#but then i realised like i said it before it doesn’t matter to me
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𝝑𝝔 an: so i got like 3 requests ab jealous cool bf sukuna x loser gf dynamic but i won’t be able to tag em since you know they were sadly anonymous. i decided to combine them into 1 fic hehe, hope you guys like it!! read more about cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader here!!
cool boyfriend sukuna doesn’t get jealous, alright? he is not insecure or anything like that, he trusts you and you trust him so it doesn’t matter to him if someone tries to woo you or something. but you can be a little dense sometimes since you haven’t experienced a lot of the things people usually do in their teens.
still, he likes to think that you’d be smart enough to reject anyone who tries to make their advances toward you, albeit he is sure if you do it will be in a very polite and a sweet way, much to his dismay. but it’s just the way you are and sukuna loves his loser girlfriend.
but he doesn’t know what’s going on through your mind when this happens;
“do you wanna maybe go out tomorrow?” some guy from your class asks you, a nervous smile as he awaits your answer. you continue collecting your things into your bag and look up at him with a small smile, naively thinking he wants to study or talk about your shared classes.
“sure!” you chirp and then briefly glance at the door of the room only to find your boyfriend standing there, hands in his pockets and a deep frown on his face as he stares at you two.
the guy in front of you almost jumps in excitement from your answer, stuttering out that he will text you later and leaving the room.
“what did that nerd want?” sukuna asks you as soon as you exit the class, his arm taking it’s usual spot on your shoulders.
“oh, nothing much, just asked if i wanna go out tomorrow.”
at that, sukuna’s steps come to a halt as he squints at you with a confused look. “and you said..?”
“i said ‘sure’.”
he exhales deeply before hits the back of your head with a disgusted look on his face, ignoring the way you stare at him in bewilderment, hands flying to rub the spot. but he doesn’t give you time to process anything, tugging you into one of the empty classes and locking the door.
“sit.” sukuna orders, leaving no room for complaint as he lifts you up to sit on one of the desk, planting his hands beside your thighs on the surface as he breathes heavily.
“‘kuna..?” you ask, unsure if you should even say anything while he’s angry at you.
“are you dumb?”
you pout, brows pinching together as you look up at him in genuine confusion, “why?”
“the dipshit asked you out and you said ‘sure’?”
“we were just talking about the lecture so i thought he wanted to study together.” you look down at your lap, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt nervously. “i didn’t realise he meant it like that.”
as mad as sukuna is, he can’t resist that sad little pout on your face; the way your eyes get all wide and bottom lips juts out defensively, cheeks puffing a little. and he is sure you’re not lying to him because he knows you.
he moves away from you, taking a deep breath to collect his thoughts and calm down.
“are you mad at me, ryo?” you ask innocently, hand instinctively finding his to tug at his fingers so he doesn’t move too far, although a bit unsurely. “‘m sorry.”
“i’m not mad.” sukuna intertwines your fingers, pulling you into himself gently. his other hand suddenly finds your face, squishing your cheeks together roughly as he shakes your head from side to side with a sinister smirk. “pull shit like that again and i’ll kill ya.”
“ow, ow— sukuna!” you whine, trying to peel his hand of your face, but he doesn’t let go until he kisses your plumped lips a couple of times. “you’re so jealous!”
that wipes the smirk off his face very quickly.
“i’m not, loser.”
you poke his cheek with a bright beam on your lips, “you are, heh.”
“gettin’ cocky, aren’t you?” he pushes your face away with his palm and steps away from you, leaving you to trail after himself with small giggles escaping you.
suddenly sukuna smirks, his arm around your shoulders tightening it’s hold, “i’ll still beat the shit out of him tho.”
“sukuna, no!”
#— miya writes!#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna ryomen#sukuna x you#sukuna ryomen x you#jjk sukuna#sukuna jujutsu kaisen#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna#ryomen sukuna x you
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Fuyume Hanamura Idol Story 2
ーA basic studio within the ES building, two years since the establishment of ES
Fuyume: …
Midori: …
(What am I supposed to do?)
(This new kid…Hanamura-san, was it? The staff told him that I'm going to be using my experience in the field to guide him through today’s job.)
(It’s already been a whole 20 minutes since then and neither of us have said a word to each other..)
Fuyume: …
Midori: (I-I have to do what they told me to and teach him what he needs to do. I know I suck at this stuff but between the two of us, I’m the one who’s more familiar with this type of work.)
(But there’s no way I can bring myself to do it. I really, really don’t want to.)
(This kid is radiating an aura that screams ‘don’t talk to me’...this whole time, he’s been doing something on his phone while occasionally whispering and muttering to himself.)
(I think…he’s even been taking selfies and posting them online…?)
(It feels like he’s in a world of his own making.)
(I’m scared~, I don’t like it~ , I don’t wanna talk to him~...)
(Now that I think about it, he was there listening when the staff put me in charge of coaching him so he must know what’s going on too.)
(He should be turning to me and saying something like ‘Please give me your guidance, Senpai!’. It’s the polite thing to do, really.)
Fuyume: …Um.
Midori: !? Y-Yes? What’s the matter…?
Fuyume: …They’re calling Yume.
Midori: (Huh, what does that mean? Is he one of those people that hear voices that aren’t there? Is he crazy?)
Fuyume: It looks like it’s time for Yume to go up now.
Midori: (Oh, right, the staff are calling for him. Seems like they’re ready to start the shoot.)
(What do I do? I didn’t teach him how to do a single thing.)
(From what I’ve heard, it sounds like this kid is a popular amateur model? I think they call it a cos…player?)
(There’s no need for me to come in acting high and mighty and tell him what to do, right?)
(I bet he’s already familiar with how these jobs work. He seems so confident for some reason…?)
Fuyume: Fufufu. Yume will do his best.
Today, you’re all invited to step into Yume’s world
Fuyume: Sniffle. Sniffle sniffle.
Midori: (What am I supposed to do?)
(All that confidence he was giving off was just a front…)
(He doesn’t know the first thing about professional modelling and kept insisting on using methods from his amateur days.)
(I wonder what that one staff member did to have this kid going off at him the entire time? Just when I thought he’s behaving well, he suddenly started berating and denying that guy’s humanity.)
(Not to mention all the complaints he has about the lighting or the costume...)
(He started telling the staff to take pictures from his cutest angle and even asked to wear the outfit he had brought along himself.)
(After all the back and forth, it was agreed to put the shoot on hold for a while. When this guy realised the staff weren’t going to listen to his opinions, that's when the tears started...)
(The staff asked me to see if I could do something to motivate him or change his mindset but…is that even in the job description? Shouldn’t this be the responsibility of a manager or something?)
(Who am I kidding? We probably wouldn’t be in this mess if I had just done my job and shown him what to do from the start.)
(I’m at fault here too, so I feel like I should at least do something.)
Fuyume: Midori-sama.
Midori: Huh? Yes, what’s…wait, ‘Midori-sama’ ?
Fuyume: Yume has seen you in a magazine before and thought you were as dashing as a prince. Fufu.
So you’re Midori-sama. ‘Cause you’re a prince. Fufufu.
Needless to say, you don’t have what it takes to be called Yume’s prince, since that title is already taken by another.
There is no sin in beauty. Fufufufu.
Midori: (Huh…? What is he talking about…? I don’t understand a word that’s coming out of his mouth. Are all the kids like this these days…?)
(Hey, wait a second? He’s acting surprisingly unfazed for somebody that I thought was crying into his hands just a minute ago? Was he faking it…?)
Fuyume: Melon soda, plum and kelp tea, coffee.
Midori: ? What? Are you casting some kind of spell?
Fuyume: I’m trying to make the drink that Esu found during his adventure. What else was in it again…?
Midori: I-It’s going to taste awful if you mix so many random flavours together.
Fuyume: I’ll be able to drink it. I will drink it. I want to relive Esu’s story for myself.
Bottoms up. Glug glug…
……
Fuyume: …
Midori: Tastes awful, huh…? I warned you not to drink it. You can tell just from looking at it how bad of an idea that is.
Here, spit it into this cup.
Fuyume: Urgh, Yume has a long way to go.
His image of a perfect princess is still far out of reach.
—I’m sorry, Midori-sama.
Midori: Uh, for what? I can’t keep up with this conversation…
Fuyume: Yume messed up again…he couldn’t keep his ego in check and screwed up the job. He even made Midori-sama mad.
So…Yume is sorry.
Midori: Oh, uh, you did cause a lot of problems but…no, nevermind, that’s not true. I should be apologising too. I was trusted to be your mentor but I haven’t taught you a single thing.
I’ve failed as a senpai, huh?
Fuyume: It’s alright. Besides, even if you had given Yume some pointers, if he didn’t like what he heard, he'd probably just get annoyed and ignore you.
He’s always been like this—so egotistical. It’s the only princess quality he has.
Regardless, Yume is sorry. The staff member that Yume was blowing up at was someone he had met before. They'd shown up to one of Yume’s photo shoots in the past with a super bigheaded attitude.
They were giving out business cards and masquerading as a professional. It was seriously the worst, they started taking over and ruined the mood on set.
A photo shoot is supposed to be a part of Yume’s world.
Ever since that day, Yume hasn’t been able to forget all the hate and frustration that he felt. When he saw that they were here today, he couldn’t stop his emotions from bursting out.
Yume can’t stand being in their line of sight. He hates being treated like a toy and having that person making up their own ideas of him…so, uhm, he’s sorry.
Yume honestly never wanted to cause all this trouble for you.
Yume was hoping we could get along…he wanted to talk to you but he was too embarrassed and nervous to know how to.
You looked like you were in a bad mood today, Midori-sama. The vibe you were giving off made it seem like you didn’t want anyone to approach you.
Midori: (Oh…)
(So we both had the same impression of each other…I should’ve known that he’d be feeling nervous about his first professional job.)
(Even I was feeling anxious when I first arrived on set.)
(I know how it feels to be in his position…that’s exactly why they asked me to be his mentor today.)
(I’m terrible, aren’t I? I’m never going to make any growth.)
Hanamura-san.
Fuyume: Yes?
Midori: Let’s go and apologise to the staff once you’ve had a drink and taken a moment to calm down.
Fuyume: Yume doesn’t want to apologise.
Midori: Oh…okay, I understand. If you want, I can go and ask for the staff member that doesn't like you to be removed.
It’s within our right to request things like that. You can even step away from jobs you don’t want to do too.
Fuyume: …
Midori: That being said, if we don’t do our jobs properly, we’ll cause problems for even those that don’t have anything against you, Hanamura-san.
We'll end up being hated and labelled as 'someone I don't want to work with' by the people around us.
Fuyume: Yume hates being hated.
Midori: Then let’s go and give them a proper apology. Once we’ve done that, we can focus on finishing off the job.
It might be late, but I’ll teach you the correct methods to use. Since I’m your senpai, I’ll make sure I put you on the right path.
Admittedly, this’ll be tough for me…I’m not important enough to be bossing people around, and I suck at talking to people too.
Fuyume: Mm…Yume isn’t good at it either. People always seem to get confused when he tries to have a normal conversation with them. It’s weird.
Midori: That was meant to be a normal conversation earlier…? You really do live in a world of your own.
(Crap, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. He’s probably going to get mad at me now. Judging by the way he seems to hate being challenged, I’ll bet that he always had his way in the amateur world.)
Fuyume: Fufufu. Thank you, Midori-sama.
Midori: (Huh? He took it surprisingly well? This kid doesn't make any sense to me…)
Fuyume: Yume wants to put his world on display for everyone to see.
He's grateful that you noticed its existence.
You made Yume happy, so Yume must thank you.
Fufufufu, Yume just had a sudden burst of motivation. He’s going to turn over a new leaf and do the very best he can to make sure this job is a success.
Midori: R-Right…I’m glad you’ve found some motivation.
I’ll do some reflecting of my own and give it my all too.
Let’s work together to finish this job, Hanamura-san.
Fuyume: Stop saying ‘Hanamura-san’, Yume wants you to call him ‘Yume’ instead. It’s been getting on his nerves all day. Yume doesn’t feel like working anymore.
Midori: Whaaat…?
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For me it’s like😭😭😭 I don’t get the point of the tweet. And then liking and unliking tweets saying he’s lying. Because if he actually wanted to clear up the misconception i feel like he would tweet it and that would be that. But he obviously doesn’t have a problem with dnf being shipped still so then I just really don’t get it like. We already knew they weren’t together😭 the only reason I can think of is because a lot of the Spanish ccs and community think they’re fr fr together so maybe that’s what he was trying to clear up?? But idk just weird wording and weird moves all around
i think you’re forgetting 1 more potential reason - and that is dream being fucking insane
#dreamwastaken#/jjjjjj#i feel like he just goes through phases where he likes to cause chaos#if he was bothered about dnf#he wouldn’t of posted pics with dnf shoes in the background#like all that fanart#idk what prompted that tweet but i don’t think it’s in any way a sign for us to change how we behave and enjoy content#i always shipped dnf without fully believing they were a couple#i just had a lil initial shock at the tweet and was like huh#but then i realised like i said it before it doesn’t matter to me#it won’t change the fact that their bond is beautiful ❤️#dnf#discourse#i guess?
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No because I can’t be the only one who thinks that the other batkids mess with Damian’s non-existent knowledge of jokes and references. Each of the batkids already has their own niche of bad jokes they love saying. And Damian is just adding fuel to the fire by being an unsuspecting victim:
Dick: Knock knock
Damian *who’s seen Superman and Jon do this all the time* : .. who’s there?
Dick: Nobody
Damian: …nobody.. who?
Dick:
Damian: ?
Dick *keeping a poker face*
Damian: Grayson.. nobody who?
Dick *shaking with silent laughter before walking out of the room*
Damian: .. Grayson has lost what little brain cells he had left. Shame, it was the most anyone had in the family.
Alfred: Master Damian.. it is you who didn’t understand.
Damian: .. what?
Alfred *raises an eyebrow*
Damian:
Damian *realisation dawns*
Damian *marching out of the room while unsheathing his katana*
Alfred: Keep away from the carpet Master Damian.
OR
Jason: You know.. you always see flamingoes sleep with one leg lifted off the ground..why do you think that is?
Damian: .. you pose a good question for once Todd. I suppose it could be a form of protecting body heat.. what is the reason for this?
Jason *wheezing*: It’s ‘cause if they had both legs up they would’ve fallen over.
*doubles over laughing at his own joke*
Damian:
Jason *now fallen over, rolling on the ground*
Damian: This is why Father doesn’t love you.
It has also led to an unintended common ground between him and Tim, who are both just so done with the rest of the family. Stephanie is just waiting for the day Damian realises that Tim references vines almost everyday. She’s sure Tim’s going to lose a kidney when that happens.
Bonus points if Tim already does, but Damian just looks at him weird every time and just chalks it upto another “Tim thing” like:
Tim: .. it is Wednesday my dudes.. *screams*
Damian: … Drake it’s Friday. The only thing you succeed at is disappointing me.
OR
Tim: Do it for the vine.
*jumps into blazing fire with a bomb hidden somewhere in the building about to collapse without informing anyone or taking proper equipment to find said bomb*
Damian: Father told me I must not hate you, but if you were on fire, and I had a glass of water.. I would drink it.
And
Tim *driving while in a high-speed chase with a villain about to summon the end of the world while the car is on fire*: Road work ahead? Uh yeah, I sure hope it does
Damian *over the comms* : Father I fear Drake has more brain damage than he usually does. I have genuine concern for my safety. If I kill him, you should know it’s in self-defence.
————-////
Edit: The first joke is a knock knock joke but when Dick says nobody it means nobody is at the door, so no matter how much you say “nobody who?” you won’t get a reply because there’s no one at the door. Hope this clears it up😅
#batman#dick grayson#jason todd#nightwing#red hood#tim drake#batfam#bruce wayne#damian wayne#headcanons#robin!damian wayne#Damian al-ghul#red robin#Stephanie brown#spoiler
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List of “communication breakdown” prompts
“I’m so sick and tired of being treated as a joke by you!”
“…I’m never fucking heard. Whatever I say doesn’t matter. And I’m just… Tired. I quit.”
“You always seem to think you’re better than me.” “I never fucking said that—” “Well, you certainly act like it!”
“You really think you’re all that, don’t you? You’re literally nothing. You’re worthless. Now how do you think that would feel, being told that by the one who supposedly loves you, every single day? Not very amazing, I’d assume. Then I’ve got fucking news for you, you shit stain of a human being.”
“I deserve better than whatever you’re giving me.”
“You keep saying you’ll do better but you never do. How much longer do I have to wait? I don’t have all of my life to waste.”
“…Because I was never enough for you, was I? That’s why you treat me like shit.”
“Just a little bit more and—” “I’ve been patient with you, time and time again, so don’t you fucking dare tell me to wait. I’ve been waiting this whole fucking relationship but nothing seems to ever improve.”
“Because it’s always about you, isn’t it?”
“See, this is what I’m telling you! You always think the whole world is against you. But what about me? I’ve been here for you this whole fucking time. Does that not count for anything, or am I just someone who’s always going to be on the bleachers, cheering you on like the side character I’ve been relegated to?”
“It’s almost like I’m a footnote in your story. And that’s not what I want to be. That’s not what I deserve.”
“The difference here is I’m the side character in your story, while you’ve always been the main in mine. And that shit hurts. So fucking much.”
“…I don’t want to cry over you anymore. I don’t want you to be the reason why I run to my friends, crying my heart out because all you’ve done is fuck me over, time and time again.”
“I stayed for this long because I genuinely thought you’d become better, but I think I’m starting to realise you’re not going to become the better I deserve. And I sure as hell am not going to continue to help you become better for someone else. So, I’m removing myself from this shitshow before I hurt myself even further.”
“You’re a stain. A mistake I will always come back to and wish I was smart enough to have never made. A shitty reminder of my past.”
Join my Discord server: Steaming Dumplings Nation
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team captain
bf!nishimura. 1k words. so flufffffffy.
[note]: this can be read alone or as apart of my badboy!niki series drabbles. warning, it’s so cringey and cute i’m literally kicking my feet lmao
“oh my god look how brown it’s getting!” you cheer more to yourself than anyone, the sight of your marshmallow changing colour over the fire exciting you a little too much.
after getting it perfect, you finally look up to realise that everyone who was sitting around the bonfire before... was now gone. how or when, you’re not even sure, but the loud chatting and laughter coming from inside the house tells you that they’re all inside now.
shrugging, you get up from your squatting position and was about to head inside too when you notice niki, sitting in his chair right behind you with the cutest grin on his face. the boy had been so quiet the entire time that you didn’t even know he was there.
you’re so startled by his appearance that you almost fall backwards but luckily for you, your team captain boyfriend was quick to grab your arm, pulling you to him. specifically, onto his lap. you’re now seated across his lap, his arms around your waist to hold you, his face just a breath away from yours.
gulp.
the boy was truly the most handsomest you’ve ever seen. no matter how many times you see him, his face still manages to surprise you, just like the very first time. it’s something you’ll never admit to him though, not when his head was already so big.
“i’m starting to think you’re clumsy on purpose, just so i can save you,” he rolls his eyes at you, “because i don’t know anyone as clumsy as you.”
“w- well you should’ve said something! you scared me!”
“right. as if you didn’t sense me staring at you the entire time?”
“you-” you pause, brows raising at the realisation of his words, “... why were you staring at me the entire time nishimura? creep!”
instead of an insulting response like you had fully expected from him, the boy stays completely silent. his eyes however, drops down to your lips, gazing at it for a few moments. you’re unsure of what his intentions were but it was making you nervous either way.
“what? can’t i stare at my girlfriend?”
gulp.
“well- well yeah but! but! but make some noise next time-”
to your surprise, niki leans in without warning, kissing you and shutting you up. seeing you so startled yet again, the boy immediately breaks into laughter like it was he funniest thing to him.
“you don’t understand how pretty you are, miss class president,” he says with a smile, one so sweet you swore your heart just melted over it, “you’d be staring at you too if you were me.”
you’ve been together for a few months now and although you’ve had your fair share of sweet moments, this time topped it all. his gaze, his smile, his words, all seemed so genuine. like he meant every single thing.
everyone knew how niki was, someone so tsundere, so unbothered, so unserious, so seeing him this way had your emotions and thoughts going wild.
it had you thinking if this could really last, if it could really be more than just a stupid high school relationship.
it had you thinking about your future after high school, whether you and him could really make it work. you haven’t brought up the topic with him, but it has surely been on your mind more with graduation quickly approaching.
“it better be me you’re thinking of right now in this head of yours,” he playfully knocks into your head, bringing you out of your deep thoughts, “or else you have no reason to be smiling like that.”
“unfortunately... it always is. you and your... big mouth!”
the face he makes is one of anger, confusion and surprise, all in one. the view instantly had you in giggles, so much so that you almost fall off his lap. but the boy doesn’t let you have your moment for too long, his fingers at your waist, ready to do what they do best.
“niki- no- no- ahhh!”
you were giggling again, only this time it was caused by niki nishimura tickling your sides. you wanted to run away from the boy, but how could you when you’re trapped in his hold, on his lap. there was literally no escape!
“ni- nish- nishimura! stop! please!”
the boy really does do as asked, stopping his fingers and quickly helping you fix your creased up top. he’s also laughing, eyes in complete moon shapes at your struggles, and although you want to smack him, you end up chuckling as well.
“so... can i kiss you now with my big mouth or?”
“since when do you even ask?” you playfully roll your eyes, “what’s with you today? you’re being a bit weird. more so than usual.”
“ha funny,” the boy mocks you, his fingers reaching up to flick your forehead, “maybe i just realised how much i actually like you.”
you could feel your cheeks immediately heating up, hands a little clammy from his sudden confession, but it’s his gaze that catches you off guard. the way they’re looking directly into yours, with so much hope, so much adoration. you have no idea how to respond to him but you do know that your heart is currently going crazy in your chest.
“you just realised? pfffft,” you manage to make a joke, using it to hide away your current urge of wanting to scream and kick your feet at how cute he looked.
“yeah... and it’s crazy how much i actually do.”
now it was your turn to go quiet, no longer laughing or making jokes. without thought, you lean in and kiss the boy. softly and sweetly.
niki’s arms around you tighten as yours rest on his chest, the two of you enjoying the moment in silence. it’s crazy when you realise how your relationship with him used to be like, full of screaming and fighting every single day.
it was too early to claim you l-word the tall boy but judging from how you were currently feeling, you’re sure you’re almost there.
“nishimura-”
“OH MY GOD! NOT THE MARSHMALLOW! what did the marshmallow do to you guys?!” both you and niki turn towards the dramatic voice, just to see taki and maki both staring at the ground where you had dropped your much forgotten marshmallow earlier.
“i dropped it by accident-”
“because you guys were busy making out??” maki chimes in, his expression so sad you’d think something actually happened, “don’t you guys do that enough?? i saw you two in the lockerroom yesterday too!”
“it’s like that’s all you guys do. our captain is such a simp-”
the two boys immediately stop talking once they notice the change in niki’s face, one so grim, so irritated. similar to the one he usually had during practice... before a finals game.
even you were scared of that face, let alone the boys on the team.
“i’ll be right back baby,” the team captain says calmly while helping you to stand up. he pats the back of your head before turning to face the two screaming boys who were already sprinting around the yard.
you can’t help but giggle at the sight, a memory you’ll surely hold onto for a very long time. although your future with niki remains unclear, you realise that what mattered more was now, in this very moment.
and in this very moment, you were happy.
end.
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#jongseongsnudes#the enha universe#enhypen#enhypen fic#enhypen fanfic#enhypen drabble#enhypen imagine#enhypen scenario#enhypen reaction#enhypen x reader#enhypen niki#enhypen riki#enhypen fluff#enhypen scenarios#enha#niki nishimura#riki nishimura#niki fanfic#niki fic#niki fluff#niki x reader#niki; bad boy#niki scenario#niki imagine#niki imagines#niki nishimura fanfic#niki nishimura fic#niki nishimura scenario#riki fluff#riki x reader
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SAYING SOMETHING THEY DIDN'T MEAN IN A FIGHT | VOCAL UNIT
𐙚 YOON JEONGHAN
his pettiness and stubbornness would make every fight 100x worse, and no matter how many times he’d promise himself that he’d be more understanding and try to look at the situation from your point of view, he’d end up saying something he didn’t mean just to make you more annoyed, not realising how much his words hurt you.
you couldn’t look at him, not when he treated you like you were nothing, and didn’t seem remorseful even in the slightest. “i never thought i'd hear something like that from you,” you said, your voice filled with disappointment rather than anger. you wanted to yell at him, hit him, scream out how much his words hurt you, but you weren’t sure if he’d care even if you did all of that.
jeonghan, on the other hand, felt like throwing up the second he heard the door close after you quickly left the house. he didn’t mean to be rude to you, he didn’t even realise that the fight you were having was a serious one - otherwise he’d never say something like that. his stomach twisted with agony as he recalled your broken expression and tears filling your eyes. “what have i done?’
it would take some time for things to get back as they were, for you to forgive him completely, but that wouldn’t discourage jeonghan. he would make sure to show you how much he cared about you and how sorry he was, through any action that he could - even if it meant he had to do something out of his comfort zone or something he usually wasn’t as fond of.
𐙚 HONG JOSHUA
to make joshua say something he didn’t mean, especially to you, is like… nearly impossible. no matter what situation you’d be in, whether it’d be a small argument or a big fight (those were rare too), he’d always watch what he was saying, because he knew how quickly things could escalate and you both could end up hurt and upset by something that could be prevented. he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he said something mean you.
“darling, let’s just…,” joshua sighed, running his hand through his hair, pulling at them slightly. “let’s take a break ’kay?”
you hadn’t realised how angry you got at each other, when your little argument over your chores escalated to a proper fight that was so unnecessary, but because both of you were too tired to think clearly, neither of you did anything to stop it.
until now.
“yeah, i think that’s a good idea,” you nodded at your boyfriend, smiling at him weakly. fighting always took a toll on you, you hated being angry at each other, but at least joshua stopped the whole situation before any of you said something you didn’t mean. he cupped your face and pecked your forehead, before leaving you alone in your bedroom.
some time later you emerged from the bedroom, your hair in a mess from your nap, just to be met with joshua standing behind the counter surrounded by what looked like all of your favourite dishes. “let’s eat, and then we’ll talk,” he smiled at you, reaching over the counter to intertwine his fingers with yours, before placing a peck on your palm.
𐙚 LEE JIHOON
he is way too mature and composed to say something he doesn’t mind, but that being said, not every argument could be resolved easily and calmly. a lot of the times fights between you happened when you found him in his studio for the fifth night in a row, with your boyfriend looking like he hadn’t slept for a month. arguments about his well-being were always heated, and sometimes woozi didn’t think what he was saying and how it would affect you.
“i just care about you, is that so hard to understand?”
you stood in the middle of jihoon’s studio, surrounded by endless pizza and take-out boxes, and empty cans of his favourite drinks laying everywhere. comeback seasons were always the worst and you knew he had to work, but that didn’t mean he had to pull an all-nighter for the fourth time that week.
“and you being mean to me won’t make me any less worried, it just makes you look like an even bigger dick that doesn’t appreciate his partner being worried sick.”
you didn't say anything else, just put the food you brought him on his desk and left the studio, slamming the door behind you.
jihoon couldn't remember the last time he got more than an hour of sleep, and he knew that his messed up sleep schedule was a shitty excuse for how he treated you, but if he wasn’t so exhausted he’d never even think of the things he just said to you. his hands itched to grab your waist, and make you stay and beg for your forgiveness, but he was too ashamed to even look at you.
that night, though, instead of returning to his apartment, he went straight to your place. he knew you were awake but he didn't want to dwell on your fight right now, so he just laid down next to you. jihoon thought he was going to cry with joy when he felt you move closer to him.
𐙚 LEE SEOKMIN
you’d quarrel and have like those everyday silly fights, arguing over who’s going to drink from the blue mug that morning, but that was the furthest a fight would go between you two, and if he ever said anything remotely mean or upsetting, he’d be begging on his knees for forgiveness in an instant, that’s not even up for discussion - that man cherishes you and your well being way too much to spend his time on fighting.
you looked at each other with horror upon hearing the words that just left your boyfriend's mouth. the day hasn’t really started yet, it was way too early for you to be up, but you wanted to make some food for seokmin before he went to work. one thing led to another, and now you ended up in a fight.
“i did not just say that,” he whispered, his eyes wide.
“you did, seokmin,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. you weren’t sure how you were even supposed to feel now - never have you heard such mean words leave his mouth, ever, and the fact that the first time it happened, they were targeted at you?
“baby, baby focus and listen to me,” seokmin said, his voice panicked, as he held your face in his hands. “i have no idea what had just happened, but i did not mean what i just said, i don’t know why i even thought of it.”
“seokmin, you have to go, or you’ll be late for practi-,”
“no, i’m not going anywhere before you forgive me,” he looked at you with big eyes, as he tried to figure out how you were feeling.
you had no other way but to forgive him, or he’d be late and seugcheol would kill him if he found out why he was late. seokmin made sure to show you just how sorry he was by not letting you go for the next week, repeating how much he loved you until you had to tell him to shut up.
𐙚 BOO SEUNGKWAN
another petty one that would be bad at controlling his anger during an argument. fighting with him would be a bit pointless, because he’d insist that he’s the only one that’s right, which could lead him to saying something he actually didn’t mean. even though seungkwan would feel so bad after, he wouldn’t stop you from leaving, he’d feel too ashamed to say anything in the moment, because how could he be so mean to someone who he loves so dearly?
“i…,” seungkwan stuttered, looking down, too ashamed to look at your face.
“for someone who always has a lot to say you’re oddly quiet now,” you said, and even though he couldn’t see your face, the tone of your voice told him how angry and disappointed in him you were.
seungkwan wanted to kick himself for being so goddamn stubborn - instead of taking a break like you proposed, he continued to argue with you, making the situation so much worse and ending up saying some horrible things.
he opened and closed his mouth, but what was he even supposed to say? he didn’t want to make any excuses for himself, and there were no words that would express how sorry he was. “great job, seungkwan,” you said, before he heard the door slam shut, and he was left alone in your apartment.
he didn’t even realise when he had started crying, tears slowly rolling down his cheeks, but he didn’t want to feel sorry for himself, not when he just acted like a dick to the person he loves the most - the one and only he should always protect and make happy.
seungkwan ended up falling asleep on the couch, he couldn’t sleep in your bed without you there, he knew he’d just start crying again. it’d take some time for you to forgive him completely, but you wouldn’t be too harsh on him seeing how emotionally exhausted he was, besides, you knew he didn’t truly mean what he said.
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...✍️
“I want that too, y’know. The touching and kissing, everything. But the problem is, that I- I want all that from someone I can’t have. And that sucks.” Steve chuckles bitterly.
Isn’t that funny? That there he is, the wonderful man that stole Eddie’s heart, being just as miserable, just as heartbroken as Eddie is. It’s hysterical, really. Eddie wants to laugh, wants to ask who Steve is talking about. Finds it impossible to think there could be a single person in this world that would pass on the opportunity to be with Steve in all the ways Eddie would kill for.
“Guess that makes two of us,” Eddie confesses and Steve perks up at his words, opens and closes his mouth as if he, too, doesn’t know if it’s okay to dig deeper.
There’s a sadness in his eyes Eddie thinks must mirror his own; two sets of brown eyes searching for comfort in each other. Eddie feels so small, so angry for Steve and himself because love could be such a beautiful thing but isn’t when the rhythm of your heart doesn’t match the one it’s beating for. When love is a one way road with no exists.
“What do you mean?” Steve asks but Eddie just shakes his head and smiles weakly, trying to take some of the heaviness away for both their sakes.
People don’t choose to fall in love, it just happens. And when it does, there is always a fifty-fifty chance that your love is requited. That the person you fell for likes you in the same way, wants you just like you want them.
Sadly, Eddie has yet to be one of the lucky ones to experience that. The real thing. And while they are still staring at each other, each wallowing in their own sorrow because being in love hurts – he realises that this is so much more than a stupid crush. That this goes deeper than anything he’s ever felt before. That maybe for the first time in his 25 years on earth he understands what true love feels like. Feels the crushing weight of it. Knows it won’t fade so easily. But-
“You’ll always have me.”
He can pretend. He can be Steve’s friend even if it hurts. Eddie would rather pull his own heart out than not to have Steve in his life. He’d rather be Steve’s friend than nothing at all.
“What?” Steve seems confused at his statement and Eddie can’t blame him.
“I’m sorry you can’t have who you want but you’ll always have me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I mean it, Steve. No matter what, you’ll always have me. It might not be enough for you and I get that. But for me, this is everything I need even if I can’t have all I want. You wanna know why I came home so early? Because when you texted me, I realised that I don’t need to be anywhere else, with anyone else.”
I just wanna be here. With you.
Eddie bites his tongue to stop himself from saying more, knows he’s already said too much. Probably shouldn’t have said any of it.
The confusion in Steve’s eyes turns into something else – anger maybe? Frustration? He pulls away from Eddie, jumps up off the sofa and walks a few steps back.
“You- you can’t just say things like that, Eddie.”
Eddie hates that there is so much space between them, so he stands too, approaches Steve like he would a scared animal, taking slow steps to close the distance between them.
“I can’t say the truth?” He doesn’t think about his own words, just lets his emotions take over his brain and mouth, doesn’t care about the consequences.
“N-no! You can’t just say it like it means more than what you’re actually saying. You’re doing this enigmatic bullshit I never understand because I’m too dumb to read between the lines!”
That causes Eddie to freeze on the spot. He’s only inches away from Steve now, could lift his arms easily to reach out for him. But Steve’s words stop him.
He’s right, isn’t he? Eddie does that a lot. Says only half of what he means or says one thing and means another entirely. He just never realised Steve knew. That he can see right through him.
“You’re right,” he agrees.
Steve huffs annoyed, rubs his hands roughly over his face.
“Then tell me what you mean. What you really mean.”
It doesn’t matter now, does it? He already said too much anyway. Steve is already onto him, knows Eddie is playing a game of hide and seek with himself – hiding the truth and seeking for an easy way out. But it’s too late to try and turn this conversation around.
“What I mean is-“ Eddie takes a deep breath, summons all the courage he can find in himself. “It makes two of us because I feel that same way you do. Wanting someone I can’t have? Because you’re my friend, Steve. I can’t have you the way I want you and that’s fine. It hurts like hell but it’s fine. I can live with that. You’ll never be alone because you’ll always have me as a friend.”
Steve stares at him with eyes full of rage.
“But I don’t want you as a friend.”
Steve’s words hit him like a fist to the face. But before Eddie can let them sink in and start spiralling about the meaning behind them – Steve not wanting to be friends anymore because of Eddie’s confession, obviously – Steve closes the distance between them in one swift motion, grabs Eddie’s face on either side, looking at him with determination in his eyes.
“I want you as more than a friend, Eddie.”
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Hotch request! Please sir, can I have a Hotch request? I'm trying to follow what you said about comfort but also Hotch being angry. So I get low blood sugars cause of my diabetes and I'd love if you wrote something about them being on a case and BAU!Reader is really busy trying to get stuff done, so she has a bad low blood sugar and sits down but one of the local officers thinks she's slacking off so she tries to keep going and Hotch comes in and defends her, making sure she has everything she needs and doesn't faint. Love you <3
ty for requesting!! hope this is okay <3 fem, 1.3k
“I understand.” You frown, phone pressed to your ear hard. “I totally understand, but it’s really important that I get to talk to her.”
“She’s on heavy medication,” the nurse replies, unimpressed by your asking, “she wouldn’t be much use anyhow.”
“I understand, but–”
“Listen, I’m sorry, but we have a lot to do here. I’m sorry we can’t help. Bye.”
You groan in frustration, bringing your phone from your ear to see the Call Disconnected notification flash across your screen. How are you and the team ever supposed to get answers if nobody wants to help? Your head rushes. You kid yourself into believing it’s annoyance like a hot flash, you’ve been sweaty for ages, but then reality cuts through. What usually makes you sweaty and dizzy?
“Where’s my test kit?” you murmur to yourself.
The door opens while you’re looking through your bag.
“Agent,” Officer Debs greets, a stout, sturdy woman with sharp eyes, “any news from Georgetown Psychiatric?”
You rummage frustratedly through your things. You should know better than to misplace your test kit. Doesn’t matter. You’ll just have to eat something quickly before you get any worse. “Uh, no, nothing they could help me with.”
“Did you call them?”
Your eyelids are getting heavier. You sit down on impulse, worried you’re gonna fall if you stay standing. “Yeah, I called them.” You’ve had diabetes for long enough to know what to do, but it’s always harder than it felt the last time when your blood sugar drops. It can be so sudden.
Realising you might need help, you clear your throat, about to ask Officer Debs if she can get the glucose tablets from your bag. You should’ve grabbed them —your thoughts are starting to thicken like someone’s poured cornflour into your skull.
“Is now the best time for a break?” Officer Debs asks.
You focus very hard on bringing your attention into the present. “No, sorry,” you say, standing up. You open your phone and direct to the contacts page, clicking your favourite contact at the very top.
Don’t know m where test kit is, you text clumsily. Hotch should still be in the precinct. Do u have it ?
“I hope you’re texting someone about the case,” Officer Debs says sternly.
You shove your phone into your pocket. “Um,” you say, getting confused now, and not wanting to be shouted at. You grab for the page of phone numbers you’d been making your way through, can’t get your hands to work. “I wasn’t. But I’m getting to it.”
“We really don’t have time to waste.”
“I know, but my blood sugar–”
She talks over you. “What’s the point in all our officers working day and night when you FBI agents can’t be bothered to put in the same effort?” Her voice rises. “It’s ridiculous!”
“It’s not ridiculous, we’re trying our best just like you are.”
“Clearly not!”
“My blood sugar,” you say, more insistently. “Stop shouting at me.”
The door opens quickly, creaking hard on its hinge. Hotch doesn’t slam it open, he never slams anything, but he doesn’t hesitate either. “I have it, you left it in the car after you tested this morning,” he says, your kit in his hand. He gives Officer Debs a surprised up and down. “Who’s shouting?” he asks, unimpressed.
You wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. “Hotch, I need a tablet.”
If he’s shocked at your lethargy, he doesn’t say. He ignores the officer from that point on. “Yes, I think so, too.”
Hotch is more efficient than you were, grabbing your tube of glucose tablets and shaking one out into his hand. “Can you take it yourself?”
“You want to chew it for me?” you ask.
He tips it into your palm. “Very funny.”
He opens the test kit on the desk and starts to extract the pieces. It’s quite complicated, especially for people unfamiliar with it, but you’re pretty sure Hotch learned how to use it the day he knew you had diabetes. He wipes his hands with an alcohol wipe and presses a test strip into the meter, careful not to touch the end, before wiping your finger with a new wipe, and readying the lancing stick.
“Gonna stick you, okay?” he asks quietly.
“Mm,” you hum, the glucose tablet like chalk between your teeth.
He sticks you. Some days it feels more painful than other days, but today it’s like a pinprick in a haze. He squeezes your finger, wipes the first drop of blood with a cotton ball, and dips the test strip into the second bead of blood, careful not to jab your cut.
In the five seconds it takes for you to get a result on the meter, he kneels down, pressing another cotton ball to your finger to stem the flow of blood. “Good,” he murmurs to you. The meter flashes on the table. “Not so good. Fifty nine, huh? How’d that happen?”
You shake your head slowly from one side to another. “I’ve no idea.”
“Okay. Well, that tablet’s not gonna do it, honey. Do you have any gels?”
“No,” you say apologetically.
“That’s fine. I’ll get you a drink.”
Officer Debs clears her throat. You may be foggy, but her awkwardness is palpable. “I’ll get it.”
“It has to be full sugar. Coke, if you can,” Hotch says. She nods in understanding and leaves in record time. Hotch turns back to you, his severity melting away. “She was shouting at you?”
“Tried to tell her about my blood sugar. She told me we’re not here to waste time.” You close your mouth, licking the glucose off of your teeth.
“How did you get so low?” he asks.
“Must have done something wrong this morning. Am I okay?”
“We’ll see. I think you’ll be alright.”
“Don’t usually get so dizzy.”
“When was the last time you were below seventy?”
“Don’t know,” you mumble.
Hotch peels the cotton ball from your finger and packs your things away cleanly. “Let’s see how you feel in ten minutes. After your coke. Now… what did the Officer say to you?”
He’s getting his facts straight. Again, you wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. You relay your conversation, Officer Debs hadn’t even been that bad, just uppity, stuck on her own assumptions rather than willing to listen when you’d needed a hand. Her lack of empathy could’ve really affected you. Low blood sugar is no joke.
You tell him, savouring in the warmth of his hand on your leg, how uncaring he is to be kneeling in front of you on the precinct floor. He frowns at you long and hard.
By the time Officer Debs returns, he’s on his feet again. “A word?” he asks her.
You don’t hear all of what he’s saying through the door as you sip your coke. He doesn’t shout, but he defends you with a heavy gravity. Officer Debs speaks up and he cuts her down, something about understanding, and then a more clear telling off, “I don’t want to hear about Agent L/N’s performance from you again. She’s my agent, and if she needs a break, she’ll take one. It’s none of your concern.”
“I understand.”
You feel much peppier when he comes back in, though he appears less so. “You’re nasty,” you say, smiling, happy to be defended, and happier to know you’re not gonna pass out.
He crosses the room. Still frowning, he takes your face into his hands, and he leans down inch by inch, until he’s pressing a soft, soft kiss to your lips. You barely have time to close your eyes before he’s pulling away, thumb pressed into your soft cheek. “Nobody gets to shout at you. Especially over your blood sugar.”
“It’s usually you telling me off for letting it get low,” you mumble.
He stands up straight, leaving you wanting for another kiss you won’t get, hands stolen back from your cheeks. “You’re ageing me prematurely. Drink some more coke, please, sweetheart.”
“What do I get in return?”
He touches your face briefly, as much of a promise as you’re going to get.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble
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i cant stop thinking abt noncon + stepcest Rin who cant control himself anymore after noticing how much his lil step-sister has grown since he was away bc of soccer n shit yk..
(btw your blog is goated)
GOATED WHAT A COMPLIMENT AKGHDSAKLH thank u very much I hope u enjoy this <3
warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, stepcest, dub/noncon, slight fingering, vaginal sex, nii-chan/rin-nii used, slight degradation, praise, dacryphilia, calls ur pussy 'she', shush kink?
words: 2k
“You’re always flirting with me.” Rin speaks. It’s the first time he’s said anything to you since he got back from Paris. He’s always been cold with you, short-tempered and even cruel. But you hadn’t expected to hear him say something like that.
You scoff, shuffling your position on the couch to get more comfortable to read your magazine. He always notes how often you change your position when you read; you can never sit still for more than a few minutes. You often read with your bedroom door open, and if he passes by to go to the bathroom, you’re always in a different position by the time he walks back to his room again.
“What was that?” he asks, pulling a disgruntled face at your dismissive response. “You think you don’t? You only wear short skirts when I’m visiting. I see your socials.”
“Oh… so, you’re stalking me then?” you giggle. “Don’t flatter yourself, Rin-nii… I jus’ feel pretty like this.” you defend yourself despite knowing he’s right. He thinks you’re dumb, and the fact that you smile and giggle after every word is a dead giveaway. You’re a flirt, and you’re a liar.
He also hates that you’re absolutely right.
Not a day goes by where he doesn’t check your social media profiles. He likes to see what you’re up to and who you’re seeing. It’s only been a recent development, though, he saw a particularly sultry post on your Instagram and he quite frankly hasn’t been the same since. He hadn’t realised you’d grown so much and come into your own. He can’t get you out of his mind.
You gulp a little as he leans forward, his fingers lingering on your chin and guiding your eyes to meet his own. He doesn’t speak immediately. Instead, he opts to examine your responses. The way your forehead forms a tiny bead of sweat under the pressure of his gaze. The way your tongue quickly swipes over your plump lips when his eyes drift to stare at them. The way your breasts almost spill with each heave of your chest as you try and keep your composure.
“Be grateful, little sister. Good nii-chan’s keep an eye on their little sister’s, you know.” he tells you matter-of-factly.
“T- uh, thank you, Rin-nii…” is all you can muster beneath his intense stare. He smirks, too fucking coolly before withdrawing. You close your magazine and stand up, desperate to hurry to your room to calm your nerves. He watches you walk away as he flicks through the channels on the TV.
“Oh God, miss you on my lips… hm-mm-mm…” you sing along with your record player as you listen to Lana Del Rey, following a muted makeup tutorial on your phone to pass the time. You grunt in annoyance when you realise that maybe you aren’t destined to perfect winged eyeliner today.
After locking your phone, you immediately tap the screen to see the time. You almost gasp as you realise it’s 7PM and five hours have passed since you last checked what time it is. Dinner will be ready soon, you grab a makeup wipe and begin to cleanse your skin. You should probably do your skincare, too, but it can wait until right before bedtime.
You examine your face to see if you’ve missed any makeup. Your eyeliner is stubborn but eventually comes off. And so with that, you get up to toss the wipe into the bin in your room.
“Jesus Chri— Rin! What are you doing?” you ask, spotting your elder brother in the doorway of your room. His eyes follow the stained wipe as you drop it into the bin, but his eyes linger on you once more as you wait for him to answer. “Oh… is there something on my face? Thought I got it all…” you tell him, leaning over your dressing table again to make sure your face is spotless.
“Tell me the truth.” he sighs, entering your room without closing the door. You look at him through your mirror before you turn to face him, an eyebrow quirked in confusion as he continues to close the distance. “You flirt with me.”
“This again?” you laugh. You lean back against your dressing table, fingers curling beneath the tabletop as you cross one ankle over the other. You feel heady as he gets closer and you smell his cologne. It doesn’t suit him, you think, but it’s nice. The scent is generic and sporty but Rin Itoshi himself is nothing close to generic.
Though it doesn’t matter, ultimately, not when it’s flooding your senses and drowning your mind.
“You’ve gotten so big…” he sighs, placing a hand on your hip. He smirks at how you shudder from his touch on your bare skin. Your watery eyes make his heart swell, unable to believe how trusting you are. You don’t stop him when his hand smooths over the curve of your ass and fingers dip under your skirt, though you’re trembling. Thick fingers prod at your panties and a tiny mewl escapes your lips. A condescending chuckle leaves him as you uncross your legs, widening them to give him better access. “Your panties are soaked. I knew you wanted me…”
You grab his wrist, urging him to stop when you remember the bedroom door is still wide open. It doesn’t deter him, though. His heavy fingers still press against the material covering your cute little cunt, his bulge growing tenfold when he pushes by your puffy lips to tease your throbbing clit.
“Don’t act coy, now. I know you want this, you opened your legs for nii-chan to play with you.”
“We can’t.” you whisper, biting your lip in a feeble attempt to stifle yourself. “Not l-like this! Not when they’re home… please nii-chan.” you beg, though it’s fruitless. Your eyes flutter closed as his head sinks, his lips meeting your neck to kiss you delicately.
You barely have the energy to fight when he encourages you to hook your legs around his waist. He carries you to the bed, mumbles of protest leave you but you don’t dare make too much noise and draw attention.
“Has to be now, princess.” he tells you. “Don’t know when we’ll get a better chance.” he continues.
You’re trapped beneath him, making a point of looking away from him as he humps against you pathetically. And you want him, of course you want him, but the risk is too high. He’s lost all sense, instead thinking with his cock rather than his brain. But you’re not too far gone yet. You can put a stop to this.
It needs to stop.
“Why are you being like this?” he wonders as he pulls out his length, jerking it slowly all the while still humping the tip against your clothed, wet panties. “I have to do this… little sister. I have to know how tight you are around me.”
“Another time, please! What if we get caught? P-Please stop, you’re smarter than this!” you beg once again, the request falling on deaf ears. You gulp as you feel his fingers hook under the gusset of your panties, moving the material into the crease of your thigh. Your voice breaks, a whiny moan following as he presses his tip into your sticky cunt. The stretch is heavenly, and you can barely catch your breath. His glimmering green eyes staring down at you as he inches further and further into your welcoming warmth makes you feel humiliated. You don’t want this, but fucking hell, you really do. “Aaah~!” you sob.
His palm flies to your mouth, the pressure almost suffocating as lust blown eyes turn impatient.
“Shut the fuck up,” he whispers, still bullying his cock into you. “Gotta be quiet, don’t want our parents to see what a little slut you are for nii-chan, yeah?” he warns you.
You don’t know what to do with yourself. You aren’t sure where to put your hands. They grip into the duvet below before you begin pulling at his shirt. He doesn’t have the patience to take it off, though, not when you’re sucking him in and squeezing around him like a fucking virgin. Are you? He doesn’t want to know. His head dips as your nails begin to claw up his back, marking your territory unintentionally.
He moves his leg, hooking his ankle around yours to keep your thigh pinned in place and open wide. You feel him hold your other ankle briefly, kissing it softly before he moves his hand under the bend of your knee. Your eyes cross as he pushes your leg until your opened up for him like a blooming flower. The new angle is monstrous, his thick, intimidating length reaching depths you didn’t even know existed.
He groans as he watches tears roll out of your innocent eyes. Those trusting eyes that didn’t think your nii-chan could be capable of something so salacious. He’s sure he won’t last long. Not when your clamping around him like this and looking at him with those pathetically wet eyes. You’re mumbling something beneath his dampening palm, but he isn’t stupid enough to free your airways and risk you crying out needily for your dear nii-chan.
You panic as you feel him withdraw his length, though deep down you know it’s for the best. But your eyes roll over white as you feel him stab it in again.
“Pretty little sister… want you to cream this cock for me…” he announces, repeating the motion again and again as he basks in the way you can barely look at him in your ecstasy. He can’t take his eyes off you, though. He doubts he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight. “I’m gonna cum inside, princess. I belong inside, yeah?”
You shake your head, his words stirring in your mind and bringing your senses back once more. Oh God, he can’t. You’re on the pill, all should be fine if he does cum inside but it’s so damn wrong.
“Did you just say no to your nii-chan? I don’t like that answer.” he replies, his hips picking up the pace again. His body shimmers with a sheen of sweat, and his breathless pants become heavier. “You should be begging me for my cum. I’m sure you didn’t mean it, don’t worry, I’ll give it to you.” he continues. Each thrust of his hips is deep and powerful and you’re sure your inner thighs might be developing bruises.
You whimper, again, knowing you can’t do anything to change his mind.
“Your pussy is so cute… think your clit needs some attention, though. Touch yourself for me, let me watch.” he requests. “Go on… she’s so swollen.”
It’s like being hypnotised. Your dominant hand flies to your cunt and begins to rub your needy clit. And it’s minimal, after barely any touching at all and you’re creaming for your beloved nii-chan. The sight is too much for your brother and the way your walls squeeze him for all he’s worth are an additional lure into his release. His own eyes turn white briefly before he looks down at where you’re joined. Your combined coupling forming a beautiful white ring around the base of his cock with every shallow impale.
“F-Fuck… don’t wanna pull out.” he tells you, finally uncovering your mouth to kiss your lips intimately.
You’re speechless. You aren’t surprised your brother is so experienced or so filthy with his words. Not when he’s travels and fucks girls around the world. But how are you meant to be without him now? When he goes away again… how will you stand it? His cock is made for you, of that, you’re sure. But you doubt he’ll keep it in his pants for your benefit.
Fuck, this was a mistake.
“Dinner’s ready!” your mother calls up the stairs, your nii-chan’s hand instinctively flies to your mouth and he shushes you before chuckling again.
You cry desperately as he withdraws his softening length from your twitching hole. But neediness turns to discomfort as you feel your brothers fingers move the gusset of your panties back into place. It’s so wet and sticky and gross, your face distorts at the unpleasant feeling.
“Come on, don’t want to be late, do we?”
© 2023 rinitxshi
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x : ABUNDANCE :*+ﾟ
in which: rin doesn’t know when to stop spoiling you and you don't know how to stop him either.
warnings: rich pro-athlete!rin, gn!reader- reader wears lip gloss and perfume but i am an avid believer that they are gn, rin is dramatic (tm), fluff, swearing. 1.6k wc
a/n: rin is a clown in my eyes LMFAO no but this was kinda self-indulgent and i just can't stray too far from itoshi rin before he inevitably pulls me back. haven't written anything for him in a while so it feels good to be back to my roots. also no i'm not off break lol i did say that i was still gonna write and come back to post hehe. ENJOY!! rbs appreciated !!
itoshi rin doesn’t know when to stop spoiling you.
and you didn’t know how to get him to stop spoiling you. you could never resist his presents no matter what shape or size, whether they were little nendoroids of your favourite anime characters to the latest designer bags, you would always accept them with a grateful smile.
however, there’s always a tug of guilt at your chest that makes you little hesitant, not wanting rin to waste unnecessary money on you. yet whenever you make this feeling known to rin, he scoffs and waves your concerns off, ending the conversation there as he urges you to open his presents, more concerned about your reaction than how much money is being extracted from his account.
what’s the point of money if he can’t spoil you with it? that’s always been his philosophy. besides, it’s not like you’re forcing him to, so what’s the big deal?
if there was a certain brand of perfume you wanted, he was going to buy it. if you needed a bigger monitor then he’ll buy it. if you needed a streaming platform to watch a certain show on then he’d buy it too, not a problem. in fact, you’re sure rin is funding the spotify premium for your account because he got tired of all the ads he had to listen to when sharing headphones with you.
despite rin’s insistence that he was more than okay to spend money on you, it didn’t stop the growing feeling of guilt festering in your gut. so eventually you stopped bringing up things you wanted to buy in front of rin, leaving to write them down in your notes app instead.
the pro-athlete doesn’t question the abrupt lack of complaints about things you needed to buy, leaving him blissfully unaware of the things you had been buying for yourself and him.
this dance continues for a little and it’s not until date night three weeks later that he figures you out. you never stood a chance against rin’s perceptiveness especially when one of his favourite things to do was watch you get ready for said date nights, leaving it only a matter of time before he’d realise,
“looking gorgeous as always,” he compliments whilst walking up to stand behind you, dressed handsomely in a crisp suit with his hair swept sideways- a hairstyle he began to wore more often when he realised how often you stared at him during a boring sponsorship event which turned out a lot more eventful thanks to the simple hair change.
you smile at him in the mirror as rin places a kiss on the side of your head, hand going to your hip before situating himself on the bed, glancing down at his watch to check that you were still on time for the dinner reservation.
when he looks back up at you, his eyes zero in on the foreign lipgloss you were holding in your hands and the small smile rin wore falls into a scowl. rin knows he didn’t get that for you, and judging from the sleekness of the packaging, it looks new. he withholds his suspicions, brushing them off.
alarms blare in rin’s head again when he notices the foreign highlighter in your hands. contrarily, you remain ignorant to rin’s inquisitive stare as you lean in close to the mirror to apply the product, too used to the usual intensity of his gaze to bat an eye.
the last straw is the perfume you use, spritzing it on your wrists, behind your ears and neck, doing a little fanning motion with your hands once you were done.
“okay, i’m ready, let’s go before we’re lat-” you say, turning around to look at rin, cutting yourself off when you notice the look of distraught on his face. “what’s the matter?”
walking over to where he sat, you leisurely lay your forearms on his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his cheek whilst doing so. the smell of your foreign perfume enters his nose and although it was a very nice and charming scent, the athlete’s nose scrunches in displeasure, eyebrows furrowing further.
“do i have something on my face?” you ask, backing away. rin grabs your hands before you can stray too far.
“no, not that,” he puts your hands on his shoulders again. “did you always have this lipgloss? and i don’t recognise this perfume.”
“oh, i bought it not too long ago.”
he looks at you as though you’ve committed the most blasphemous offence against him, which, you did. “excuse me?”
“i bought it?” you reaffirm, a lilt of confusion in your tone.
rin narrows his eyes, combating your confusion with scrutiny. “you bought it.” you nod. “with your own money?”
“duh.”
he exhales loudly through his nose and you can feel the judgement oozing off him. “no that’s not right. i have to fix this.”
abruptly swapping your positions so that you were now sitting on the bed, rin disappears into the bathroom, emerging with a pack of makeup removers before sifting through your numerous products, that look of concentration never leaving his face.
“we’re gonna be late, rin,” you say from where he planted you, watching helplessly as your boyfriend approaches to stand in front of you, crouching down to be eye level with you. rin takes out a wipe from the packet before gently rubbing it on your lips, touch contrastingly gentle to his fiery gaze.
“don’t care. this is more important.”
rin fiddles with the highlighter that he bought for you, opening it cautiously and using the same brush you always use as he carefully paints your skin with the glitter. it amazes you just how observant rin is as he traces all the spots correctly, knowing you down to of the most insignificant, tiny details.
he does the same with the lip gloss, opening the familiar bottle before putting a luxurious amount of the product over your lips. you don’t complain about it, not when rin’s nose scrunches in concentration and not when he makes a disgruntled noise because he overlined the lip gloss, wiping it from the corner of your mouth.
nevertheless, when rin pulls away, he admires his handiwork with a content grin, the scowl now fading. “much better,” he mumbles, grinning slightly. before you could say anything though, the athlete stumbles away to put your makeup away, returning with a bottle of perfume that he also bought for you.
“do not spray that on me. the scents will clash,” you threaten. rin blinks at you before grabbing your wrist, spritzing a small amount before repeating the same step on your other pulse points.
his actions were sweet and you understood that rin had good intentions, but through the endearment you felt for your lover, there is an undeniable feeling of dejection settling within you. “i liked the products that i bought,” you murmur, tone slightly downcast as you express your thoughts. “i like using my own money sometimes too, rin.”
the smile rin wore falls ever so slightly as he looks at your somewhat-dejected form, crouching in front of you instinctively as to get a better glance at your face.
“i feel horrible whenever you use your money on me. especially on things that are way too expensive and way out of my budget. i don’t want people- i don’t want you to get the wrong idea of us,” you confess the last part breathily, rubbing your arms awkwardly. “and i hate feeling like i owe something to you.”
“hey, you know that will never happen, we’re not like that,” he rubs a hand on your knee reassuringly. “i buy things for you because i know, and don’t talk about this lukewarm shit about ‘owing’ me. if anything i owe you for putting up with me.”
you let his words sink in with a sigh, focusing on the warmth of rin’s palm.
“and i also buy things for you because you only deserve the best. none of that mediocre crap that anybody can buy.”
“but what if i like the ‘lukewarm shit’?”
“then you need better tastes, but i guess i have no choice but to buy it for you.” he stands up ever so slightly to kiss you.
you back away, cutting him off with a press of your finger against his lips. “rin. no.”
he gives you a withering glare for denying his affection.
“that’s not the point. as much as i love and appreciate it when you do buy things for me, i would also appreciate it if you let me use my own money too.”
the soccer player backs away, eyes scanning your expression to decide on what to say next. he sighs when he sees the determination in your face and like a dam giving out, it’s the first sign of rin’s stubbornness surrendering to your pleas. “fine, i’ll respect your choice, but it doesn’t mean that i like it.”
you grin, pulling him back in for the kiss he wanted earlier, catching rin off guard briefly before his shock subsides, letting him melt right into you. your lipgloss was now effectively ruined but you didn’t have it in you to care much. rin could always reapply it for you.
“but i’m paying for dinner,” he asserts against your mouth.
“deal.”
you return home tomorrow to see the same products you bought for yourself on your shared bed. except brand new and still in their sleek packages.
what were you going to do with rin?
#personally i'm abt to make out with him- what... who said that... anyways... hope u enjoyed !!#sorry if this fic isn't coherent#itoshi rin x reader#rin x reader#rin itoshi x reader#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#itoshi rin fluff#blue lock fluff#itoshi rin x you#rin x you#rin itoshi x you#blue lock rin#itoshi x reader#blue lock itoshi rin#itoshi rin drabble#itoshi rin#itoshi rin bllk#blue lock
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arrogant s.o.b
summary: based on this request - grumpy/mean Harry and readers first fight and he says something really harsh/yells and makes her cry? And then feels really bad after like grumpyxsunshine vibes?
warnings: angst
wordcount: 1.6k
a/n: thank you to the anon who sent in this request!! 🥰💖 sorry it took me a while to get around to it. please let me know if this isn’t quite what you wanted, i don’t know if I’m 100% happy with it so im more than willing to tweak and rewrite!!!
my masterlist!! please feel free to send me more requests 💓 happy reading
“I miss you, Harry.”
You knew you were pushing it, he was already working himself to breaking point. But you couldn’t help it, you missed your boyfriend. His break was meant to be about finding time for himself again, spending time with his loved ones. And you thought that meant being with you, not spending every day confined to the four walls of a recording studio.
“I can’t delay my entire album because you miss me.”
“I’m not asking you to delay the entire album. Just take a day off, just once.”
“Why?! For what?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Now you were both pissed off. You didn’t understand why Harry couldn’t just slow down. You’d only been able to see him in Italy for a few days, your work schedule unexpectedly busy. Part of you thought he was ‘punishing’ you for that, the sane part of you knew that his summer in Italy was his rest, and now he was back in London he needed to work. Harry’s work ethic was one of the things you admired most about him, and now you were arguing with him over it.
“Clearly it does matter.” He was stood by the door, keys in his hand, a dark scowl printed on his face.
“It’s fine, just go. Have a good day.” The hurt was evident in your voice, but you didn’t even want Harry to stay now with the atmosphere you’d created.
He hesitated for a moment, torn between wanting to stay and needing to leave. Finally, he sighed and turned to walk out the door without another word. The sound of the door swinging shut behind him echoed through the silent room, leaving you alone in your thoughts.
Tears welled up in your eyes as you sank into the sofa. You’d pushed him away when all you wanted was for him to stay. You knew you’d always come second to his career, he prioritised you over almost everything in his life but his music was so important to him. But once he finished recording, there would be interviews and appearances, then a tour, and then you’d be back here again. It was constant, unrelenting, and if he couldn’t even sacrifice one day for you, how could you expect him to slow down?
—
Harry stood frozen on the other side of the door, still stuck between needing to come back in and wanting to go. It never usually got to this point, one of you would back down before someone got hurt. It wasn’t exactly healthy, but it worked for you. He hated fighting, hated seeing you upset. But he was only now realising that it was usually you that compromised. He knew you well, and for you to actually speak up and ask him to stay despite knowing how important his work is to him? He’d fucked up.
He leaned against the door, his hand gripping the handle tightly as he closed his eyes, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him. Guilt washed over him as he replayed the conversation in his mind. He knew he needed to find a balance between his work and his relationship, but it was easier said than done.
His hand fell from the door handle as he turned on his heel, dragging his feet away from the house. If he was going to make it right, he needed to be armed with all of your favourite things.
—
Harry replayed the morning in his head the entire time he was out. You’d woken up to his alarm as always, rolling over in his arms to wake him up with soft kisses. “Why do you set alarms if you know you can’t wake up for them?” you laughed, tapping at his nose as his eyes fluttered open. “Because you wake up and I get morning kisses,” he smiled, pulling you tighter to his chest.
He remembered how the morning light hit you at just the right angle, illuminating your puffy eyes and blushed cheeks. He’d caught himself wishing he could have five more minutes in bed with you, time to savour waking up next to his love. But he’d rolled out of bed in the same way as always, slipping out from under you just as you tried to curl your body around his.
You’d followed him to the bathroom silently, lingering in the doorway as you rubbed your tired eyes. “Wish I got to see you more,” you’d mumbled, eyes following his through the mirror. “You see me every day, kitten,” he’d replied, poking his tongue out when he saw you watching. He’d noticed your face fall slightly, a misty kind of sadness replace the natural glint in your eye. He cringed as he thought back, but he’d purposely ignored it to save himself the trouble.
“I see you when I wake up and just before bed,” you’d pouted, eyes glued to your suddenly fidgety hands. “I cant help that right now, pet. You know I can’t,” he’d tried to reason with you, and looking back, Harry thought maybe he was trying to convince himself. “Just a morning or an afternoon at home would be nice. Not even a full day,” you’d told him, voice cracking as you looked back up at him.
“I can’t have this conversation right now,” he’d muttered, kicking at the door until it swung closed in front of you.
And there he was now, heart struck with guilt at the thought of how badly he had neglected you.
—
As he heard your keys jingle outside the door, Harry finished rearranging his purchases across the bed. He gave one final look to the flowers on your windowsill, the beautiful blush pink roses he knew you loved. It was perfect, he just hoped it would be enough.
“Hi darling,” he smiled sheepishly as he walked down the stairs.
“Hi, H,” you replied, brows knitted as you stared at him. “What are you doing?”
“Come,” Harry murmured, reaching out a hand for you to take. You dropped your bag by door and took it, fingers tangling with his as he lead you back to the bedroom.
He stopped outside the bedroom door, pulling you into his arms. “M’sorry,” he whispered into your hair. “Didn’t think about what it’s like for you. I need time with you just as much as you need it w’me.”
“No, I’m sorry,” you told him, cuddling into his chest. “Nothing to be sorry for, pet.”
“Shouldn’t have pushed you like that,” you murmured, eyes closed as you breathed in his musky aftershave.
“Gave me the push I needed. M’not good at taking time off.”
“Don’t have to tell me that,” you laughed, stepping away from him as he turned to open the bedroom door.
“Got you your perfect day,” he smiled, stepping out of the way so you could see his creation.
All your favourite snacks were laid out on the bed, your matching pyjamas folded on the corner. The most beautiful flowers you’d ever seen in your favourite vase on the windowsill, candles lit on your nightstand and a cheesy rom com loaded on the tv.
“You did all of this?” you cooed, a grin spreading across your face as your gaze turned to Harry. He nodded, pulling his t-shirt off.
“Nuh uh,” you swatted his hand away as he reached to pick up the pyjama top. “Only my perfect day if you’re topless,” you smirked, quickly peeling your clothes off to throw the pyjamas on.
You climbed into bed next to Harry, pulling the duvet up to your chin before wrapping your body around his, your head at home on his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, arms wrapped right around you.
“Made a few calls. Gonna start only doing three days at a time in the studio, then three days off,” he whispered, grinning when you immediately whipped round to look at him. “Don’t have to do that for me baby,” you gasped, brows furrowed.
“It’s the right call. Just gonna be longer days but worth it all if it means more time with you,” Harry winked, his hand caressing the curve of your waist.
You shifted upwards, placing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Thank you,” you smiled. “And congratulations.”
Harry returned your kiss, his lips lingering just a second longer than yours had. His touch and his kisses felt like home to you, his smile your lifeblood. “To me? For what?”
“To us. For our first fight,” you giggled, holding out a hand to high-five Harry. He grabbed a hold of your hand, using it to pull you even closer to him, until your faces were only centimetres apart.
“Here’s to our first and last fight,” he whispered, eyes locked on yours. His teeth latched onto your bottom lip as he went in for another kiss, the rocky waves in your stomach turning to butterflies as his tongue moved around yours.
You pulled away after a minute, settling back into his arms with a smile so bright it could have lit up the room.
“Can’t believe we started the day with you thinking your album is more important than me,” you mumbled, a mischievous sparkle in your eye as you tangled your fingers between Harry’s.
“Millions of adoring fans who’d do anything for me versus one woman? I know who I’m picking,” he teased, laughing as you smacked his thigh with your free hand.
“Maybe they were right,” you whispered, peering up at him.
“Hm?”
“About you being an arrogant son of a bitch.”
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Practice On Me — Part Eight — Azriel x Reader
Summary: Everything is starting to get on top of reader and tensions rise. Azriel takes a trip to Fenlaros and comes away with a headache. Cassian does what Cassian does best. A friendly face swoops in to save the day.
Word count: 8.3k.
Warnings: A little freaky deaky 18+, NSFW, smut, minors dni.
Azriel’s kiss is a burning brand.
It’s fire and ice and earth and rain. It tastes like freshly set snow, and it feels like the refined touch of a steeled warrior.
He kisses you like he aches for you. He pulls his hands away only to remove his gloves and chuck them aside, and then he’s clasping your face once more, skin on skin. He’s always so warm — a part of him you’ve missed.
And a part of him that drives you to kiss him back with barely any hesitation.
This — his mouth on yours — feels like the answer to a riddle you’ve been puzzling out for days, weeks, months, years. You’re gasping for air, and his tongue is sliding between your lips, and his taste overpowers you so thoroughly that you think it could break something inside of you.
There isn’t much furniture left in here. A few scattered tables, a shelf or two hanging off the wall. Not much to work with, and yet it doesn’t matter, because you and Azriel will have each other however you can. You’ve spent a lifetime making do with whatever you’ve got. This is no different.
Azriel’s hands fall down to your hips, and he’s lifting you so abruptly that a yelp leaves you and lands straight on his lips. Your arms loop around his neck, and he’s fastening your legs at his waist and stumbling with you — stumbling towards one of those old tables. A plume of dust erupts around you as he sets you down and slots himself between your legs.
“I fucking miss you.” He groans, grabbing your face. “I miss…us.”
You feel so many things. There’s no chance to sort through them, verbalise them, before his mouth slants over yours again. He’s hungry, needy. Hot and sinful. This Azriel is a far cry from the one who coyly confessed to his inexperience. This Azriel writes poetry onto your lips and paints masterpieces on your tongue. He kisses like eternal happiness depends on it. He kisses as though he’s been an artful lover for centuries.
He’s been practicing, the thought pops into your head.
Not with me, the realisation follows.
And that feels like being thrown stark-naked into the snow. It’s not a nice feeling — to realise that Azriel may be treating you to skill refined elsewhere. Not when you think about kissing him more than you’d like to admit to yourself. Does it make you a gods-damned hypocrite after what you did with Cassian? Perhaps.
But none of this — not one bit of it — is reasonable, or rational, or logical.
All you know is that your stomach lurches suddenly, violently, at the thought of where else Azriel’s lips might have been. And that’s all it takes for you to shove him away.
He stares at you, wide-eyed. Perplexed.
“I needed you.” You pant, the words tumbling from you in a flurry of charged emotion. You’re not sure you planned to say it. “On Solstice — I needed you.”
Azriel’s face changes in the blink of an eye. The hunger is gone, replaced by…something else. “Y/N—”
“I needed you, and you weren’t there. You promised me.”
“I know I did. And I’m sorry—”
“Did you even think of me?” It’s awkward, but you try to scramble back on the table. You just…need that distance right now. “Did you not wonder how I might be doing, how my day might be playing out in that hellish house, before you jumped into bed with Kaeda?”
“We didn’t—”
“Did you think of me?”
“Y/N, of course I thought of you.” He tries to clamp down on your legs, but you’re moving further away, damn near falling off the table in your efforts. “But you — you said you would come and find me. I waited for you—I—”
You’re really not sure if it’s a strangled sob or a choked laugh that fights its way up your throat. Perhaps it’s both. The sound of it is jarring, and it echoes around the armoury and reminds you of where you find yourself right now. The situation you’re in. How different things might be had Kaeda not come onto the scene.
“You waited for me?” You repeat, righting yourself. “And—what? Did you get bored? How do you think it felt, Azriel, when I came to find you — the only person I wanted to fucking be around in that moment — and you were busy with Kaeda on top of you? As if I needed my heart breaking any more that night.”
You hate it — hate it so viscerally that the words won’t stop coming. That you’re bringing your heart into this and allowing it to be stomped on again. Your eyes are watering, and you turn quickly before Az can see.
For a moment, he says and does absolutely nothing. And then he takes a step closer to you.
“I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when you needed me. Believe me, I am.” He says. There’s another step. Another. He’s hovering at your back and you know he’s wondering whether he should reach out and touch you. “But, Y/N…you encouraged me to pursue things with Kaeda. Am I to apologise for that?”
You blink at his words so abruptly that your tears spill down your cheeks.
Now you’re laughing.
It’s a humourless laugh — a hysterical one. It breaks from you in a series of fractured, incredulous noises. At least the emotion boils your blood so thoroughly that it warms you from the inside.
“Apologise?” You round on Azriel, balling your fists at your sides. “No. You don’t need to fucking apologise. But you also don’t need me to practice on anymore, do you?”
He clamps down on his jaw, a telltale muscle moving. “I didn’t kiss you for that—”
“You kissed me because you miss me. Because I am…I’m just a security blanket, aren’t I? I’m what’s familiar, and you’re used to being around me, and having distance between us has fooled you into thinking that you want to kiss me.”
“No—”
“But you’ll kiss me…and make me feel good..and then the novelty will fucking wear off, and you’ll be running straight back to Kaeda because she is who you’ve wanted all along. Not me. Never me.”
“Cauldron, Y/N, will you just let me speak?!”
No.
You will not.
You can’t.
You can’t do this. You can’t break in front of him. You refuse to.
You want to sound strong, and sure, and unbothered, but you open your mouth, and the words are watery and broken. Weak.
“No.” You swallow a lump down. “No, I won’t. Just…just go, Az. I need some time.”
“We’ve spent the last week apart. That’s plenty of fucking time—”
“Go! Go back to Kaeda. Stop…stop pretending like this could play out any other way. It can’t. It won’t.”
“I’m not leaving on an unresolved fight. You and I don’t do that.”
You are far too beaten down to discuss this any longer. You shrug, and the gesture is an effort in itself. “I’m not sure I know what either of us do or don’t do anymore. Things have changed. Go.”
“Y/N—”
“Go!”
Finally, it seems to dawn on him — the realisation that you’re serious. You won’t be discussing this tonight. You’re not strong enough for that yet.
He falters a moment longer, so clearly not wanting to walk away. The two of you have never been like this. You can fight like the best of friends do, but you’ve always made the effort to resolve things, to not part on a bad word.
But things are different, now. You know it. Az knows it.
“…Fine.” He rasps after a long stint of silence. “I’ll go.”
You nod. If he’s expecting you to suddenly change your mind, he’ll be gravely disappointed.
His eyes sweep you once more, and then he’s turning. Dragging his feet to the door like a kicked animal.
“Az?” You call quietly, and he stops.
The hope in his eyes as he looks over his shoulder almost breaks your resolve. Almost, but not quite. “Yes?”
“Send Cassian next time.”
He doesn’t deign to reply.
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Azriel is not well-versed in the world of dinner parties and propriety.
He has a few decent shirts he reserves for special occasions — like when Rhys’s mother cooks a nice meal, and he and the others dress up out of respect.
Y/N would laugh herself hoarse if she could see him right now.
A thought that stings almost as much as the intense, burning gaze of Tathaln Baralas, Lord of Fenlaros.
He’s a mammoth, domineering presence at the head of the dinner table, seeming to command every bite that each person takes of their food, every sip of their wine. It’s silent unless he speaks. It’s tense because he makes it tense.
He watches Azriel as though he’s going to finish his food and then take a bite out of the shadowsinger himself. Az’s shadows are taut around him, not wanting to make a spectacle of their brilliance. The dinner so far has felt like one big, held breath.
But finally, Tathaln clears his throat, and Kaeda and her brothers sit up straight. Az does the same.
“I trust your friends have fared well since your little adventure in my camp.” The Lord addresses Azriel. “I hope the punishment wasn’t too severe. I did many similar things in my youth — though I can’t say I was ever quite so bold as to venture into a rival territory.”
Azriel inclines his head slightly. “I wanted to apologise again — for what happened. Things got out of hand.”
“I’m partly to blame, father, as you know.” Kaeda adds. Azriel damn near jumps out of his seat as her hand lands on his thigh beneath the table. “It was my idea to invite my friends from Windhaven. An oversight, perhaps, on my part. I was eager to show Azriel what Fenlaros has to offer.”
Tathaln seems to think on that as he chews his food. He washes it down with a gulp of wine and reaches for the carafe to refill his glass. The whole thing feels like somewhat of a performance, and nobody speaks a word as it plays out.
This family dynamic is…odd. Not that Azriel has much experience where normal family dynamics are concerned. But there’s a formality with which Kaeda and her brothers — not that the two males have breathed a word this entire meal — address their flesh and blood. Like he is their Lord first, and father second.
And that isn’t unusual for Illyrians — not at all. Offspring are, more often than not, treated like a prospective trophy to be paraded in front of competing families. The fiercer, more ruthless the child is, the prouder the parent will be. It’s a brutal, ugly way of living that never changes, no matter how many generations stack up.
But perhaps Azriel is at fault for having too high an expectation. Perhaps he shouldn’t ever have been fooled by Kaeda’s wings and spirit being left intact, unlike most females around her.
Tathaln is a puppeteer, and Kaeda and her brothers are his dutiful puppets.
“There was no particular harm done.” The Lord eventually says — rather reasonable, for an Illyrian. “I imagine you received a stern talking to. Revoked privileges, perhaps?”
“Lord Devlon saw fit to lecture us, yes.” Azriel concurs with a nod. “But besides that, we weren’t really handed any punishment. It was my friend, Y/N, who bore the brunt of his wrath. She’s been forced into homelessness as a result.”
A sudden, sharp kick lands on Az’s leg from beside him. He glances at Kaeda in his periphery, eyes the fierce expression with which she looks at him. It seems to be communicating, don’t bring this up now.
But Az wants to bring it up. He’s pissed off; more so than he initially thought. At himself, mostly, and at Devlon, at Rhys’s father, maybe even a little at Kaeda — at everyone really.
Tathaln pauses, his fork mid-air. And then he sits back. “Right — the girl that was here. Why has she been made homeless?”
Girl. It’s a sneer of a word in Illyrian mouths. Azriel has to clamp down on his jaw and remind himself that confronting the sexism that runs through their veins is a fruitless task in that moment.
And Kaeda sighs at his side. As if she’d rather be talking in great detail about the roasting of a boar, than about Y/N.
But it answers a question that’s been rattling around in Azriel’s mind all evening — that no, Kaeda had clearly not mentioned Y/N to her father, as she said she would.
“Her father kicked her out on Solstice.” Az explains. “He’s not a good male, to say the least. Y/N was living with myself and my friends, but after the events that unfolded here in Fenlaros, she was sworn off having any contact with us, because Lord Devlon seems to think that she’s the driving force behind any and every bad choice we make. She has nowhere else to go. It’s…worrying.”
“Perhaps she’ll think twice before wandering into rival camps.” Finally, one of Kaeda’s brothers speaks. Arlen, Azriel thinks his name is. Clearly the idiot doesn’t see the irony of his statement.
Or perhaps Kaeda doesn’t have to adhere to the rules that every other female is strictly held under.
“Arlen.” The Lord shoots him a warning glance. He turns back to Azriel. “I would argue that Lord Devlon is full of shit.”
Azriel stops. Blinks. That…that’s not what he was expecting.
“How so, father?” Kaeda’s brow furrows.
“It’s his job to keep the soldiers under his command in line, no?” Tathaln’s dark, feline eyes are assessing Azriel as he speaks — seeming to read his response. “If he finds that a single female is the cause of such disruption, perhaps it is himself he should look at. He can’t be a great leader if he has to resort to such extremes just to keep his soldiers under control, now, can he?”
Az stares back at him. The question is meant for him, but it all seems too…too easy. Reason and logic are simply not a common thing among these people. The words sound almost…false. Forced.
“No.” Azriel agrees. “I suppose not.”
“Do you find him to be an adequate leader?”
“I’ve never known any different.”
Tathaln’s mouth tips up. “That isn’t what I asked.”
No, it isn’t. But this is a fine line Azriel is treading. He positively despises Lord Devlon — thinks him an arrogant brute who uses his title to flout camp laws and customs and turn everything in his favour. Not to mention the fact that he and his cronies are so clearly threatened by Az, Rhys and Cass — an undoubtedly formidable trio. Azriel is sure that if Devlon had his way, the three of them would be slung out by their necks. Or hung by them.
But his personal feelings towards the Lord of Windhaven doesn’t change the fact that openly disrespecting him — and to the lord of another camp — is a huge dishonour. One that could blow up in Azriel’s face if this conversation were to somehow make its way back to Devlon. He has to choose his words carefully.
“He has a method of leadership that I can’t say I’m in agreement with.” Gods, he is the epitome and personification of diplomacy, if he does say so himself. Ten points to the shadowsinger. “I’m not sure that using his power to target vulnerable females was ever part of his job description. I’m sure, as a father to a female of the same age, you can see where I’m coming from.”
Tathaln takes another pensive sip of his wine. He inclines his head. “Indeed, I do. I think it’s terrible leadership. And I think you’re wasted in Windhaven.”
“I appreciate that, my lord.”
“There is no need for modesty, Azriel, the shadowsinger.” As he speaks, the Lord’s eyes inch towards those very shadows. He studies them with a strange expression that looks almost like…hunger. “Do you know why I sent my Kaeda to your camp? I may as well admit, I have an agenda.”
Azriel glances at Kaeda. She’s staring at her plate, shoulders squared. “Oh?”
“I sent her there to scope out the quality of the units that are being trained in the Windhaven Camp. My sons were sent on similar missions to other camps — Camp Theriel, Camp Steelshore, Camp Aruin. The consensus of what was reported back to me regarding each camp was that potential is not being filled. Quite frankly, a mockery is being made of Illyrians by the poor training of these legions. If war was waged tomorrow, half of our race could be wiped out.”
Bold, bold words.
Azriel finds himself stunned silent.
“We are Illyrians, no?” A thick, callused finger traces the rim of Tathaln’s chalice. “We are a warrior race. We have birthed some of the fiercest warriors in Prythian’s history and decimated tens of thousands across battlefields. And yet, it would seem, these days, that our camps are producing fewer warriors, and far more lazy, unambitious brutes who care only about drinking and fighting and fucking. Our reputation could be destroyed yet.”
This is…bizarre, Az thinks.
He also thinks that it’s a little unfair. He’s the last person to ever defend the creatures around him that are supposedly his brethren, but he also thinks that Tathaln’s assessment is wildly exaggerated.
Illyrians drink, yes, and fight, yes, and fuck, yes. But they do so in between harsh, gruelling training. They drink to forget the brutal nature of their life’s work. They fight each other because they’re just as angry as one another, and that needs an outlet. They seek pleasure, because it’s one of the few good things to be found in these parts.
Their training is not for the faint of heart. You train well, or you die. It’s that simple.
And if Tathaln, Lord of Fenlaros, truly has such concerns, Azriel doesn’t understand why the fuck they’re being presented to him, of all people.
“Is this something you’ve raised with the High Lord?” He asks — he isn’t sure he even means to say it.
Kaeda tenses beside him, and Az wonders if, perhaps, he’s overstepped the mark. But Tathaln seems somewhat pleased by the question — seems pleased that Azriel is engaged in the discussion.
“It is.” The male answers. “And I think he finds himself agreeable to what I’ve had to say. However, I haven’t yet presented my solution — what I believe to be the right course of action.”
Az takes the bait. “Which is what?”
“Eventually,” Tathaln says, “I would do away with the individual camps entirely. I would have one, sole camp to train Illyrian warriors, overseen by the most powerful members of our race. Members with rare, unique powers who can draw on the Illyrian potential and make our people what we were always supposed to be. What we once were, before we became too complacent. Better, even.”
And just like that, it makes sense that Tathaln is sharing such things with Az.
Rare, unique powers. Powers like that of a shadowsinger. So incredibly unique that Azriel has never met another of his kind.
Tathaln has ambition — he covets power. He has a vision that needs backing.
It’s like everything suddenly clicks into place in Azriel’s mind.
He finds himself looking at Kaeda, not her father. Finds himself wondering if she ever had genuine interest in him, or if that interest came entirely from Tathaln. Finally, she lifts her gaze to his, and she wears a strange, pleading look.
“Don’t get me wrong, shadowsinger.” Tathaln says. “This is not a goal that could be achieved overnight. Power takes time to build. I couldn’t take this idea to the High Lord without something to back it up — something to get him on side.”
Azriel shrugs. “But what would you have me do? I’m just a soldier in training—”
“You are a shadowsinger. Do you even realise what an asset that makes you? Perhaps your poor start in life, your mistreatment, has caused you to downplay your potential. But I see it. Your power could be a lethal weapon on a battlefield. And off a battlefield. There is so much you could be doing, and yet Lord Devlon has you landing punches on a sparring dummy and calls it training? You are made for better things than that.”
Praise is…it’s a rare thing, in Azriel’s world. And he doesn’t care about that, because the little praise he does get comes from the people who matter, and that’s all he needs.
But hearing somebody other than his close friends — his family — speak so highly of him, is…new. And he’d be lying if he claimed not to like it.
Still, Tathaln is clearly beating around the proverbial. Azriel almost doesn’t want the discussion to go any further, because his head is already full to the brim with swimming thoughts and close to exploding. But they’ve come this far already; he may as well learn what his role in this bigger agenda would be.
“What is it you want from me, my Lord?” He asks.
A small smile plays on Tathaln’s mouth. His eyes, yet again, are on Azriel’s shadows, rather than Az himself. “As I said, change cannot be made overnight. It would take years — generations, perhaps. I would need enough males — strong males — backing my cause, before the High Lord would even hear of it. But I am a patient male. I know what I want, what is right for Illyria, and I will do everything in my power to make it happen. Starting with strengthening my camp. Being known as the strongest of all camps. And strengthening my influence, too.”
“And what does that have to do with me?”
“Having your power on my side could be a good thing for me. And I could hone you. I believe this mission starts with you. Abandon Windhaven and take up residence in Fenlaros. Train under my command. Come and see exactly how wasted you are in that place. Come and see what we could build together.”
“You want me to be your pet?” Azriel raises an eyebrow. “Your project?”
“I want to hone your potential and show you what an asset you are. I want Illyrians to be a feared people once more. I want to build the strongest, most powerful army in all of Prythian and make Illyria what it was always supposed to be.”
In the wake of the impassioned speech, silence sweeps in. Azriel is staring at his plate, and he thinks he might be feeling cold all over. There’s a strange tingling at the back of his neck — like a warning sign.
He still doesn’t understand why he’d be integral to such an agenda. He’s a shadowsinger, yes, and that is not to be downplayed, but he’s just Azriel. He’s just an Illyrian who trains to fight, and fights to kill, and to one day be killed. That is simply how it is.
And Windhaven — ugly and cold and harrowing as it is — is his home. His family is there. A cottage that is far too small and cramped to house a group of adults but is always a beacon of light and hope and warmth. A place in which he’s made wonderful memories and felt genuine happiness. He’s happy to tolerate the hellish ways of life around him, because he has beautiful things in front of him.
Beautiful things that wouldn’t follow him to Fenlaros. Yes, he may have broken a rule and breached a camp to attend a party — but doing so under casual circumstances is wildly different to doing so under official ones. As a soldier of Fenlaros — as one of Tathaln’s puppets — he would be expected to adhere to the strict rules and standards that he metes out. Fenlaros would be his territory, and there would be no blurring of those lines.
But could Tathaln really be seeing more potential in Azriel than had ever been noticed before? Could it truly be that Fenlaros has more to offer him? More to be done for him?
“I would be turning my back on everything I know.” Az says, the mere words tasting sour in his mouth. “My loved ones. The family I’ve built. They would be left behind. I’m not under any illusion that you’d allow our two camps to interact if I came here.”
Tathaln dips his chin. “I am not going to sugarcoat that. It would be an adjustment, and a painful one at first. But there is far more for you here, shadowsinger. I simply ask that you consider it. Just as I believe your two brothers would consider it, if I were to present the offer to them.”
“And why haven’t you? Presented it to them? Why me?”
Those dark, calculating eyes swallow him up. “I need a shadowsinger. It starts with you.”
Azriel isn’t even sure what that means, and he doesn’t want to think about it any longer. There’s a lump in his throat. His appetite is well and truly gone. He might even be sick.
He couldn’t possibly leave his family. The thought makes him violently ill.
“As I said, all I ask is for your consideration.” Tathaln watches him. And then his eyes slide to his daughter. “As this meal is clearly over, perhaps Kaeda should show you around Fenlaros. Show you what this place might have to offer. Give the shadowsinger a tour, my sweet.”
Kaeda smiles broadly. “Yes, father.”
Az wants to refuse, but he can’t find the words. Too much is going on in his head. He wants to get out of there and go straight back to Windhaven, where it’s familiar and where love waits for him. He doesn’t want to be a component in a greater agenda.
When he met Kaeda, it was simply about…exploring attraction. About experiencing. Not about this.
But he can’t fucking speak. He stands without telling his body to stand.
And for some reason, when Kaeda slides her hand into his, murmurs a soft “come, Azriel”, he doesn’t protest.
Numb and stunned and sick to his stomach he may be. But he follows.
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Azriel isn’t sure if he’s heard a single word that has left Kaeda’s mouth.
She speaks, and yet it’s simply background noise. He can’t hear around the screeching in his head.
He should really just take to the skies and fly home, but perhaps he’s already a puppet — his feet stay on Fenlaros turf. Kaeda guides him around the camp as though the conversation at dinner never happened. She shows him her favourite haunts and introduces him to people whose names he forgets instantly.
It's up on a viewpoint overlooking the camp, just he and Kaeda alone, that he finally releases a slow, weary breath. He folds his arms against the railing and welcomes the cold air biting into his skin. Kaeda stands just a short distance away.
“We call this area the Widow’s Watch.” She says, daring a step closer. “It’s said that centuries ago, at the end of battle, the camp wives would gather up here with firelit torches and await their husbands’ return. If their husband returned, they’d extinguish the torch. Those that were left burning signified who did not return from war.”
Azriel says nothing; isn’t sure he’s capable. He digs his fingers into his arm.
Eventually, Kaeda stops at his side, also bracing her arms on the railing. She looks out over the camp wistfully, as though she can see hordes of wounded soldiers returning home. “I can’t imagine how eerie that sight must have been — the beacons of the dead painting the sky with fire.”
“No,” the agreement leaves the shadowsinger unexpectedly — surprises even him. “Neither can I.”
It’s then that Kaeda angles herself towards him just slightly. He meets her gaze. She’s so very beautiful — the kind of female that artists beg to paint. Her cheekbones are high and defined, her lips full. Her eyes look like shards of glimmering green rock. Never is there a hair out of place. Never a stray lash or smudged rouge. She is, quite simply, a vision.
But Az finds himself wondering if he’s ever known any part of her, or if she’s just following orders.
“I know you must have questions.” She eyes him cautiously.
“So many that my brain can’t keep up.” He takes a small step away. “Have you ever been genuinely interested in me?”
“I have.”
“Your father literally sent you to cozy up to me.”
Her eyes shutter, thick lashes fanning against her skin. “It wasn’t like that, Azriel. I mean — it was, to some degree. You’re right that my father sent me, and that he already had his sights set on you. I work for him. I’m training as his spymaster.” She opens those eyes again — wide. “Yes, he told me to get to know you. But he didn’t say romantically. That was all me. I just…like you.”
Gods, it should feel good, feel like a positive thing, to hear that. To know that the beautiful female he’s been getting to know these past months has genuine interest in him.
But he feels…nothing. No sense of relief. Only the anger that’s still simmering at this entire thing being orchestrated by her father.
“Does it not bother you?” His tone is brusque, sharp, as he stares Kaeda down. “That your father has you do his bidding? You’re a pawn in a game.”
“My father has a vision. It is an honour to serve him, and to be a contributor to that vision eventually coming to fruition. I will not apologise for that.”
“A vision. To create…to create one fucking super camp that he is to oversee? It sounds to me like your father has a hunger for power. Things have worked this way in Illyria for millennia. Why should they be changed now?”
Kaeda shakes her head. “You’re wrong. Things aren’t working. That’s just the problem.”
“You—”
“Are you proud to be an Illyrian, Azriel?” She steps closer to him; perhaps too close. “I’m not. Not with how things are right now. But I want to be. We are a warrior race. We are supposed to train, and fight, and protect. We’re supposed to be formidable. We’re supposed to be feared. But with the way things are going, fewer and fewer of those things are remaining true. If we don’t change how things are run across these camps and light a fire under our soldiers’ asses, half of our people could be wiped out when the next war comes. The Illyrian race could cease to exist entirely, and our legacy will be left at the mercy of rhyme and tale. We can’t allow that to be the case.”
Azriel studies her.
Her passion is…intense, yes, but also strangely beautiful. There’s a ferocity in her eyes that is so rare among a people who live and breathe misery; whose lot in life is to die.
That doesn’t mean, of course, that he appreciates Tathaln’s scheming, nor Kaeda’s. But they’re not exactly wrong in that ambition is a rare commodity these days. Those who can train for the Illyrian army do so because it’s what is expected of them. Those who aren’t cut out for it make do with everyday jobs around camp. Nobody has pride or passion. Nobody is prepared for war.
So Azriel’s shoulders relax just a little, even though his scepticism remains very much present. “I still don’t understand why I am being scouted for this cause, though. Why not take it to the High Lord? Or why not get Rhysand on side?”
Kaeda shakes her head. “As my father explained, we simply don’t have enough backing to go to the High Lord about this idea — not yet. He knows of my father’s opinion and even agrees that things need to change, but such a complex idea requires careful handling. And conspiring with his son about it would surely not put us in his favour.”
“So…what? I’m the next best thing?”
“After Rhysand, you’re the most powerful, yes. Your influence could aid us greatly. I don’t think you realise how highly coveted you are. Every other camp is aware of the fact that Windhaven has a shadowsinger. And they’re equally aware that your abilities aren’t being put to their full potential under Lord Devlon’s command. Changes will be made whether you accept my father’s offer or not, Azriel. But the changes we’re proposing are the best ones. The right ones.”
“I don’t see what’s right about having to leave my friends — my brothers—”
“Gods, Azriel, just…just take the emotion out of this for five seconds and listen to me.”
Az’s jaw clenches. “I am listening.”
“Then hear me clearly. Change is coming. It’s inevitable. And one thing I can tell you with absolute certainty is that even if you weren’t to come to Fenlaros, you would still be separated from your friends, or your brothers, or whatever you call them.” She hovers close enough to touch, now, mere inches from him. “One thing I’ve picked up on in Windhaven is that Lord Devlon is very intimidated by the strength of you, Cassian and Rhysand being together. The older you get, the more powerful you’re becoming, and people are growing aware of that. Devlon intends to separate the three of you, and by any means necessary. He can’t risk the threat you pose to him. He’ll tear you apart.”
The information doesn’t surprise Az one bit. He’s sensed a growing panic amongst Devlon and his cronies. They don’t stand a chance against the future High Lord and his two closest friends. And Azriel doesn’t doubt that if physical separation didn’t work, the callous bastards would resort to something far, far worse. Or try, at least.
But still, none of this is making any fucking sense to him. He needs a stiff drink. Or twenty. “How would coming to Fenlaros solve that in any way?”
“Beating Devlon at his own game — separating yourself from your brothers — will lure him into a false sense of security. With you gone, it’ll be one less problem to worry about. He’ll let his guard down. Meanwhile, we’ll be building our influence here and forming a case that can be taken to the High Lord. With his support of our changes, we’ll have the power to do more. And then eventually…eventually, your brothers can join you here. When we have more ground to work on. My father would never begrudge the bond the three of you have. He’d see it as a positive…having three such powerful Illyrians under his command.”
Too much to think about. Way, way too much. Azriel just wants to get out of there. He wants to lie down in a dark room and pretend nothing and no one exists.
But he stares at Kaeda. And he asks, “And what of Y/N? Could she come here, too?”
There’s a very slight hesitance — small, but certainly there. But then she purses her lips, and she shrugs. “Whatever you want.”
He’s not sure she means it. And that…that’s a whole other rabbit hole he’s not sure he can face going down right now. Another situation entirely.
Before he can say anything else, Kaeda closes the gap between them. She cups his face and leans up, close enough that their mouths are almost touching.
“Just think about it. That’s all I ask.” She says. “I really do like you, Azriel. And I really do think we could have something. Think of what we could do here, together. Of what we could be. We could make history. Just…promise me you’ll think about it.”
His lips part with a response he hasn’t even thought of. But there’s no chance to speak it as Kaeda slants her mouth over his and kisses him slowly, softly. Deeply.
Her fingers sink into the strands of his hair, and she breathes a muted hum into his mouth. She tastes like peppermint and sugar, and she kisses as though she hasn’t just laid the weight of the world on Azriel’s shoulders.
And that weight might be why he’s stiff as a board, barely reacting. Or it might be the horrible feeling of dread that this is all wrong. He kissed another female, earlier today — and that kiss had felt like burning, eternal sunshine.
This one feels like…like a ploy.
“Just promise me.” She pulls away just enough to whisper. “Promise me you’ll think about it.”
There’s no way he can’t think about it. The seeds have been sown. And perhaps he feels a little slither of guilt for how rigid and cold he currently is, because he doesn’t shoot her plea down like he should.
He sucks in a slow breath and inclines his head.
“Okay.” He says. “I’ll think about it.”
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The fucking wall is Azriel’s fucking face.
At least, that’s what the fuck you tell yourself as you send a dagger hurtling at it and watch it bury its point into the surface. Another scuff mark to add to the growing smattering, all courtesy of you.
Fuck. Him.
You’re not sure you’ve ever felt so angry in your life, and Cauldron knows, you’ve had ample reason to. But this anger is…it’s consuming. It’s violent and jagged and nauseating. It’s claws sinking into your heart and your brain and dissecting everything that plagues you in both sleep and consciousness.
And it’s this severe because you care. You care so very much.
You’re sick of caring.
Why would he kiss you, after all that has happened since the last time? To taunt you? To grab your feelings in his fist and twist them? To practice on you?
And to think you almost gave in to that strange, carnal need to have his hands on you again. You cannot — will not — allow yourself to think about which deeper emotion or desire that need is rooted in. Thinking will lead only to realisations that may destroy you yet.
And he’s probably with Kaeda right now, too. Perhaps losing himself in her, forgetting all about you with the aid of her touch—
You scowl and march to the wall, yanking your dagger out. Your anger and your need to just…move, is keeping you warm, at least. Nighttime in the old armoury is about as pitiful as can be imagined, but the relentless cold is actually a strange…relief. It hurts in a satisfying way.
How fucking dare he, your mind chants, not for the first time, as you stalk back to your spot. How dare he treat you as though you’re nothing? You brace yourself and send the dagger hurtling towards the wall once again—
The door is suddenly bursting open, and the weapon only just misses Cassian’s face on its journey as he strides in, arms full of items you don’t care to look at.
He stops abruptly. Blinks. “Did you just throw a dagger at me?”
“No.” You immediately scowl, stalking over to retrieve it yet again. “Fuck you.”
“Ouch. Fuck you right back. I brought blankets and food.”
“Shove them up your ass.”
“I’d really rather not.” He kicks the door shut behind him and strides over to the pile of your scant belongings, dropping his items and freeing his arms. He turns back to you with raised eyebrows. “Is there a particular reason you’re acting like a little storm cloud, or is it just a way to pass the time?”
Finally, you sheath your blade — partly because you’re not sure you trust yourself with it right now. You face your friend, fully aware that you’re out of line and fully resentful of the fact.
“I had an argument with Az.” You admit, not even certain you mean to.
Cassian’s eyebrows raise. “Well, that explains why he nearly bit my head off earlier, too. What did you fight about?”
Do you tell him? Do you confess all your complicated, messed up feelings — the bizarre circumstances that brought them about — when you haven’t even sorted through them yourself? No. You can’t. It’s a bit too soon for that.
“It was…nothing.” You stalk over to your things. “Just nothing.”
“Doesn’t seem like nothing—”
“Thank you for bringing me these.” You toe a thick blanket with your boot.
Yet again, Cassian’s eyebrows go up. “Are you hinting at me to leave?”
“Just because I have to face the night in this hovel, doesn’t mean you should be subjected to the same fate. I wouldn’t expect that of you.”
“Well, fucking expect it, because I’m staying—”
“Cass—”
“Come here.” He opens his arms. “Right now.”
You stare at him. And in that instant, with him seeing you — seeing everything you are, everything you’re feeling, what you need — your anger simmers, and it threatens to turn into tears.
“You clearly need a hug.” He points out softly. “And I’ve missed you this past week. So come here.”
In an instant, you crumble. You’re stepping forward and damn near falling into Cassian’s arms. He catches you, just like he always catches you.
His arms band around you, warmer and more secure than any blanket. He pulls you tightly against him, and you allow your arms to snake around his waist. It’s only then that you realise how much you need the firmness of his body to hold you up. He’s like a huge, supporting wall that stops you sinking to your knees.
“I’m so sad.” You whisper, nestling your face into his chest. His scent and his warmth permeate his clothes, and they combine and wash over you in a soothing combination.
“I know.” His broad hand cups the back of your head. “Everything is a huge mess right now. But we’re going to get through it — together.”
You hate that you can’t believe him; not right now. Everything is too up in the air, too uncertain. A dark mass has followed you around this camp for the entirety of your life, and it’s closer than ever to closing in and snuffing out who you are.
“How can you be so sure?” You ask. “I don’t think I have the strength to fight anymore, Cass.”
He pulls back to study you. To cup your face and look into your eyes. “Yes.” He says firmly. “You do. You always have and you always will. There is nothing — nothing — you can’t face. I truly believe that, Y/N.”
Staring back at him feels just like…like the night in the cottage, when you lost yourself in him. Him being there for you, speaking the words that are so hard to believe and yet so what you need to hear. The same urge arises in you to give over to those feelings. Do something for yourself for once.
You think Cassian might read that thought on your face. Perhaps you wear it shamelessly.
He studies you closely — studies you hard. And his throat bobs as his eyes flit down to your lips.
“Y/N.” He says. “Let me make you feel good.”
You swallow, also. And you don’t need to think about it. “Yes.” You nod. “Yes.”
In a flash, he’s closing the gap between you, his mouth finding yours. The hot and heavy weight of his lips is a relief. One that makes you release a soft sigh.
You don’t let yourself think about the fact that you were kissing Azriel in this very building only earlier. Nor about the fact that it could have gone much further than that. Cassian gives you himself, and you take, your hands bunching in his jacket as you haul him against you.
His hand fists in your hair, tilting your face up to him. And as his mouth stains yours with his urgent need, he’s backing you up, walking you back and back until you collide with that very table that Az kissed you on earlier. Cassian picks you up in an easy sweep and places you on the tabletop. He parts your legs and slots himself in between, his mouth never once leaving yours, never once faltering.
Until he parts from you and says, “Lie back.”
With his hand guiding you down, you do just that. You sprawl out on that table, anticipation coiling in your stomach. It warms you from the inside, makes your skin too hot and your clothes too heavy.
Cassian doesn’t mess around with teasing or taunting. He drags his hands over your breasts, your stomach, and down to the laces at your breeches. You don’t care about the cold air. You lift your hips and wish only for him to undo those laces faster. You want your skin bare, and his touch marking it.
“I didn’t get to taste you last time.” Your friend pants, pressing a kiss to your abdomen. “Will you let me now?”
Goosebumps erupt over you skin. You grip onto the edges of the table and breathe, desperately. “Yes. Please.”
So boldly, he yanks your breeches and undergarments down in one go. His fingers find the very centre of you, already soaked, already ready for him. What he finds there makes him groan.
“Here? You’ll let me taste you here?”
“Please.” You pant again. “Just…please, Cass. I need this.”
“I know.” A kiss lands on your skin. “I know.”
His hands drag down your legs at the same time he sinks to his knees. You bow your head forward — just to watch the predatory grace with which he aligns his face with your sex. He licks his lips like you’ve presented him with his most carnal desire.
He inhales slowly — breathes in your scent. A growl rips from his throat.
And then he dives right in.
His tongue licks a stripe up your centre, from your entrance, up to your clit. Your hips buck at the contact, one hand moving to bunch within his hair. As his tongue swirls over your clit, pleasure barrels through you that ends in a cry.
“Your taste is fucking divine.” Cass groans, and his hands pry your legs further apart. He wastes no time in lapping at your juices, damn near fucking drinking you down. He drinks and drinks like a male parched. “Gods, Y/N.”
“More.” You gasp, thrusting your hips towards him. You grind your cunt against his face, and you can’t stop your body jerking, your head lolling back. “Gods, Cass, more.”
“More?” His teeth graze against the sensitive nub. “Tell me what you need.”
“Your mouth. Fingers. You.”
A delicious, sinful chuckle, so incredibly deep and lilting, breaks from Cass and vibrates against you. He lands a harsh suck on your clit. “I love how filthy you are.”
And he shows you how much he loves it, as one finger suddenly gathers up your wetness and teases your entrance. You moan, plead, beg him to slip it into you. He does so at the same time that he fastens his lips to your clit and strokes at it with his tongue.
You feel him smile against you. Your responses seem to provide him with almost as much pleasure as your touch would.
“Just like that.” He growls the words onto you, sliding his finger out and back in — adds a second one. “Take what you need. Fuck my fingers.”
You need this pleasure. This release. He has no idea how much you need it. Nobody does. You need to feel like somebody else, feel like you’re somewhere else. You need to feel something other than…blinding pain.
And so you take what you fucking need, undulating your hips and moving yourself on his fingers, against his tongue. Cassian follows your lead, keeps up with your pace. As your moans pick up, so do the thrusts of his hand.
“Going to come for me?” His hand moves faster. “Come around my fingers?”
“Yes.” You throw your head back. “Fuck—Cass.”
“Come.” He growls. “Want to feel you.”
It’s as if your body is fully under his command, because the words have your climax bursting through your body and chasing you from every negative feeling that’s been plaguing you. It feels beautifully catastrophic, fucking mind-altering. It feels like an out of body experience.
You know, somewhere in your mind, that you’re being loud, but you don’t give a single damn. You welcome your orgasm and allow it to consume you. You allow your loud, gasping noises to echo around the building.
But perhaps it’s the loud volume of those noises that prevents both you and Cass from hearing the door open behind you. Perhaps it’s the heat of your passion that makes you immune to the sudden gust of cold air.
Whatever it is, neither of you notice a third presence until a voice bellows behind you.
“Cauldron fucking boil me, my eyes!”
Both you and Cass rise with a start, you scrambling to cover yourself. A horrified expression stares back at you both.
“Roza.” You both say at the same time. Both blink in shock, too.
Rhysand’s mother covers her eyes with her hand and turns her back to you.
“Please correct yourselves before you traumatise me any more.” She says. “Can’t turn my back on you idiots for five gods-damn minutes.”
azriel tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd
#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x reader#shadowsinger x reader#azriel acotar#azriel x you#azriel fic#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar fandom#acotar x reader#acotar writing#acotar fanfic#acotar headcanon#acotar smut#acotar series#acotar fic#azriel fanfiction#azriel fanfic#reader insert#illyrians#rhysand#cassian
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— 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 ∞
SUMMARY. congratulations, you have reached friendship level four with a certain man. what to know what he says about you to the traveller?
CHARACTERS. alhaitham, kamisato ayato, tartaglia (childe), diluc ragnvider, kaeya alberich
PRONOUNS. she/her
TW. mentions of breakdown (in alhaitham's part)
AUTHOR NOTE. been a while huh? but i can't help but feel like my writing magic has completely gone but maybe i need a change of topic to bring it back, but i will give you this free coffee before i will probably announce something about the blog soon...
༉‧₊˚. ALHAITHAM
ABOUT LOVER - BEFORE FALLING IN LOVE
Now, what would you like to know about the manager of Puspa Café? Y/N was once a talented student and researcher at the Akademiya before she walked off. She was notorious for burning all her research before the Grand Sage had the chance to obtain them but even after that, all the students within the Akademiya have nothing but praises about her, always coming into the cafe for a chance to have a tutor session with the famous ex-researcher…some might even say her wisdom rivals against most beings but she would tell you to not disrespect.
ABOUT LOVER - FELL IN LOVE
Don’t you think you are asking too much about her? Yes, Y/N is someone I hold dear but other than that, I rather not say anything more than that…it’s a private matter between me and her.
[Tighnari - About Alhaitham’s Lover
He’s like a hawk around her like we get it, Y/N is your lover. However, I understand why he is protective of her, after her infamous breakdown back at the Akademiya, she has never been the same. Never smiled or laugh cheerfully like she did back when she was a student, but ever since her relations with Alhaitham, she seems to slowly get back to her old self…don’t tell anyone I told you this but every time he sees her, he suddenly shines like a Nilotpala Lotus.]
༉‧₊˚. KAMISATO AYATO
ABOUT LOVER - BEFORE FALLING IN LOVE
Lady Y/N is no stanger to the Kamisato Clan, matter of fact, she also friends with Ayaka but due to her being one of the adopted daughters of the Kujou Clan, she is extremely busy…yet, she doesn’t seem close to her parental figures at all. As much as Kujou Sara has gratitude to old man Kujou, Y/N seems to despise him more than ever…maybe me and her have more in common than I originally thought.
ABOUT LOVER - FELL IN LOVE
Me and Lady Y/N have been engaged for a while, hehe. It was kept a secret between the both of us before Y/N found the right time to break away from the Kujou Clan without any issues. The old man couldn’t believe what he was hearing once I came in and took her back to the Kamisato estate, what a sight it was. I am more than delighted to have her by my side for a lifetime.
[Kamisato Ayaka - About Kamisato Ayato’s Lover
I’ve known my brother had an eye for Y/N for quite some time, it’s actually quite funny to see him subtly stumble on his words when he doesn’t know it. When I heard of their engagement, I was so delighted to hear that she was going to be my sister, now I have another person to make sure my brother takes care of himself.]
༉‧₊˚. TARTAGLIA
ABOUT LOVER - BEFORE FALLING IN LOVE
What would you like to know about Y/N, comrade? I could give you pages upon pages about her and it still wouldn’t be enough. Y/N is a childhood friend of mine that I hold dear, she’s very close with my siblings as they see her as an older sister. Ah…I still remember the days when she would smack my head whenever I did something she said was ‘stupid’...kind of miss that feeling.
ABOUT LOVER - FELL IN LOVE
It was actually Sonia who made me realise that I was in love with Y/N. Actually, I think I already knew deep down but was worried due to my involvement with the Fatui, but she’s a kind-heared soul that accepts me in every way! Why is my forehead red? Oh, comrade, make sure not to get on her bad side…she’s quite strong.
[Zhongli - About Tartaglia’s Lover
Sometimes I wonder how that rascal was able to capture the heart of Miss Y/N, but I admire his enthusiasm when she comes up in conversation. Knowing him, he would show off Y/N in any chance he got and I’m surprised he didn’t drag her to Liyue to do so.]
༉‧₊˚. DILUC RAGNVIDER
ABOUT LOVER - BEFORE FALLING IN LOVE
Y/N? She sometimes volunteers at the tavern when she has the free time but she mostly works with Lisa as a librarian. She’s quite reliable if she ever wants to join the Knights of Favonius but she said she rather not get into much physical work…but I feel like she knows too much about things - actually, let me apologise, I shouldn’t have said that about her.
ABOUT LOVER - FELL IN LOVE
Y/N? She’s doing perfectly fine…What’s new? Me and her have gotten closer over the past time and decided to commit to a romantic relationship, it’s nervewracking but at the same time, it’s nice not having to walk alone after a long time…It’s quite peaceful.
[Kaeya Alberich - About Dilic Ragnvider’s Lover
Sometimes I wonder how Y/N has fun with Diluc. Like, what are the dates like? How do the conversations flow between them? How does she even giggle within his presence when he is as dead as a frying pan? But…It’s nice to see how much Diluc is opening up again.]
༉‧₊˚. KAEYA ALBERICH
ABOUT LOVER - BEFORE FALLING IN LOVE
Oh? Don’t tell me you have eyes for Y/N too. Hahaha, well sorry, she caught my eye first…maybe next time after my…..fiftieth rejection?!
ABOUT LOVER - FELL IN LOVE
Hahaha, of course I won at the end. I managed to steal her heart and now she has become my lover. Being with her is like taking a sip of the most expensive sparkling wine. Divine.
[Diluc Ragnvider - About Kaeya Alberich’s Lover
From what I heard he had been bothering her for some time and often comes to rant to me about them. But after she accepted that one date, her opinion has somewhat changed. You see, she still gets annoyed but it’s more of a worried annoyance. I just hope he doesn’t stress her out too much.]
© violettelueur 2022 - all rights are reserved to violettelueur. Do not repost, copy, change/modify, plagiarise, translate or screenshot my work : this will also include other social media/writing platforms like AO3, Wattpad, TikTok and many more.
#・❥・violettelueur#violettelueur ☕️#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#alhaitham x reader#al haitham x reader#al-haitham x reader#kamisato ayato x reader#ayato kamisato x reader#tartaglia x reader#childe x reader#diluc ragnivindr x reader#diluc x reader#kaeya alberich x reader#kaeya x reader
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If you’re willing to write for jack Hughes, maybe something like he & the reader are friends & he finds out that she’s never “finished” (like she’s not a virgin, but she just never finished while having sex), and so he wants to help her out?
Maybe you can add like him liking her before this already, but it doesn’t matter :)
Alrighty bb! I'm so sorry it took so long for me to write this, but it's my first time writing about Jack Hughes, so it took a bit longer than usual 😉 Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it 🤍 Happy New Year to all Jack H. lovers out there 🥂
[So, apparently, I find it a bit difficult to write about slow sex 🙈]
Warnings; smut 18+; fingering; protected sex (p in v);
Word count; 3.2K
[bestfriend!Jack x reader]
・✶ ｡ﾟ
What's your name? (what's your name?)
Who's your daddy? (who's your daddy?)
Is he rich, is he rich like me?
Has he taken any time
To show, to show you what you need to live?
Time of the season - Zombie
**
"Have you decided on a movie?" Jack called from the kitchen while wrapping up the popcorn.
"Yeah, all set here," you hollered back. "Just waiting on the snacks."
"Okay, I'm here now," Jack hurried over with a chuckle as you were already settled on the sofa, patiently waiting for him.
It was a typical evening spent with your good friend Jack Hughes, a bit of a tradition whenever he returned from a road trip with the New Jersey Devils.
This pattern started off a few months back when Jack had first texted you on his way home, feeling a bit down after some games resulting in losses on the road. And realising how much it affected him, you spent the next day brainstorming ways to cheer him up.
That's when the idea of a movie night came about. The goal was to find a classic, light-hearted comedy that could take Jack's mind off things. And it seemed to do the trick.
And ever since that night, after every road trip, you and Jack would meet up (no matter wins or loses), watch a movie, and then spend the night chatting about pretty much anything and everything.
If he wanted to talk about the trip, you'd talk about that. Or if he needed a diversion from hockey, then that's exactly what you'd provide.
That's just how your friendship worked - calm, laid-back, and straightforward.
With Jack, you felt like there wasn't much you couldn't discuss. Well, perhaps there were a few personal matters you'd never broached with your close friend. However, it never seemed to be an issue.
Though, on this particular evening, during the movie, your phone lit up with a text from your girlfriend, sparking a somewhat sensitive topic to your conversation.
"I swear! This guy is the one 😱 five orgasms tonight babe - I think I’m in love!!"
A smile crept onto your face as you read the message.
It was from one of your best friends, out on a date with a new Tinder match, which was somewhat a weekly ritual for her, yet this time it seemed she'd finally met someone who could meet her rather demanding needs.
"What's so funny?" Jack asked, noticing your smile and focused attention on your phone.
"Oh, it's nothing," you casually responded.
"Come on, tell me - it's clearly something amusing," your friend prodded, as his curiosity piqued.
"It's just Mel, she's on another date," you said, flashing a soft smile as you showed Jack the message, causing his eyes to widen a bit.
"Wow, sounds like she's having quite a night," Jack chuckled lightly.
"Yeah, I suppose," you shrugged, darting your eyes between the movie playing on the TV and your phone, trying to evade Jack's gaze and the topic a bit. However, Jack seemed intent on delving further into the matter.
"Well, I mean, five orgasms in one go, that's quite something," he chuckled lightly. "Depends on the person, of course."
But you found yourself biting your lip, feeling a bit out of your depth with the subject.
"I, um... I guess..." you mumbled nervously. "I mean, I... I wouldn't really know," you softly admitted, staring at your phone in your hand.
"What?" Jack chuckled. "What do you mean you wouldn't know?"
His expression shifted to one a bit puzzled as you quietly revealed your personal secret.
"Well... I haven't exactly ‘finished’... ever."
A brief silence fell between you, the only sound being the TV's credits playing in the background.
"You haven't... had an orgasm? Ever?" Jack asked, genuinely surprised by your sudden confession.
"Well... I mean, kind of - at least I think I have, by myself... but I've just never reached that... climax point with someone else," you slowly exhaled as your eyes met Jack's, giving him a nervous glance.
"Are you serious, y/n?" The hockey player stared at you, utterly baffled, prompting you to gently nod in confirmation.
Jack couldn't help but feel a pang in his heart. How could that be the case?
"It's not as if I haven't had good sex before, Jack," you attempted to explain, trying to ease the tension that had softly developed. "I just haven't... you know, reached that point..."
"But yeah, that’s like the best part! I just don’t get it... Hasn't any guy ever taken his time to make sure you had the complete experience? To give you that satisfaction?"
Your confession seemed to strike a chord with your friend, and though you weren't entirely certain why, it did provide a slight sense of reassurance.
For a while, you'd felt as though something might be wrong with you. Maybe you just couldn't reach climax during sex with someone else. However, Jack's reaction made you reconsider that notion. In a positive light.
"I suppose not..." you spoke gently, locking eyes with him. "There hasn't always been the time, you know... And every time, it seemed they were just aiming to please themselves."
But Jack wasn't willing to accept that. It didn't seem fair to you that you hadn't experienced the true pleasure of sex, if your partners hadn't taken the time to ensure your pleasure was as important as theirs.
And he could feel his mind racing as he pondered how to address this newfound information.
If Jack had to be completely honest, you weren’t just a good friend to him. You held a special place in his heart that went beyond mere friendship, even though there had never been anything romantic or sexual between you.
Truth be told, he had a little crush on you.
Over time, he found you to be someone remarkable. You showed genuine care and support for him, whether it was on the side-line of games or a shoulder to lean on outside the hockey world. And you never asked for anything in return.
You didn’t boast to everyone about your friendship with an NHL hockey player or flaunt your closeness to his family. And your lack of interest in his fame and money was one of the many reasons why he admired you so much.
So, sitting there beside you, realising that you had been missing out on something so wonderful, made him consider whether perhaps he could be the one to introduce you to the pleasures of a fulfilling sexual experience.
However, he hesitated to voice his thoughts, unsure of how you might react. Yet, before he could gather his courage, you interrupted his train of thought.
"Are you okay, Jackie?"
"Yeah, I'm just thinking..."
"About?"
"Nothing... well, not exactly nothing..."
"You can tell me?"
Running his fingers through his hair, Jack took a moment to choose his words carefully, hoping not to alarm you. Then, he tenderly brushed the smooth skin on your cheek as his gaze fixated on your lips.
"I want to show..." he breathed softly, licking his lips almost seductively. "I want to show you just how amazing it can be..."
You were slightly taken aback. Did your best friend just propose that the two of you should have sex?
Yet, Jack's deep eyes revealed no falsehood. He seemed almost dead serious as his gaze met yours again, and you had to remind yourself to breathe.
Jack was without a doubt attractive. And maybe even more than just attractive. Truth be told, you understood precisely why so many girls were constantly swooning over him. He had an incredible charm. His laughter and smile could light up any room, and his hockey-built physique only added to his appeal.
But you'd never considered that he might be attracted to you. You were simply a long-time family friend he could turn to for comfort.
However, in that very moment, it seemed you might have a chance at being something a bit more.
"What?" you asked in disbelief. "I mean, what?"
And Jack gently nodded, his fingers tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
"Y/n, it pains me to think you've never experienced just how good sex can be, so yeah, I'd love to be the one to show you..."
In truth, there wasn't much to contemplate. Though he was your best friend, you didn’t want to overthink why he was expressing a desire to have sex with you. Perhaps it was simply because he felt bad that no one had ever made you feel that way. Nonetheless, it wasn't something you'd turn down.
So, with a gentle nod and a soft smile, you gave him your consent.
However, as he tenderly guided you to his bedroom and began to place delicate kisses on your neck while slowly undressing you, Jack felt the need for more reassurance. He wanted to be absolutely certain that you were completely comfortable with taking this step in your friendship.
"You're sure you want this?"
"Yes, Jack," you whispered softly, your palms delicately finding their way to his chest.
And with a soft nod, his large hands then smoothly slid under the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and revealing your bra to your best friend for the first time. It was an intimate moment, the closest Jack had ever been to you, his soft lips touching yours, while witnessing you in this vulnerable state. It felt incredible.
The atmosphere was serene and gentle as Jack dimmed the lights in his spacious bedroom, aiming to create the most relaxed setting for you. He even put on some soothing tunes in the background, something that always helped him unwind before a tense match.
An as you were left in just your underwear, Jack gently guided you to lie down on the bed. Though he knew you weren't entirely inexperienced nor a virgin, he wanted to ensure that both of you took the time necessary. Moreover, he had to manage his own excitement. This was about your needs, so he needed to ensure he wouldn’t reach climax too quickly.
Your eyes held a profound gaze as he slowly undressed himself to his boxers and joined you on the bed, his larger body hovering over yours before tenderly placing a soft kiss on your lips.
Your fingers instinctively found his semi-long locks, pulling him a bit closer, eager to deepen the kiss. But Jack pulled back slightly, reminding himself to maintain focus and take things slowly.
"Easy there... we have plenty of time," he whispered softly, redirecting his attention to your neck instead. He kissed, sucked, and nibbled gently on your sensitive skin, allowing you to relax into the comfortable sensations.
A wave of pleasure swept over you as Jack took his time to ease your nerves, allowing you to immerse yourself in the delightful feelings. Soft sighs mingled with light moans escaped your lips as his hand massaged your breast, teasing your nipple through the thin fabric before travelling down to your lacy panties. With gentle strokes, he caressed your warmth, while withdrawing his lips from your skin to observe your exquisite face, reflecting hints of pleasure under his touch.
Locking eyes with him, as his touch grew more intense, you desired more than just gentle caresses.
"Jack..." you breathed out. "Touch me, more."
And your wish was his command.
His fingers slid under your bottoms, gliding through your folds before carefully finding your clit. Being mindful of his rough hockey fingers, he was careful as he circled your sensitive bud, causing more moans to escape your lips.
It was a sight to behold for Jack. Watching your eyes shut tightly, your expressions contorting in pleasure, as he increased his touch, he found it incredibly hot.
"Is it good, baby?" Jack whispered softly; his voice tinged with seduction.
"Yes... Yes, Jack, it's so good," you managed to voice, overwhelmed by the pleasure his fingers were providing, surpassing anything you'd experienced alone.
Under his touch, it felt incredibly wonderful. Jack's fingers worked their magic, and while most guys might have grown impatient by now, he was still taking the time needed to bring you to that peak of pleasure. He was focused on leading you to that blissful climax, feeling a rush of desire as he watched you succumb to the overwhelming sensation.
Then as he felt your body both relaxed and tense with pleasure, Jack adjusted his position slightly. Although there was a fleeting disappointment as his fingers withdrew from your sensitive spot, it didn't last long, as he swiftly removed your panties and positioned himself on his knees between your legs. Then, his left thumb found your sensitive nub again, igniting that pleasurable sensation once more. You had to let your head sink back into the pillow, feeling an unfamiliar but incredible sensation building in your lower abdomen - a feeling beyond description.
Your hands gripped the pillow tightly on each side of your head, eyes closed, as gasps and moans escaped you.
And while observing your reaction, Jack sensed you were approaching that unfamiliar peak you longed for, so with his right hand, he gently found your entrance, teasingly poking with a finger.
"Still feeling good?"
"Yes," you panted. "Yes, Jack... Please," you almost felt embarrassed by your plea, but you were completely under his spell.
And the pleasure only intensified as Jack carefully inserted two digits into your tight core, stretching your walls, guiding you towards an unparalleled level of ecstasy.
"Jack... Fuck," you moaned louder as he withdrew his fingers only to push them back in, establishing a gentle rhythm alongside his circling thumb, delivering multiple waves of stimulation.
"Yeah, that's good, baby, just relax," he encouraged softly.
It was more than good - it was overwhelming. You had never experienced the sensation in your abdomen evolve into something so intense. It seemed to expand, flooding every vein with pleasure as the promise of an orgasm slowly took hold, clouding your mind.
And Jack felt your body's reaction to his touch, the walls of your core contracting around his fingers as you neared your long-awaited climax. So, adjusting his angle, he gently curled his fingers upwards, seeking that particularly sensitive spot. And as you let out a loud moan and arched your back, he knew he'd found it.
So, he persisted, hitting that spot repeatedly.
Your mind, body, and soul felt as though they were being torn apart in a rush of ecstasy, as Jack increased his speed, overstimulating you, and causing your juices to coat his fingers.
"Shit! Jack, I think I'm gonna..." you gasped, the sensations almost overwhelming you.
"That's it, baby, come for me! Let go and show me how good I'm making you feel."
And so, you did.
With a loud, deep moan originating from the depths of your abdomen, you surrendered yourself entirely, slipping into a euphoric state as the orgasm surged through your body, rendering your mind hazy and grey.
"Fuck," you cried out as Jack's movements gradually slowed down, and you had to take a few moments to regain control of your breath, slowly coming down from the intense high, as he withdrew his fingers.
Jack couldn't help but smile, thoroughly enjoying the sight beneath him. It almost felt to scoring an overtime goal as he observed how profoundly he could pleasure you, while you opened your eyes, locking gazes with him.
"Was it good?" he asked, a mischievous grin playing on his lips, although he already knew the answer.
"Well, can't really say no to that, can I?" you chuckled lightly, summoning the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows. "It was fucking amazing, Jack... thank you."
"No need to thank me... I just wanted to make sure you had the best experience," he replied, flashing you a charming smile that could easily sweep any girl off her feet.
"Well, I must admit, you really did," you returned his smile. "But what about you?"
Your eyes couldn't help but drift to the bulge that had unmistakably formed in his boxers, feeling an urge to reciprocate the pleasure somehow.
However, Jack simply let out a soft chuckle before leaning in, hovering over you, and planting a gentle kiss on your lips.
"We don't have to do anything about that right now..."
"Why not?" you looked at him, slightly perplexed. "Jack, I want you to feel good too."
"Are you sure ab—"
"Yes, Jack..." you interrupted, leaning towards him once more, this time deepening the kiss, conveying how much you desired him.
Pulling back slightly, he nodded. "Okay... just give me a moment."
With that, Jack rose from his position, undressing until he stood completely naked, unveiling his eagerly throbbing member. You couldn't help but gasp at the sight. It was long, hard, and slightly curved at the tip, yet perfect in its own right. It complemented Jack's physique, and you felt an intense sudden need to feel it inside you.
And fortunately, there wasn't much of a wait.
Jack swiftly opened the condom packet from his bedside table, put it on, and smoothly went for the missionary position. He then positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance, before carefully pushing in.
Your hand quickly found its way to his hair again as he kissed you passionately, steadily rocking his hips back and forth, causing pleasurable sensations as he slid in and out of you.
Whether it was Jack's perfectly shaped and fitted member or the intense orgasm from his earlier touch, you couldn't tell, but before long, you felt that new familiar sensation building up once more.
And Jack found himself unable to hold back much longer.
While it had been thrilling for him to witness your pleasure, he was now eager for his own release.
And as you both sank into the mattress again, his hips meeting yours in a rhythmic pace, he felt himself nearing his climax.
Your tightening walls spurred him on, and as he lost control, increasing his speed and force, your harmonising moans and heavy breaths filled the room. He was just about to reach the peak as you moaned loudly.
"Fuck Jack, I'm about to come again," you exclaimed.
His rhythm hit you just right, and you couldn't ignore the trembling in your legs as the high took over, succumbing to your second orgasm of the night.
"Yes, come with me…"
And after a few more thrusts, Jack reached his climax, releasing into the latex as both of you let out deep moans, riding the waves of pleasure.
"Shit..." you gasped, a tear trickling down your cheek, overwhelmed by the intense sensation.
"Yeah..." Jack agreed, breathing into the crook of your neck, as he carefully withdrew and settled beside you, pulling you close for a sweaty cuddle, his arm wrapping under your neck, and he turned his head to meet your gaze.
"Are you alright?"
You couldn’t help but let out a light chuckle.
"Yes, Jack, I'm more than alright... that was incredible," you smiled at the hockey player.
"You have no idea how happy that makes me... y/n, you deserved to experience that pleasure," he took your hand and tenderly kissed it.
"Thank you, Jack, you really made me feel amazing..."
With wide smiles on both your faces, Jack then headed to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. And returning with a damp cloth for you to freshen up, he then followed by tucking you in for a cuddle. This was important to him, a crucial part of the whole experience, especially because you were his best friend, and he wanted you to know this wasn't just a casual fuck.
He showed genuine care, and you felt more than content and satisfied in his embrace.
#my asks#18+#jack hughes smut#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes imagine#nhl fanfiction#nhl imagine#nhl smut
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When Lucas Sinclair starts to apologise for missing The Cult of Vecna, Eddie initially thinks that he’s hearing things.
Well, actually, the first thing he thinks is something along the lines of ‘what the fuck are you talking about?’
It takes him almost a solid thirty seconds to even vaguely remember his campaign; the last day of school before Spring Break feels dreamlike, as if it happened to someone else, as if he just watched everything through a fogged-up window.
“Jesus, Sinclair. I’ve got an ongoing list of folks who owe me an apology since, like, sixth grade, and trust me, your name’s not on there. Can pretty confidently say it never will, okay?”
Eddie sees Steve tilt his head ever so slightly from where he’s walking just ahead of them, like he’s listening in. Spots his faint nod of approval.
Eddie can’t decide if he resents it or finds it endearing—kind of gets the ridiculous feeling that Steve’s vetting him on behalf of the kids.
“Okay,” Lucas says, and he’s smiling, but there’s a sort of sombreness to it, too. “Still, I should’ve—”
“Hey, hindsight’s twenty-twenty,” Eddie says, firmly cutting off whatever self-critical bullshit he was about to hear. He knocks his shoulder against Lucas’s, adds a dry, “Like, I would’ve been a dick about it no matter what.”
Lucas laughs, but it’s muted. Then he takes a deep breath, and Eddie suddenly realises that he must’ve been using the apology to get himself started, to work himself up to what he really wanted to say.
“I’m… I’m sorry about… about Jason and… I thought I’d thrown them all off the trail, but—”
“Oh, don’t—don’t worry about it, man,” Eddie says faintly.
There’s a flash of Jason in his mind’s eye, the savage twist of his lip as he ran into the lake; he thinks of Lucas lying to his face, the danger of him being found out, and feels sick.
“Seriously, you could’ve told them… y’know. Wouldn’t have held it against you.”
Eddie doesn’t mention that him getting caught still feels inevitable, like he’s just waiting for the walls to close in.
But right now, at least, he can breathe a little easier. The shire might be burning, but there’s people leading him through it. He’s not alone.
Lucas looks appalled. “What? No, I couldn’t—I couldn’t do that to you.”
It’s said with such conviction that Eddie has to fight through a sudden tightness in his throat—doesn’t really know what to do in the face of such undeserved loyalty.
He settles on saying, “So, how was the game?” which is embarrassingly inadequate, but a genuine question nevertheless; the past few… Jesus, however long it’s been, he’s been in permanent need of a distraction.
Steve slows his walking pace—to anyone else it might’ve seemed subtle, but Eddie’s used to noticing such things. He somehow gets the feeling that Steve is no longer scrutinising him, not exactly; his posture’s relaxed and open, his forehead free of frown lines.
It’s more like he’s simply curious about Eddie’s behaviour. The way his eyes drift over, then down to the forest floor, then back again silently seems to say what are you thinking?
Or maybe Eddie’s projecting because he asks the very same question whenever a muscle jumps in Steve’s jaw.
“Oh, um…” Lucas says hesitantly. “I was on the bench for most of it, so—”
“Quit being modest.” The quiet whir of a tape being rewound; Max Mayfield comes up to Lucas’s side. “He made the winning shot,” she tells Eddie pointedly. “It was a buzzer-beater.”
“Oh, holy shit. Well done, dude.”
From the way Lucas is staring at Max with wide eyes, it’s obvious that he’s barely registered what Eddie’s said.
“How do you know that?” he asks. “You… you weren’t at the game.”
“I, uh.” Max looks down for a moment, fiddling with the headphones around her neck. “I listened to it on the radio.”
Lucas smiles so brightly. There’s an earnestness to him; Eddie spotted it a mile away, ever since that first day back at school, when all the new freshmen were anxiously lining up to get lunch.
Max softens—her arms are still folded, but she drifts a little closer to Lucas as they walk, all studied casualness.
(Oh, Eddie’s been there before: forced to run track in middle school Phys Ed, and the only saving grace was ‘just so happening’ to run at the same pace as any boy who’d smile at him.)
Eddie catches Steve’s eye, and this time Steve gives him a very deliberate expression, nodding fondly at Max and Lucas.
Look at them, he’s saying with his eyes, as if he and Eddie are on the same team, as if Eddie at all deserves to be let in on whatever shared history Steve has with these kids.
Eddie kicks at a stray twig. You’re not going to get a lump in your throat about this, damn it, don’t be stupid.
“S’gonna be historic, Sinclair,” he says. “Last time the Tigers won a championship was, uh, lemme think… twenty-two years ago.”
Lucas stops in his tracks.
“I know that,” he says, eyes shrewd, “but why do you know?”
Eddie raises his hands with a grin, it wasn’t me, officer. “What, I can’t repeat a few years without retaining a little school knowledge?”
“Oh,” Lucas says, and it’s like Eddie can see him mentally replaying every cafeteria speech. He grins back. “So you’re a hypocrite.”
“Maybe,” Eddie says. He glances further afield, where Dustin is animatedly explaining something to Robin and Nancy. “I know you’re not gonna give me shit for it, though.”
“Huh, guess you don’t really know me,” Lucas says, and Max snorts.
Eddie smirks. “And it’s, like, doubly historic since the last person to score a buzzer-beater was—”
He cuts himself off, because Steve abruptly turns to him, like they’re in alliance, and draws a hand sharply across his neck.
But Lucas is already hooked. “What? Who was it?”
Eddie gives Steve a helpless shrug. Sorry, man.
“I’m looking right at him,” he says.
Lucas rounds on Steve. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because,” Steve says, flustered, “that was your thing, Lucas, I didn’t wanna be all…”
He trails off with a vague hand gesture, and Eddie thinks he somehow gets what he means—smiles at the thoughtfulness of it.
“That makes, like, no sense,” Lucas says vehemently. His eyes practically have stars in them. “Damn it, we shoulda got a photo.”
Steve laughs in surprise. “All right, noted.”
“I mean, Wheeler works for the school paper, right?” Eddie says. “They’ve probably got old issues. Hey, Sinclair, you could have, y’know, side-by-side photos. Yours and then…” He waves a hand at Steve. “Ancient history.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “Ancient, sure.”
“Oh, Lucas,” Max says, batting her eyes excessively, “I’d frame a picture of you. Pray to it every night.”
Lucas blushes. “Shut up,” he says, elbowing her gently; Eddie thinks that it’s the first time he’s heard Max Mayfield laugh.
Steve’s watching over them again, and his eyes go pensive when Lucas mumbles something like, “I wouldn’t mind a frame.”
The expression Steve has is something Eddie’s only seen once before, and it was on Wayne’s face. Eddie had privately dubbed it the ‘found something for your birthday’ look when he’d noticed it: him and Wayne on a road trip, Eddie not so secretly mooning over the secondhand acoustic guitar in the shop window.
“Your picture should be bigger, Sinclair,” Steve says, sounding both teasing and sincere. “My shot didn’t win a Championship Game.” In an undertone, he adds, “As Brenda so helpfully reminded me.”
Oh, Eddie’s not letting that go.
“Do mine ears deceive me? Did you take a date to a high school basketball game?” Eddie cackles. “You sure know how to woo ‘em, Harrington.”
“Hey,” Steve says defensively, “she could only make that day. Told her I had non-negotiable plans: it was either the game or it was a bust.”
Huh, Eddie thinks, that’s actually… really sweet.
Lucas looks torn between being embarrassed or touched. “You didn’t need to do that, Steve.”
“Sure I did. C’mon, you thought I was gonna go to every match and then miss the Championship?” Steve’s eyebrows furrow. “Where was Erica, anyway?”
… Ah.
“Mea culpa,” Eddie says. “She was, uh, at Hellfire.”
Lucas scoffs. “It’s fine,” he says. “Last time she was at a game, she kept shouting that she loved my tactics.” He looks out into the middle distance. “I was on the bench the whole time.”
Steve chuckles. “Yeah, I missed her being there.” He’s sporting a smile that’s somehow the perfect balance of fond and mischievous; it, quite frankly, has no business looking as attractive as it does. “We had, um, alternative commentary for every game. That kid should have a radio show.” He comes closer, adds in another aside, “Would’ve made the date more bearable if she was there.”
Eddie stifles a laugh, has a moment of respectful silence for Brenda.
Max and Lucas cut in front, keep walking until they’re almost out of earshot; Eddie hears Lucas faintly say something that sounds like, “Was I totally tubular?”, soon drowned out by Max’s laughter.
There’s a short silence.
“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve says suddenly.
Eddie blinks at him, quickly turns his genuine confusion into a bit. “What for, Harrington? My devastating wit? Devilish good looks?”
Steve shakes his head. He smiles for a moment, in on the joke, but then he looks over at Lucas and Max again, and… there.
A muscle jumps in his jaw.
“It’s just… they’ve got a lot to carry, y’know? So…” He shrugs. “Thanks.”
It’s said so quietly, so without fanfare.
Eddie’s hit with the realisation between one footstep and the next: that he’s earned Steve Harrington’s trust.
It feels… weighty.
But Eddie doesn’t mind it; he doesn’t think it’s going to crush his ribs. If anything it feels like they’re sharing a load.
“Don’t gotta thank me for that, Harrington.”
Steve smiles, pushing back his hair; Eddie’s brought back to the moment he did the very same on the basketball court, just as the ball sunk through the net, and Eddie decided fuck it, wholeheartedly embracing his hypocrisy as he jumped up and down with the band kids.
I cheered so goddamn loud for you, Eddie thinks.
He doesn’t say it.
But he keeps walking next to Steve. Feels a little young, a little bit like he’s running track—checking his pace just so he could see a boy smile at him.
#skull rock to lover’s lake missing scenes are becoming my new fave (of which i have many faves ❤️)#eddie and lucas#pre steddie#steve and lucas#steve and max#eddie and max#lumax#steddie#steddie fic#steddie ficlet#lucas and erica#steve and erica#eddie munson#lucas sinclair#max mayfield#steve harrington#steve x eddie#lucas x max
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