fabric was the clearest thing in your mind. “Gonna give me some sugar.”

“You know I will,” you softly mewled, hands finding his at the waistband of your bikini bottoms.

“Do I?” He felt his lips tilt upward, eyes flicking upwards to see the charged expression on your face. “Help me get ‘em off you then.”

It didn’t take much from him before you started pushing the fabric down as he pulled. Hips rose of their own accord off the bed beneath you, as you let him shift and guide the bottoms down your legs, before placing them neatly to the other side of the bed.

He was close to you within a flash, his head back against your thigh this time and enjoying the way your plush skin felt pressed to his face.

“Put me where you want me,” he mumbled, hand blindly reaching for yours and placing it into his chestnut strands of hair that were beginning to form a waxy film from the sea salt.

You were shocked at how you didn’t hesitate in guiding him to your center. His groan of satisfaction caused you to scratch at his scalp as he turned his head slightly to the side against the crevice of your inner thigh, “My girl knows what she wants and what kind of man would I be ‘f I didn’t give it to her.”

Any kind of response you had fell flat into a hum, as you rolled your lips into your mouth and tried to keep as quiet as possible given the fact that you were in public.

You knew it wouldn’t last long, but you’d give it a good go.

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic

471 notes · View notes

echoingspectrum · 4 months

Text

𝐶𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑒'𝑠 𝐶𝑜𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡: 𝑦𝑒𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑒 ( 𝑡𝑤𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 )

As the head alchemist of the Alchemy Commission, it is your responsibility to oversee all alchemical experiments and research conducted by the commission. This includes ensuring the safety protocols are followed, analyzing the results of experiments, and providing guidance to other alchemists.

In addition to that, you must also welcome your special guest with the utmost importance and provide for any of their needs, no matter how obscene their demand is. However, this rule only applies to one certain individual who happens to visit your work very often.

"Stay silent." A gloved hand firmly pressed against your mouth, muffling any sound that threatened to escape. The intensity in his eyes made it clear that breaking the silence was not an option.

Not that you wanted to, but the thrill of getting caught is what fueled your adrenaline. The suspense hung in the air, making every second feel like an eternity as you wondered what would happen next.

"We wouldn't want anyone from the Alchemy Commission to see their precious head alchemist be seen as so obscene, do you~?" His voice oozed with a mix of menace and amusement, sending shivers down your spine.

You could only imagine the consequences if anyone discovered the head alchemist engaging in such forbidden activities. As you stared into his piercing eyes, you couldn't help but wonder how this would play out.

His hand slowly glides to your clothed breast, fondling it ever so gently, like he were holding a fragile piece of glass that is real and emanating comfort heat. As his other hand descends to your lower flower.

Fiddling with your bottoms till it dropped to the ground with a soft thud. Nimbling fingers went to the wet patch of your inner thighs, tracing delicate patterns that sent electric waves of pleasure through your body.

Muffled moans escaped your lips as he skillfully played with the base of your cunt. Giving your clit a squeeze and caress, he expertly applies just the right amount of pressure, causing a surge of intense pleasure to course through you.

Your body trembles in response as his touch becomes more insistent and his fingers explore every inch of your sensitive folds. Each stroke sends you deeper into a state of bliss, leaving you craving more of his touch.

Especially while wearing his gloves. The rough texture of the material adds an extra layer of sensation, intensifying every touch and stroke.

"Aeons, you're soaked. Have you actually been waiting for this?" he whispers, his voice husky with desire.

You blush, unable to deny the truth, as your body betrays you. Protesting won't help as your overwhelming desires accumulate. Your whole stature is trembling with anticipation, your breaths coming in shallow gasps.

"F-Fuck!" You stumble back against his chest, his warm breath tickling your ear as he whispered words of desire.

The anticipation builds as his hands continue their exploration, teasing and tantalizing every part of you.

You can't help but arch your back, pressing yourself closer to him, yearning for the ultimate release that only he can provide.

Teasing it forth and back till it slid inside of you with ease, as if your body complies naturally to his every command. When suddenly he thrust his fingers deeper, hitting that sweet spot that sends an electrifying sensation to your core over and over again before adding an additional digit to add even more pleasure.

"I spend my entire morning in my chambers, only thinking of how your body molds against mine," Dan Feng confessed. Glancing at him, his draconic eyes burned with a mixture of desire and adoration.

"You have bewitched me completely," he whispered, his voice husky with longing.

You would've been replying back to him with the same amount of dulcet tones if it weren't for his digits plunging into your velvety cavern, causing you to gasp in pleasure. Your ears caught the sound of your insides squelch with drips of your juice slipping out to the ground.

"D-Dan Feng⏤we shouldn't be doing this r-right now⏤ Ahh~" Your words faltered as you tried to resist the intoxicating pull between you, but the intense sensations overwhelmed your protests, concealed by the high elder's sudden passionate kiss that silenced any further objections.

Your guys' tongues danced in a wild tango, exploring each other's mouths with fervor and hunger. The taste of him mingled with the sweet sounds of your moans, creating a symphony of desire that echoed through the space.

Your legs are trembling, and your core is nearly bursting, thinking your sweet release is just within reach. The world around you fades away, as the only thing that matters is you and him.

As if pressing against you, aching to be inside. The anticipation builds, fueling the fire of your desire even more. Every touch and every kiss brings you closer to the edge of ecstasy⏤

"H-Hey!" You both suddenly break apart, startled by the unexpected interruption. Your eyes widen as you look at the High Elder himself, looking smug and amused at your half-fucked state.

His eyes were piercing through every inch of your features. The rich hue of redness painted your cheeks, your eyes heaved with desire and frustration that he could clearly see, and your wetness glazed the floor under you.

Disappointment and annoyance immediately went through your mind as you realized that the moment had been ruined. "W-Why did you⏤"

He shoved his gloved digits straight past your lips, which are coated with your sweet moisture.

"Silent," he commanded, his voice low and commanding.

The taste of your own arousal lingered on your tongue as you obediently closed your mouth but moved your tongue to clean off the excess of your wetness from his fingers. The interruption left you frustrated and curious about what he had in store for you next.

"We'll be finishing this at my chambers. You can scream as loud as you wish."

#☆ echoing depths #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr dan heng #honkai star rail dan heng #character x reader #dan heng x reader #dan heng #x reader #hsr dan feng #dan feng #dan feng x reader #smut #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #dan heng x reader smut #dan feng x reader smut

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daisybianca · 9 months

Text

pairing: sebastian vettel x femalereader

summary: it's totally forbidden. he's older and your childhood and eternal crush, but there's more to that. his best friend--and your dad--is Michael Schumacher. one day, you're sick and stuck in your bed with a fever. he pays you a visit, and then the fever becomes even more brutal. PART TWO. Here's part 1.

warnings: smut, female pleasuring, cursing words

(a/n): here's part 2 because you seemed to love the first one! <333

"I SUPPOSE YOU'LL HAVE TO BEG FOR IT."

Seb's face morphed into a full grin as he exclaimed the words.

Beg for it.

You felt your cheeks growing even hotter--if that was even possible with a fever and him in a room with you. Completely alone.

You pressed your lips together and narrowed your eyes at him. His hands were still on your thighs, and you did everything you could to ignore them.

"So, you don't want to kiss me." You said, more like announcing it yourself.

You knew he probably wanted to kiss you, but you teased him anyway, just like he teased you all those years.

You turned your head to face the wall next to you, not looking at the German man in front of you because you'd be willing to participate in every activity he would suggest, including begging for it.

"I want to kiss you, babe." He whispered, and you soon felt his hot breath brush against the flesh of your thigh. "But I don't intend to make it that easy, as I said before. I am a man of my word."

Damn him and his beautiful eyes.

You couldn’t resist that.

His hand found your back, and he started removing your shorts. "Is that okay?"

Those puppy eyes...

"Yes." You replied and fully removed your shorts. "But if you think I'm actually going to beg for your dick, you will be very disappointed."

His lips twitched as he brought his palms up to your thighs. They trembled under his touch, and you clenched them to hide the shiver.

One side of his mouth lifted in a smile. "Who said anything about my dick?"

"Then what exactly do you expect me to beg you for--"

His fingers gripped the edges of her underwear and pulled it down at once.

Seb took his time, turning the removal of your clothes into a long and drawn-out event.

You could barely stand his soft touches and his sly glances.

"I don't like this game." You stated, sighing. You were getting more and more impatient with each passing second, and you were just getting started.

He removed your shirt and spread your thighs even more. "I'm sure I can change your mind soon enough."

You froze as he pressed his palm to your breast and pushed back, pulling you to his face.

Oh, my God.

A scene like that could bring any woman to orgasm all by itself, you thought to yourself.

With the way your lower body was throbbing, it wouldn't take much to make you come. Especially with the way those gorgeous, blue eyes were looking at you and the way his hair unwittingly caressed you body.

Your whole body was buzzing as his tongue touched your soft spot, teasing you shameless. You arched your back in response, and your thighs almost mechanically squeezed his head between them.

Seb's laughter made your clit vibrate. His fingers tightened the quilt as he destroyed your ability to think of anything but his tongue diving into you in shameless movements.

Yep, that was the word to describe this very moment.

Shameless.

What whould papa say if he knew his childhood best friend fucked his beloved daughter with his tongue at her apartment, while thinking she was very sick and could barely walk.

I'm sure I will indeed be able to barely walk after this kind of beautiful torture, you thought.

The mere thought of your father finding out made you shiver, but Seb almost immediately sensed the tension and drove his miraculous tongue deeper into you.

You were sure as hell you had never been so turned on in your brief life.

Everything about him was sensual, from the way his nails dug into your thighs as he licked heryou, to the way he looked at you when a moan escaped.

It was all gone when suddenly you felt a finger sink into you."Oh, fuck!"

"Language, babe." He said, leaving your spot for a few moments.

His lips wrapped around your clit again, sucking the spot there.

He deliberately stopped every time you neared climax.

You cursed him in the same sentence that you praised him.

You almost broke down and begged him to let you finish what he had started, but you managed not to.

If he expected you to break, he would be very surprised.

As if he didn't know how stubborn you were.

"It's a simple word." He chuckled and stepped away from Seb for a few moments. "Say it."

Your clit ached, begging for the mercy that he would not give you.

You grabbed the sheets tight. "No."

With a word from you, you could win the keys to heaven itself.

"Why are you so stubborn?" Again, you heard Seb's voice.

"Because I'm my father's daughter." You barely managed to blur out.

You couldn't stand it any longer. Your hair was a torrent of messy curls and it was flowing haphazardly around you.

It was just a word.

An innocent, little word.

"Please." Your cheeks were wet with the tears you didn't know had fallen.

His laughter sent another wave of arousal through you.

Fuck.

You groaned as he inserted a second finger inside you, twisting both so that they slid over your G-spot.

The way he sucked yout clit combined with the torture of his fingers pushed you to the edge.

Your body shook uncontrollably as he continued to control you with his tongue.

He played with yout body like his favorite toy, pulling your orgasm as far as possible.

Your voice was hoarse as you cried out his name, and he not only liked that.

It drove him crazy.

He would hear that dreamy, soft little voice pronounce his name even in his sleep and dreams and nightmares.

"Seb..." You moaned.

His fingers gripped you as he pulled you forward, pushing his tongue deeper into you. You caressed his hair as he made you chase your second orgasm. "Fuck..."

He abandoned your clit and pulled you into his arms.

You muffled your cries as his mouth clamped over your, drawing another shuddering breath from you.

He was kissing you.

You closed your eyes and leaned your head forward, and felt his soft lips against yours.

You stopped to face him for a while, immediately missing his lips on yours. "Seb?"

"Yes, love?"

"How do I taste like?"

A laughter escaped, and you couldn't help but smile as well. "You taste like mine."

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radiant-reid · 11 months

Text

Exposed

Summary: You and Spencer don't realize how many of your not-safe-for-work conversations have been on the FBI's radar until a memo gets distributed

Word Count 1.0k

Content Warning: NSFW (18+) themes

Similar to how it's never good to get called into the principal's office, it's never good when Hotch calls a meeting in the middle of the day. With no case, active or pending, curious looks get exchanged before the team when Hotch speaks from the landing before you all climb the stairs and follow Hotch to the boardroom.

Spencer slyly sits next to you, pretending he didn't notice Morgan was going to sit there. He taps your foot under the table, which you didn't understand could be flirtatious before you met Spencer.

Always a straight shooter (metaphorically and literally), Hotch doesn't waste any time. He hands a copy of a stapled stack of paper to each of you but stays standing, hinting that it will be a quick meeting. Thankfully, that means nothing is wrong.

Your eyes widen when you read the cover page: Sexual Harassment Memorandum.

A tiny giggle escapes JJ's lips as everyone looks at Penelope and Morgan, who are likely the guilty parties. They both look a little nervous, Penelope grimacing while Morgan stiffens in his seat.

"The brass has caught on to some less-than-work-appropriate language used by members of this team," Hotch informs you all. "And, although we have more important things to do like saving lives, they want this memo of inappropriate language examples distributed."

Besides the hilariousness of the passive-aggressive telling-off, it amuses you that Hotch thinks it's a waste of time.

"Please read through it and refrain from using these words when there's an outside audience." He finishes.

"That outside audience being Erin Strauss," Rossi comments in a low enough whisper Hotch can pretend he didn't hear the insult at his superior.

"That's all." Hotch wraps up the meeting before leaving the room, presumably to finish work that's actually important.

Everyone's wearing amused grins when Hotch leaves. "Busted." Rossi sing-songs to Morgan and Penelope, who are looking very guilty. "Have fun, kids." He laughs before leaving the room.

You notice the thickness of the new list of forbidden phrases. "Damn, how much flirting have you two done since the last time you got in trouble with HR?" You joke, earning a laugh from the table.

The list is amusing to read, everyone laughing at the memories. It was definitely not HR's intent, but it breaks up the monotonous day.

Reading pages ahead, Spencer stiffens next to you, and you're on edge about what he's read. After eight years, he's heard some lewd things come out of Penelope and Morgan's mouths, so it's unlikely one of their comments would have phased him.

You see it when you skim-read a few quotes: you looked sexy in your glasses earlier. You can remember exactly when you typed that. It was a stakeout where you were assigned to sit in a car with Morgan while Spencer sat with Emily, and you were so bored you thought you'd flirt with your boyfriend. It's not too revealing regarding who it was about, and Penelope wears glasses, so hopefully, it goes unnoticed.

It doesn't.

"Wait, I never said that," Morgan says, finger hovering over the quote.

"Which one?" Emily asks, intrigued.

"You looked sexy in your glasses earlier." He repeats what you'd texted Spencer, busting you both. You kick him under the table when you notice the blush spreading around your boyfriend's neck.

The rest of the team is puzzled, not understanding how it couldn't be them. "Are the rest yours?" Emily asks.

"You're on my most-wanted list." Morgan reads the contents of the email Spencer sent you with an attachment to the FBI's updated most wanted list. That one was situationally inappropriate, but you deleted it twice and told Spencer to do the same, so you're not sure how they got it.

They read through a few more that aren’t theirs, and you grow increasingly worried about how curious they will be. There’s no chance they’ll let it go. As profilers, won’t take them long to figure it out, especially when your boyfriend is blushing like a maniac next to you, no matter how much you kick him under the table.

The most damming one is on the last page: that sweater vest is very sexy. Olive green is your color. It’s from a few weeks ago, spoken over Spencer’s earpiece as he infiltrated a poker competition to apprehend an UnSub.

“This is about you.” Emily immediately picks up, looking at Spencer.

“Yeah, and you wore your glasses a couple of months ago,” Penelope remembers. Although he played it off like his contact lenses didn’t get delivered before he ran out, it was really because he left them at his apartment when he stayed at yours one night and you distracted him for so long in the morning that he didn’t have time to get any.

Spencer cringes, looking totally guilty. There’s no point in denying it, so Morgan lays into the next part of the mystery. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

That’s much easier to solve when there are four women around the table, and Penelope couldn’t be sexually attracted to him, JJ’s married, and Emily’s like his big sister, so that leaves you.

“No way!” Penelope squeals excitedly, clearly thrilled by this big reveal.

“Some of this is filthy,” Emily says, pointing out some very dirty messages. They were mostly over phone calls which is why you didn’t think they could be tracked.

You bite your bottom lip, eyes flicking to Spencer. He’s as amused as he is embarrassed. “Surprise?” He jokes to reveal your relationship.

You smirk, joining him in his unashamed stance. It’s not your fault the FBI won’t overlook your occasional flirting. “It’s worse on our personal phones.” You assure them.

“I want to know everything,” Penelope tells you. “We’re having girls’ night ASAP.”

It’s not the reaction you imagine, but Spencer shrugs. He has been reassured countless times that he leaves you more than satisfied in bed. “Just remember you’ll have to look at me the next day.” He warns the BAU ladies who are desperate to hear the insider details of your relationship.

It's a good point to consider but the gossip is too tempting. “Tonight.” Penelope decides.

You laugh at her eagerness, nodding. “Let’s do it.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot

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leah-lover · 6 days

Text

A person more than an athlete. Nika mühl x reader

Love always had a way of consuming you. Whether it was your friendships, relationships with your parents, your friends, or even your romantic relationships, you felt the love in every part of your body. You loved deeply and wholeheartedly.

You were also a dedicated person. You gave your career all you had which in turn got you a championship in your freshman year.

Women's sports were trending, and you were on top of the pyramid. From sponsorship deals, to ads, interviews, and magazine shoots, you were everywhere. The spotlight didn't mean much to you though. All you cared about was the sleeping body next to you.

Nika was to you the prettiest girl in the world. For her you would absolutely do anything.

“ Good morning.” You whisper into her ear before you kiss her shoulder. “ Morning.” she responds, shifting to lay on her back.

You two start kissing. The kisses were short and sweet which left you needing much more. “ Baby I am gonna be late for class.” She says after pulling out.

“ But…” you start to protest before she cuts you off. “ Babe I still have to go all the way to my room, get ready and go to class. We will finish this later okay?” She says before getting out of bed. You sigh loudly as she wears her shirt and gets her stuff. “ I love you “ you say although what you say isn't clear because your face is hidden by a pillow. “ I love you too. I will see you in practice.” she says before she leaves.

The rest of the day went as usual. You got ready for class, which you attended. You then changed into your huskies' track suit and went to the gym.

You started out training all right. You did your activation, some shooting drills, lifted some weights and got some cardio done.

You didn't talk nika during all of this because coach geno sat you all down in the first session of the year and said. “ You all are UConn players now, you have a big legacy to follow. You need to focus, work hard and train hard, and while you are part of this team relationships with your teammates are absolutely forbidden.” However, you couldn't help but fall in love with the Croatian international, she captured your heart more than basketball everdid.

You thought something was up when the coach asked nika to go to his office for a chat but you didn't give it much thought instead you hung out with Paige and Kk. You didn't see nika leave because you were too busy learning a new dance with Paige.

“ Hey, can you give me a minute?” said the coach to you.

You then enter his office with an unsettling feeling in your stomach.

“What's up coach? “ you say as you dit opposite his desk.

“ Look, I am gonna be as straight with you as I was with nika. You heard what I said the very first time you came to this gym. And you know what is gonna happen now.”

“ Coach with all do respect you can't do this. We are good assets to this team and we have been performing well. We won a whole championship last year while being together.”

“ I'm afraid it is not up for questioning. You will terminate this relationship. You agreed to this when you first signed the contract with us. The contract stated that inter team relationships are forbidden. Plus Nina already agreed to it.”

You didn't know how you got out of that office or how you walked across campus to your dorm. All you knew was that Nika and you were done.

You opened your door, got in and sat on the floor as soon as you closed it. You started to uncontrollably sob. That's when you feel familiar hands wrap around you. Her smell and her touch were comforting.

“ I love you so much.” she whispered in your ear. You could feel her tears on your cheeks.

“ he said you agreed to the bullshit he said.” you say wiping your tears.

“ I couldn't not agree. If he cuts me from the team I am done. I have to go back home and all of this will be for nothing.”

“ We can keep it a secret again. I don't want to live without you.”

“ Baby, if he catches us again we can't come back from it. I love you so much baby but I can't.”

You kiss each other multiple times while holding one another on the floor of your dorm. Nika then leaves and you stay on the floor heartbroken for a long time.

You flipped a switch as soon as she left the door knowing that you aren't gonna wake up next to her, sleep next to her, kiss her, or be inside her.

The next day at training was miserable to say the least. You didn't sleep the night before, you didn't smile, or talk to anybody. Your performance displayed your sadness. You were missing easy shots, and you clearly weren't focused. You didnt talk to nika or look at her. You started like that for 2 weeks you didnt talk to anybody, all you thought about was how much you modded her touch.

“ baby please don't do this.” said nika to you one the way to practice. “ We need to talk.” she says before she pulled you into the medic’s room.

As soon as she closed the door, she pinned you to the wall and started kissing you. You missed the taste of her lips, the weight of her hands on your waist, the way her hands rubbed you sides and her tongue swiped across your.

“ i missed you so fucking much.” she says after pulling out.

“ I am not whole without you. I can't do anything without you. I missed you so much.” you say before kissing her again. You were hungry for her, you needed her more than anything in the world.

“ I don't like this without you. Would you please come back to me?.” she asks while swiping her thumb on your cheek.

“ if it cost me my life to be with you again.” you respond.

'I love you baby.’ she adds.

“ I love you more than you will ever know.” you respond.

#nika mühl #nika muhl #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #paige bueckers #women's basketball #wbb #ncaa women’s basketball #ncaa wbb #nika muhl x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso community #woso x reader #woso request #woso smut

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sykosugu · 26 days

Text

♤♢ on the run ♧♡ | one

♤ summary: she's an infamous bank robber, and he's the only detective that's been able to get close to her. he was never apart of her plans. but he's got his clutches in her and she can't let go. a geto suguru au

♢ warnings: this story will contain descriptions of violence, destructive behavior, toxic behavior, illegal activities, sexual content, death. use of weapons. forbidden romance

♧ aw smut, shower sex, p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk, both are being manipulative in their own ways, cum play, choking if you squint, I think that's all tbh its all so numb to me at this point. if I missed any pls let me know!

♡ currently: completed

♤ taglist: closed

♢ wc: 3.4k

♧ carlile speaks:chapter one is finally here! I hope you're all as excited as I am. @celestie0 did get a lil sneaky sneaky bc I can’t resist her reactions! but based off of said reactions, I'm thinking you're all going to like this one! enjoy my babies!

♡: previous part | you are here | next part

You often sat back and thought of how you and Suguru came to meet. The infamous meeting outside the bank that nobody ended up knowing about. Then, looking at now, the “home” you’ve created in this hotel room. Suguru, still under the guise of the detective on your case, the hotel room in his name is down the hall; he never actually stayed in there. He’d never let you out of his sight long enough to sleep in a different room. It’d been that way since that very day. You’ve been attached ever since. Over the course of your time together, he’d learned almost everything about you. Or so he’d thought. You told him a plethora of information; but not all of it was your information. Bits and pieces of people’s identities you’d stolen in your time as The Red Queen. Bits and pieces of your truth mixed in with their truths. You’re still not sure if you’d tell him the truth now, for you fear how he’d look at you now after trusting you so much.

Much to your initial dismay.

Being attached to a cop was less than ideal. He didn’t understand your lifestyle. He was details and late night stake outs. You were lavish and luxury.

And a criminal. But semantics.

It took a lot of convincing for him to let you continue your scores; he was not too keen on it. But with the promise of him being able to help, he eased up on the opportunity.

In your mind, everyone usually got their items back. If they met your demands. Usually a large lump sum of money transferred into an untraceable off-shore account that would then be deposited into another untracable account that only you had access to, but was in a fake name.

Suguru was not a part of your plans. Then again, neither was getting caught and taken by him. But then again falling for him was the furthest thing from your plans.

That first night, he’d handcuffed you to the bedpost, and just talked your ear off. Talked about his investigation against you. Talked about the late nights he’d spent thinking over the details he couldn’t get right. He somehow thought you were fake; an idea. He thought you were just a guise someone used because nobody had ever really seen you.

Nearly a week in, you tried to resist his charm. Tried to resist him. He was just so drawn to you. He was undoubtedly gorgeous. But he was quite literally the enemy. He could change his mind any time and take you in. Of course you don’t understand how he really feels for you, but he’s not too keen on showing you how much just yet. He needed to gain your trust first; and you his.

Suguru was a sweet talker. Oh boy was he. “C’mon, pretty,” he’d smirk at you. “Know you want some,” he’d hold out some of the california roll he’d been eating. The sauce sticking to the corner of his lip. The pad of your thumb reaches up absentmindedly and swipes it away, tucking the appendage into your mouth while maintaining eye contact.

His eyes darkened at the sight. He’d ravish you here and now if you’d let him. “Mm, no thank you. I got enough from your mess,” you giggle, gesturing to his face.

He chuckles in response. “Well, you haven’t eaten anything since I brought you here. You have to eat something, Ru.”

“Ru?” you look at him with puzzled eyes. “Where did that even come from?”

“It’s cute and suits you.”

“I’ve never had someone describe anything about me as ‘cute’ you grumble, shifting to tuck your knees underneath you on the bed.

“Mm, and how else would they describe you?” he asks, inching closer to your side of the bed.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, detective,” you giggle, tucking his hair behind his ear. His breath hitches at the ghosting of your fingers over the skin of his face. You smirk. His skin heats up. You full on smile. “What’s wrong, Suguru? Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re making it very difficult to keep my composure,” he’s turning and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, facing away from you. You take the opportunity to lift up on your knees, placing your free hand on his shoulders. “Ruby,” he warns.

“What, detective,” you whisper in his ear. You have him where you want him. He just needed to trust you before you could make your move.

He reaches up, grasping your wrist and pulling you as he shifts his seating on the bed, forcing you to lay across his lap looking up at him. “That’s enough,” he says, eyes somehow a darker shade of brown.

“I was just getting started,” your big doe eyes looking up at him, a sly smile on your face. You reach up, cradling the side of his face. If you can get him to trust you this way, maybe he’ll take the handcuffs off and you can get back to your life. “C’mon, detective. Live a little,” you mirror his words back to him.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he says darkly, tracing the features on your face with his pointer finger.

“Think i can handle it,” you close your eyes as he starts leaning down towards you, eyes locked onto your lips.

Sliding out from underneath you, he dips his knee into the mattress, leaning over you, trailing his hand up your side. His fingertips teasing your hips and ribcage, making your breath catch from the tickle sensation.

“Mm, is she ticklish?” he asks more to himself, leaning down near your ear. “I can work with that” he whispers, taking your lobe into his mouth, the post from your earring colliding with his tongue ring.

“Please,” a strangled moan leaving your spit slicked lips as he attaches his lips to your neck. He chuckles against the skin.

“Please, what?”

“Please, touch me,” you whisper. He suspiciously eyes you from above, not entirely convinced of your change in heart.

“Do you think I’m dumb?” he asks, standing from the bed, making you roll off the side, wrist still bound to the post. You stand to look him in the eye across the bed. You’re fuming at this point.

“No, I think you’re a pain in my ass who threw a giant wrench into my plans, and for what? You’re not turning me in. You have me handcuffed to this bed, which only makes me think even worse things about you,” his eyes soften at that. He doesn’t want you to think he’d ever do something like that. “And you haven't told me anything,” With that, you take your seat back on the bed.

“I’m just trying to keep you safe,” he whispers.

You laugh. I mean full on cackle. Tears start trickling down from all the laughter. “That’s rich, Detective. You don’t even know me.” you’re snapping at him now, He just lets you yell at him. You don’t understand the severity of what he’s doing. “How is kidnapping me and keeping me here with you, keeping me safe? There are people who expect me to get jobs done, Suguru. All you’re doing is putting both of us in danger.”

“Someone’s been trying to kill you,” he says matter of factly, sitting back down on the bed, facing away from you again.

“Y-you’re lying,” leaves your lips in the form of a whisper. No. Who would be trying to kill you? You thought you’d left everything in good standing when you decided to leave and drop the Red Queen title. You’d been trying to make a name for yourself, even though your entire MO is to not be seen or noticed.

“I’m not,” he promises, raising his right hand into the air, “Scouts honor.”

“W-who would want me dead?” you ask, more so to yourself than to him.

“A lot of people,” he quips. Suguru turns and faces you again, sliding closer to you on the bed.

“Okay, well I could have told you that. Who specifically to make you think a complete stranger needed your help,” the tone of your voice growing more and more irritated with each word.

“Toji Fushiguro.” leaves him in the form of a whisper.

Toji? Your Toji? There’s no way. He was your saving grace when you decided to leave and go off by yourself. He was the one who helped you. He was your best friend. Or so you thought. How could Toji betray you this way? Maybe staying here for a while isn’t such a bad idea. But you still need him to trust you. “Now I know you’re lying. Toji would never try to kill me,”

“Would you like to see the file I have?” he asks, motioning over towards his wall of evidence, the table beneath it covered in manilla folders and loose pieces of paper, pictures and crumpled up newspapers.

“Will you take the handcuffs off?” you ask, a flicker of hope flashing in your eyes.

“Well what would be in that for me?” he asks darkly, his hand reaching to caress the side of your face. You lean into his touch. Right where you want him.

“Would you like a continuation of earlier? Perhaps in the shower this time?” you grip his wrist, pulling his touch from your face, nodding your head towards the bathroom.

“Mm, now you’re speaking my language.” he grins at you, sliding to get off the bed again.”How can I trust you though?” he asks, fingers grazing over the handcuffs.

“You just told me you have proof that my best friend is trying to kill me. I don't think I have a good excuse to be alone with that in my head.” You lean down and kiss him. He’s taken aback but kisses you anyways.

“Best friend?” he asks, reattaching your lips. He pulls the key from his pocket, sliding it into the slot and unlocking your wrist. Taking it in his hold, he rubs the red marks left behind.

“How sweet,” you internally roll your eyes.

“Well, former best friend. He’s my ex’s business partner but he was always my friend when I was there,” You roll the two of you over so you’re straddling his hips, keeping your lips connected., sitting up, wrapping his arms around your middle, holding you as close to him as possible. He places his hands under your thighs, standing from the bed as he walks you to the bathroom. Setting you down on the floor, beginning to take your top off.

“Your ex?” he asks, reaching for the button of your jeans.

“Mhm,” you assist him in the removal of his shirt after sliding your jeans down your legs. Suguru leans into the shower, setting the water to a good temperature before returning to you.

“You’re sure about this?” he asks, slipping his fingers under your bra straps to help you pull it from your body.

“So sure,” a sly smile forms on your face. You lean up, attaching your lips again as you reach to unbutton his dress pants, pushing the material down his legs. Right where you want him.

“Which ex?” Suguru breathes out, your lips wrapped around his cock.

“You really wanna ask me that question right now?” He nods down at you. “Mm, detective, hasn’t anyone ever taught you about time and place?” you tease him, licking up the underside of his dick. “I’ll tell you after, if you excite me.”

“Oh, Ruby. You have no idea.”

His hands find a grip in your hair, guiding your mouth up and down his length. His moans fill the air as well as the gurgles falling from your lips. “S-shit, Ru, th-that’s so g-ood,” his voice breaks, the feeling of your throat engulfing his every thrust has his head in the clouds.

“Gonna cum down my throat, Detective?” You ask, pulling yourself off. Offering a stream of spit onto his cock, circling both of your hands up and down as you suckled on the tip.

He nods frantically, “If you don’t want that, better stop now.”

You double down, speeding up the motions of your hands, swirling your tongue over and over the tip. ‘Gimme your cum,” you moan around his cock.

“Oh, f-fuck, Ru,” he’s breathless, “C-cumming!” moans escape him, his hands tightening in your hair. Right where you want him

Running your hands up and down his cock, milking every last drop of his cum onto your tongue.

“D-don't swallow it yet,” he breathes. But you’re one step ahead. You dribble his cum back onto his length, using it as lube to continue jerking him off. “Ohh, you filthy girl.”

“The filthiest,” you moan, taking him into your mouth again.

“J-Jesus, Ru, you’re so good.”

“I know,” you gloat a little, standing from your spot on the floor; keeping your hands on his cock, jerking and jerking and jerking him off, “But now it’s your turn to impress me.”

Suguru pulls you into the shower with him, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip, inviting your tongue into his mouth. He searches every crevice of your mouth, tasting every bit of himself on your tongue.

He sinks to the floor, slinging one of your legs over his shoulder. “I’ll have you reeling in no time, Ru.” Right where you want him. Wasting no time, he dives right in. Tongue slipping between your folds; nose bumping your clit in a delicious rhythm. One of your hands finds the shower wall, while the other anchors in his raven colored hair. Pulling his hair tie off, letting his long hair cascade around his shoulders, and frame that face, He looks angelic. Mouth full, eyes closed; he looks like a dream when he’s quiet. Although you appreciate the vocalness when it’s because of you. “Tastes so sweet,” he groans, reattaching himself to your cunt.

“Might be the sweetest thing i’ve ever had.”

“Hm, now you’re just trying to seduce me,” you tease him, running your fingers through his hair.

“What gave you that idea?” he grins up at you, sliding two of his fingers up your leg, tantalizingly slow, before having them join his tongue; prodding into your depths to make you a mewling mess before him.

“F-uck, suguru, right there.”

“I had a feeling,” he gins against your cunt, sliding his face all around the surface; really getting in there; making your back press against the wall for support. You’re close to losing your footing until his other hand slides up your hip, holding you firmly in place against the wall.

“D-Don’t you dare stop,” leaves you in the form of a moan.

“What’ll happen if I do,” he’s teasing you now. He’s got you right where he wants you.

“I’ll–k-kill you,” both hands are tangled into his now soaking wet hair. Looking down into his eyes, there's a glint of lust in there at your threat.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he winks up at you, “But, I’d like to see you try, Ru.”

“Fuck you–hggn, oh god–Keep, go-oing, so close,”

“I got you, sweetheart. Give it all to me,” he coos, working you up into your release. His hand smooths down the expanse of your tummy before his thumb settles on your bundle, rubbing fast circles to milk every ounce out of you and onto his tongue.

“Oh, Oh g-god, Suguru,” you’re a panting mess above him, he just watches on with lustful eyes; reveling in the fact that he’s got you under his thumb.

Literally.

“Yeah? Gonna give me another?” he asks, diving back in with his tongue, You attempt to push his head away, but he’s got the upper hand since your legs feel like jello.

“C-can’t. Need a minute,” you slump against the wall, fingers gone limp in his hair.

“Oh, but where’s that attitude now? Hm?” He stands from his spot on the floor, hiking your leg over his hip.

“She’s still here, just gotta catch her breath for a second.”

“Mm, no time for that I’m afraid,” he swipes the tip of his cock through your folds, gathering some of the water and arousal left behind. He searches your eyes, asking for silent permission. Nodding your head, he begins to ease his way inside; albeit slowly due to his size and your less than active sex life lately. “S-such a tight squeeze, Ru,” he pants into your mouth, “N-not sure if I’ll fit,”

“M-make it fit, Detective,” with that, he smiles down at you, pulling himself from your cunt and spins you around to face the tile wall. Suguru presses your chest to the wall, commanding you to keep your hands–“Just about, here”--on either side of your head, palms flat against the wall. Pulling your hips back to get that perfect arch for him, hes swiping his cock through your folds once again,

“Make it fit, you say?” he teases from behind you, offering a smack on your right buttcheek, “Don’t mind if i do,” and he’s pressing in. No resistance, just presses inside, holding your hips firmly in place so you can’t escape the sensation. Cries and pleas of ‘oh my god, more,’ leave your lips at every inch that makes its way inside of you. Suguru reaches around you, stimulating your clit once again to help with the sting; stilling his hips against your ass once he’s fully sheathed. “Gimme a kiss,” he moans out, pulling your head back by the nape of your neck to sloppily cover your mouth with his.

“Sugu,” a moan falls from your lips.

“Ooh, that’s a new one. I think I like that,” he teases once again. “Need something, Ru?”

“M-move, p-please.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he slides his arm across your chest, holding you back against him as he begins a brutal pace with his hips. Over and over, his hips collide with your backside. Every thrust feels harder than the last. He’s got your head spinning. Every nerve ending feels like its been set ablaze; a fiery sensation begins pooling in your gut with the combined feeling of his length pressing every good angle inside your pussy, mixed with the feeling of his fingertips on your clit; plus the fact that your air supply is now getting restricted as the arm that was across your chest reaches up to firmly grasp the front of your throat in a headlock. You topple over the edge, seizing against his body in his hold. “There’s a good girl,” he praises you, “Gonna let me cum inside this sweet pussy? Hm?”

“Uhuh, mhm,” you choke out, “Fill me up.”

“With pleasure, Ru,” and he’s emptying himself deep inside; squeezing every ounce he can into your sensitive depths. Every drag along your plush walls has all of his nerves on fire as he begins to come down.

“Now, which ex were you talking about?” He asks, pulling himself out, watching in awe as his cum spilled out of you.

“Oh my god, you’re still thinking about that after what we just did?” You ask, wrist reattached to the bedpost for an entirely different reason.

“Mhm, wanna know who I have to make you forget,” he smirks down at you, reaching to unlock your wrist for the second time tonight.

“I wish you could, if I’m being honest. I hate him,” your voice quiet.

“Who is he?” His fingers rub circles on your wrist.

“Ryomen Sukuna,” your voice shakes; his face pales. “The Red King.”

That night was almost a year ago though. You and suguru have been secretly ‘seeing each other’, though the other still has no idea of the other's intentions, while you wait out the plan you’ve made against Toji.

But after you’d asked him one question, you’re certain your feelings changed in that moment.

“Why do you always call me Ru?”

“Probably the same reason you call me Sugu,” he smirks at you, swiping a piece of your hair behind your ear as you two lay in bed after a long love making session after another successful score of yours. “Ru is short for Ruby, but it's also the ending of my name. Sugu, Ru. I have a hard time believing it's a coincidence that we met.”

“Well duh, you’d been tracking me for almost a year, remember?”

“Hush,” he kisses the crown of your head as it lays on his chest. You turn to look into his eyes, “I call you Ru because..You complete me. Just like how you complete Suguru,” he places a kiss on your nose, “You were made for me, Y/N.”

♡ tags: @celestie0 @lostfracturess @carlacujo @alwaysfreakingout @shervinss @jaelahh @gojolvrr34 @shesplendl @phoenix-eclipses

(pls make sure ur settings are right to get tagged!

#geto smut #geto suguru #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #jjk geto #suguru geto smut #jujutsu geto #jjk suguru #geto suguru x you #geto x y/n #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x reader #geto x you #geto suguru x reader #suguru #suguru geto #suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen suguru

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ieatangstforbreakfast · 7 months

Text

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ Earth 42! Miles Morales x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, eventual angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ Chapters are a bit rushed, sorry bout that 😭 hope u enjoy tho

Chapter 1: Behind the chain

Warning ೃ⁀➷ Profane language, underaged smoking, mention of death, horrible Spanish. Also, I don’t live in America so idrk how people talk there, so please bear with me.

FIC MASTERLIST

Next Chapter

“Hello? Yeah, I’m at practice.”

As your feet hit the ground, the chain link fence shutters from the release of your weight— a sigh escaping your lips as you pull your phone up closer to your ear. The sound of your aunt's nags echo from your phone, bellowing across the abandoned subway and overpowering even the sound of your boots hitting the damp ground. It was shrill, her voice. Like a fork being dragged down a piece of fine china. Activating the flashlight of your phone, you swiftly slip your head out of your hood, the new spot now staring back at you like an empty canvas— devoid of life and color. It’s tragic.

As you trudge down the narrow space, your senses begin to process the stench of the horror movie-like scenery. You could heard the pipes’ leaking going along with your aunt’s ongoing lecture about something you couldn’t recall— somehow distracting you from your search.

But what certainly made you uneasy was the chill.

You hated the cold. You hated the way it’d ice your feet, dry your skin, restrict your clothes, and clog your nose. Though ironically, autumn was the season you found most enjoyable. Most of the nostalgia you bore came from the sight of those scarlet leaves— the smell of pumpkin spice, your mother’s old scarves, and the earthly rich tones of orange and red. It’d been so long, though, since your last happy memory in the season.

Nowadays, the nights are just longer, and the days shorter.

Soon enough, you stop before a tall, white wall, making you gasp as though you’d just won the lottery. Only then you started bidding your farewells to your aunt, who was beyond exasperated with your hurried adieu. Shoving the gadget down your pocket, your backpack falls right off your shoulder with a small thump, eyes still glued onto the blank space.

You make your way towards one of the seats, settling down your stuff while slipping your vape out the crevices of your sleeve and taking a slow puff— the taste of peppermint flourishing through your lips and covering up the stench of whatever was rotting in the railways.

"You're early." A familiar, sarcastic growl emits from the shadows. You turn around as the light from your phone blinds him, making him wince.

“I missed you.” You playfully answered.

The familiar gleam of hazel blinks and stares right back at you, the same stoic stare narrowing from your comment.

“Sure you did.” He huffs.

In the back of your mind, the same phrase bellows.

Well, well, well. If it ain’t Miles Morales.

It was one night, two months ago, when the two of you first met. You were an utter mess, and so was he— and it just so happened that beneath all that rain, the two of you found each other at the right time, at the right place. Supposedly.

The two of you bonded in loneliness and art. It was almost poetic, especially knowing that the two of you were anything but good for each other.

But you believed that that’s what’s great about life— the reckless things, and betting whatever you have on the line, for a taste of something thrilling. Miles knew how to pull on your strings, and the idea of being understood was still new to you. Still, whenever you do find yourself in the comfort of Miles Morales, you can’t help but ask yourself:

Who will we be to each other?

How will we change each other’s lives after this?

You couldn’t quite tell if it was your gut warning you, or your anxiety just being a little shit, but you knew the time to hear the answers was drawing near. You had no idea whether the possibility mortified you or not.

One thing for certain though, was that you knew you wanted him, and you were willing to take the risk to see him over and over again.

Miles took a step closer, his height towering over you like a tree. With a single finger, he maneuvers your flashlight away from his face with a light push.

"Get that shit away from my face."

“Awe, but I wanna see that pretty face of yours.”

“Stop.”

Cat and mouse was your usual dynamic. Though you couldn’t quite pinpoint who the cat was.

He clicks his tongue, moving away from you to head over somewhere else. A few seconds later, the power suddenly lights up and brings the subway back to life. Miles stood by the power switch, staring right at you as if to examine your reaction.

You straightened your lips and raised your brows.

"Well, you should've done that sooner."

He lazily shrugged his shoulders, approaching you once more yet with more meticulous steps. "Wanted to scare ya." He cooly confessed, earning nothing but another chuckle.

"If you wanted to scare me, don’t look so pretty."

Said pretty boy furrowed his brows, making you grin wider.

"Ay, díos. You're..." For a short moment, he thinks of how to complete the sentence.

You hum. "I'm what?"

".. so fucking unbearable."

"Awe, I missed you too." You smiled in a sickly sweet way while placing a hand over your heart. That certain sort of thrill began thumping inside you again, an unfamiliar excitement that got you staring right at him mindlessly with that stupid look on your pretty face. As Miles replied with silence, you shrugged and pulled the mod up your tinted lips— blowing the smoke away from his face. Only then, you gestured it towards him.

"Want a hit?"

"Nah." He dryly replies. "That's your first step to a rehab, y'know."

A low laugh exits your lips, taking another hit while slowly walking around. "With how fucked up I am, I'm bound to end up in either jail, a rehab, or a mental institution— so," You snap your fingers. "I'm just gonna enter all three of them."

Miles looks at you, horrified.

"M’just kidding. Don't you think I look hot while doing it, though?"

He peels the horrified stare away from you, instead choosing to kneel before your backpack, unzipping the damn thing as though it were his.

"What'chu got?" He asks, a certain twang in his voice that lightened you up. You head over in less than a second, grinning stupidly like a little kid in search of favor. You pull the plastic bag out of your backpack, waving it over his face.

"Only the best for you." You wink. "I just kindly borrowed these from my school's art club."

Receiving the bag from your grasps, Miles pulls out the newly bought spray paints. He furrows his brows at the sight of the bold fifteens printed on the bottom of each bottle, a tag left as if to brag. "Kindly borrowed, huh?" He skims over the bottle, evidently impressed. "Fifteen dollars per bottle? That’s a whole heist right there.”

“I literally just snatched it off the cabinet.”

“You must go to some rich kid’s school or sum. You even look the part.”

He gestures over your well-kept appearance. Your clean boots, pressed jeans, freshly done nails, and fragrant hoodie.

And yet you continued to look at him like he was the crazy one.

"... Miles, it’s called neatness. A basic trait." You stand up, stretching your arms above your head, the ache in your bones subtly easing. "If I did have the money, my art would be in an exhibition, not in an abandoned subway."

He pursed his lips, somewhat convinced. "Touché."

As he unpacks the paints, you stay beside him, watching as he goes through the colors and lines them up in order. You shove your hands down the pockets of your hoodie, humming.

"So what'll you be drawing tonight?"

"I ain’t really sure yet… The Subway logo, maybe." He shrugs, an exhausted groan rolling off his tongue as he stands up. "… I ain't got shit. I'm drained."

"Then why'd you come here?"

"Felt bad for ya."

You smirk. "So you did miss me."

He takes a step back, turning his head the other way. "I sure do find your delusional ass amusing." He mumbled, trying to hide the anxiety gnawing at his throat. You hardly notice it, as you were too busy staring at the empty wall, but Miles was uneasy. Uneasy in a way that he was desperate to hide it.

"At least I’ve got an ass." You airily snap back, silence following like an awkward stench. "Did you bring your sketchbook with you, by the way?"

He then proceeds to go through his jacket, eyes widening from the realization. "Ah, shit. I did... Not."

"Awe." You blandly answered, pulling out your own from the pocket of your bag. It was small, convenient, almost like a notepad. "Well, I've got mine here." You toss it over, which he successfully catches. "They're not exactly as good as yours, but you can skim through the pages to find some inspiration."

The pages spin from the flip of his fingers. Tens of concept art, a few unfinished sketches, and some dabbling in watercolor appeared before him in a flash. As he goes through the pages, you take the moment to have a momentary smoke, straying not so far away just so he wouldn't inhale any of it. The nicotine eased you as it normally did, though now that you were looking at this pretty boy before you, you couldn't help but ponder about quitting. Just for him. Just for the sake of him.

Though the feeling the nicotine often brought you was addicting, his presence hit you harder than any other drug, affecting your system in a way that made your stomach whirl. He was like your favorite cup of coffee— the strongest coffee to ever linger in your presence. Strong enough to appear on a drug test.

It was damning.

Dangerous even.

As the page flips again, Miles freezes at the sight. You take the gadget away from your lips, approaching him immediately as he huffs.

"... Huh."

Bursting in neons of magenta and violet was the sketch you made of a certain vigilante.

"Oh, don’t mind that." You mumble. "That's just some random sketch."

He brings the paper closer to his sights, marveling at your talent. The markers and the ink, mirroring the image of a cat on the run. His pretty lips part, mouth hanging agape as he asks. "You know this guy?"

A hero of the streets, some sort of final pillar carrying the weight of New York's safety on his broad shoulders.

"Well, I've seen him— Prowler, from the news. I thought he looked pretty cool."

Prowler, a name all too familiar to you. How could you not know he was? A man hiding behind an iron mask, a digital purple hologram over the metals, making his silhouette mirror a panther’s. The man was all your father recently growled about, the memory of the heavy morning still engraved into your mind. You can almost sketch it out— The stench of his tobacco, the shrill of his angered voice, and the image of your poor housekeeper silently brushing some broken shards into the dustpan. You remember sitting by the dining table, solemnly choking on your breakfast as you forcibly shoved it down your throat.

Eyes downcast and hands shaking.

"You think he's cool?" Miles' voice tears you apart from the memory. He sounded almost elated, like a child in search of praise.

"Yeah, I'd always wanted to be a vigilante, fuck—" The vape rolls off your tongue unconsciously. "Like, my life is so damn boring, but at the same time, I've got too many responsibilities to handle so I can't do the things I like. But hey, that's life, I guess."

"If you've got too many responsibilities, then what the hell are you doing here? It's like midnight r'now, damn."

"I kinda told my aunt I had practice for band."

"You're in a band?"

"…. No." You deadpan. "That's the reason why I'm here, man."

He snapped the sketchbook shut, sighing as he plucked out the red and purple spray paints from the line. "God, you'd be one hell of a headache if I ever had a kid like you."

"Woah, slow down, sweetie, you're already talking about kids and you haven't even taken me out to dinner yet." You tease, teeth nibbling onto your lower lip as you watch him crumble. He straightens his lips, forcefully holding back a smile.

"… Shut that mouth for me, would ya?" He shot back. "Just shut up."

"Oo, make me."

He pops the lid off the red paint, the sound of a nickel ball being shaken up in a metal can soon following. Without even an ounce of hesitation, he curtly sprays the paint over your sleeve, earning a gasp from you. You quickly snatch the neon pink can and start spraying back, the chemical smell wafting over your nostrils as the sound of your giggles echoed down the halls. A minute later and the both of you began drawing your new piece while being drenched in paint.

"Hey, pretty boy.”

Miles instinctively turns to look at you, as though he prided himself in the nickname.

"I need to do the top part, can you boost me?" You ask, voice muffled from the towel pulled over your nose.

Maybe it was the exhaustion, but he agreed without making a sound.

He kneels, tapping on his thigh, gesturing you to take your step. Taking off your shoes, you cautiously climb over, feeling his hands brush against your calves, almost as if he was readying his stance to catch you just in case you fall. Initially, the pose seemed to be serving you well, but when your ankles started shivering, your hand latched onto his head, gripping gently in panic. Miles, who was, of course, caught off guard, began shaking. You finally took a step down.

"Fuck." You whispered. "Can you do it?"

"Hol' on."

"I think you just need to like, tiptoe a bit and—"

"Be patient."

And you did just that.

He stretches out his toes in an attempt to reach for the top, but he fails miserably. Miles then turned to you, bearing the pout of a frustrated child.

"... Ya already know what to do, right?"

"Mm, yeah."

An irrational thought crosses his mind, and it battles against his rationality like a civil war within the confines of his head. A second later, his lone finger signals you to come closer. You do so, and he looks up at the unfinished crown.

"I'm gonna carry you, a'ight?"

"What?" You blurt out. "Y-You don't have to—"

"Just balance yourself." He skips past your rant. "And you better do it well."

Before you could even intervene, he's down and offering you his shoulder. Hesitantly, you position yourself. Looking over at you, Miles skims over your face in search of approval. When your hand shakily makes its way over his other arm, Miles cautiously wraps his palm over the side of your knee, hoisting you up like a trophy he’d just won.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Y-yeah. Just— yeah." You stumble over your words, raising your hand over to start painting.

You could feel it tingling in your bones. Skin deep, rotting within the confines of your flesh, insecurity at its highest peak. And it shut you up. Miraculously, as Miles would say it. Your weight, your body, your own figure frightened you. It would be a lie for Miles to claim that he hasn’t noticed. But he stood tall, hardly showing an ounce of any struggle— which comforted somehow.

He was pretty strong, stronger than you first thought.

As you painted, Miles stood there in silence. Trying his best to focus on his breathing.

But the softness of your palm atop his shoulder, and the growing warmth of his own over your waist. Miles desperately tried to ignore growing warmth burning his cheeks. He resisted the urge to dig into the softness of your waist, and yet it remained like a taunt— allowing only his nails to grip over your shirt, the thin barrier over your skin. It seemed almost vulgar, how his hand was beneath your hoodie, gripping as though you were his favorite plush. How his wrist was pressed against the curve of your hip. Then and there, within the span of five minutes, the silhouette of your body was forever engraved into his senses, his mind, and his touch.

But no one spoke of it.

"... You done?" He groaned.

"In a bit, hol' on."

You thought he'd start complaining about your weight, but he didn't.

You were somewhat relieved, but at the same time, it flustered you.

And when the little scene ended, you and Miles stood there, backs pressed against the wall as you stared at your new masterpiece. You looked over the chemical stains on your sleeves, glancing at him. "This jacket's pretty expensive, y'know. It cost me like fifteen grand."

His face twisted in disgust. "You'd buy a jacket like that? In this economy?”

"It's a capitalist world we live in."

"No shit."

The two of you share a small laugh, evidently exhausted from the whole art process. It wasn't all that much, but it was based on one of your many doodles during class. The cursive that spelled out Stay Out was painted in an intimidating shade of red, its borders tainted in white and black— a crown of thorns resting above the text. It seemed like a warning, an open threat. Crafted by frustration, but upon its finish, you were eased.

"Next time, we should do something that says 'Eat the rich' or 'Vive la revolución.'" Miles suddenly suggested, jazzing his fingers comedically. You click your tongue. "We might get shot, man.”

“With all that smoking you do, you’ll wither away before the bullet even manages to get you.”

You raised your brows. “Okay, and?”

Miles scoffs at your ridiculous reply, but for a moment he thinks about it— some sort of plan in his mind. Sooner or later, he soon gently raises his palm without a word. You stare at his hand confusingly, “What?” you then asked of him. The boy then gestured over his lips with his fingers shaped like a v, imitating the act of smoking. “Lemme try, at least once.”

“… You’re kidding.”

“I’m being for real, ma, just let me try it once.”

You think about rejecting his request, but the curiosity had you fishing out your e-cigarette in less than a second.

“Okay, but if you die, I’m not paying for your damn ambulance bill.”

“Just uber me to the damn hospital.”

Miles then looks at it, glaring holes into the pen-shaped gadget as though he were waiting for it to speak. After considerably taking his time, he plucks it out your palm and starts a slow sip, the collision of the nicotine and the flavor flooding his tongue as the smoke enters his system. When the heat creeps in, however, he bursts out into a coughing fit.

You snatch the gadget away from his grasp as he groans.

“Careful.”

"What the fUCK—, ain't that s'pposed to calm you down?—" He slams his hand against the center of chest in an attempt to ease his lungs.

"… Did you fucking swallow the smoke or what?" You sigh while taking a sip, the smoke smoothly exiting your lips.

"... You know what? You are definitely gonna die early."

"Oh, darling, don't threaten me with a good time."

“Pu—” He coughs a few more times. “Puta, I almost died there.”

You take your palm and began rubbing small circles behind his back. “You shouldn’t do the shit I do, even if I look hot doing it.”

“Ain’t nobody told you that.”

“… Why’d you wanna smoke anyway?”

“I just wanted to know why you keep doing that.” He groans, staring at the pen in your fingers. “I mean— it’s unhealthy as fuck, hardly tastes good, and it’ll kill you the ugliest way possible. So why do it?”

You lower the pen as though your long-lost conscience re-entered your body.. “… I don’t know really.” You mumbled half-heartedly. “I think it’s what calms me down the most…? I don’t know.”

“… You don’t have, like, normal hobbies?”

“The fuck— of course, I do.” You swiftly shot back. “I just don’t have the time to do them.”

“Then what do you do at home?”

You blink.

“What— What do I do at home?” You repeat, thinking of it to yourself. “That’s a good question, what do I do at home?… I do chores, I study a lot. I-I take care the house.” Take care of the house? Yeah, shit I ain’t Mirabel Madrigal. As your mind short circuits, from a mile away, you could already guess his reply.

“I do that too, dumbass.”

You click your tongue. “.. It’s complicated. The time I usually have for myself is when I’m outside, that’s why I lied that I took up band for extra credit.”

You smoothed out the details of your life, picking out a few small details that were definitely not all that important.

"Is that why you're here?"

"Yeah.”

The boy curved his lips into a slight frown.

“I mean,” You shift closer, sighing as you palm the back your neck. “Sometimes, places like these are better than my own home."

"Places like an abandoned subway?"

“You make it sound like I’m homeless.”

“That’s what it sounds to me.”

"... It’s just.." You run your fingers through your hair, eyes glued onto the ceiling above. "I feel more at home in an abandoned subway more than my own house.”

Miles hummed. "… I'd always thought home would be more of a person," He tilts his head. "Rather than a place."

The silence was deafening, but this time, nothing was urging you to fix it— because there was nothing in need of fixing. You were comfortable, weirdly enough, as you never really found comfort in utter silence.

“It’d be nice to be.. Someone’s home.” You couldn’t help but utter those cheesy words. “I think I’d make a great home.”

Miles fiddled with the hem of his hoodie, holding back the words that echoed in his mind.

Yeah, you’re doing great.

Instead, what slips out of his mouth was: “How the fuck are you gon’ be a home? You’re a whole haunted house.”

“Oh, fuck you.” You roll your eyes. “If I’m a haunted house, you’re a rental where all the drive-by shootings happen.”

“Okay, what the fuck.”

“When you go low, I go LOWER.”

In the end, the two of you simply bursted into laughter, sinking down to the floor to take a seat. Another hour passed and so did a hundred topics. They flew by like the autumn leaves, leaving the both of you unconsciously huddling close for warmth beneath the large scarf you brought. Two birds of one feather, one nest. Easy conversations, light laughs, and genuine interest.

Even when the conversation grew darker, the two of you infinitely felt cosy enough to confide in one another. Especially when Miles spoke about his father.

You listened well, yet there was this ball stuck in your throat that you couldn’t quite swallow. A heaviness in your heart, a stiff feeling in your throat. However, your ears were welcoming. His tone was grieving, but his words resonated with acceptance.

"He used to drive me every morning to school... We'd fight over the pettiest things, and god, I hated it, but looking back, it was better then." He buried half his head into his arms. "I'd rather have him annoying me than have him not annoying me at all."

The words hit you like a truck, leaving you defenseless. In a moment, your walls crumble as these words crawl out your mouth. "... Sometimes, when we're with someone, you can't help but wish they'd leave you alone, but when they're gone, only then you'll realize how much you can't live without them."

Though your words were meant for Miles, you knew damn well that they were also for you.

"... There's some truth to that, I guess."

"Does that mean that you'd miss me when I'm gone?" You tease.

Your gentle gazes collide, and eventually, you see that Miles had softened entirely.

"... Maybe."

“.. Maybe?” You repeat his reply. “.. Should I annoy you more then?”

“You’re annoying enough as you are.” He huffs, pulling his knees to his chest. “I hate you so much.”

“Sure you do.”

You lean against his shoulder. “Hate me all you want. I’ll pretend to believe you.”

A light chuckle emits from his lips, but as it fades, he turns his head, burying his nose in the scent of your hair. You were fragrant, and it was addicting. Slowly, he shuts his eyes and basks in your scent.

Then he called out your name softly.

You hum, looking up at him— the inches between you closing in, cold breaths like white smoke intertwining. His cold fingers dance atop your own.

“What?” You whisper.

His lids were heavy, gaze switching between the pool of your eyes and the plush of your lips.

Then and there, you knew.

But something screamed at you in the back of your mind.

We can’t.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

And you pulled away before your lips could even meet.

"Shit." You cuss, clumsily pulling the phone out of your pockets. Your hands frantically scramble to answer the call, the look of Miles' defeated stare stinging the corner of your eye. "Hello?" You began, hearing the chauffeur's voice ask back. "Ma'am, where are you?"

Your fingers press the side of your phone, lowering the volume.

“We're currently clearing up the room right now. Can you please wait about thirty more minutes? Thanks."

As the call ends, you frantically head off to start cleaning up. Trying to evade whatever had just happened— at least, you try to. It invaded your mind and heart, left you breathless and unsteady.

You and Miles began picking up the bottles, shoving it inside the plastic. You then flung the strap of your backpack onto your shoulder, holding the plastic out to him. "You can have it."

Confusion was scribbled all over his face.

"Didn't you steal that from your school's art club?”

You look up, thinking about it for a moment before shrugging. "It’s their problem, not ours." You grin.

Miles shakes his head in feigned disapproval. "Tsk tsk tsk, eres una chica tan mala."

"Don't start, the only Spanish I know's from Dora."

"Que?"

"Queso."

You shove the plastic into his arms. "No hablo Español, lo siento." Was all you managed to form out of the past few weeks you started learning Spanish. You threw a hand in the air, waving him a fast farewell while pivoting your heel to leave.

“Can’t I walk you home?” A suggestion, and not a demand for the first time, Miles insists “It’s dark as fuck outside, and you might get.. Y’know.”

For a moment, you pause to laugh.

“Are you worried about me?”

He nods. “I am.”

“I— wait, what?”

He took a step further. “I am worried about you. It’s ten o’clock. I think I should take you home.”

Miles looked at you in a way you’ve never seen before. It was unfamiliar, or maybe you just weren’t good at paying attention, yet now that it was materializing before you— It overwhelmed you.

It was breaking you open.

You bite your lower lip, shoving your hands in your pockets.

“… I-I don’t know, I don’t think my dad would like that very much.”

“And I’m sure your dad wouldn’t like the idea of his lil’ girl getting hurt.”

There he goes again, towering over you, his cocky eyes never once leaving your face. Lil’ girl my ass, you can’t help but think. I’m tall, asshole. You just so happened to be taller.

“I’ll walk you home.” He reiterates. Now it’s an announcement, not a proposal. “You can tell me to leave when we’re near. I just need to make sure you’re okay.”

“… Miles,” The way his name rolls off your tongue had him weak, and you couldn’t even tell. “.. Okay, fine— But, only up until the Gristedes down the block. Until then, you go home, alright?”

Your voice was too soft, too mellow. It made his breath hitch, made his neck tense in this already cold weather.

“Aight.”

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typingdyslexiaisathing · 15 days

Text

Cuddle Demon Activate (Obey Me!) fic

You watched Satan as he read through a forbidden book of curses. His gaze so focused on the tome in front of him he wasn't even blinking. So you got to marvel over his every feature at your leisure. Taking in his sculpted face. Those gorgeous eyes. How his blonde tresses just framed his face for a lock to drift out of place and hang in his vision. Making him huff to tuck the strand back with a swipe of his hand. His casual clothes just hinting at the frame beneath. You were taking it all in while he was oblivious to everything around him.

Soon enough, you sneak yourself right next to him. Ever so gently wrapping your arms around him from the side. Which finally broke his concentration to blink a few times. his gaze going from the tome to you as you hugged him. Which had him smile and melt a little into your frame. Words of silken amusement playing over his lips. "I see my favorite lamb decided to find me. Did I miss dinner or are you here for other reasons?"

You hummed to tell him you love watching him. How handsome he is when focusing on something with such diligence. That he is someone you would love to hold close and savor in his presence forever. Which had him blink to then blush at such flattery. So he set the book down to turn himself in his seat and hug you close. Sweeping you off your chair to sit you in his lap and start giving your face gentle eyelash kisses. His hum one of pure abiding love and delight. "Such a silly lamb. Always wanting to cuddle and shower me with your endearments. I do so love you, lamb. My heart soars at your words." Soon enough, Satan rubs his hands with great care over your back and shoulders. Giving you a few kisses to your cheeks before holding you tight to his front. meaning you sense every thunderous thump of his heart as he sighs against your neck. A low purr escaping his chest. "The things you do to me. Such a darling and silly sheep you are. I was hoping to memorize that spell to use on Lucifer later. But alas. I think I would rather cuddle my darling lamb."

// again a fic for @lost-in-lamentation. Never tellz me to stop my posting of desired ficz I will write more immediately lol //

#obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date #obey me: one master to rule them all #obey me! one master to rule them all #obey me! fanfiction #obey me! fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #obey me nightbringer #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #satan x reader #obey me x reader #obey me fluff

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queenshelby · 5 months

Text

Forbidden Desire (Part 20)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest, Smut

Please comment and engage xx 😘

A few hours later, when most of the guests had left and Edward had fallen asleep, you took the time to have a conversation with Robert who appeared rather anxious about recent developments.

Sitting beside you on the chaise longue inside one of the guestrooms, he expressed his concern regarding your involvement in this dangerous lifestyle shared by your family. According to him, there were mentions of drug trafficking and killings amongst some of the men and this worried him greatly.

"You knew about all this, didn't you?" Robert probed gently, searching your eyes for answers. You hesitated briefly, weighing whether to divulge your knowledge or maintain the facade. Ultimately, honesty won out, driven by a genuine sense of trust that developed between you two. Nodding solemnly, you confirmed his suspicion.

"Yes," you paused momentarily, pondering the best approach to discuss this sensitive topic. "I know that my family is involved in illegal activities, and I also know how dangerous these activities can be. This is why I did not want you to come here with me. This place is nothing but trouble." You confessed to Robert honestly, shaking your head slightly.

"So the fire at the hotel wasn't an accident then?" Robert asked curiously, recalling how much danger it put you in.

"No, it wasn't an accident. The fire was targeted at us. Shelby Company Limited owns the hotel and I...," you began to say without completing your sentence. "You know, don't worry about it. We are safe here with my uncle," you tried reassuring Robert, though deep down you weren't completely convinced either. You knew that Tommy would do anything to keep you safe but he cared much less for Robert's wellbeing.

"I do not like it here Y/N. Your uncle appears to be a dangerous man and whilst your father seems to have found God, I feel as though his past is rather dark as well. There are men with outside, with guns. There are at least ten of them and your uncle has been carrying a loaded weapon for the entirety of the evening. When he returned with you from the fire, his clothes were stained with blood. It worries me greatly, my dear," Robert continued expressing his concerns with a heavy heart.

Your expression fell, sensing the weight of his words, yet understanding where he was coming from.

"I know Robert, but we will go back to Boston soon and all will be fine, yes? In Boston, we will be safe and far away from my family", you promised, attempting to alleviate his apprehension.

"Yes my love, but you need to promise me that you aren't involved in anything dangerous, alright?" Robert insisted, placing a gentle palm on your shoulder, seeking reassurance. Feeling both guilty and relieved that he believed in you, you nodded your head firmly.

"Alright! Now get some sleep while I tend to the little hungry monster," you then said as you heard Edward screaming from the nursery next door. With a soft smile on your face, you glanced at Robert who nodded understandingly.

Standing up, you walked toward the doorway leading to the nursery, calling out softly, trying to coax the baby to silence before disappearing into the next room to pick up your son.

Gently rocking him against your bosom, your heart ached thinking about the uncertain future ahead for your tiny boy and, just as you looked for somewhere to sit down, Tommy's maid Frances entered the room.

"He looks a lot like his father, doesn't he?" Frances observed. She too heard the cries and offered to take you the reading room for sake of peace and quiet, allowing you to breastfeed your son comfortably.

"I suppose he does Frances," you responded absentmindedly, as you thought about your situation while following Frances down the stairs and into the dimly lit library.

"Would you like some help?" she offered kindly, recognising the strain on your face. "It must be hard having a young child in your care alone," she observed as you struggled with your dress.

Feeling grateful for her support, you smiled warmly and accepted her offer, but just as Frances was about to take Edward so that you could get comfortable on the sofa to feed him, Tommy came walking into the darkened room.

"I've got him. Thank you, Frances," Tommy spoke before gently taking his son from your hands.

"You may leave," he then told his maid while looking down at Edward affectionately and, immediately, his demeanor changed drastically upon seeing him as his heart filled with pride and possessiveness.

"Yes sir," Frances nodded respectfully, exiting quietly leaving only the three of you in the darkness of the library. As she closed the door behind her, the moonlight filtered through the windows casting eerie patterns across the walls and floor.

You sat down silently watching as Tommy cradled Edward close to his chest. By this point, he had stopped crying now, despite being hungry, which surprised you considering how demanding he often was.

The tender way Tommy held him seemed almost instinctual, hinting at what might lie beneath his harsh exterior as, now, there were moments when he showed compassion and vulnerability - qualities usually hidden underneath layers of bravado and brutality.

"He is quite similar to you in many ways, isn't he?" you commented, feeling an odd mixture of admiration and trepidation as you looked at Edward, your son, nestled snugly in Tommy's strong arms.

Without speaking, Tommy acknowledged your observation with a simple nod, studying the features of his son intently. His eyes traced every curve of the baby's round cheeks, captivated by the resemblance.

Edward had Tommy's blue eyes and full lips. His skin was covered in tiny little freckles that dotted his nose and forehead and you knew that these same freckles would eventually grow more prominent as he aged, becoming part of his distinctive charm.

As you watched Tommy hold his son, you felt a sudden surge of emotion flooding your heart, making it race. Despite the circumstances surrounding the conception of Edward and your complex familial connections, witnessing Tommy's paternal side made you realize again that even he possessed humanity.

Although deeply rooted in crime and violence, the bond between him and his son revealed something else entirely – something fragile, unspoken, and profoundly personal.

"I do have to feed him soon Tom," you remarked after observing the silent exchange between father and son for several minutes.

"Yes, of course," Tommy nodded graciously, handing the squirming infant back to you, his touch lingering around Edward ever so slightly longer than necessary while you lowered the top of your dress.

"I should give you some privacy," Tommy murmured, stepping away from you slowly, but you shook your head and smiled.

"You can stay if you like. It's not that you haven't seen my breasts before," you joked lightheartedly, trying to break the growing tension between you and Tommy. But instead of replying to your remark, Tommy remained silent and still, his gaze fixating solely on you and his son.

He looked at you in awe and disbelief, marveling over the fact that you gave birth to his son. The revelation struck him harder than he expected it to. For once, he couldn’t find any words to speak, lost amidst the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in his brain.

Uncomfortable with the intense silence hanging in the air, you took the initiative to diffuse the awkwardness.

"I miss the days where we were close, Tommy," you whispered gratefully as you started to undo two more buttons of your dress.

Bending forward to make access easier for your son, you glanced upwards to see Tommy watching your movements, a mix of emotions flashing across his face. Unsettled by his piercing gaze, you cleared your throat nervously and continued, focusing on your task.

"I miss these days too, Love," he replied somberly, his voice hoarse with emotion. He shifted uneasily in his seat, unable to meet your eye directly.

Silence enveloped the small space once more, thickening with the tension radiating off both of you. Sensing the moment growing increasingly fraught, you broke the tension with another comment.

"If you missed the time we spent with each other, then why did you never write to me?” you ventured, hoping to gain insight into his changing behavior.

However, your question hung heavily in the air, stirring up waves of guilt, confusion, and regret within Tommy. Unable to face the truth himself, he chose evasion instead.

"Things changed. I knew we couldn't be together, so I needed to distance myself from you," he muttered dismissively, his eyes finally finding yours, conveying sadness and loss.

"Do you love Lizzie?" you asked suddenly, wondering whether Tommy was merely settling because of the expectations placed upon him due to his position.

His brow furrowed as you posed such a direct question. Taking a deep breath, he let forth a heavy sigh, choosing his words carefully.

"Love takes time," he began cautiously, "I love our daughter, Ruby and, maybe one day, I can love her mother too," he explained, causing you to chuckle, which was a gesture he willfully ignored.

"Do you love Robert?" Tommy suddenly countered, his tone turning confrontational.

"Well, no...it's complicated," you answered hesitantly, struggling to articulate your own feelings for your lover. "We met during difficult times, and I found solace in someone I didn't think I would ever meet," you explained reluctantly and with a shaky voice.

"Alright, then tell me Love, do you still love me?" Tommy probed further, his curiosity piqued as much as his jealousy. He leaned closer, searching for signs of weakness in your eyes.

Your heart raced as your pulse quickened. Swallowing hard, you tried to hide your emotional turmoil behind a facade of indifference. However, Tommy noticed your struggle instantly.

"It doesn't matter because, whether I love you or not, won't make a difference at all," you confessed candidly, your voice breaking as you uttered those painful words. The weight of them settled between you, causing your hearts to skip a beat simultaneously.

"What happened to us Tommy? Why am I sitting here, holding your son, yet I am so far apart from you?" you lamented sorrowfully, tears beginning to pool in your eyes. This confession hurt both of you deeply, reminding you of a connection that was irreversibly severed and, just as Tommy was about to respond to your statement, his fiancée Lizzie barged in.

"Come to bed, Thomas!" she exclaimed impatiently, oblivious to the delicate balance of raw emotions simmering in the room. Her presence brought relief to Tommy, offering a welcome distraction from his tumultuous inner battle.

Avoiding any mention of your conversation, Tommy calmly rose from his chair and bid goodnight, kissing Lizzie softly on the cheek.

Then, without giving you a chance to respond, he exited the room swiftly, eager to escape the palpable tension.

Watching him go, you bit your lip anxiously, struggling to comprehend the multitude of emotions coursing through your veins. You turned toward Lizzie, trying to gauge her reaction to your encounter with Tommy. Surprised by your display of familiarity, she raised an eyebrow curiously, seemingly confused by your interaction. However, deciding against prying further, she dismissed the situation altogether.

Closing the door gently behind her, Lizzie left you alone with your thoughts and emotions. With a sense of desolation, you gathered yourself and proceeded to prepare Edward for sleep. Nursing him until he fell asleep, rocking him gently in your arms as you hummed a melody passed down generations in your family. The comforting rhythm of the song calming not only Edward but also serving as balm to your wounded soul.

Meanwhile, outside the nursery, Tommy stood motionlessly, the events transpiring inside having left him reeling.

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lets-try-some-writing · 25 days

Text

The Rites of Cybertron

Cybertronians are not without religion, nor are they lacking in holidays. While there are plenty of smaller ones scattered across the planet for various city states and historical events, Cybertronians have thirteen major holidays in celebration of the original thirteen. Although the celebrations are far less religious than the Primacy would like.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

The Rite of Prima

It is customary for every able bodied mech to endure the rite of Prima once a vorn on a pre-selected cycle that changes every few millennia. It is by far one of the most loathed or loved holidays. It completely depends on who is engaging in it.

The practice begins the moment the light of the nearest star touches Cybertron's surface. Every mech who is capable must then select a weapon and stand guard in absolute silence in a safe location of their choice. Rain or shine, they must keep to their station stoically until the local priest of the Primacy rings a bell just before sundown. Failure to stand guard will have them marked and prohibited from the remainder of the activities. All of this is done in remembrance of Prima's long watch and his supervision of Cybertron during its early history. It doesn't matter if anyone actually believes that is what went down. Not when they know that if they follow the tradition, the fun will begin in no time.

As soon as the bell is rung, that's when the true joy of the holiday begins. Every mech who stood guard is legally allowed to engage in a spar with whoever they make optic contact with first. The loser has a mark placed on their frame to indicate their loss and the winners will travel around their city state to fight other victors until one comes out on top. The victor of each city state (if a victor is found before the following cycle that is), will then be presented with a reward of their choosing by the Primacy. It is often so rare for a winner to turn up before the next morning that it is a grand event when one mech actually comes out on top.

Most are not fond of this holiday since it can lead to extreme crime spikes, but police are always on patrol and are forbidden to engage in the holiday so that they can stop troublemakers who wish to use the holiday as their chance to create chaos. Oftentimes, fights between high ranking combatants will be put on television for the population to watch throughout their activities. Those who don't participate will make bets.

All in all, it is one of the least reverent of holidays, but a well needed excuse for Cybertronian citizens to settle their scores legally and in a nonlethal manner. Although it has been said that long ago, Prima's rite was far more... mystical. A few who still follow the old faith have stated that when they hold their vigil, they maintain it for the entire cycle and in turn find themselves strengthened for trials to come.

The Rite of Recollection

The Rite of Recollection is a holiday devoted to Vector Prime and serves as an excuse for Cybertronian citizens to indulge in the wonders of the stars. While primarily focused around the young, The Rite of Recollection is a time for all of Cybertron. Mecha young or old will travel from every single corner of Cybertron in order to gather around with family or open locations for one sole purpose.

They gather to witness the stars.

Every light is turned off, save for the most essential. Work is put on hold, school is canceled, and not a spark is allowed to have a light brighter than a candle. All of Cybertron goes dark and its citizens come together quietly to watch as Cybertron finishes its rotation and a rare meteor shower graces the skies. The young are regaled with information on Cybertron's solar system and given sparklers to chase each other with in symbolization of Vector Prime's purpose as a keeper of space. Couples have been known to go out of their way to hunt down fragments of the meteors that land on the planet's surface to create gifts. Mentors will take the opportunity to witness constellations usually invisible due to light pollution. Vendors will sell trinkets modeled after the holiday, and quiet night markets will appear and promptly vanish over the course of a cycle.

Most of the cycle is laid back. The only ones who are frantic are the priests of the Primacy who throw their very sparks into recording as much as physically possible and try to collect as much meteor as they can. There are beliefs that the shards of meteor bring good luck, and the priests take that to another level and believe them to be a gift from Vector Prime himself that was sent from his divine domain amidst the space between the stars.

The Rite of Wisdom's Vigil

Modeled after the recorder Prime (Alpha Trion), Wisdom's Vigil is a deca-cycle long event dedicated to messing with everyone's perspectives. It was highjacked during the height of the golden age as a way to earn additional shanix through underhanded means, but its original purpose was quite clear. And despite the corruption, the Primacy was still able to maintain the event well enough to keep it going without completely losing its meaning.

Traditionally during Wisdom's Vigil, all Cybertronians under a certain age and with no serious health conditions, would be shipped to different parts of the planet to study a new culture and under a new mentor. It was one of the greatest student exchanges on the planet, and its entire function was to show citizens how others lived. With the Council's corruption, this ability to exchange students was limited to the higher castes and served as a form of political warfare amongst the higher castes. However, those who were able to engage in the holiday were required to adapt.

A mech from Iacon sent to Kaon would be taught the ways of Kaon and have to integrate into the culture as seamlessly as possible while serving under a new mentor in what was likely a completely different field than the one they were used to. A mech from Rodion sent to Praxus would need to roger up and adapt really quick just as much as a mech from Tarn would need to get used to falling a lot while being sent to Vos. Was the holiday chaotic? Absolutely. But it always yielded interesting results and gave every city a chance to share their culture. There have been many immigrants to various city states after those who engaged in the holiday found they preferred one culture over the one they were forged into.

The older Cybertronians who are not mentoring or being mentored have their own way of celebrating. The non religious will go to their closest archive and listen to various speakers who are brought in by the archives. The religious will go to an archivist and ask for the rite of confession. Upon being granted it, they will go somewhere where none save for the archivist can listen and pour out their spark, revealing whatever has been weighing them down and asking for guidance should they be lacking in information. This rite was hardly ever enacted prior to the war simply because many archivists were paid to sell whatever information they gleaned to the Council. Too many vanished after confessing, and so the rite died for all but the most unassuming individuals.

The Rite of Symbiosis

Developed as a way to honor Micronus Prime, the Rite of Symbiosis is a holiday that is actually banned in several city states with far more restrictive legislations when it comes to who counts as a citizen or not. The whole point of the rite is to celebrate the symbiotic relationships between minibots, intelligent mechanimals, symbiotes, and their carrier units. It is a time to remember how special such things are and how much stronger Cybertronians can be as a whole when they rely on one another, regardless of size or structure.

The rite begins for already bonded companions a few cycles before the actual holiday. It is customary for both parties involved in a companionship to go on some sort of trip or test their bond with trial. It doesn't need to be extreme, just something to reaffirm their reliance on one another. That is the only true holy aspect of the rite as the rest is largely commercial thanks to the Council. On the actual cycle of the rite, minibots without a companion who are looking for one will use their opportunity to show off their skill. The entire cycle is filled with performances from those looking for carrier units and carrier units attempting to show off their services to those looking for a team to hire. While technically one huge advertisement, there is actual joy to be found.

Circus teams have been known to be very prevalent and it is by far the best time to part ways and find new companions for carrier units who are unhappy with their situation. During the holiday minibots can also group together and legally register under one name if they fail to bond to anyone, therefore ensuring they are viewed as citizens sharing the same name instead of property to be owned. The rite is also the only time minibots and symbiotes who are unhappy can earn their freedom through contests. If an contest is issued, those watching much uphold it. The Primacy ensures this rite is honored.

Of course its not all hidden drama covered by a loose celebration. There are treats and dances. But the bit event revolves around the displays carrier units, minibots, symbiotes, and various teams put on to showcase their abilities. There is also a feast at the end of the whole event, but that is to be expected. Any holy aspect was long lost to ancient documents in the archives.

The Rite of Bounty

Created vorns before the Council was even formed, the Rite of Bounty is exactly what it sounds like. Made to honor Alchemist Prime, the only holy aspect about the whole thing is the fact that every bot will pray over their fuel before mixing and consuming. There entire cycle is one giant potluck and food fest. Mecha prepare stellar cycles in advance, collecting wild energon and additives to add to their creations. Then when the cycle arrives, brewers, mixers, purifiers, bartenders, and other fuel concoctors will emerge as one with their creations.

Every city is filled with vendors and stalls. Fuel is absolutely everywhere, often being given out for free as a way of sharing the joy. High-grade and energex flow like a river and drunk mecha are absolutely everywhere. The young are given treats and taught to purify energon safely. The old will bicker over who's energon is better and which high-grade is superior. The higher castes can't even get involved because it is simply too wild of an event. Not even the police are willing to try and stop whatever goes down for that whole cycle.

The people are happy, fueled, and more often than not, drunk off their afts. Not even the Primacy gets around it. They purposefully push their priests to go learn to mix up high grade to honor Alchemist. Many young brewers and fuel mixers have found their spotlight in winning one of the many many competitions across Cybertron during the course of the rite.

Those who still abide by the old faith tend to be a little quieter in their celebration and spend the cycle carefully creating a fancy meal for their loved ones with purely foraged supplies. But those mecha are few and far between. Most are more than happy to go get drunk with the rest.

The Rite of Convergence

Made to honor Nexus Prime, this holiday is still heavily commercialized, but it has managed to maintain some of its holy origins. During the rite, combiners, split sparks, and those who holds close bonds are given their chance to shine. The cycle begins with song where those who are bound to another will come together and sing a blessing of their own creation or choice. This lasts until halfway through the cycle when the solemn atmosphere will lift and festivities will slowly begin.

First, combiner teams will parade through the streets, showcasing their unity in their combined form. It is the only cycle they are allowed to wander fully combined without mission orders, so most relish in it. Combiner teams will often engage in games to showcase their unity in mind and frame after their various parades, all of which are observed keenly by the public. Most of the time, combiner teams, being so rare, will represent their entire city. They will go up against other teams in activities which the public vote on and the winners of said activities are allowed to select their next assignment and even change their city allegiance if they so desire.

Most regular mecha will engage in smaller versions of the combiner games. It is akin to the rite of symbiosis, but mean to include everyone. Mecha who may not know each other will group up and play to win. Teams of veterans will gather to prove their worth. It doesn't matter where one comes from. If you have a team or a partner, you can join the games. The most popular game amongst non-combiner teams is what they call the stilt wars. Mecha will group up and try to turn themselves into a makeshift combiner by standing on shoulders and swinging smaller companions around like arms. It's an absolute mess, but its the most fun many have all vorn long.

The religious will gather in quiet places to pray as one, usually holding servos and chanting in sync to try and feel Cybertron. Those who adhere to the old faith will enjoy the festivities for a time, but they will spent at least half the cycle communing with Cybertron itself through whatever means they deem appropriate.

The Rite of the Wilds

Developed in honor of Onyx Prime, the rite of the wilds is largely an excuse for those who have embraced Onyx's teachings to show their worth. Beastformers from around the entirety of the empire come together to perform feats and legally preach regarding the benefits of taking on an animalistic alternate mode. But that is not all, not in the slightest. The average Cybertronian will spent the cycle wandering.

Previously forbidden wilderness reserves are opened to those who feel inclined to explore. Guides are given and the cycle is dedicated to learning. Young Cyber-felines and Cyber-hounds are given or sold to those who want one. Various other mechanimals are put on display for those in need of a pet to take a look at. And surprisingly, seekers use the Rite of the Wilds as an excuse to show off their skills. They have their own holidays to celebrate the gift of flight, but since Onyx had wings, they take every excuse to show off.

The skies are filled with seekers and other flight frames showing their skills. The ground is covered in various dealers and animal sellers. The wilds are busy with guides taking eager mid-caste mecha around to see the natural wonders of Cybertron. Stations are set up to educate the young and give them the chance to interact with wild creatures under the watch of a a handler. It is a simple celebration and not nearly as beloved as many others, but enjoyed all the same.

Those who adhere to the old faith are known to up and vanish for the entire cycle before turning up like nothing happened a few deca-cycles later. No one is entirely sure why they do this, but they always head into the wilds, so most assume its a communion thing much like the Rite of Convergence.

The Rite of the Shapeshifter's Revelry

Created to honor Amalgamous Prime, the Rite of the Shapeshifter's Revelry is fully intended for stress relief. Those who participate will select a new identity and become the person they are imitating for the entire cycle. Mecha will go to increadible lengths to match their target, even prepping stellar cycles in advance. It is a test of skill, and it is during this time that many an actor makes their debut. There have even been actors so good at their jobs that they have been outright mistaken for their identity. Comedic relief regularly comes from those with the same faked identity participating in a battle of wits regarding who knows their target best.

It is a time of fun and mischief. Harmless pranks will be played on the unsuspecting and masked parades are all but mandatory. The young will try their hardest to emulate their mentors and the older amongst society will aim for greater challenges. Not even the Council and higher castes are exempt. Everyone tries to imitate someone. Although emulating a deceased Prime was outlawed after one particular incident where the population were convinced Onyx Prime returned from the dead when a shapeshifter got too excited. Even still, it is considered an increadible honor to have someone mimic you during the rite. As such, there is incentive amongst the population to be memorable if not loved.

Those who adhere to the old faith do not emulate. Instead they will wear masks based off horrific creatures from folklore. Their reasoning is quite simple. They are attempting to ward off the evil that lurks. Not even they know what it is, but it is tradition and they adhere to it.

The Rite of Discovery

Modeled in honor of Quintus Prime, the Rite of Discovery is about what it presents itself as. Most average civilians cannot actively participate, but they are all encouraged to watch as Cybertron's brightest minds gather together for debates, exhibitions, and scholarly discussion. Geniuses from every plausable field will gather in the center of whatever city state they live in and will group together to show off the fruits of their labor. It is not merely for pride's sake either. By showing off their work, they can gain additional funding, support, and assistance from potential investors.

Philosophers will all debate over heated questions (a fact that the council has abused to remove dissenters quietly). Physicists will work on group projects and try to one each other up in space bridge design. Researchers will present their findings on foreign worlds and get into bawls over who found what first. Astronomers will attempt to murder one another with their optics as they argue over star distances. Linguists will screech at anyone and everyone who disrespects their dialect in strange shifting tongues. Archivists with their digits too far deep into certain files will actively try and assault one another over translation issues. Not even medics are exempt. Doctors from around the world can and will create line long grudges over potential medical malpractice.

It is some of the most amazing argumentation of all time, and civilians love to watch. Not just because of the arguments of course. Civilians are able to watch the pinnacle of the Cybertronian race at work and are even able to watch many young upstarts cement themselves amongst the greatest of the great. Anyone who cares for drama knows to keep their optics and audials on the rite while it progresses. Most who engage in the rite get into controversy at some point.

Those who lived through the reign of the Quintessons devote their entire sparks to throwing effective middle fingers at their former overlords with their accomplishments. Many a scientist has laughed maniacally after presenting something the Quints would have never allowed.

The Rite of Truth

The Rite of Truth is not one that anyone loves a great deal. It is one of the few holidays that the Primacy fully owns, and the entire purpose of it is to get everyone to confess their sins. The story of Liege Maximo is told all throughout the rite and not a spark can go anywhere without getting it preached to them by a priest. Civilians are required to be silent unless they are going to be confessing something. Most opt to speak over private comms to avoid a priest or religious fanatic trying to get them to speak their truth. Those who are caught speaking without confessing something or other can be fined by the Primacy. It is by far one of the least liked holidays ever, even if it does get everyone a cycle off work.

Most are encouraged to actively rat on one another and become a whistleblower if they don't want to confess anything personal. This has led to the rise and fall of many an organization since the Primacy will take all big confessions seriously. The Council has used this to their advantage many many times. The average mech will usually take the change to drag skeletons out of the closet regarding those they dislike (at least if they are particularly spiteful). The best of the tea will make it into the media in no time.

Of course that is not all of it. Since most mecha decide to remain at home to escape the Primacy, small traditions have taken root. Most often, families and close comrades will gather to share a meal together and sort old scores and bitter grudges in a polite private manner. Secrets are shared and revealed. Drama is dealt with. It is a quiet affair for those who decide to be decent and not throw shade at everyone and everything that has ever wronged them.

The Rite of the Fallen

Created as both a warning and another way to help citizens deal with their issues, the Rite of the Fallen is complex. The Rite of the Fallen differs for absolutely everyone. Those who have issues and things they wish to repent for will have the one they wronged decide what they are to do (those whose victims are no longer living will go to a sanctioned friend or priest). These remorseful sparks will then spend the entirety of the rite fulfilling whatever they were ordered to do. Other mecha without anything they wish to outwardly deal with will spend the cycle mourning the dead or something they lost. Almost all of Cybertron will scrub off their colors to lament.

The story of the Fallen is retold to the young through quiet retellings. The old will gather and quietly grieve whatever they have lost. Often, those who grieve are not even grieving for themselves. If one has nothing to lament, then it is polite to lament alongside one who is suffering. Every mech is obliged to mourn alongside those who are already doing so. The religious aspect of the whole affair is found with the common prayer uttered by even the unfaithful in order to bring a cold comfort to they who suffer.

Those who follow the old faith know more of the Fallen, and instead of lamenting, they curse. They utter curses to keep the Unmaker away. They prepare elaborate strings of prayers to ensure that the evil cast away once never returns. They remember what was, and they fear its reawakening more than anything.

The Rite of the Arisen

There were genuine attempts made to turn the Rite of the Arisen into a holiday celebrating the reigning Prime, but that was shelved after a while. A separate holiday was made for that affair, leaving the Rite of the Arisen to fulfill its purpose.

The population are largely dubious about the mythical Thirteenth Prime, and often they can mix him and Primus together to create one legendary entity. This has resulted in the Rite of the Arisen turning into a celebration of the largest wave of newsparks to emerge from the Well each vorn. The cycle is never the same every vorn, so when it does come and the newsparks emerge, the rite is enacted in full. Every mech wanting to mentor a fresh mind will present themselves and go through a series of religious rites if they are faithful.

The Thirteenth represents rebirth, so often, those who recently passed away will have their designation given to one who emerges from the Well. A name can be left as an inheritance, and those who were given it can offer it to a newspark freely. It is a special event, a bond between the young and the old. There is no specific procedure, it simply it. The magical experience of watching new life emerge from Cybertron's core is special enough.

Those who adhere to the old faith will watch every time the rite begins. They wait, they observe, and they eagerly hope for the cycle when the lost Thirteenth Prime will return to the living realm. Many a priest is there to watch and warily write down designations of those they may find of interest.

Life is a gift, and all of Cybertron knows that when the rite begins.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #cybertronian worldbuilding #cybertronian culture #cybertronian cities #pre war cybertron #worldbuilding #religious symbolism #the thirteen primes

157 notes · View notes

bluehwale · 1 year

Text

mythical beings! ateez as your boyfriend

pairing. ateez x reader

genre. mdni, crack! (except for yunho bc it's a forbidden love! trope and i take that seriously) fluff? a dash of angst if you squint. smut (for san bc he's an incubus! rawr)

warnings. MYTHICAL BEINGS INFO INACCURACIES (i'm sorry), grammatical errors SMUT! unprotected sex (don't do this), creampie, corruption kink if you squint, overstimulation, the term 'good girl' lmao, yea i think that's it (it's my first time writing smut don't hv high hopes)

word count. almost 4k whoops i got carried away

note. idk what possessed me when i wrote yunho's part so apologies if it's too long and very much plot-y<3 ++ my brain's still muddled from a week of midterms and im still new to writing so pls lower ur expectations before pressing the keep reading button thanks xx (my asks are always open! ++ feedback would be greatly appreciated)

masterlist

hongjoong — demon

honestly the coolest demon ever

he'd be so nonchalant about his demon activities that it would unsettle you sometimes

"hey babe, just got home?"

"yeah, had an emergency meeting with the devil about potentially crashing heaven's weekly parties, no biggie. how was your day? :-D"

likes to grumble about how hell is so overpopulated that it feels hotter than it actually is

he's just a demon with a tough exterior but that all comes crashing down when he comes back home to your arms

would do ANYTHING to make you happy

one time you were both cuddling on the sofa just absentmindedly enjoying hongjoong's playlist played throughout the house when you suddenly asked,

"joong, aren't demons supposed to have horns?"

he looked at you and thought for a second, "hm, i'm pretty sure only the devil has horns. i guess that's another myth debunked"

you returned his gaze with mock disapointment, jutting out your bottom lip in a pout. "that's a shame. i think it's really hot."

the next day he shows up with a red devil horn headband on his head

...

"joong, what is this--," you let out a laugh when he turns to face you with a serious look on his face

the blush on the apples of his cheeks redden when you continue to laugh with the brightest grin that crinkles your eyes

he doesn't mind that he's making a fool out of himself as long as he gets to see you like this

"they were 50% off in the costume shop!"

he feels a smile creep into his face when you laugh a little bit harder

seonghwa — vampire

you first met seonghwa at a random halloween party

he was surprise surprise !! dressed as a vampire, and you were dressed as kim possible (call me beep me if you wanna reach me)

he just suddenly went up to you and complimented your outfit

so you were like, "thanks!! :-D i like your fangs, they look so real!"

and he just went, "hey thanks! they are real :-D"

"what :-D"

anyways!!! you started dating not too long after that <3

he'd just be one of the most dramatic vampires out there

he's the type to dramatically hiss and cover his face when you draw open the curtains in the morning

"gAaAaaGHh the sun!!!!! i'm burning!!!!!!!!"

and you'd just stand there like ...... "seonghwa you have a morning class today"

(yes, vampire! seonghwa goes to uni)

"can you believe this place doesn't have any vampire-friendly mirrors?? it's 2022!!! D-:<"

:-|

lives and breathes the twilight saga

one time you were walking home together and you noticed his skin sparkling

and no it's not the sun shining on him or the natural glow you'd get from sweat or oily skin because his skin was particularly BLINDING

he was excitedly talking about how his favorite professor complimented him on his recent project when you interrupted him, "hwa, wait a minute--"

three of your fingers swipe at his nape and actual arts & craft glitter came off his skin

"hwa, did you actually try to edward cullen-ficate yourself???"

pink dusted his cheeks and he could only abashedly scoff while trying his hardest to avoid eye contact with you

"psssshhh, what?! noooo,,, aha... what kinda weirdo would do that ahaha, whaaat? that's so weird.."

and then he used his super speed to run back to your shared appartment leaving you to walk back home ALONE >:-(

but besides that, he's super sweet

would let you leave fingerprint stains on his glass cabinets that encase his virginity corner star wars lego collection

HE LOVES YOU THAT MUCH OKAY

yunho — angel

he doesn't have a visible halo over his head but everyone just knows that he's an angel

sweetest, purest dude out there

but yunho kinda feels... trapped

his angel wings became this constant admonition that he has to be selfless and to always do "good"

i'd just imagine everyone telling yunho to stay away from you (a fellow angel) because you're labelled as this reckless troublemaker

but he just can't help being interested in you

so he made effort to know you and keep you close and in turn, you taught him that he doesn't have to live in fear of stepping out of the line sometimes

that it's okay to put yourself first

you both would sneak away to earth and pose as humans to have fun and abandon your duties for a while

he finds himself cherishing each and every moment he spent with you; exploring things the other angels would frown upon, but it didn't matter

so it didn't surprise him when he realized that he's utterly in love with you

his angel wings fluttered sporadically when you softly mutter your love to him in reciprocation with the beautiful smile he's known to love

when you made love for the first time, it was filled with shy giggles and soft reassurances because you're each other's firsts

you neither yunho cared about the other angels avoiding you and talking shit about you two. you're both happy and in love!!

but of course, heaven has its rules

and fate hits you with the truth, that you both can't be together, when you're held back from running to your lover that has both fear and tears in his eyes as black ink slowly engulf his once pure angel wings

a fallen angel, that's what they call you both. angels banished from heaven with your memories wiped and your wings rendered useless as compensation for falling in love

"i'll find you," he said. his voice remained sure yet frail in the midst of your own sobs and the chaos surrounding you both, but you heard him loud and clear. his watering eyes take in your trembling state and it breaks his heart to see you cry and try to fight against the restraints keeping you away from him because he knows that guilt is eating you alive

he knows that you blame yourself for letting him in, for falling in love with him, and for bringing this inevitable consequence upon him

but he knows that he'd do it all over again in a heartbeat, even if it leads to this very same ending

yeosang — fae

a tsundere! fae omg i have the vision i see it

he acts cold and indifferent towards you but all you wanna do is grab his attention!!!!!

as humans and faes don't really get along, your group of friends are different and they kinda disagree with you both interacting

but you don't really care because you mayhaps have a crush on him :3

he's really good with magic

you'd ooh and ahh whenever he does something with his magic and his cheeks would go red while he brushes it off with, "it's nothing" (and you're like no!! it's cool!!! and he would blush harder)

he knows you have a crush on him because a) it's obvious, and b) you've confessed to him multiple times (his replies always start with a "sorry, but.." and you would always reply with "it's okay, i just want to tell you. i'm not asking you to return your feelings:-)"

but lately you're kind of tired with the unreciprocated feelings you have for yeosang because.. well, you just feel pathetic

so one day you made it your mission to stop having feelings for him!!!!!!

yeosang noticed because you would avoid him like the plague

he was walking down the hallway when he saw you and was about to greet you when he saw you run to hide behind a trash can that doesn't even cover your entire figure

he was just like .... ok see you later i guess?

and this continued on for weeks! to the point where he feels down because he doesn't have his favorite human around and maybe because he has a crush on you too

so he dragged his ass to the nearest supermarket for humans and ignored all the weirded stares he got from other shoppers and bought all of your favorite snacks and drinks that are listed at the top of his head

he placed them all nicely in this cute paper bag and left it at the desk you always sit in for one of your shared classes

the happy grin on your face when you peeked at its contents lifted his mood even though you wouldn't know it's from him because he purposely left the sender anonymous in the small note for you

but you immediately know that it's him because you've listed these specific snacks only to him, plus the sweet wording of the note just gave him away (you knew it that he's actually sweet inside, you knew it!!)

anyways,, the reason why yeosang is so hesitant to make a move on you is because relationships between humans and faes are disapproved of:-( he doesn't want you hurt just because you're seen with him

but one day he saw you being circled by a bunch of faes and there's this look on your face that screams 'help!'

he felt his legs move to push his way to get to you before he fully registered on what's going on

one of the faes reached out to shove off yeosang when he put himself in between you and them to protect you. "man, why the fuck are you defending a human?"

"she's my girlfriend."

so yeah all fucks flew out the window that day and you both decided to start dating:-D

he's still into the tsundere act but you like to tease him because this man gets flustered over the tiniest things lmao

you'd like bicker lazily over something and you'd go, "mhm, but you love me don't you?"

and his ears, cheeks, and neck would get so red as if he's got the worst case of asian flush lmao and he'd look around the whole room just to avoid your gaze

"shut up" *still blushing*

san — incubus

you accidentally summoned him when you were trying to sell your soul to the devil in exchange for a 4.0 gpa

he just suddenly appeared on top of your coffee table lying down on his side with his elbow propping up his head

and you just kinda went, "ok great, how do we do this thing? do i have to sign papers or smth???"

he just looks at you all confused like ??? we don't need any of those, we can just fuck

and you're like WHAT! >:-o and he's like ... what do you expect from summoning an incubus? :-|

"A WHAT???"

anyways, the misunderstanding was set straight and san sheepishly asked if he could stay over for just 1 night because he can't go back to hell just yet

(he can actually go back to hell just fine but he just can't bring himself to face incubi! ateez's teasings for being rejected for the first time ever)

and you thought hm why not

he somehow stayed over for more than just that one night and then you guys fell in love!!!

it all started after the first night when you cooked pancakes for breakfast

san groggily woke up from the couch when he smells the strangely appetizing scent of whatever you're making

"oh great, you're awake! good morning!" you greet, while the raven haired boy dazedly blinks at your sight bustling in the kitchen before letting out a raspy 'morning' in return

you hear his feet clad in the thick fuzzy socks you lent him pitter patter against the hardwood floors as he made his way towards you with a yawn, "what are you doing?"

"i'm making us breakfast :-)"

demons don't eat actual food but san would hate to see your smile falter even the tiniest bit at his rejection of this unfamiliar food that you call 'pancakes'

his plate of pancake is cutely decorated with fresh berries and a smiley face drawn with maple syrup on top of the first layer of pancake

(he can't help but smile when you impatiently gesture at him to take a bite while your own plate of pancakes sit in front of you, forgotten)

you show him how to use his cutleries properly and he finally eats a bite of the pancake

"is it good?" you ask nervously, wide eyes waiting to catch his reaction

his eyebrows furrow as he shut his eyes at the pleasant sweetness overcoming his taste buds, "oh my god, i could eat this every day. are you a professional chef or something?"

your eyes sparkle as you grow flustered over his compliment, replying with a timid 'no' and san thinks you just might be sweeter than the maple syrup coating his tongue

he's the sweetest bf ever; would exaggerate his reactions at anything you do because it would elicit a cute giggle that would bring a smile to his face

but yknow

don't forget that he's an incubus

"You're doing so good for me."

San likes it when you're laid out all bare underneath him, hair fanned out prettily on the bed, with your cheeks flushed and your eyes threatening to flutter shut.

"Baby," he taps lightly against your cheek, momentarily distracting you away from the heavenly feeling of him dragging against every inch of your walls as he continues to snap his hips to meet yours. "Hey, eyes on me."

A whine spills out of your lips as you try and fail to force your eyes open, back arching and eyes rolling back instead, earning a tsk from San as he continues to bury his cock deeper by forcing your aching thighs apart and against your chest.

His thumb caresses your swollen clit lightly, your eyes immediately widening as you gasp at the overstimulation from the previous orgasms he's taken just from eating you out. Your body trembles as you wail underneath him, reaching out to grip his arm that prevents your thighs from closing shut. San groans when he feels your pussy clench tightly around him.

"There you are," he lazily smirks, cupping your cheek and giving you a peck on the lips when he finds that your dazed gaze is on him. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this."

"So wet, so tight, so pretty for me," his measured thrusts turns harsh as he fucks up into your dripping cunt with your moans and bouncing tits egging him on.

"I'm- I'm gonna cum!" you cry out as San fondles your clit, reveling in the tight grip of your pussy and the dirty words that come out of your sweet mouth as you gush uncontrollably around his cock.

San groans loudly as his hips sloppily thrusts a few more times before he fills you up with his second load of the day, twitching and spurting his thick warm cum inside you as he holds you while he comes down from his high.

He slips his softening cock out of your battered pussy, cream immediately leaking from your centre and dripping down your ass and inner thighs as you whine at the loss.

"God," San moans as he drags two of his fingers over your weeping cunt, his other hand softly pressing against your lower belly. He slides his fingers over your dripping slit, gathering his cum leaking from your hole to your clit, rubbing and pinching.

With a cry, your thighs shake as tears well up in your eyes at the feeling of another orgasm that washes over you, swollen cunt clenching around nothing that has his cum oozing out of you. You whimper at the overstimulation, batting away his hand that continues to brush over your inner thigh.

San pulls you into a tender kiss as he gently caress your cheek and finally leans back to catch his breath. His eyes glaze over your fucked out state and he smiles at the fond look you give him.

"Such a good girl," he softly praises, carefully cleaning you up with the warm cloth he took from the bathroom. You hum in reply, shutting your eyes with a content smile at your lips. You can't see him, but he grins anyways.

"I'm a lucky man."

mingi — werewolf

i kid you not, this mf would deadass unashamedly howl in public at random

"it's who i am, yn."

are you embarrassed? yes.

will you ever let him know that you feel absolutely mortified whenever strangers stare at you after your boyfriend basically barked?

never.

he might be a big ! absolutely not bad ! werewolf but he's actually so soft >:-( especially for you

gives the best hugs

he's just so big and warm which is why you always look for him to cuddle

gives the funniest reactions like fr,, which is why you LOVE to tease him

"mingi," "mhm?" "...you know that i'm always here for you right? i.. i won't judge if you,,, idk, want to keep your ears and tail in your human form--" "yn, for the last time, I'M NOT A FURRY"

omg you showed him the werewolf ripping shirt meme and he went error 404 because he doesn't know whether he should laugh or cry ("YN IS THIS HOW HUMANS SEE WEREWOLVES???? SOB")

would embody jacob's iconic lines from twilight

"bella ¬‿¬ where the hell have you been loca? ¬‿¬"

"..."

but yeah he's such a playful boyfriend but also has his sensitive moments

and he's such a sappy romantic

would randomly bring home a bouquet of flowers for you

"what's this for? i'm pretty sure our anniversary was two months ago"

"just passed by a florist and i thought of you :-)"

"also, our anniversary was three months ago, OH MY GOD YN HOW COULD YOU FORGET" "I'M SORRY, IT WAS JUST A MISCALCULATION!!!"

yeah don't mess with the math genius! werewolf because he will correct you in any chance he gets

(i'm so sorry idk anything about werewolves so i can't really take this seriously T_T)

wooyoung — mermaid

found out he can grow legs whenever his tail dries and that's how he ventured to land!

he's always been interested with humans so when he saw you hanging around in the beach one day, it was love at first sight

he gets so excited over every human activity, it's endearing

"woah, what is that?? :o" "oh, that's a guy riding a bike" "what's a bike?"

endless questions about anything human related but you patiently answer each and every one of them

you're basically his tour guide

you introduced him to movies and his favorite is the little mermaid

he's so serious about it

like literally you have to remind him to blink because he would not let his gaze stray from your tv

"ariel is so me. minus the overprotective dad. and the 6 sisters. and ursula. and probably the talking fish and crab"

"how can the evil sea witch be so EVIL? THIS IS CRUEL"

"hey i want a pet dog like max! :0"

"ERIC JUST KISS THE FUCKING GIRL--"

would 100% reenact the fork hair brushing scene

would also 100% tell secrets about the ocean to you

"yeah the bermuda triangle thing? it's a lair to this one mean kraken"

but sometimes he would say the most untrue stuff ever like

"aquaman is real." "no he's not, woo. he's a dc superhero" "no, really, he's real. we've raced against each other once or twice" "mhm, whatever you say"

loves to watch the sunset in the beach with you with his head on your lap, your fingers running through his hair, and his toes curled in the sand

he likes it. a lot.

but he has to make sure that he doesn't touch wet sand because poof his tail would pop out

likes to chill in your bathub with the end of his tail flapping water at you

also likes to swim with you in the ocean late at night, when no one's around, with his arms wrapped around your waist and sneaking in atleast a hundred kisses while you giggle because the scales of his tail tickles your legs

the cutest mermaid! boyfriend ever

jongho — demigod

would bet my left kidney that he'd be the son of apollo or athena

but let's go with apollo because his vocals man goddamn

anyways

you're the child of nike, the goddess of victory

jongho sees you around a lot in camp half-blood, you're well known because of your bright and outgoing personality that almost everyone gravitate towards

your peers, jongho included, also admire you for your bravery in battles. although he's never been in one let alone see you fight in an actual life-or-death situation, he sees enough from how you always gracefully win capture the flag with a infectious grin on your face

unlike you, he likes to keep to himself at most times, preferring to spend his time alone to write music or poetry

which is why it's hard for him to muster up the courage to try and be your friend

he didn't dwell on it for too long, accepting that maybe he's just meant to stand at the sides and admire from afar when it comes to you

one night, he was in his usual secret spot; a small clearing near the lake with a hammock tied between two towering trees hidden from sight, when you stumbled into his view with tear stained cheeks

"oh, uh, i'm sorry," you sniffled, rubbing your nose with the paws of your sweater. "i didn't think anyone would be here. i'll go--"

"you can stay. i don't mind."

and that's how you go on to tell him about how battles leave a toll on you and this is your way of taking a break once in a while

he listened to you attentively, actually paying attention to what you have to say and even wiped your tears with the sleeve of his hoodie

that night was then filled with genuine laughter as jongho tried his hardest to cheer you up

"but in all seriousness, i'm here for you. whenever you need me."

it started a whole routine of you both meeting up every single night in that spot to either talk about everything all at once or to just enjoy each other's presence in a comfortable silence

he eventually shares his writings with you and you kinda went, "dang i'm in love with you"

and he's like ★_★ omfg no way

he's the type of bf who doesn't outwardly show his affection for you but makes up for it by caring about you down to the most trivial miniscule detail about you

definitely an act of service guy

would stop by the training grounds where you are when it's raining with an umbrella at hand

"come here, you'll get sick" "i'm the child of the goddess of victory, jongho" "doesn't mean you can't get sick!!!! ＼(º □ º l|l)/"

you ask him to sing for you all the time because his voice is soothing and he would blush whenever you compliment him hehe

the other kids at camp would stare enviously at you two holding hands while skipping to your designated spot because wow you two are so in love and everyone wants that kind of relationship

2K notes · View notes

rysko · 3 months

Note

my request would be literally anything with luca changretta x shelby sister that pairing in this fandom is so my guilty pleasure love your writing so so much, whether you make it into a drabble, hcs or a mini fic i would be happy — gotta love that forbidden enemy lovin 😋

Too old for this - Luca Changretta x F!reader

summary: Keeping secrets, lying to your family, sneaking out...All to see a man, god, what are you? Seventeen again?

OR three times you snuck out to see Luca, and one time he snuck out to see you.

Warnings: Peaky-typical swearing, very minor violence, this is just romantic-comedy-themed fluff,

A/N: Special thanks (and a big fuck you) to @red-riding-wood, next time we race in writing we're making rules.

Aaaaaaanyways, So Sorry this took so long anon! This writing slump was horrible. I really hope you'll enjoy this silly thing!

tag list (yay i have one finally!): @red-riding-wood @peakyswritings

This was stupid. This was so dumb.

Coat hung loosely around your shoulders, shoes in your hands as if to not make more noise than necessary, you snuck through the Small Heath Shelby house corridors. Almost cartoonishly so, when your frame passed one of the occupied rooms. If you had to guess, the last time you did that was years ago, when you were just a teenage girl with overprotective brothers, now you're an adult, rough-around-the-edges woman...with the same overprotective brothers.

Though, this time it's not a nice stableboy you're sneaking out to see. Now it seems like your brothers would have every right to threaten the man you're seeing with a blinding.

You slowly go down the old, wooden stairs, wincing at every crack and whine that echoes. The whole house is dark, the room illuminated only by the street lamps outside.

Almost...

Before you reach for the doorknob, you clumsily take the keys into your teeth to put your shoes on, which puts you in quite an embarrassing position when a table light behind you suddenly turns on.

"Aren't you a bit too old to be sneaking about Y/N?" Polly asked with a smugly raised eyebrow, nursing a glass of whiskey, legs crossed on the velvet red armchair. You spit out the keys.

"I'm not sneaking." You try to compose yourself as best as you can. "I'm going for a walk."

"Very conspicuous behaviour for a walk, love." The glass muffles her chuckle. Was she just...waiting here?

"I just don't want Tommy to get in my hair whenever I even look in the doors' direction." You whine. "I'll go crazy in this house soon." This seemed to soften Polly up just a bit, or maybe activate the part of her brain which insists on the 'fuck them' mentality when it comes to obeying Tommy's orders.

"Just don't get into trouble. God knows i need to tell you that." She dismissed you with a flick of the wrist, and you just nodded before rushing out the door, as if Polly could change her mind any second.

Street after street, the tension slowly eased off your shoulders as you were exiting the tight Shelby territory. It was a close call once in a while, someone almost recognizing you before you could cover your face more. A group of men whistling after you before you could disappear in a dark back alley. Slowly, you closed in on the place you agreed to meet a man by the name you even feared to say in your head, as maybe Tommy would sit there by sheer coincidence, resulting in you getting cut, or him, or both of you, how Shakespearean...

How has it gotten to the point where you are happily fucking the enemy? Devil knows, honestly.

In the back of your mind, you always had a nagging feeling Luca only started seeing you to spite Tommy. This wouldn't be a problem, of course, you regularly told yourself. You're spiting Tommy yourself!

No, that honestly didn't help. The truth is, whatever Changretta's intentions were, or, still are, you found him irresistibly captivating. Like a substance you just can't resist, one that soothes and pleasures, but at the same time comes with a fifty-page warning label. You can see this blowing up in your face from a mile away, in a million different ways. Yet, every visit, every phone call, hell, every sneakily delivered note shuts off any sense you have left in yourself.

And now you feel like losing it again, when just in front of the speakeasy Luca asked to meet you, a very familliar set of hands gently rest on your waist from behind.

"Took you long enough doll." A kiss on the cheek accompanies the low foreign drawl of Luca's voice, sending shivers down your neck and spine. Shit, if all of you will die soon, you might as well have some fun until then. It's not like Tommy's staying celibate in mourning.

"You're saying that to a doll that has to endure my brothers mythering about town. Sneaking out in the middle of the night isn't as easy for me as it is for you." With your arms crossed, you motion to one of the alleys you emerged from just moments ago. "There's all sorts of shady blokes out and about."

"M'sorry, i got impatient, that's all." You could feel his thumb gently rubbing against your waist "Anyone gave you trouble? You got the gun I got you?" Luca pulled back, looking you over, the slightest hint of concern visible in his dark eyes.

"Yes. To the second thing. I'll be fine." You sigh, relaxing your shoulders. "Are we going in?"

"Right this way cara." Luca's lips curled into a small smile. He linked your arms together and in a nearly over-the-top way led you down the stairs of the high-class Speakeasy.

You might as well have some fun, that's all this is after all.

The loud whistle of the conductor woke you up from an on-and-off slumber, the train from Birmingham to London wasn't exactly the comfiest place to rest your head in. From outside the window, the ever-so-lively London train platform came into view.

To be honest, it surprised you when Luca invited you to spend the weekend in London, even more so when you managed to form quite an elaborate story to justify the trip to your family, or more accurately, Polly. Tommy seemed preoccupied with fighting the Italians, chasing the May lady around town, and making quite mediocre gin to even care what you were up to. Needless to say, officially you finally found a friend that you just have to visit. Polly seemed to pay it little mind, but the sly look in her eye, as she saw you off at the door, made you just a tad paranoid that she might have caught on.

Like always, this will bite you in the arse sooner or...sooner.

Up until now, every 'visit' you paid Luca hadn't lasted for more than half a day, only once reaching a full 24 hours when, to your horror, you managed to oversleep. That was a morning of sloppily put-on clothes and numerous muttered 'shits' and 'craps', of course, accompanied by a very amused Luca doing everything in his power to distract you.

What you were doing right now seemed like a step up from the usual routine. Two days aren't going to fly by with just sex, though, that wouldn't be so bad. But lately, you realized you just wanted to...ugh, spend time with him. However sappy this sounded. But that's not what this is. What even is 'this'? When you and Luca met, what happened was purely driven by want, maybe with more than a touch of curiosity of the 'forbidden fruit' in the form of the enemy. Sweet, with sour at the back of your tongue.

Lately, you realized, you only feel the sweet when you kiss Luca. And though you'd never admit it, you dread him not feeling the same.

You two have your moments. Pillow talks with topics never discussed with anyone before, coffee filled with banter worthy of an old married couple, and non-sexual touches that linger for just a bit longer than they should. It's addicting and confusing at the same time.

And that addiction and confusion just led you all the way to London.

Stretching out of your seat, you reach for your bag in the luggage compartment, only for a stranger to take it instead.

"There you go, Miss." The man, looking maybe a decade your senior smiled handing you the bag.

"Thank you, sir." You muster a polite smile, praying internally that the stranger isn't from the same place you are. "I could've done it myself though."

"It's really nothing, common kindness it is..." The longer he spoke, the more his voice trailed off. His eyes widened, studying your frame and most importantly, your face with a new approach. "You're-"

shit

"Thankyougoodbye." You rush and almost run out of the carriage, running into multiple people and throwing rushed half-assed apologies their way. You're stopped by a strong, painful grip on your arm, the man from before pushing you further down the platform, more secluded from people.

"I knew you were familiar." He grabbed the collar of your shirt and pushed you into a pillar roughly, knocking a bit of air out of your lungs. "One of those Shelby devils!" The man's gaze was furious, almost seeing red.

"Let me go." You ordered, trying your best not to attract attention to the both of you. "And we can both forget about this." You're trying your best to speak sternly and diplomatically, yet more than a hint of fear is hearable in your voice. He seems to notice.

"You ruined me!" The Brummie spat. "I'll cut your pretty face just like they cut me brothers." A rough, callous hand cupped your jaw to hold it in place, the other reaching into his jacket. You feel a mixture of panic and adrenaline make its way to your veins.

"Get the fuck off me!" All your strength goes towards your legs. You kicked him back a foot or two, which only seemed to infuriate him more. Before he could take even a step towards you, he's violently grabbed by... Wait, Luca?

"How 'bout you let the lady go, hm?" His grip on the brummies' collar turned red, almost lifting the man off the ground. That wasn't reflected at all in the way Luca was speaking however, for the first time he seemed...calm, condescending even. That only changed when the man didn't seem to take no for an answer. "That wasn't a fucking request." Luca's voice became a gravelly threat, which resulted in the attacker promptly looking between you and Luca as if weighing the risk and reward. Finally, he nodded his head frantically.

Luca didn't need to be told twice. He almost threw the man aside, letting him limp off into the distance. The Italian was almost immediately by your side, gently cupping your face, checking for any sign of hurt or damage. You feel his thumb caress a small spot next to your brow, despite you being almost sure you hadn't been hit anywhere near there. You take a look behind Luca to see the man at a larger distance.

"Wouldn't think you'd just let him go like that." You raise an eyebrow at Luca, not in a teasing way, it just feels oddly out of character for him to just let him go.

"Because I ain't gonna." He turns to a seemingly unaware civilian reading a newspaper, mumbling something that sounds like Italian, his head only slightly motioning towards the direction in which the Brummie fled. Ah, one of his men, cousin maybe. Just as he left, Luca stopped him for just a second more. "Alive." He let him go.

"Look at you, my knight in shining armour." You smile up at him while catching your breath and trying to calm down.

"Yeah yeah." He doesn't play into your teasing this time. "You alright?" He rubs your upper arm as if dusting off any remaining trace of the event before.

"Just a bit roughed up, had it worse after playfighting with Ada back in the day." You shrug. "I was prepared for you to bash his head in right here."

"That can wait a few days." His gaze followed a pair of men dragging the attacker off the station, his voice almost a promise.

"A few days? What happened to the vengeful, impatient Luca I know?"

"This Luca-" He holds out his arm for you to take. "-Is going to starve him a bit before giving him the mercy of a pipe through his skull."

"How romantic." You sigh in an exaggerated, lovesick voice. "Talk more like that and maybe I'll lift the 'no shop talk' policy." You wink at Luca as you link your arms together, his shoulder becoming the perfect pillow for your head. This time, Luca welcomes it happily.

"How gracious of you." His low chuckle meets yours as you head off to the London center. A fun weekend out is due, after all.

Now, this was definitely an unusual location.

At first, it seemed to you that Luca must have just confused locations when calling. Yet here you were, on the outskirts of a local forest, your only companions in the form of singing starlings and rustling trees.

All this seemed like a rope that was being pulled from only one side. You were the one to stress about being found out, evading family, hell, call sometimes. You felt like a brat, honestly. Technically, there was nothing Luca did that should have upset you, he couldn't have if there were no rules. Was that the thing though? Did you want there to be rules?

With every visit, you want to stay longer, talk more, and Luca seemed to entertain all of it. It confused you. What plan did he have with all this? Did Luca want you to catch feelings and lure you into a vulnerable state, resulting in killing you? Maybe he counted on you as a potential ally against Tommy, trying to manipulate you. Maybe he's just incredibly dense?

He can't want an actual relationship. Luca came here to kill your whole family, including you. The fact that he also likes to play with his prey is another thing, hell, he probably has a wife or girl back in New York. There has to be a wedding band under one of these tacky rings and signets.

"What the hell is he planning?" You kick a pebble down the dirt road in frustration. "A damn Picnic?" You finish off with a groan as you squat down.

Your answer came in the form of the sound of a Rolls Royce engine heading closer and closer toward you, the black car kicking up a hefty amount of dust and rocks. As it slows down next to you and ultimately comes to a halt, you see the familiar face of Luca's right-hand man.

"Get in." Matteo nodded in the direction of the backseat, though you didn't take it into consideration, and immediately headed for the shotgun seat.

"What is all this?" You look around the car as it backs up and starts speeding off in the same direction it came from.

"Luca asked me to get you to him safely," Matteo explained, not taking his eyes off the road. "He didn't want any uhh, repeat from last time."

"How sweet." You answer sarcastically. Ah, of course, he couldn't bother.

"He was definitely sweet when he put the bozo out of his misery." He laughed, looking to the side, as if seeking approval for his joke, but didn't get any. Matteo's laughter dies into an awkward cough.

"How long's the ride?" You try to position yourself as comfortably as possible in the stiff leather seats of the car.

"About an hour." He answers, and you visibly deflate in your seat, deciding to spend the time looking at the sights outside, fields, and occasional houses passing by.

A long, awkward silence passes between the two of you. It seemed to bother the man to your right, who tapped his index finger against the steering wheel while stealing the occasional glance. He looked like he was debating saying something.

"So..." He begins, almost like a father starting a conversation with a child he doesn't quite get. "Did you finish Ulysses yet?"

"Did..." You do a double take, studying Matteo for a long second. "...Did Luca give you conversation starters?"

"What if I made them up?" He blurts out.

"We've spoken twice, Matteo." You raise an eyebrow at him, arms crossed. "I never told you what I read."

"Maybe I just guessed what girls like nowadays." He smirked at you, feeling triumphant.

"I'm sorry, but you're the least qualified person to talk about girls." You say with a chuckle.

"Touche." He smiled, then looked back at the road, letting the silence sit only for a few seconds. "But you're right, we've only spoken twice."

"So?" You raised a brow.

"Sooo." Matteo draws out. "We have about an hour to catch up."

You're genuinely confused as to why Matteo was being so personal all of a sudden. Usually, as in, in the last few weeks or so, you've had two separate, short conversations with the man. Once, when you accidentally came into his room instead of Luca's during one of your 'visits'. The other time, when both of you had quite a boring and awkward conversation about English meals in a lift. "On what grounds should we 'catch up'?"

"On the grounds that you're fucking my cousin Miss Shelby." The way Matteo said that was surprisingly casual. "And family is important to me."

"It's not like I'm married to him." You reply faster than you'd want to.

"He damn well acts like you are." He chuckles, and you feel yourself stiffen, looking at the Italian like he just told you the earth is flat. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"What do you mean by 'acts like I am'?" The question leaves your lips in an uncertain tone, almost shy.

"Never seen him so distracted by someone he's known for such a short time." He says with a shrug "Foolish if you ask me, but who am I to judge, at least he's happy."

He's happy??

"Uh, yeah." He throws you a pitiful smile, as if he could see how perplexed this information made you. "At least from what I can see."

Oh, of course, you said that out loud.

You quieted down, gaze resting on your lap. Now this was new information you had no idea how to process. You bit your lower lip in thought, unsure if the emotions you're feeling right now are uncertainty or... giddy, immature happiness.

You sit like that for a good few minutes before a small, sly smile graces your lips.

"Cousin, huh?" You ask, looking out the window, your good humour slowly creeping back in.

"I'm not telling you his secrets," Matteo says almost immediately as if he somehow knew that you were going to ask that.

"And I'm not asking you." You clarify. "But you probably have some nice stories."

"About what?"

"You knooooow..." You draw out, cocking your head to the side. "What was he like, back in the day?"

"Same as now, I guess. Only longer ago." It seemed like that was the end of your prying on Luca, but after a longer moment, Matteo mused more to himself than anyone else in the car. "More chipper in New York though..."

"Chipper? I'd like to see that."

"Oh yeah, and stupid."

"Now we're talking, tell me more." You lean forward in your seat, elbows resting on your thighs.

"No, I already told too much," Matteo says like he's telling his friends he's had enough drinks for the night. "He's going to skin me alive if he finds out I told you about this."

"Oh come oooooon. I won't tell." You shuffle your feet excitedly. Matteo looked forward, focusing on the road ahead, but after a moment of looking between the steering wheel and you, he let out a defeated sigh.

"...Back in New York, when we were just goons for Spinietta, Luca came up with a new con to scam people with, a really fucking stupid one..."

"And then, THEN it turned out the other guy was from London, and when he heard Luca speaking in a shitty Birmingham accent he-" He paused, but only to wheeze in laughter. "He beat the fucking shit out of him." Matteo finishes the story, on the verge of tears.

"No!" You gasped, though not hiding your laughter as well, leaning forward in your seat.

"Yes!" Matteo wipes a stray tear from the corner of his eye, still trying to calm down his laughter. "Never seen Luca on his ass faster in my life, ti giuro. "

"Oh god. And I'm supposed to NOT tease him about it?" You say in amused disbelief. "When he's all 'Look at me, I'm mister smug and aloof, I've never gotten beaten up like a bitch before'." You put on your best impression of the Italian, even going to the lengths of putting a match between your lips and exaggerating your words with excessive hand gestures.

"Hey, we're all hiding behind something principessa." Despite Matteo defending his cousin, he still couldn't help but laugh along with you. After a moment, both of you calmed down, this time falling into a pleasant, comfortable silence before you spoke up again.

"What about you?" You turned to Matteo again.

"What do you mean?"

"You said you want to catch up." You lean against the leather seat, bringing your knees to your chin. "We've got an hour, you ever played two truths and a lie?"

It was a nice ride.

Everyone and their mother thinks the Small Heath home is haunted. Random objects flying off the wall at night, specific items appearing in places they weren't before, the occasional crooked painting.

Footsteps are definitely new.

The boys and Polly are dealing with business outside of town for once, while Ada just went out and should be here any minute. But that definitely isn't Ada.

Slow, almost wary footsteps cause the floorboards to creak on the ground floor. You're sitting next to the stairs, knees tucked to your chest and spare pistol in your hand.

Another step.

You press your ear to the floor, trying your hardest to pinpoint how many people were inside just by footsteps... Just one?

They appear to be coming closer, and you internally brace for confrontation with whoever broke into your home. As the intruder passes the corner you were hiding in, you stick out the gun and press it to the side of their head, making them immediately freeze in place.

Wait-

"Luca????" You blurt out in shock, your voice becoming at least a few octaves higher.

"Hey, you actually kept it," Luca says, sizing up the gun he gave you that's now pressed to his head. "Though I'd rather not die by it sweetheart, no offense."

"FUCKING hell Luca! You scared me half to death!” Your arms drop next to your hips. putting the gun on a table nearby.

“Relax, who would it be if not me?” Luca moves towards you, probably to say his hellos in the form of peppered kisses.

"Who would it be? What do you MEAN who would it be?!" You rub your eyes, not sure if out of frustration or as a way of trying to wake yourself up. “Police? IRA? My own bloody brothers?!” Somehow, this is exactly what you wanted. Luca being the one that sneaks through Small Heath and avoids the blinders, instead of it being always you. Though now, instead of it being a late-night fantasy of the charming man sneaking into your bed despite the dangers of doing so, it's a real-life nightmare of this idiot trying to get himself killed.

“Yeah well, it’s not them.” He shrugs, glancing around the house. “I’d like to see anyone try to stab you in the back in this house. I figure before I’ll get to them you’ll just kill them yourself.”

“Yes, I am quite amazing.” You muse to yourself before snapping back into reality. “Don’t think you can butter me up and I’ll drop it, what are you doing here?!"

“I’m seeing my doll.”

“Need I remind you you’re inside my idiot brothers’ territory?”

"Relax, we'll manage."

You two did not manage.

Who knew Luca Changretta had a talent for knocking down hanged pictures and stepping on the creakiest parts of the wooden floor.

“Shush for once in your life.” You hissed at Luca as you led him through the tight corridor, internally begging whatever made-up deity may be watching over you to please not let Arthur or Polly magically appear out of the corner.

“Please, it’s not like-” You can practically hear Luca roll his eyes, and despite you usually letting him release whatever condescending thoughts he had on the daily, you think you just heard a door open in the distance. You practically drag him the remaining meter to your room's door and push him inside, shutting it way too loudly.

As it turns out, the deity listened to you, but only to half of your half-assed prayer.

“Ada! Heyy!” You try to stay nonchalant as you lean against the door.

“...Hey?” Ada's pace slows down next to you, “What’s got you so pent up?”

“Pent up? Pshh.” You're really not good at this. “Well, I guess I’m just tired, I better get to bed.” Your thumb points back towards the door of your bedroom.

Ada stays put, looking at you puzzled and suspicious.

“Are you going?" She asks.

“Yes.” You blurt out. ”What about you?”

“Y/N, cut the crap. I heard something.” She looks at you for answers, but only when she looks at the door again it's almost as if a light turns on in her head. “Are you…Sneaking someone in?” She reached for the doorknob only to be stopped by you slapping it away.

“Ada no!” You shield the door with your whole body.

“Ow! Hey, come on, I’m not judging. God knows you deserve some fun once in a while.” She rubs her hand. “So who is he?” Your sister looks between you and the door excitedly, her voice now hushed, like all these years ago when the two of you spent hours under the covers giggling about the stupidest of things.

“Uhh, just-” You stammered, struggling to find the right words. or any words for that matter. “You don’t know him.”

“I trust he’s not afraid of Tommy since he followed you here.” She threw a wink your way. “Reminds me of Freddie and I back in the day.” A fond smile graces her face as she looks to the side.

“Oh he’s not, that’s for sure.” You laugh nervously, internally waiting for the sweet release of death. Ada seemed to notice.

“All right, I’ll get out of your hair.” She laughs at her sister, squeezing your cheek as she walks past you. “Don’t get her knocked up Romeo, then maybe I won't have to tell Tommy!” She calls, walking off down the corridor. Only after Ada completely vanished from your periphery you opened the bedroom door just a few inches and slid in. The door locked, checked three times, and you finally released a big sigh, hands sliding off the door to rest next to your hips.

You turn around to see a very out-of-place Luca. Almost everything about him clashed with your small childhood room, the humble interior looking somehow even cheaper next to him. After the company took off, the family never bothered to fancy up the place, instead, everyone went their separate ways into apartments and stylish homes. Yet somehow for you, no king-sized plush bed will ever replace the old, creaking twin you have right here in Small Heath, always ready for you with open arms.

Luca took his sweet time taking in the place. Picking up and then putting down every insignificant object, from small toys you never bothered to throw out or sell, to numerous books lying around the room. He spends the most time looking at an old, framed picture sitting atop your windowsill. Luca's thumb brushes off a heavy layer of dust from 10-year-old Y/N in her year 5 uniform, while the actual Y/N takes her place beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Adorable." Luca nudges you, a sly smile on his lips as he puts his other arm around your shoulders.

"Oh hush, I'm sure I can find a picture of little Luca if I sneak into your home." You stab a finger into his arm playfully, smiling fondly at the picture.

"Wishful thinking, doll. Wishful thinking..." Luca sets down the frame and focuses his attention on you. A kiss on your temple leads to his lips softly trailing down to your nose and meeting your lips. Now the stress of the whole damn ordeal seemed to start slipping away, and the sweet taste is there once again.

The sound of a door crashing on the far end of the hallway takes both of you out of your trance.

“So, that…was Ada.” You turn your head to try and hear any sounds of your sister leaving her room, but Luca doesn't seem to pay it any mind.

“She seems nice.” He hummed against your skin, his lips trailing down to your collarbone, biting down gently.

“What are you doing Romeo?” You turn your head slightly to squint your eyes at him, a distrusting smile gracing your lips.

“Breaking my promise to your sister.” His sly drawl is muffled against your skin as both of you step by step head towards the bed.

“Did you want to come here only to sleep with me under Tommy’s nose?” You sit down on the bed, your brows furrowing.

“I always come firstly to you and because of you,” Luca emphasizes every word as he slowly gets on his knees, never taking his eyes off you. “But yeah, being here does come with its satisfaction. If only they’d see you now, cara.” His hands push up your dress, finding their way to your thighs, fingers getting busy with the garters holding up your stockings.

“Yeah, maybe cut it with the Italian. My sister could be listening in.” Luca only seems to respond in a musing hum. “You never know.”

“Should I put on my best Birmingham accent?” He looks up at you, his signature smartass grin more endearing than annoying.

“Not now. You’ll ruin the mood.” You murmur just mere inches from his lips, laying back into the old, creaky bed, Luca following put. “But definitely save it for later, I need to hear that."

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #luca changretta fanfic #luca changretta x reader #luca changretta x y/n #adventures of yinnin #luca changretta #matteo being the bro we need but dont deserve #shameless Ulysses plug #what a great book

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