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weasleyreidstyles · 2 months

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on a night like tonight

wrote this for @thatdammchickennugget's hogmarch challenge using the dialogue prompt!! just a fluffy (debatable) one shot for my favourite slytherin boy🫠🫠🫠

prompt 2: "are you speaking parceltongue or am i really drunk?"

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!slytherin reader (although its not that important to the one shot, honestly)

warning(s): slightly suggestive (towards the end), alcohol consumption

~∞~ i love writing for mattheo😫 idk how i feel about this one but i enjoyed writing either way lol. and yes i titled this after a niall song (im still not over the fact that i saw him in the flesh like a whole week ago!??!?!) also happy international women's day to all of you sexy, beautiful women xxxx

The Slytherin common room was ripe with activity. The Quidditch team had beaten Gryffindor by an utter landslide (250-110), so it was only appropriate for them to throw a huge party to celebrate. The team were in the middle of the room, surrounded by their most loyal band of lovestruck followers, as they drowned in all sorts of alcoholic beverages.

Spheres of magical light littered the high ceiling, glittering like stars and creating an eerily green glow as they reflected off of the murky waters of the Black Lake. The seating areas had been cleared, and in place was a makeshift dancefloor of sorts, filled to the brim with students dancing, singing and laughing to whatever music was playing on a stereo that Blaise had brought in from his Ravenclaw friends.

You were stood against a wall beside Pansy, who was busy glaring at the girl who had draped herself against Theo's arm as he laughed heartily at something Enzo had said. Your best friend was seething with jealousy, but she was far too stubborn to do anything about her feelings for your Italian friend.

The two of them had been dancing around their feelings for months; it was downright infuriating.

"I don't understand why you won't do something about it, Pans!" You say to her loudly, so that your voice could be heard over the earshattering bass music. "I'm getting sick of the back and forth between the two of you!"

Pansy finally takes her eyes off of the floppy haired brunette, who is now whispering in the ear of the girl, with a suggestive smirk on his face. "I'd say the same for you." She scoffs and you turn to her with furrowed brows.

"Oh don't act dumb." Pansy says with a laugh as she turns towards you fully, the drink in her hand sloshing over the rim of the cup as she does. "I see the way you look at Matt. You're very obvious. Both of you are."

"I don't know what you're talking about." You say reluctantly, taking a lengthy sip of your firewhiskey to avoid her knowing look.

Had your affections for your friend really been so blatant?

And did he really return them?

You turn towards the middle of the room and the liquid in your cup is suddenly drained to empty as you watch Mattheo dance closely behind a pretty Hufflepuff girl.

You and Pansy return to your mutual solitude, letting your friends revel in their win against their greatest rival, while simultaneously becoming more and more drunk, the more you watch as Theo and Mattheo obliviously break your hearts some more.

~∞~

It's much later into the night, and the party has not died down. In fact, it only seems to have gotten busier as more and more people from the other houses joined in on the debauchery.

You are so drunk. Practically stumbling along behind Pansy as she drags you to and from the dance floor to get more drinks. The two of you are dancing on each other, her hips grinding against your's to the beat of the music as you both giggle tipsily. You're unaware of your surroundings and have surely pissed off many other partiers with your drunken moves. But it doesn't bother either of you, content to enjoy each other's company, until there is a presence behind you that has Pansy smirking cheekily at you.

You narrow your eyes at her, vision hazy as you feel hands cradle your waist, almost possessively. Looking up, you come face to face with the underside of Mattheo's sharp jaw as he says something to Pansy that you don't comprehend. Whatever he says has her disappearing into the crowd, leaving you to his mercy.

"Hello, Princess." He mumbles lowly, mouth brushing against the soft shell of your ear, causing a shiver to run down the length of your spine.

"Matty! Hi." You say, voice slightly slurred and you grimace at how drunk you sound. He only smirks before he's gently spinning you to face him.

"Haven't seen you since the start of the match. 'S been ages." He replies, voice raspy from how much he'd shouted and cheered during and after the match.

"It's not been that long." You say with a teasing smile as you take in his appearance. In place of the emerald quidditch robes he'd been sporting that afternoon, he's wearing a dark, black t-shirt which stretches tightly across his torso, emphasising his Beater physique and a pair of dark trousers drapes over strong legs. Your observation is slow and purposeful and the smirk on his face widens even further as you admire him more openly then you ever have before.

He's chuckling to himself and then says something that you can barely hear over the loud music that reverberates through the room. But the cadence of his voice and the way they almost seem to have been hissed out in a way you do not understand, makes you tilt your head to the side as he smiles.

"What did you just say?" You ask him, or rather shout so that he can hear you. He copies you with a tilt of his head as he looks down at you with his captivating onyx eyes.

He repeats it again, his hands tightening against your waist when you stumble slightly as someone jostles you in an attempt to get past, smirking when your face scrunches in confusion.

"Are you speaking parceltongue or am i really drunk?" You ask, your hands coming to rest against his firm chest when you were pushed into him.

"Gods, Princess. How much have you had to drink?" He asks with gleaming eyes. It's the mischief in them that has you opening your mouth in feined outrage.

"You were speaking parceltongue!" You accuse and he lets out a laugh as you lightly whack his chest. "What did you say!?"

"Now why would I tell you that?" He replies, his face leaning closer to your's. You can smell the alcohol on his hot breath, mingling with your own and you can feel every breath he takes as it fans across your face.

"Because I'm your best friend?" You say with a smirk as you unconsciously wrap your arms around his neck, leaning on your tip toes slightly so that you can be at eye level with him. The move has your hips brushing against his. You swear his eyes darken as you do.

"Theo's my best friend." He says in a tone of faux obviousness, mischief laced in his rough voice.

"But I'm your favourite, right? If you admit it, I promise that Teddy will never know. It can be our little secret, Matty." You tease and he's laughing again, before he says something else in that strange, reptilian voice, eyes flicking from you eyes to your lips.

You've always been my favourite, darling.

The ways his eyes sparkle, despite the harshness of the sounds against his tongue have you acting upon instinct as you surge forward and press your lips to his. It's as magical as you've always imagined, despite it being tainted by your twin inebriation. But you'll take what you can get.

Because Mattheo Riddle is finally kissing you and you reckon you could fall into a abyss of happiness as his pillowly lips caress your's with loving grace.

~∞~

The next morning, you wake up in an unfamiliar, yet familiar dorm room and Enzo is smirking at you with glee. A tanned, muscular arm is draped across your middle and you're using the other as a makeshift pillow. Your face warms as you recognise the large, veiny hand that stretches across your stomach.

"Fun night?" Your friend asks with a snicker and you flip him off in response. He leaves the room after he's done teasing you, his loud laughter echoing in the corridor. You move to stand but an arm tightens around the skin of your waist.

"Where do you think you're going, Princess?" Mattheo mumbles, his voice low and raspy from sleep.

"Well good morning, sunshine." You reply, a smile spreading across your face as you turn to face him, to find that he is already staring at you, with adoration in his onyx eyes.

"Am I still dreaming, or are you really in my bed right now?" He asks as you trace a finger lightly over his naked chest.

"Oh it's very real. And I'm sure Enzo has already told the others what he just discovered." You reply with a giddy laugh.

"About bloody time, don't you think?" Mattheo's question is muffled against the skin of your neck as he nuzzles his face there. You smile in response, giggling as pieces of his curly hair brush against your soft skin.

"I'd still like to know what you said last night." You say but he doesn't give you the answer. Instead, he rolls the two of you so that you lie beneath his toned body, strong arms caging you in.

"That's my little secret, Princess." He mumbles as he presses languid kisses down your neck and chest, travelling lower until your rendered a moaning mess beneath him.

#hogmarch challenge #mattheo riddle x reader #harry potter #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #fluff

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euovennia · 1 year

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headcanons for simon being the mom/dad friend to reader and her just eating that shit up? like yeah, that giant intimidating guy wearing a skull mask is my best friend. he’s really cute right? (he is)

anon your brain is huge and i love it, thank you for such a gorgeous request! just want you to know that your second request will be up sometime soon, i just wanted to split them! thank you again for requesting, i hope you enjoy <3

pt. 2

fair warning to anyone reading, this is my first time writing headcanons (more like a short story with bullet points because my oh my i got carried away) so please don't shoot! anyway, i've got some ideas rolling around in my head so just jump into it:

let's get one thing straight

becoming friends with a man like simon is not an easy task

while you may be somewhat quick consider him a friend because you're both skilled enough to have made to the 141, it takes a lot longer for him to also consider you a friend

the process of getting him to this point is an arduous journey and some people (probably gaz and rudy bc i can see these two being equally terrified of this man) will not hesitate to tell you to cut your losses and leave him alone

i reckon simon is the type to verbally tell you this himself

and maybe for a bit you do leave him alone

but then one day you see him sitting alone in the commons area with what you deem to be the saddest plate of dinner ever and you just crack

cue you sliding into the seat in front of him with your tupperware full of homecooked food you'd stashed away the night before

naturally he gets frustrated and a maybe a lil annoyed so he goes to leave

but then you slide your tupperware of food over to him and his movements just kinda stop as he stares at you with his typical ghost stare

think 👁️👁️

he'll push the container back toward you causing you to push it back toward him

it becomes an almost vicious cycle before he finally snaps and spits out something like, "what's your fuckin' problem?"

to most he's a scary man with an even scarier voice so that would've been where most people drew the line (let's face it though, most people probably wouldn't have sat with him in the first place)

but all you can focus on is the piss poor excuse of a meal he'd retrieved from the mess hall so you just push it back toward him one final time with a simple, "eat."

he'll narrow his eyes and straighten his posture in an attempt to scare you off but when that doesn't work he'll tell you something along the lines of, "i'm spitting it out if it's shite"

he does not spit it out

from that day on, you'll seek him out with two tupperware containers filled with whatever you'd cooked up the night before and offer it to him

the first few times he's hesitant to accept simply because he doesn't wanna get used to the unusually kind gesture but it eventually gets to a point where he just stops getting a plate from the mess hall and instead waits around for you to feed him

these small dinners you share make it nearly impossible for simon to avoid your talking

he almost debates getting up and leaving a few times but then he remembers he'd be eating soggy meat and vegetables if it weren't for you so he decides to entertain it

and to the surprise of absolutely no one he eventually starts warming up to you, even throwing in a few comments and sarcastic quips of his own

and after a long while of having these dinners with you, he decides he likes it – he likes hearing you talk, whether it be about how you and gaz hid price's hat somewhere on base and blamed it on soap or what the latest celebrity gossip is

so what does he do?

he tries to block you out

it doesn't work because you're a stubborn little shit and refuse to let him fall back into his bubble of solitude and self pity

and he eventually realizes this so he just kinda accepts it after a while (more like a week)

and the two of you become quite chummy

well

as chummy as one can be with a person as closed off as ghost

instead you always being the one to seek him out come dinner time, he'll be the one to start finding you

it's a surprise

a delightful one

but still a surprise

his short, clipped responses will morph into longer, more thought out ones as your friendship continues to develop and you can't help but notice just how smart he really is

despite his everything that's happened to him in the past, he's actually quite in tune with the emotions of other people; his observational skills are off the charts

so you'll eventually start asking him for advice on anything and everything, even if it's not something that pertains directly to you because his wisdom outside the battle field is something to truly behold

it's amazing what can be solved without heavy loads of artillery and violence!

anyway

simon quickly becomes very used to this dynamic

you two having dinner, talking about everything and nothing all at once and while he may never verbalize it, he truly does appreciate it

he'd convinced himself long ago that his life was just cursed and that the people he loved and held closest to him were always destined for terrible things so he just closed himself off

he put on the mask and became ghost whereas simon was kept tucked away in a place no one even bothered to try and discover

but then you stumbled your way into his heart with your homemade food and endless chatter and he can't help but indulge himself

maybe having a friend isn't all that bad

and so the dinners/mini therapy sessions continue

until one day you don't show up

while he is a bit disappointed, simon decides to let it go because you've had dinner with him for god knows how long now

you probably just wanted a day to yourself and he understands that so he doesn't pry

even when he barely force himself to finish the sludge smacked onto his plate from the mess hall – how was he so comfortable eating that for so long?

but you don't show up the next day

or the next

and by the fourth day simon is just downright angry

and a little sad and worried

but mostly angry

who do you think you are to waltz in his life, make yourself cozy in his extremely tight knit circle, and then just leave him high and dry with no goodbye? (wow that rhymed)

if you're gonna ditch him like this then he's gonna make sure you sit through the awkward pain of saying it to his face

he spends an embarrassing amount of time looking for you before he even thinks to check your room

he walks up to your door, fully prepared to slam that door open and confront you

but then he hears you fall into a particularly nasty coughing fit paired with a muffled groan of agony and suddenly it just clicks

you got yourself sick

tempted as he is to simply walk away, he knows deep in his heart he can't do that to you

which is why you open up your door to see ghost awkwardly standing there with a tray of hot soup, water, and some medicine

you nearly cry in your haze of sickness

you'd spend the past four days miserably rotting away in your bed and to suddenly have simon by your side offering you soup and medicine? it was almost too much

ever since that day there had been a gradual shift in your friendship

it started with you two coordinating who would bring dinner on which days

but then it turned into simon being the one to bring dinner nearly everyday

which then evolved into him finding you throughout the day and offering small snacks and drinks

but he's a busy man and he can't do this every day so he'll settle for sending a simple message of, "you doing ok?"

and most times you say yes

but on the off chance you say no he'll take a few minutes to message you back and forth until you feel at least a little better (no this is not achieved by him sending you bad dad jokes, he would never do such a thing!)

but eventually the man just gets so tired of constantly going around base trying to find you that he'll simply just start to linger around you whenever he's free

gruff words of assurance and friendly pats on the shoulder become a staple for the masked man

when the team becomes privy to the newly formed friendship between the two of you, it's almost scary

imagine this 6'4 beefy mountain of a man hanging around someone half his size just chilling

i reached the character block limit how awkward anyway

it's odd and you know it is so you'll play into it

like that time you loudly asked ghost to grab the blanket from your room while you two were sitting on the couch in the common area while the rest of the team filed in

and him immediately going to grab it while the team are completely gobsmacked when he promptly returns with your blanket in hand

cue soap asking ghost the same thing a few days later and only receiving a glare in return along with a stern, "i'm not your maid, johnny."

then he just walks away leaving soap to feel like an idiot

it becomes apparent very quickly that simon has a favorite and that favorite is you

especially when he's the one to sweep you up into a quick hug with a quick pat on your head after the team completes yet another mission

you make it a point to squeeze onto simon just a tad tighter when you see soap looking over in complete bewilderment

seriously, how did you tame the legendary ghost?

and honestly?

you're not quite sure yourself

you just soak it in because you'd be a fool not to

maybe one day you'll ask him yourself

maybe you won't

doesn't matter either way because at the end of the day you're the only one who can proudly call ghost your best friend

even if he doesn't refer to you as the same

he totally does he just never says it out loud because he's secretly terrified you don't feel the same

regardless

you two are very much attached at the hip

what with you constantly getting yourself into trouble all around base and ghost not wanting you piss off the wrong person

he is very much your guard dog and you make it everyone's problem

soap went too hard on you during your sparring session? ghost is already glaring at him

gaz won't stop bugging you when you're actually trying to get your work done? ghost is pushing him out the door

price is about to lecture you for something gaz and soap framed you for? ghost is quick to rat them out

it's sweet really, the friendship you have

it warms your heart thinking about it

and it warms his too

even if he won't admit it

he's just grateful you didn't give up on him even when he wanted you to

because he's found that, sometimes, it's nice to have a friend

and he's glad it's you

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norrussell · 6 months

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Water | Lando Norris⁴

Pairings: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: you go to your local gym hoping you'll see the new guy that also happened to become your gym crush. What you didn't expect is to find out that he noticed you too

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, some dirty talk

A/N: I wrote this in like an hour or so, so it might not be the greatest of my works, but lord knows we need it after that quali session. Also the song was a big inspo 🤪

It was getting late and the gym was nearly empty. You had come to get a workout in, yet felt oddly out of sync with your body. Despite feeling drained, you sauntered through the area, your eyes lingering on the shiny metal surfaces of the exercise equipment. You were expecting solitude at this time of night, but noticed a few others around as well.

This week, you couldn't help but notice a new face at the gym. While checking him out from a distance, he has unexpectedly become someone you kind of crush on. You couldn't deny that part of your motivation for returning to the gym was the chance of seeing him again.

And just your luck, he was already there and had started his training session. You tried not to gawk, but you couldn't help it. He moved with such grace, each repetition of the exercises looking like a dance. His muscles flexed and tensed as he lifted weights and you found yourself mesmerized by the beauty of it all.

Mustering all your strength, you moved closer to one of the machines and started performing your own exercises. You sensed him looking at you without acknowledging your presence, but it was almost as if he didn’t notice you at all. Yet suddenly something out of left field happened.

"That's not correct. You're going to hurt yourself if you keep doing it like that." it was him, speaking up in a soft yet firm voice that startled you out of your daze.

You frowned a bit, confused. "This is how my personal trainer showed me to do it."

"I'm sure he did. But that's not how you do it." he grinned. "You're only going to get pain and no gain."

"And how would you know?" what you didn't expect is to get annoyed with him, but here you were, fighting the urge not to roll your eyes.

"I'm a professional athlete, I know." you could just tell this guy relished in being right and correcting people.

"Oh, yes? And what kind of athlete are you?" you snorted.

"I'm a formula 1 driver."

Your eyes widened as he said that. You had never met a professional athlete before, let alone one who drove a formula 1 car. You tried to play it cool, but your curiosity got the best of you. "That's impressive. I didn't know we had any formula 1 drivers in this town."

"You don't," he said with a smirk. "I'm just passing through for a race in a neighboring city. I like to keep up with my training while I'm on the road."

You nodded, still in shock. You had never spoken to someone so accomplished before. "Well, I'm honored to be corrected by a professional athlete. Can you show me how to do it correctly?"

He grinned and stepped closer to you, his body heat making your heart race. "Of course. I'd be happy to help. And my name is Lando, by the way."

For the next hour, Lando guided you through different exercises, correcting your form and giving you tips on how to improve. You felt a sense of gratitude towards him, appreciating the time he was taking to help you out.

He was easy to talk to as well, and you found yourself opening up to him. He, in turn, shared his own stories, and soon enough, the conversation turned flirtatious.

You didn't know if it was the adrenaline from the workout or the thrill of being in his presence, but you found yourself wanting him in a way you hadn't before.

As the gym started to empty out, you glanced at the clock and noticed that it was almost closing time. You both were still talking, and neither of you seemed to want to leave.

"We should probably get going," you said with a hint of disappointment.

He smiled and nodded his head in agreement, but then he leaned in closer and whispered into your ear. "I know a place we can go for some privacy."

Your heart raced as his words sunk in, and before you knew it, you found yourself following him out of the gym towards the locker rooms.

As soon as you entered, Lando grabbed your hand and pulled you towards one of the empty stalls. His lips crashed onto yours and you felt your body ignite with desire. His hands roamed your body, tearing every piece of clothing that restrained him from your skin, exploring every inch as you kissed him back with equal fervor.

He lifted you up with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the cold wall. His kisses were urgent and demanding, and you met his passion with your own. He devoured your mouth, his hands squeezing your boobs and pinching your nipples. The sensation shot straight to your core, making you arch your back and moan louder.

Lando trailed his kisses down your neck, his teeth nibbling on your skin, leaving behind a path of marks. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer to you, urging him to go further.

"You have no idea how much I've been thinking about you," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

"Tell me," you whispered back, loving the way his cock throbbed against your thigh.

"Thinking about what I would do to you if I had the chance."

He pushed you against the wall, his fingers parting your folds and finding your clit. He rubbed it in circles, making you shudder against him, and when he pushed his fingers inside you, you cried out.

"Tell me how bad you want my cock, baby," he growled. "Tell me."

You gasped for air as he worked his fingers inside you, your muscles tightening around them. He brought you to the brink and then stopped, leaving you to whimper in the darkness.

"Please, Lando. I need more," you begged.

"Oh, you'll get more," he grinned. "But first, you need to show me how much you want it."

You squinted your eyes in confusion at his words. Before you could ask what he meant, he placed you on your feet and pushed you towards the wall, your hands pressing against it.

"Now, I want you to touch yourself while I watch," he commanded.

You followed his instructions, your hands exploring your body and eventually slipping between your legs. Your eyes never left his gaze, and he took his time undressing. As you teased yourself by tracing circles around your clit, imagining him inside of you, the bulge in his pants was growing bigger. Finally, he removed his shorts, exposing his thick, hard member.

As soon as it sprung forward, you pushed two fingers inside yourself and moaned at the sensation. You watched as he pumped his cock in his hand, the look in his eyes filled with lust. You smiled and continued fingering yourself, arching your back and twisting your body as you watched the way his muscles tensed.

"You have no idea how bad I want to fuck you right now."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and as you continued staring at him, he grabbed your wrist and pressed it against his cock. You bit your lip and moaned out loud as you felt the warmth of his flesh against you, stroking himself as you fucked yourself with your fingers.

He pressed his body close to yours, the heat and moisture of his skin merging with your own. His lips found their way to your neck and he kissed you ever-so-softly. You could feel his cock throbbing against your thigh. Then, his kisses intensified, with his teeth grazing gently across your skin. He suckled at your neck while his fingers dug lightly into your flesh.

"You like this, don't you?" he growled into your ear. "You like being commanded."

"Yes," you hissed. "I love it."

"I want to fuck you until you can't walk. I want you to scream so loud the whole gym can hear you. Will you do that for me?"

"Yes," you moaned again. "I will. I'll do anything you want."

"Good girl."

He grabbed your hair and forced your head back against the wall, his lips finding their way to yours again. He kissed you, his tongue pushing inside your mouth, fighting for domination. You moaned loudly, grinding your hips against his. He grabbed your ass and squeezed it, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

The head of his cock found its way to your entrance, and he didn't waste any time. He lifted one of your legs up and pushed himself inside. You moaned against him, your skin flushing as he filled you to the brim. He held onto you tightly as he thrust himself inside you, his hips pushing against yours. You sucked his tongue into your mouth, your body shaking as you cried out in ecstasy.

He grabbed your remaining leg and pulled you up against him, your legs instinctively twining around his waist. Taking both of your wrists in his secure grip, he held them above your head, your breasts jolting with each successive thrust. He sped up the tempo as time passed, his body pressing hard into yours.

You had never been fucked like this before, and you loved every second of it. The way he controlled your body made you feel more feminine than you ever had, and you felt yourself craving more.

He let go of your hands and you fell into him. You held him tight, your nails digging into his back. Your bodies were pressed up against each other, sticky and sweaty, and as he thrust himself inside you, you could feel his bare chest rubbing against your hard nipples. He groaned, his cock pulsing inside you as he held you close.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs tightening around his waist. He groaned into your lips, his eyes locking into yours. You bit your lip and smiled, whispering "Faster."

He complied and you tried to keep quiet as he fucked you harder, but it was getting harder and harder to do so. Your breath was coming out in ragged breaths, and the sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room.

He put you down and turned you around, pressing you against the wall again, his cock still buried inside of you as he planted kisses all over your back. He slammed into you quicker and harder, his hips colliding with your ass with every thrust.

With one hand still on your hips, Lando reached down between your legs and found your clit, teasing it as you came closer and closer to orgasm. You knew you couldn't hold on any longer, so you grabbed his hand and pulled it away from your sensitive flesh. He smiled and grabbed your face, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

Spinning you around once more, he picked you up and put you onto his cock, your legs wrapping securely around him. You could tell he liked to be in control so much as he took charge and started moving your hips up and down his length. His fingers groped your ass, his tongue teasing your nipples as you moaned in pleasure.

You felt him swell inside you, and your own orgasm started building up inside of you. You could feel it coming closer and closer with every movement of his thrust, until finally it arrived, crashing through both of you like a wave. You screamed in pleasure as Lando pumped one last time into you before coming hard himself, his entire body shaking with release.

Slowly he lowered you onto the floor, both of you still breathing heavily from the intense session that just took place. He took a step back to look at you, admiring every inch of your glistening body from the workout you just did.

"I guess I can tell my personal trainer that you're a better instructor than him."

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earthtooz · 8 months

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x : THE JOKER AND THE QUEEN :*+ﾟ

in which: you are the best thing to ever to childe, but what will happen when you find out the truth about his profession?

warnings: 4k wc, fluff to angst, ambiguous ending huehue, childe is a whipped loser in love, set in canon, reader has undescribed trauma with fatui (ooo), reader is not referred to with pronouns or a gender but there is a mention of 'queen' (it's up to you how you see it), mentions of violence, childe being referred to as 'ajax', argument, both reader and childe cry, aether and paimon appearance!

a/n: this one might hurt. apologies. (girl u know i want ur love...)

The sun is radiant gold when Childe walks down his peaceful, routine path, away from the bustling commerce centre and towards a peculiar place that he’s called home in Liyue. There are still a million tasks yet to be completed, but for now, his feet take him to the solitude that waits for him at the end of day.

When Childe arrives at the manor that is his residence in this foreign city, there’s a lifeless kind of calm, the rustling of leaves and flowing stream are the only things to welcome him, but he knows better. Doesn’t need to confirm it when his feet naturally take him upstairs, winding through corridors and towards the balcony that overlooks the horizon.

The view is very picturesque, overlooking the grandiose Liyue mountains that are decorated with incomparable flora and fauna, but you are there, and he can’t bring himself to look anywhere else.

You are the best reprieve for his tiring days, and although he will be returning to the Northland Bank to try and solve some of his troubles, the majority of them can be quelled by your presence alone.

“My darling,” the words slip past his lips without any trouble, and the relief he feels when you turn around and smile at him is insurmountable. Suddenly his hardships dissipate, his lungs are cleared, and his limbs don’t feel as heavy anymore (he can’t think of many people who grin up at him like you do. He hopes you never stop smiling at him like that).

Still, he walks to stand in front of you, and collapses to the floor, resting on his knees by your feet like a faithful jester to his queen. His armour drops and Childe becomes nothing but a man in love before you because there is nothing more human than loving someone more than yourself.

“Why so exhausted, Ajax?” You ask.

“The days are bothersome, my love,” he murmurs quietly, slightly muffled, but he then turns his head to look up at you, arms now hugging your calves. “But coming home to you make them infinitely better.”

“Any good home will bring you comfort,” you deflect, but your words reminds him of a distant, golden memory back in Snezhnaya. The unforgiving, snowy plains had always been his home, the frost that clung to dead tree branches, and the footsteps that he and his siblings left behind in the blankets would were memories of easier times, but here, sitting by you with a chin on your knees, is a memoir of his favourite home.

The sensation of your hand running through his orange locks take him out of his daydreams, and he melts right into your touch, blood-stained hands completely and wholly attached to you. He commits you to memory, savours the feeling of your warmth against his so he can feel it even whilst he’s away from you.

Can a home be a person?

He dares to close his eyes. Here, he is safe. Here, he can rest peacefully.

“How was your day?” Asks Childe, stimulating pointless conversation so that he could talk to you and hear your voice that will power him through the tedious night to come.

You begin to talk about the things you had to do today, about the customers you had to deal with, about the errands you still need to run, and all the pressing orders you needed to attend to- hearing it all places an aching weight on his chest. If Childe could have things his way, you wouldn’t need to work at all. You would live life peacefully by his side, without a day of stress as you roam around Liyue Harbour or anywhere else you would want to go, with him holding your arm (would you return to Snezhnaya with him?).

Alas, life is not so easy nor carefree, but you make it significantly better.

“How pretty is the sunset,” you comment. “Look.”

He almost doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to put any space between the two of you because looking at the sunset means turning around to face the rays that warm his back, but it’s you who asked him, so Childe turns around and observes the gorgeous blend of colours. He then decides that it’s nothing compared to your beauty.

“Yes, yes, splendid,” the orange-haired agrees, promptly turning back around to look up at you, with a sickening amount of love evident in his eyes.

“You didn’t even look properly.”

“I’m looking at something much more important right now.”

You shy away at your lover’s blatancy, pushing his face to the side to break his gaze. “Such unabashed flattery, do you have no shame?”

“None! None at all!”

You sigh, a smile creeping at the corners of your lips, timidity teasing Childe as he aches to see more. Reaching for your hands, he intertwines his around them, feeling light as he basks in the softness of your touch that starkly contrast the roughness of his hardened palms.

His gentle action causes your bracelets to jingle, pure gold and the finest gems of Liyue tinkering quietly against each other. They are gifts from him, he knows because he only buys the best for you.

“Will you be staying tonight?” You ask.

His gaze sadly falls to the ground as a regretful, ‘no, I won’t be’ slips past his lips. Tonight, instead of being in your company and resting beside you under the gentle beams of the moonlight, his dedicated Fatui subordinates will be with him instead. The blood on his hands will accumulate and pool by his feet as outstanding debts and scores will be settled, signed with fear and horror as the silence of Liyue sees an unspeakable monster.

Then, the monster will come crawling to you, fatigued and dirtied with an unrestrained desire to be by your side for as long as time will allow.

“That’s a shame,” you mutter and Childe winces at the disappointment in your tone. “You work too hard, you know?”

“It’s just what I need to do,” murmurs the orange-haired, “wish I could spend more time with you, though.”

“It’s alright, as long as I get to see you, I’m happy.”

He rests his cheek on your knee once more, eyes drooping close. Frighteningly quick, the fatigue he feels from all of his laborious duties catch up to him, latching onto him like a parasite. A nap wouldn’t hurt,

Nothing can take you away from him, not without a fight. He will bear his teeth, slash his swords until the blades dull, until his bow snaps in half, and until all that’s left of him is a pulp that lies helplessly on the floor, the love pouring from his wounds. Childe only hopes that his last moments are spent in your embrace.

But what will become of this warrior when you’re his opponent? What if you are the one he fights against- what then?

When you wake up one, unassuming morning, you wake up alone. No Ajax to accompany you, the only indication that he was here being the breakfast he had prepared for you that sat atop the counter top. The warmth of the meal lingers, meaning that he must not have left that long ago, and you have to wonder how he knows you so well to guarantee that breakfast is still warm by the time you come down.

Retrieving a book from the main entrance’s bookshelf, you catch a glimpse of a large box sitting on the entrance table. There is a note beside it, addressed to ‘Traveller’ and signed with ‘Childe’- the name Ajax has supposedly taken up whilst here in Liyue; a merchant name of sorts, he claims.

You mentally note to listen extra carefully for any knocks at the door, but for now, the promise of a day of relaxation and no work relieves you. Being swamped up in all of your duties meant that you kept forgetting to tell Ajax that you were free for the day, but perhaps you’ll surprise him with a filling and hearty dinner. Work didn’t seem to be all that easy for him either, so you’re sure he’d appreciate the gesture.

What you weren’t prepared for, however, was discovering a secret that your lover had been hiding from you all this time- in the form of two travellers.

The anticipated knock on the door came near noon, and two voices from the other side are muffled by the heavy material of the entrance. “Childe said no one would be home, why would you knock?” A high-pitched voice berates.

“Because manners, Paimon!” A male voice retaliates, “even if no one was home, it’s nice to make sure. We shouldn’t barge in without warning.”

“Can you unlock the door yet? Paimon’s dying to know what inside looks like! This property looks so expensive, can you even how much Mora this place is worth! I bet the inside is even-”

The conversation is cut short when you open the door with a soft click, pulling it open slightly. What you’re greeted by, however, is a blond boy with a floating companion, who both wear similar expressions of shock.

“Uh, hello!” You greet with a small smile, feeling slightly awkward.

“Hello, is this Childe’s residence?” The floating one- who you assume is Paimon, asks.

“You’re at the right place.”

“But he told us no one would be home today!”

“He would be right normally, but I have the day off work. Are you two travellers?”

“Yeah, we are! And who are you?”

“My name’s Y/n, I’m Childe’s significant other.”

“Childe has a lover?” Paimon’s eyes widen even more if that was even possible. To be honest, this whole scenario was incredibly entertaining. “Since when!”

“We’ve been together for a while. Has he never mentioned me?”

“No! I didn’t even think he could have one with his line of work-”

“-Uhm, we’re kind of in a hurry, I apologise for cutting the conversation,” the blond boy apologises, giving his companion a look before glancing back at you, friendly smile and shining eyes to match his innocent demeanour. “We’re here to pick up something.”

“Ah yes, I did see it. It is rather big, though, could I trouble the two of you to help me bring it out?” You ask, feeling rather embarrassed to bother your guests, but you don’t feel confident to carry the package alone.

“No trouble at all,” he reassures.

“We can come in, right?” Paimon asks, voice lilting up an octave as mirth shines in her eyes.

“Yes, yes, no need to take off your shoes.” You open the door wider for the two, the floating one flying in first, immediately marvelling at the interior, admiration tangible whilst the blond is a little more reserved, thanking you first before coming in.

What an intriguing pair.

“My name is Aether, and that’s Paimon. I just realised we hadn’t introduced ourselves.”

“It’s lovely to meet the two of you. Do you do business with Childe often?” Your tongue almost strains at the mention of his business name, but if your boyfriend had appearances to keep, then you needed to try to uphold it too.

Paimon flies over to Aether, joining the conversation. “You could say that. Sometimes he causes more trouble than it’s worth!”

“That sounds like him,” you huff, an affectionate smile appearing on your face. “The package is right here, but like I said, it seems quite heavy.”

“Allow me,” Aether volunteers, stepping forward to carry the box by himself. He stumbles a little due to the weight, and you hold your hands out just in case.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

The blond merely huffs before shifting the box to one arm. “No need, we’re troubling you enough already.”

“I see. I apologise, if I had known what time you were coming I would have brewed some tea for you two, Liyue has a very fine selection,” you say, fiddling with your thumbs.

“Aww! Paimon would have loved to try some!”

“Thank you for the offer, I would have liked to try some too, but we are short for time,” Aether explains.

“Then just wait here, I’ll fetch a bag for you to keep on your travels.”

You leave the entrance room before either of them have the chance to reject your offer, and you’re back almost immediately. A new batch you ordered just came in yesterday, so it did not take long for you to try and figure out which one you would like to gift Childe’s… ‘client’.

“Here,” you hand it to Paimon, who hugs the bag closely to her body. “Travellers need to be at their top shape, right? Hopefully this is something that will rejuvenate you on your journey.”

“This is too kind,” Aether begins, “thank you. We’ll make sure to great care of it.”

“It’s fine! Anyone that is associated with Childe are welcomed here, so long as they’re a nice person that is,” you laugh.

“You can bet we’re the nicest of the bunch!” Paimon exclaims. “I doubt he meets many nice people being a Fatui Harbinger and all!”

A… what?

Sensing the sudden shift in your mood, Aether’s eyes widen and he tugs at the leg of his companion. “Uh, it was nice meeting you Y/n! Paimon and I will be off now, thank you for the package and tea!” The last statement is nothing but a blend of words toppled over each other as the two practically hurry out of the estate, door slamming behind them in their rush.

Their abrupt leave didn’t impact you much though, because what did Paimon mean when she said ‘Fatui Harbinger’? Was… Ajax hiding something from you? Or is he Childe? What is the use for a merchant name, anyways? Businessmen don’t usually have identities to keep, but how dire could it be in his industry? After all, second names are only used when wanting to protect yourself from harm, to keep people from knowing who they truly were… a code name for… an organisation like the Fatui to identify them by.

You feel sick, and your hand weakly snakes up to cover your mouth, the other gripping the edge of the table for some sense of stability in your crumbling world.

Memories come flooding back like a tidal wave, drowning you in the heaviness of the thoughts that clasp around your ankle like anchors. It’s hard to push them away, to ease your mind from the nauseating images that still haunt you to this day: the desperation of your family, the cries, the helpless feeling of being a mere pawn in the game of the Fatui.

(It hurts to think that you never escaped. After finally surviving through years of hardship, you’ve returned right into the hands of those who caused it, and the thought reminds you of how defeatable you always will be.

Ajax- Childe, has likely caused devastation similar to the one that wrecked your village years ago. He has blood on his hands, the same ones that have held you tightly against him and stroked your hair. You have kissed his lips- ones that command horrendous acts for others to see through. You love his heart, the same one that probably froze over in Snezhnaya years ago.

You are with someone who has inflicted pain and suffering onto others, and will continue to do so for years to come. But worst of all, you are with a liar, who now makes you question what is and isn’t true.)

Childe returns home at sunset, the rattling of his keys against wood causing fear to crawl down your spine.

“I’m home!” His cheery voice calls from the front door, and to his surprise, you are sitting on one of the more uncomfortable couches that is merely for decor rather than functionality. “My love, why are you sitting there? There are far more comfortable seats for you-”

“Welcome home, Childe.”

He pauses in his steps and feels the world stop momentarily. “Darling? What’s with the name?” The Harbinger tries to laugh, but really, you’re scaring him. Very much so. “Come on, you know you don’t need to call me that. Here, I brought back some food that I thought you would enjoy from-”

“When were you going to tell me?” You’re standing now, slowly stepping towards him as your clothes flow with your every movement. Childe has no time to admire though, not when you and this swirling premonition in his gut is frightening him.

“Tell you what?” The pit in his stomach already knows.

“Must you act a fool?”

“To what?” He continues because it’s his first instinct to lie. “Darling, please tell me what is troubling you.”

“Please don’t play dumb, I just need the truth, especially now out of all times, are you really a…” you plead, voice trailing off as you hold yourself back from shattering. “You’re not who I think you are, are you?”

“Why do you sound so sad? What happened?” He whispers, beginning to feel the back of his eyes burn as tears invade his eyes.

“A-are you really with the Fatui? A Harbinger, too?” The words fall from your mouth like anvils and suddenly the title that brought him pride and honour through the years dulls. His eyes widen, and the gulp of his throat is all you need to know.

“I love you,” large, blistered hands desperately reach for you, aching to hold you still because he’s terrified. What if you slip through his fingers and run? What if you go somewhere he can’t follow? “I love you-”

“Just give me the truth, Ajax. I practically know, I just need to hear it from you,” you choke. The call of his name causes him to cave, a hesitant ‘yes’ slipping past his lips, crushing you with the weight of the truth. You cry first and like dominoes, his tears follow.

“Don’t cry,” he hiccups through his own sobs, hands locking around your wrists like bracelets. “I hate it when you cry.”

“Childe-”

“It’s Ajax to you,” the Harbinger pleads, grip tightening in desperation.

“I don’t know what you are to me anymore!” You retaliate, “this whole time, you’ve been lying to me when you know about what happened. I’ve told you everything, and you still decide to keep this from me!” You stumble away from him with more force than necessary, bumping into a table nearby and causing the vase that adorns it to drop. A shrill crack echoes through the room, and instantaneously, he rushes to your aid, asking if you’re hurt as pieces of fina china lay on the floor, water pooling around his feet.

Mixed in the puddle, are the anxieties and worries that come fumbling out of his mouth. He then pretends like it doesn’t break his heart when you scramble away from him.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” You ask, voice strained and quiet.

“If I had told you, would you have stayed, or would you have ran away?”

Your silence chokes him, filling up his airways with lead as he nervously awaits your answer. “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t have stayed.”

Childe’s expression glistens with sadness, so crystal clear that it makes his eyes gleam like diamonds deep from the Chasm. “I see.”

“-But I would have appreciated it hearing from you than someone else.”

“Then how did you found out?” He demands, forcing his tone to be soft.

“If I tell you you’ll go and hurt them,” you murmur. “I don’t want that to happen.”

With one look at you, it’s clear that you think Childe will hurt you too with the way you cower from him, as if he could ever lay a finger on you or even point a blade in your direction, but the vision hanging on his hip feels heavier than ever. It’s a haunting reminder of who he is, and what he is capable of.

You feel miles away, how on Teyvat is he going to pull you back?

“Who are you really?”

“I’m yours-”

“-I’m not in the mood for your flirtatious quips,” you snap, hugging yourself.

“But it’s true, I love you, Y/n, don’t you know?”

“No, no I don’t. I don’t know what else you’re lying about.”

“Oh come on,” he exasperatedly exclaims, “we’ve been together for so long, the day we met you met the real me, as Ajax, not Childe of the 11th Fatui Harbingers. What’s the big deal? Just because I follow the Tsaritsa doesn’t mean I’m not the same Ajax you know, Y/n, please.”

“It’s not only that you’re apart of the Fatui, Ajax- the world is grey, there are things I will never understand. I’m upset because you lied. Like you said, we’ve been together for so long, yet I’m only finding out about this now, so what else don’t I know?” Your voice breaks.

He takes a step forward, but you only take one back, maintaining the distance even though the Snezhnaya native wants nothing more than to just hold you, to secure his place by your side because what can he do without you?

“What else are you keeping from me? What can I trust about you anymore? You say your real name is Ajax, but how can I know that?”

Seeing you so upset, so glum, so devoid of the light that makes you you causes his heart to cease, his throat to dry, and sheer terror to flood through him.

Childe’s seen the face of death, multiple times before, yet he’s never been this scared in his whole life. He’s losing you, he can feel it, but what can he do about it? What can he say that could possibly bring you back? (What good is a jester without the throne he was sworn to entertain? You can’t desert him, he will perform a thousand tricks if it enamours you into staying, will sacrifice more of himself to you if it means you will remain here, safe and sound in his arms.)

You are the reason he returns home everyday, to make sure that you are healthy, happy, and most importantly, that you haven’t left him without a word. If he had to, he would have killed for you, fought anyone and everyone until all that remained of him was the warrior heart that beat for you. But he could have never preempted this, nothing could have ever prepared for him to be the reason that you were leaving.

“I need some space,” you murmur, “to think this all through. Give me some time.”

“What? No,” murmurs the orange-haired. “No, no, no, we can talk about this, right?”

“Talking won’t do anything, I need time alone.”

The idea of being away from you causes Childe to almost sink to his knees and succumb to the bones in his body that ache to beg at your feet to stay. The cry of your name is weak, but so very desperate as he looks at you through a blurry vision.

You’re walking towards the front door, each step you take is another one away from him, away from the paradise that he’s been gifted. There are many ways he can stop you right now, his options are far from limited and although they are physical, they are all very effective, but he surrenders instead. Drops his weapons as he lets you go.

“How long?” Is all that Childe asks.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, hand reaching for the door knob.

“No more than two weeks, please.” Childe doesn’t know if he can handle being away from you for even a day, let alone fourteen.

“I’ll try.”

“I’ll search all of Teyvat if that’s what it takes to bring you home,” he affirms, clearing through sobs just to get the words out. He doesn’t back down without a fight, that’s just who he is, so his next words are etched with certainty and clarity, hoping to pierce your defences with arrows of undying devotion. “That’s a promise.”

“I know.”

You shut the door behind you.

apologies if there is incorrect lore + if anyone is mischaracterised LOL i have only been playing genshin for like a month.

@fallenssun for u :>

#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #genshin x reader #childe x reader fluff #tartaglia x reader fluff #ajax x reader fluff #genshin x reader fluff #childe fic #tartaglia fic #ajax fic

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dirtytomatoedwrites · 7 months

Text

INDEBTED

Summary: When your father's scandal threatens your family's legacy, Rafe makes you an offer you can't refuse.

Paring: Rafe Cameron x KookFem!Reader

Strictly 18+ No Minors to Interact

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Coercive Behaviour, Choking, Graphic Scenes / Smut.

Word Count: 4.8k words

Author's Note: 1000 followers! Wow, I never thought I'd reach 1000 followers. A part of me believes that half of these are bots, but regardless, to those who are real and have decided to join me in my little corner of the Tumblr woods, thank you. Your love and support, especially during these trying times, means a lot. I had this one shot sitting in my drafts for a while and thought I'd finish the damn thing and share it as a thank you. But heed those warnings : it's a dark one. Much love to you all ❤️

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.

Embezzlement.

What a weird word.

It rolls off the tongue with an unfamiliar bitterness. It's the kind of term you'd see in a crossword puzzle, nestled between "clandestine" and "malevolent." You never imagined it would be splashed across news headlines with your family's name and the face of your father in the centre.

For years, your family was among the shining stars of Figure 8, leaders in hospitality, prestige, and wealth. Your home was the epicenter of elegance, the heartbeat of social galas. But now, news vans line the perimeter of your estate, their cameras hungry for a glimpse of the fallen dynasty. While online vultures, under the guise of investigative websites, sift through every chapter of your family's history.

Naturally, it caused a ripple, and as the waves of the scandal crashed onto the shores of Figure 8 with relentless force, family friends who once sought your company now wrestled with their association to yours. The 'friends' who once envied your galas and soirées now whisper behind closed doors.

It was the talk of every gathering. At lunches, tennis courts, even the marina; your family’s name was whispered with a mix of pity and sensationalism. Every disclosed detail, every leaked piece of evidence, threatens to shatter the glass pedestal upon which your family once stood unchallenged.

Yet, amidst the tempest of rumors and glares, your mother remains the eye of the storm. Resolute and graceful, she doesn't waver. The titan of Figure 8's social scene, she's always known how to command a room, and this scandal won't rob her of that gift.

Tonight, at the Midsummer ball, she's an emblem of defiance against the rising tide of whispers. And she does it so effortlessly. She glides through the crowd with that same charismatic charm. She smiles warmly, asking about children and recent vacations, pets, and passion projects, extending olive branches even when met with frosty receptions and curt replies.

You, however, are not as composed. The weight of judgmental gazes is too suffocating, the murmurs too piercing. The confines of the ball, with its glittering chandeliers and faux smiles, become a prison. With each passing moment, the walls seem to close in further. You need air. A moment of solitude. An escape from the suffocating pretense.

Whispering a quick excuse to your mother about needing the powder room, you slip away. The soft hum of the party fades behind you as you venture down a paved stone path, leading to the beach. The cool breeze and rhythmic waves provide solace, a stark contrast to the stifling ambiance of the party.

You had taken off the flower crown your mother had insisted you wear and were about to remove your shoes when you heard it: the soft crunch of footsteps on sand, drawing closer.

Hesitantly, you turned, finding him. The one whose eyes often sought yours in a crowd. Whose lingering gazes you'd always felt but habitually ignored. The same person who continually asked you out, oftentimes rudely and crudely. The one you had rejected, rebuffed, and shut down more times than you could count.

Rafe Cameron.

"Came to rub salt in my wounds?" you asked, unable to mask the bitterness in your voice.

"Now why would I want to do such a thing?" Rafe murmured. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, placing it between his lips. The soft flicker of the lighter momentarily illuminated his face, revealing a brief smirk before the darkness cloaked him again. "I thought you might appreciate some company instead."

The word 'appreciate' ricocheted around your mind, sounding almost absurd in this situation. Company? From Rafe Cameron? The notorious Kook King of Figure 8, a classic case book narcissist who, you were certain, had probably raised a toast to the scandal engulfing your family. At this moment, you'd rather eat glass than accept his sympathy. Rolling your eyes, you turned back to the sea, barely acknowledging his presence.

“I'm not in the mood to talk, Rafe," your voice steady but seething with restrained frustration. Your eyes remained locked onto the undulating waves before you. The smell of sea-salt filled your nostrils, and for a fleeting moment, you felt at peace. It lasts all of two seconds before Rafe opens his mouth again.

"Fine, I'll talk. You listen," he asserts, as he settles against a rock. He leisurely inhales from his cigarette before blowing out a plume of smoke into the night air. You can feel his contemplative gaze on you; it becomes evident in the softened timbre of his voice when he speaks again. “You know, it's downright shitty what they're doing to your dad. To your family. To you... I can't stand by and watch."

A scornful laugh escapes you as you finally meet his gaze. "Well, life's not exactly handing out fairness certificates, is it?"

He shook his head, "No, it isn’t. But, it still doesn't make it right. It doesn’t make it fair when your dad claims he’s innocent—”

“My dad is innocent,” you assert fiercely, standing tall, arms crossed defiantly over your chest.

“Oh, I believe he is. But the world? Not so much. Your dad’s always been good to my family. My old man took it hard when he heard. I mean, of all the people on Figure 8 to be arrested for embezzlement, your dad was the last person anyone would suspect—”

“What's your point, Rafe?” You snapped, clearly about to lose the last shred of patience you had.

"I’ve been thinking about it alot, and maybe my family can help.”

Skepticism etched itself clear as day on your face. It seemed ironic that Rafe felt his family could help when Rose and Ward shunned your parents the moment the news broke.

“And how do you propose to do that?" you asked, your voice tinged with mistrust.

Rafe shrugged, a casual gesture that contradicted the gravity of the situation. "My dad, he's got connections—”

“So do mine,” you shot back.

“But did yours play golf with Senator Whitfield every Saturday? Rain or shine? Nah, didn’t think so.”

You felt a moment of silence envelop you both, the distant murmurs of the sea a constant reminder of the world moving around you.

"Alright, I'll bite," you said with a lick of your lips. "What do you want in return? You're clearly not doing this out of the goodness of your heart."

Rafe flicked his cigarette onto the sand, extinguishing it with a deliberate twist of his shoe. As he stepped closer, moonlight illuminated his eyes, giving them an almost predatory glow.

“You've got me," he admitted, his smirk devoid of warmth. “I do want something in return. Something that has been on my mind. Something I’ve wanted for a long time now. You."

A shiver raced down your spine, a cocktail of revulsion and trepidation. Retreating a step, your voice quivered but remained defiant.

"So, you're after a date?" You clarified, eyes narrowing. The same date he'd pestered you for, relentlessly, over the past year. The same date you'd denied him repeatedly, because despite being handsome, Rafe Cameron's moral compass seemed nonexistent.

Rafe scratched his ear as he moved slowly toward you, his expression pained as though what he was about to reveal would hurt him far more than it would hurt you.

"Yeah, see, a date won't begin to cover what I'm risking for your old man, given his rap sheet is longer than my arm. No, what I want is far more... rewarding," his voice sank to a sultry whisper as he towered over you.

"And what would that be?" you asked, tension crackling in the air between you.

"I want to be able to fuck you whenever and however I want—for a month, maybe two, perhaps even a year..." he shrugged slowly, "The specifics are negotiable, but doesn't that sound fair? A little pussy in exchange for your dad's freedom?”

The slap was instinctual. Swift. The sting on your palm matched only by the shock on Rafe's face. For a split second, everything was still.

Rafe's eyes turned to steel, his demeanor shifting chillingly in a heartbeat. He closed in, his voice a venomous whisper slicing through the salty sea air. "You must have a death wish," he hissed, an unmistakable dangerous edge to his words. His hand gingerly brushed his reddening jaw, his piercing gaze never leaving yours. "Your dad's freedom? It's dangling by the thinnest thread... The right words from a senator could decide whether he walks free or becomes someone's bitch behind bars."

He paused, his gaze falling to the flower crown in your hand. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out to touch it, his fingers lightly tracing the delicate petals, an almost gentle gesture that was jarringly at odds with the tension of the moment.

"If you want to help your dad, having a friend like me might be your best bet." he murmured. "Think it over, yeah?" His gaze lifted back to yours, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Fuck you, Rafe," you whispered, disgust fueled your retreat as you stormed away, his chilling laugh echoing ominously in the night air.

"You will, princess. When you come to your senses, you will."

Rafe's lingering words pressed on you, growing heavier with each breath. The looming possibility of your father's life behind bars became ever more ominous as Rafe presented a potential solution—a solution with an inconceivable price tag.

How could he even insinuate such a thing? The mere suggestion repulsed you, igniting a fury at Rafe's audacity. Yet the unease gnawing at your belly made you question: to what lengths would you go to save your dad? With your family facing disgrace and teetering on the brink of bankruptcy, Rafe's proposal offered a faint glimmer of hope, even if it took the ugliest of forms.

In the solitude of your bedroom, the pristine walls seemed to close in, just like the midsummer ball. Picking up your phone, you stared at the screen, the bright white light harsh against the dim setting. The contacts list stared back, an overwhelming list of names, none of whom had reached out during your family's time of need.

You scrolled, hesitating briefly before landing on Rafe's name. A whirlwind of emotions — from anger to desperation — consumed you as you pressed on it. Trembling fingers typed, deleted, and retyped a message multiple times, finally settling on the simplest of words.

"We need to talk."

Almost immediately, three dots danced on the screen.

"Tomorrow 7pm, Tannyhill.”

Was Rafe’s curt response.

You could barely sleep that night, as your mind raced, forming what you hoped was a semblance of a plan. You needed to negotiate on your terms, to retain some shred of dignity. It wasn't a detailed strategy, but it was enough to at least get through Rafe's offer with your sanity.

The next day as you approached Tannyhill, you whispered silent affirmations to yourself, reaffirming your resolve, your worth, and the necessity of your mission.

And then, there he was. Rafe Cameron, leaning casually against the frame of the ornate door, a picture of wealth and arrogance, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within you. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you in the impending darkness of the evening.

Rafe opened the door for you, his face betraying a flicker of something you couldn't quite read, but there was no turning back now. You stepped in, ready to negotiate with the devil himself if it meant saving your family.

"Where's everyone?" you asked, there was no point in exchanging pleasantries. Nothing about the situation was remotely pleasant.

"Movies. You know, I hadn't expected a text from you so soon." his voice dripped with condescension, "I was betting on at least a week or two."

"Yeah well, it is my dad's life on the line," your footsteps echoed with purpose as you followed him into the living room, eyes steeling for the battle ahead. "The sooner we finalize our agreement, the quicker you can pull whatever strings you have, right?"

Rafe spun around, his gaze locking onto yours. The sly curve of his lips unsettling. "Sure, I’ll make a few calls,” he stated, voice dark and sardonic, "but it'll depend on the terms we agree to."

"Alright…” you braced yourself, your arms folded trying to regain control. "Let's start with how lon--"

“A year,” Rafe cut in, not breaking eye contact.

"That's out of the question. A month," you shot back.

His chuckle resonated with an underlying seriousness, his eyes narrowing in focus "Sure, we can say a month. You willing to fuck me at least twice a day? No? Then eleven."

You straightened your back, your resolve hardening. "Two months, tops."

His eyes gleamed as he considered your counteroffer. "How about this, we keep our little arrangement going until your dad's free. It could be a month, maybe two…” he shrugged nonchalantly “It might even be a year. It depends on how soon he’s out. What do you think?"

You hesitated, visibly weighing the implications of such an open-ended commitment. Your dad’s charges were serious. The chances of those charges disappearing and him being released in a month seemed like a miracle. "What if it drags on for years?" you whispered.

Rafe’s grin grew more pronounced, relishing your distress. "Well, princess, that's for you to decide. You can always walk away whenever you think it’s unbearable. Does that seem fair?"

"Okay, fine. Now about condoms--”

“Not using them--”

“Oh, we’re using them. I’m not interested in having your kid, Rafe, and I’m certainly not interested in catching anything from you.”

“While I should be fucking insulted” he said dryly “I always glove up and get tested regularly too.”

“Okay, so why are you suddenly against using condoms with me, then?”

“Because I promised myself…” he said slowly, his voice lowering as he made his way towards you, “If I ever got the chance to fuck you, I'd do it raw.”

Your jaw clicked, your hands itching to slap him again. “Weren’t you fooling around with Letizia a couple of weeks back?”

“Yeah, so? I was gloved up.”

“I don't care. You've slept with half the girls on figure 8. I want you fully tested before we even think about doing anything. Condoms every time, no excuses.”

“Alright. I’ll get tested. Condoms while fucking, no condoms for blowjobs.”

"Yeah, about that, I'm not doing oral.'” you said folding your arms in resignation.

Rafe's eyes bore into yours, annoyance coloring his features.

"No. No. You don’t get to dictate how I fuck you." he snapped, his voice taking on edge of authority. "Look, i’m willing to let you negotiate a few terms, give you some semblance of control but it’s got to be worth my while, and for it to be worth it, I get to fuck you how I want, when I want.”

You swallowed, feeling your resolve waver.

"Now, here's what I want to make this deal work: when I call, you answer. No matter the place, no matter the time. You show up. Clear?" Rafe said.

You paused before giving a hesitant nod, the magnitude of your agreement dawning on you.

"And if I ask you to wear something specific, you will. No questions. We have a deal?"

Your throat tightened as his demands began to overwhelm you, but you managed a brief nod in response.

"Remember, fail to meet my terms, and our deal ends. Understood?"

Another nod.

"Anything else?"

“When will you make the call?” you asked quickly.

“After our first session,” he proposed, his smile revealing a hint of anticipation. “After that I’ll do whatever I can to make sure your dad’s free”

" I want proof. I want proof that you’d stick to your part of the deal.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it.”

“Good." you said as you took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Get tested and send me the results," you responded, you're tone neutral, treating it as a standard business transaction. "I'll do the same. We can then choose a time and date."

Rafe nodded in agreement, his gaze intense and piercing.

You extended your hand towards him.

"What's that for?" he chuckled lowly.

"A handshake. To seal the deal."

Rafe reached out, his arms enveloping you in a firm yet tender grasp, pulling you against him. It took everything within you to not push him away. "How about we seal this deal with a kiss, hmm?" he murmured, "Especially since we'll be doing a lot more than kissing very soon."

Rafe leaned in, letting his lips graze yours. But you stiffened, instinctively tilting your head so that his lips met your cheek instead. A soft chuckle escaped him as he retreated just a fraction.

“Ah ah” he chided. With his fingers gently but firmly cradling your jaw, he directed your face back to his, an unsettling tension growing palpable between you.

"Play. Nice.” he whispered, his voice considerably smug. "Kiss me. Like you mean it." It wasn't a mere request; it was a command that left you feeling completely cornered.

A battle of wills ensued; neither of you making the first move, both of you waiting for the other to blink first. Rafe's eyes never left your own as he leaned in once again, his determination clear.

His tongue gently pushed past your parted lips, and you allowed it, setting off a delicate yet conflicting dance between your tongues and lips.

Groaning into your mouth, his eyes shut as the kiss deepened, carrying an undeniable intensity. He sucked on your bottom lip, nipping at your tender flesh until his tongue lashed hungrily against yours sending a peculiar mix of tingles and dread coursing through you.

Finally, you pulled away from the kiss, catching your breath while your chest heaved. Rafe remained close, his lips just a whisper away from yours, his breathing matching your intensity.

"I'll get tested first thing tomorrow," he whispered, his voice thick with urgency and desire. "Make sure you do, too."

"All clear."

That was the message Rafe sent you two days after your heated conversation, accompanied by a screengrab of his test results. Without hesitation, you replied, sending him your own results in return.

As your fingers tapped across the screen, a surge of disgust washed over you. The very idea of being intimate with Rafe was anything but appealing; it fact, it made you feel sick.

You'd never choose Rafe of your own volition. Sure he was handsome but his excessive drinking and drug habits were repellant, and his disdain and bullying nature towards the Pogues was disturbing. None of his qualities were remotely attractive, let alone fuckable.

But then, the stern, resilient part of you asserted itself, urging you to focus on the goal at hand.

This was not about you or Rafe; it was about orchestrating your father's release from prison, a critical mission where failure wasn't an option. With this clear objective ingrained in your mind, you steeled your resolve, preparing yourself for what lay ahead.

When he proposed meeting up that same night, you didn't find it strange given Rafe's impulsive nature. However, the location he suggested did catch you off guard.

It wasn't Tannyhill, the somewhat familiar and comfortable place you had anticipated, but instead, an unfamiliar address. The randomness of the location set off tiny alarms in the back of your mind, making you wary but you took a deep breath, quickly typing out your response-

"I'll be there."

It wasn't just any random address, as you initially thought.

At the front of a gated tree-lined drive stood a prominent sign declaring, “Cameron Developments.” The freshly poured concrete and stacks of lumber clearly indicated that it was a home under renovation.

As you made your way along the winding path, unease gripped you, but the sight of Rafe’s truck haphazardly parked near the entrance reassured you that you had indeed reached the right place.

The estate was draped in an unsettling darkness, punctuated only by the soft chirping of crickets, the distant hoot of an owl, and the sporadic glow of work lights from inside, hinting at the ongoing renovations.

Exiting your car, you took a moment to absorb the scene before approaching the house. With each step towards the porch, your heart rate quickened. But before you could even announce your presence, the heavy door groaned open, revealing the looming presence of Rafe.

His expression, obscured by the shadows and dim work lights from within, gave away nothing. Without a word, he stepped aside, allowing you to enter, then closed the door and locked it.

A knot formed in your throat, a cocktail of dread and adrenaline. Pushing the mounting fear aside, you gathered your voice, attempting to sound braver than you felt. "Alright, let's get this over with," you said.

A wicked grin tugged at the corner of Rafe's lips. You felt an icy dread settle in your chest. "Oh, we will," he murmured, "But first, I want to play a game... to make things... interesting." The atmosphere grew heavy, oppressive.

"One minute" he said, as he cracked his neck from side to side, his eyes boring into you. "You get a one-minute head start and after that, after that--" he sighed happily "I'm coming for you. Run."

Panic gripped you. "Run? What? What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean run?" you stammered, your voice edged with rising panic.

But his eyes were cold, devoid of humor or empathy. He leaned closer, his voice a menacing hiss that left no room for interpretation. "Run."

A rush of adrenaline hit you, and without another word, you sprinted past him as if your very life depended on it.

You had no clear destination in mind, only the primal instinct to run and hide. Every fiber of your being was attuned to survival. Heart pounding in your chest, you sprinted up the grand staircase, taking the steps three at a time, feeling the weight of your own desperation in every leap.

At the top, a maze of doors and hallways stretched out before you. You lunged for the nearest one, finding yourself in a dimly lit bedroom freshly painted in white. Shadows danced on the walls from the solitary work light, and your gaze immediately snapped to a closet on your right.

Without hesitation, you slipped inside, gently closing the door behind you. The smell of paint and cedar filled your nostrils. Placing a trembling hand over your mouth, you tried to muffle the sound of your heavy, ragged breathing.

Gently, so as not to make a sound, you nudged the slatted shutter doors of the closet closed, leaving only thin slivers of the room visible – distorted, but enough to keep watch.

The ominous sound of footsteps reached your ears; they were methodical, unhurried. Rafe was searching, savoring the hunt. You watched in horror as his elongated shadow, cast by the work light, drifted across the closet. A cold sweat formed on your forehead, and you had to fight back the urge to gasp as the shadow paused momentarily by the closet doors.

After what felt like an eternity, the shadow moved away, and you heard his footsteps retreating. Letting out a silent sigh of relief, you gave yourself a moment to gather your bearings. But you knew all too well you couldn't remain hidden for long; he would inevitably retrace his steps and find you.

Gathering your courage, you carefully eased the closet doors open and quickly scanned the room for an escape route. Your heart pounded violently in your chest as you made your move. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you tiptoed across the room, avoiding the creaky floorboards that might betray your presence. But the moment you stepped out of the bedroom, you collided with a solid mass.

Rafe's eyes pierced through to your soul, pure hunger reflected in them as he stared down at you. His hand clamped around your throat, pulling you close as the smell of your fear and his cologne filled your nostrils in a nauseating mix. His lips crushed against yours, ravaging your mouth with an intensity that nearly made you faint.

As your fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, you frantically writhed in his grip. Your fists relentlessly pounded against his arm, trying to get him to relinquish his hold on you, but it was no use. In one swift motion, Rafe backed you into the bedroom and forcefully dragged you to the floor, your fingers wildly clawing at his arm as you searched for any type of leverage you could find.

Rafe ravished your neck with unbridled hunger, his other hand violently tugged at your skirt and panties, scraping the skin of your thighs until finding your moist center—the slippery wetness signifying your surrender to pleasure. Rafe groaned as his fingertips slid through your slick folds and into you causing you to gasp at the white-hot jolts of pleasure.

"For someone who's only doing this to save their dad, you're soaked..." Rafe laughed breathlessly, trailing a line of wet kisses up your throat. "All that sanctimonious bullshit about what you will and won't do and look at you, fucking dripping for my cock—”

"Fuck you!" you screeched, a potent mixture of embarrassment and venomous rage coursing through you has you writhing beneath him, your determination to push him off almost frantic.

"That's it—fight back," he jeered, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "Fight back. It'll make this all the more satisfying."

You kicked and screamed, only for Rafe to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. His hands connected your wrists together over your head. In a single move, he flipped you onto your stomach and straddled you from behind, his erection pressing against your ass.

One of Rafe's hands tears off your panties, your screams in protest seize immediately as Rafe stuffed the flimsy cotton into your mouth.

"There" he taunted with a sinister chuckle, pressing you down further as you desperately attempted to wriggle free. You strained to let out a scream, your voice stifled by the makeshift gag.

That same hand worked feverishly to free himself from his pants. You could feel the throbbing heat of his erection at the cleft of your ass. Could hear him tearing open the condom packet with his teeth, the necessary prelude to satiating his ever-growing hunger.

Not too long after he was grinding the head of his cock against your wetness while you fought to express your protests through the gag.

"No, no, this is what we've agreed to. What you agreed to..." Rafe's breath hitched as his cock slid over your weeping slit. With one hard, raw thrust, barely allowing you time to adjust to his girth, he plunged himself deep inside you.

He wasted no time, immediately beginning his relentless thrusts, utterly indifferent to your muffled struggles behind the gag. Your body writhed beneath his weight, your movements punctuated by desperate grunts, the hardwood floor beneath you offering no mercy.

After a brief moment, Rafe released your wrists and drew you closer, his grip on your hips unwavering as he continued to drive into you with unrelenting force. Your head spun as you gradually surrendered to the powerful cadence of his movements. His hands clung to you possessively, guiding both of you in a desperate, synchronized dance. Every nerve in your body ignited, primal heat surging from deep within.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as your body succumbed to his unyielding force. Despite the freedom of your hands, you found yourself paralyzed, incapable of resisting or offering any form of resistance. Instead, you relinquished control, allowing Rafe to claim you entirely.

"I'm gonna fucking cum. I'm gonna cum. Cum with me," he growled through gritted teeth, his tempo increasing to a punishing pace.

You weakly shook your head, 'no,' your determination unwavering as you fought to maintain control over your desires. The mere thought of your pleasure becoming entangled with his, sullied and exploited for his depraved fantasies, was something you could not bear.

"Oh, you'll cum-" he sneered.

In a sudden, ominous gesture, he swiftly removed his leather belt from its loop around his pants and coiled it around your neck, pulling and winding it tightly around his fist.

"If you want to breathe, you'll cum," he snarled, pounding you with relentless force. The room was filled only with the sound of your choked gasps for air, Rafe's ragged breaths, the creak of the leather as he tightened his grip, and the rhythmic punishing slap of his hips against your flesh. You fought with every ounce of your being not to succumb to your impending orgasm, tears streaming uncontrollably from your eyes as you waged a futile battle.

The room reverberated with your agonized screams as your orgasm overtook you. Your muscles tensed and quivered beneath you, each wave of pleasure crashing over you like a violent tsunami drowning you. Your fingers clawed at the belt constricting your throat, the leather biting into your skin and to your abject horror, you were gushing around his cock as you climaxed.

Rafe fucked you with a feverish frenzy, burying his face in the back of your neck. With a triumphant roar, Rafe's orgasm struck, and he shuddered against you, muffling his moans of pleasure into your skin as he stuffed his cock deep.

Sated and content, he collapsed on top of you, his breathing heavy and labored, the condom filled with his cum. After a moment, he withdrew and shifted to lie beside you.

Summoning every ounce of strength you had left, you managed to free yourself from the tight confines of the belt and the stifling gag that had cruelly silenced you. Every fiber of your being, every muscle in your body, screamed with raw pain as you gulped in fresh air, each breath feeling like a hard-won victory. Tears of relief and anguish streamed down your face, and with a shaky hand, you hastily brushed them away.

The room seemed to sway, a disorienting blend of fear, relief, and vertigo threatening to drag you into terrifying darkness.

Yet, slicing through the fog of your distress was the haunting sound of Rafe's laughter. His voice was breathless, yet unmistakably gleeful. His fingers, dampened with sweat, raked through his messy hair, highlighting his heightened state of manic exhilaration.

"Next time," he grinned, a chilling promise lacing his words, "Next time, we'll use rope."

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

Thanks for reading x If you enjoyed it please like/reblog/drop a comment would love to know what you think. Until next time ❤️

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe smut #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #dark!rafe cameron #obx fanfiction #obx #18+ read #dirtytomatoedwrites #dark rafe cameron #smut warning

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chiliyue-archived · 6 months

Text

cause i love to love, to love, to love you

↬ in which you have him all lovesick and smiles

includes; dazai, chūya, atsushi, fyodor

notes; i am gonna pretend i didn’t disappear for 2-3 months. this has been in my drafts for so long :( i tried to clean it up as much as i could but it’s really old jfjdks

DAZAI

dazai appears happy. present tense.

his typical inquiries for double suicides came to lessen to conscious degree, substituting in drinking sake together when the sun cowers, nothing but a string of nonsensical chatter proceeding each sip.

he was sticky like that: unannounced visits, impromptu phone calls, sudden changes in his schedule to accommodate yours. in any case, he isn’t one to shy from stooping as low as whining if it rewards him with your familiar face.

( his windpipes splinter before he could mutter it out loud, but the solitude that’s wedged deep in his bones for so long felt lighter when you were near. he questions how long such benevolence would last before becoming sullied by his hand… ).

…and yet all things considered, it hasn’t deterred him from courting you nonetheless. at times he can’t help but think he’s taken a bite of his own medicine when he’s the one skipping around like a helpless maiden.

and yet again in spite of it all, his brazenness remains perpetually untouched as ever. he entertains different approaches if only to coax out a new reaction from you and he’s not bashful in the slightest. so much so, he remains unruffled even under the scrutiny of your coworkers.

. . .

“ this is highly unprofessional.”

“ don’t be so mean, bella. don’t you know how much i missed you?”

your eyes flit down to the man currently using your lap as a headrest, the rest of his body stretching over the expanse of the couch. he was shameless, that much was certain, but his ability to remain unperturbed whilst in his lovey dovey state was impressive. you cocked a brow, sighing.

“ osamu.” his lips visually twitched at the call of his name; it’s a word warm on your tongue but leaves the hairs on his nape at your mercy anyway. " you saw me fifteen minutes ago—”

“ twenty.” he corrected, cheeky (and quite frankly, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled that number out his ass). “ but it was the longest twenty minutes of my life.”

he was unrepentant as ever, experimentally positioning his head to rest on the plush on your thighs. by muscle memory, he began to absently draw shapes wherever he could reach, a crude rendition of stars decorating over the bend of your knee.

he smiles innocently when you squint at him, the gleam in his eyes unwavering. “ only a couple more minutes and i would have been yours,” you mutter out, your voice not as sturdy as you hoped. “ at home.”

dazai almost turns pouty at that. almost. “ but my love, i’ve missed you like crazy. twenty minutes is too long, how can i possibly manage?” the words come out through a breathy exhale and you watch as his lashes kiss his cheeks when he flutters them closed. “ all i could think about is you. and now i have you right here.” he hopes his words carry as much truth as the way his heart does, scurrying away the cold that's mocked him for so long. “ can’t we just stay like this a little longer? pretty please?”

resigned to your fate, you could only clamor your palms over your features— if only to salvage your waning dignity from your coworkers.

unfortunate though… that in doing so you miss the blissful smile curling on his lips as he peeks at you from below. and atsushi notes(after throughly grimacing, not expecting him to be so blunt), it reaches his eyes too.

CHŪYA

" chūya-"

" you can't flirt with me. i have a partner."

terse, stubborn and slurred. if the groggy voice wasn’t enough to confirm your suspicions, the shit-face look belonging to your boyfriend did. he was drunk. wasted if you were to speak bluntly.

in truth, it really doesn’t come off as much of a surprise; his ability to hold his liquor was nothing to brag of (despite what he may profusely argue) and you’re half-convinced he’s already forgotten his own name.

still, you don’t loosen your grip on his sleeve even under the figurative holes he’s burned with his stare. “ chūya. i am your partner.”

“you—! wha-!” his voice erupts into a sudden warble, eyes akin to saucers. " you… you are??"

he takes what’s left of his thinning rationality to study you proper; the style of your hair, your clothing, the smell of perfume/cologne, the familiar quirk of your lips—

oh, he thinks as you push back the loose bangs veiling his face. he doesn’t make any attempts to move, feet stalled and eyes blinking, evidently stunned.

you decide to press on. “ do i look familiar now…?” the lilit of your voice grazes against his ear, plucking out a faint memory tucked somewhere in the crevice of his fuzzy head.

oh. he thinks twice, the stern look bruising his face thawing.

without realizing it, he squares his shoulders in any attempt to remedy his current disheveled appearance, slumped posture pulled taut in— what he hopes— was a more put together frame. conversely, he wobbles on his feet when you continue to eat away at the distance, the ghost of your touch pushing pinpricks into his skin.

“ you’re- you’re really all mine…?” he cringes as soon as it leaves his mouth, coming off eager and hopeful. something like a laugh escapes you and he can’t tell if that’s what made his stomach turn or the alcohol. perhaps both.

“ that’s what i’ve been trying to tell you. you’re so stubborn when you’re drunk.” you punctuate the words with a kiss to his cheek, now warm with revelation. chūya, exhausting the last bits of his energy, shrinks beneath it, a gloved hand clutching his reddened face defensively.

“ why haven’t i made you my spouse yet?” he remarks it so suddenly, you nearly choke on air. he can’t even comprehend what you say thereafter or register the look beginning to contort your features, nothing but liquid courage keeping him afloat.

but- well, if there’s anything the haze trotting his head and his thinning cognition could agree on, it’s that your ring finger appears a little too barren for his liking.

( but not for much longer, he hopes )

ATSUSHI

the sudden change in atsushi’s behavior was a notable observation within the ADA, many of whom watched as the weretiger became stupefied by a face belonging to you. it wasn’t long before concluding it was all the result of a crush; the culprit of which being atsushi himself who played his hand poorly at discretion.

the lovesick chatter would leave his mouth without much rationality, waxing of "[name] this" or "[name] that," and effectively becoming on the receiving end of his praises. it was almost a routine of sorts, occupied by stutters, belated responses and his fidgety footfalls. by the end of it, he fruitlessly attempts to steady his rabbiting heart— if only to stop his blush from staining beyond his cheeks.

even now as he silhouettes by the agency door, the rattle of rain is deafened by the rush of blood to his ears. he anxiously worries the handle of the umbrella in his palms, bouncing from one sole of his feet to the other. should he just ask you? maybe he should wait… now that he thinks about it would be more appropriate to just leav—

“ damn it.” he perks at your sound of displeasure, his heart spiking. “ so much for leaving in a hurry…” you stiffen, realizing you have nothing but a coat protect you from the weather. the flimsy jacket you hurriedly plucked from your wardrobe only added flavor to your disappointment.

atsushi doesn’t miss the opportunity; his feet carries him to you before the unpleasant voice lurking deep in his subconscious bullies him otherwise. “ we can share,” he gestures to his own, silently praying his voice was leveled. it wobbles anyway and by now his knuckles are sheen white as a product of his nerves.

with the organ jumping around in his chest, he almost doesn’t register your ‘thank you,’ only that his fingers were quickly undoing the straps of the umbrella before you could change your mind ( he impulsively bought it earlier that day— his previous pair worned out and far too tiny for two people. but when you thank him with a kind smile, hands slightly brushing with each step, he argues it was the best 800 yen he’s ever spent ).

… that said, a more appropriate question is how you managed to remain naive to all his pining for so long— he’s become despairingly obvious against his own good and yet he can’t find it in himself to change himself, a perpetual lovesick look copy and pasted whenever you entered his proximity.

the same can't be said to everyone else however and he wasn’t particularly pleased when he caught wind of the bets exchanged among his treacherous colleagues. he fears it's only a matter of time before one of them blabs their tongue to you. at this rate, perhaps one of them should.

. . .

" y'know atsushi," ranpo once said, offering his companion a gleaming simper. " you reallllyyy talk about [name] a lot."

"oh.”

his heart flutters, eyes slowly blinking.

" yeah,” he smiles. “ i guess i do.”

FYODOR

" you've been awfully quiet, my dear." fyodor’s voice was just loud enough over the sound of clashing cutlery, fixing you a gaze of genuine interest. " is the meal not to your liking?"

you feel your lips twist into a frown. for being attentive, he (for once) falsely saunters pass the source of your displeasure, failing to recognize the extent of your internal woes. " no- no-" you fidget with your fingers, ignoring the way your propped elbows skidded against the table. the behaviour doesn't go unnoticed by the former, who takes it upon himself to hook his index fingers with yours. “ there’s something i’ve been meaning to ask of you. a… request of sorts.”

“ what is it? i’ll have it shipped to you by the end of the week,” he offers generously though it quickly fades into a confused hum when you shake your head at the proposition.

" it isn’t something you can buy…” you drop your gaze from him to the scantly poked portions of cuisine on your plate. fearing he may misinterpret your words and assume it to be unattainable - perhaps gifting you something ludicrous as a piece of land - you amended quickly. " it’s not what you assume to be either.”

at that, he bums questioningly. “ then what displeases you, my darling?” he provides a faint squeeze to your hand, igniting something warm and paradoxical to his thin layer of frigid skin. “ what can i offer to rid you that frown?”

" just your company.”

" my company?"

" yes." perplexed, he cocks his head; an invitation. willing an inhale to your lungs, you took a moment to gather possession of your words. “ these days you've been rather occupied. i was hoping for perhaps… if we may spend some time together?"

fyodor appears vaguely surprised by that, something unfamiliar fortifying around him. requesting his time felt like a hefty expenditure just in itself and it wasn’t too far fetched to assume he’ll disregard it in favor of some plot embellishing deep within his brain. but a swift refusal never comes.

“ i see,” he finally says after a brief pause. his voice was so soft you wondered if it was meant for you to hear.

it's grows quiet before he speaks again, the fingers curled around your hand withdrawing but not before providing the tips a delicate squeeze. " i can arrange some time tomorrow for you,” he proffers. “ will that satisfy your request, myshka?"

hardly anything can catch fyodor off guard, but something had to be said in the way you brightened at the suggestion, a deep curve coasting over your lips. how pleasant you are.

" yes," you hastily replied, dipping your head slightly. " more than perfect. thank you."

the way your lineaments crossed into a smile was always enduring to observe — exasperated, but one he wouldn’t mind seeing tomorrow knowing he was the cause for such elation.

( idly, he wonders what he can do to see it again ).

A/N !

i’ve been meaning to post this for months but it’s so old & i never quite (and still kinda don’t) liked it :(( fyodor’s is bit ooc jfjdkskla

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renoed · 4 months

Text

sweet tooth | halsin x reader

❥ — PAIRING halsin x afab! reader

❥ — SUMMARY Halsin had been tiptoeing around your advances since you had met; he had made his eagerness clear to you but refused to follow through with it, always with something else on his mind. The more he opens up to you, though, the weaker his resolve is to stay entirely focused on other, supposedly more important matters.

# NSFW, MDNI: smut below the cut, outdoor sex, food play (specifically honey), oral sex, spit, praise, fingering, finger sucking

"If I manage to break the curse… perhaps then I can show you just how grateful I am."

Halsin had been tiptoeing around your advances since you had met; he had made his eagerness clear to you but refused to follow through with it, always with something else on his mind. The more he opens up to you, though, the weaker his resolve is to stay entirely focused on other, supposedly more important matters. It isn't until tonight that you notice it.

When you set up camp, you notice that he's put his tent quite a distance away from anyone else. You often found him in a location that was further from everyone (he liked his solitude, you assumed), but the space between your tent and his would make it seem as though you were strangers. From your place next to the campfire, you could hardly see more than an outline of the druid.

It's when he doesn't join you for food that you begin to worry - had he decided he didn't want to travel with you anymore? Was he going to leave without warning?

"Gale," you grab the brunet's attention after you finish eating, "thank you again for cooking. I was wondering: do we still have that honey? I remember Halsin saying he has a sweet tooth—I thought it might be appreciated."

Gale's lips quirk up at your question, a suggestive eyebrow raising as he answers your question, "I believe we do, you should be able to find it—unopened—in that trunk besides the other camp supplies. I hope you make better use of it than I have."

You try your best to ignore the implication of his words, but suddenly the camp fire feels a lot warmer and the cool breeze is soothing against your cheeks. As you walk off, mumbling a thanks, you hear a light laugh from the wizard.

With a jar of honey and a small satchel of berries (you had remembered picking them up a few hours prior, excitedly rummaging for them in your bag) in your hands, you stood a few feet away from Halsin's tent, trying to find the courage to start a conversation. Usually it didn't feel difficult; if anything, you found him to be one of the easiest to talk to. But with the thought of him no longer wanting to travel together—no longer enjoying your company—it was as though you had become enwebbed, unable to move closer.

It felt like you were there for tens of minutes before Halsin appeared from his tent, turning to look at you, a soft 'oh' leaving his lips.

If you weren't already stuck in place, you had become so when his eyes met yours.

"I didn't realise you were here, apologies," his voice is gentle and he steps towards you in the dark, "did you need something?"

You look down at the jar in your hands and will yourself to speak, "You didn't eat with us, so I wanted to make sure everything was alright, I suppose."

A beat.

"—And I remembered you telling me you liked sweet things. I wanted to give you this."

Halsin lets his eyes drift down to your hands, which were now outstretched, before meeting your gaze again. His lips curl up into a smile and you swear that you can see the stars reflected in his eyes. It hits you that, if he really is thinking about leaving, you might not get another opportunity to talk to him like this again.

"I don't know what I've done for a gift, but thank you. Really."

He takes a step closer, taking the items in his hands, as he continues, "I'm sorry for not joining you, my mind has been rather… preoccupied, and I thought it best to spend some time alone. I've also been enjoying the company of the stars: aren't they beautiful tonight?"

You shift your eyes to look at the night sky. A crescent moon hangs amongst a cluster of stars, stretching out across the darkness. He's right, they are beautiful.

"You said you've been preoccupied? If you need my help, you know I'm just an ask away," the sincerity of your words causes a small chuckle to leave his lips, gaze falling from the sky to his feet.

"Believe me, I would love for you to help, but that would be an unfair request."

The statement is slightly confusing; he seemed to have no issues asking for help with considerably difficult tasks prior. You could hardly fathom the sheer size of a task was if Halsin felt he couldn't ask for your help.

Betrayed by your expression, he lets out another laugh, louder this time, "you misunderstand, it's simply a matter of personal frustration. Unfortunately, I've managed to get rather pent up."

It isn't until you hear those words—'pent up'—that you realise the meaning behind them. You recalled him making an off-hand comment at the Tiefling party about how he was ‘sure that we could get out any pent up feelings'. He had never acted on his words, of course, but he had put them out there nonetheless.

"It wouldn't be unfair at all," your voice comes out quieter than you intend it to, "actually, I'd be more than happy to help and I think you know that, Halsin."

His eyes meet yours again, expression still soft and gentle under the soft glow of the moon. He takes a step towards you, so that your chests are almost touching. You don't break eye contact, newfound confidence surging through you.

He brings his face close to yours, peering down at you, “you’re sure it would be alright?”

You nod in response, his eyes momentarily widening before he uses his free hand to lightly hold your upper arm. His voice is a soft whisper when it leaves his mouth, “Gods, I can’t tell you how long I have wanted this.”

Halsin closes the space between you, drawing you into a kiss. His hand shifts from your arm to your cheek, the pads of his fingers are rough on your skin but they’re the last things you’re thinking about with his lips pressed to yours.

The kiss is quick, almost polite in its softness, and as Halsin pulls away, you feel your brows furrow.

“Your expression betrays you,” there's a humour to his tone, “would you like me to try again?”

You answer his question with another kiss, hands wrapping around the back of his neck and fingers tangling into his hair. It's deeper this time, more passionate, needier, and when Halsin's tongue brushes against your bottom lip, you're quick to comply with the silent request.

When you lightly tug on his hair, parting from the kiss, a low groan tumbles from his lips and rushes straight through you.

"You're good at this," his thumb brushes your cheek as he kisses you again. His kisses move down your face and neck, occasionally licking and biting at the skin until a shaky exhale leaves your lips. Your legs feel weak and every inch of you is warm, rushed heartbeat echoing in your ears; if you weren't so distracted you'd assume he could hear it.

When he pauses his movements, you take the opportunity to tug on his hair again, letting one of your hands fall from his neck to his chest, slowly getting lower, "just good?"

He hums when your finger tugs on his waistband, "amazing. Perfect, even."

You slide your hand underneath his shirt and he takes a sharp inhale at the contact. It had been so long since the last time someone had touched him like this; it had been longer since he had wanted to be touched—and to touch—so desperately. As you try to lift his top, though, he pulls back and gestures to the jar in his hand. You expect him to just put it down and continue, however you're left slightly disappointed when he breaks away from you entirely and opens the jar. His fingers dip into the jar, pulling out a string of glistening, viscous honey and bringing it to his lips.

You're left to watch helplessly, his tongue dragging from the base of his fingers to the tip and humming at the sweetness of the substance. It was impossible not to let your mind cloud over with images of those same fingers covered with your slick, dipping them into his mouth.

"Come here," it's a command, but it's gentle, easing you into doing as he says, "try some."

Halsin dips his fingers into the honey again, this time lifting his fingers to your lips. You take them in your mouth and run your tongue across them, enjoying the taste of the honey but entirely more focused on keeping your gaze locked with Halsin's. He lightly pumps them in and out of your mouth, cursing under his breath when you move your head to match the gentle pace.

You'd become used to Halsin being so composed and articulate—seeing him reduced to swears and fervent touches made you crave more of him, releasing his fingers and pulling him into another feverish kiss. You both moan into it, hands wanderings across each other's bodies: groping and grasping, trying to remove articles of clothing without pulling your lips away.

His hands land at the top of your thighs, tugging on them in a request for you to jump and hook your legs around his waist. He holds you in one arm with ease, using the other to tug at your shirt.

You kiss his neck, his grip tightening around you in response as his eyes flutter closed to enjoy the sensation.

"Please," he breathes out your name like a prayer, "I want you."

Leaning back, you stare into his eyes, kissing him again, "Gods, I thought you'd never ask."

Halsin puts you down and you rush to undress each other, sharing kisses whenever your hands aren't in the way. His body is incredible, and you're caught unashamedly staring from your sitting position as he tugs off the last of his clothes.

"You're really beautiful, you know?"

He smiles at your words, letting his eyes wander across you in a similar manner, "beautiful isn't enough to describe you."

When he gets onto his knees you can't help yourself from thinking of the sight as holy.

You watch as he dips his fingers into the honey jar and lifts them above your legs, letting it drip onto your skin like a gold glaze. It's cold and sticky but when he drags his tongue against you, licking the honey with it, you've all but forgotten the feeling.

His other hand, free of honey, lightly trails between your legs before stopping and running a finger between your folds.

"Fuck, you're soaked" if you weren't so eager, you'd be embarrassed. He had hardly touched you, yet your body was already begging for more.

He presses feather-light kisses up your inner thigh, taking his time as he follows and licks at the trail of honey, occasionally stopping to suck and nip at your skin, smiling when a soft gasp is drawn from your lips, "good girl."

Before he stops between your legs, he shifts to your hips and continues his upwards trails. You whine at the feelings of his lips around your nipple, lightly grazing his teeth against it while he thumbs and rolls the other in his fingers. You aren't sure if it's what he's doing or just him, but the touch is enough to make you moan, lightly bucking your hips into him.

"Impatient are we?" he chuckles, kissing back down to your thighs

When he's tasted the last of the honey, spread across the top of your thigh, he moves back slightly and watches as you squirm in anticipation.

"Did you want something else from me?" his voice is low and sickly sweet as he grabs your right thigh, rubbing soft circles in the skin with his thumb.

You nod in response, gasping out a slightly frustrated 'yes please', which is all he needs to start kissing again, trailing up the skin until his lips land on your cunt. He places one more kiss before using his tongue, dragging it upwards until it prods at your clit. You feel yourself throb under him, lightly bucking your hips forward as he drags his tongue in slow, circular motions.

He presses a finger inside you, thrusting a couple of times before curling it up. You moan under his touch, moving a hand to thread into his hair, desperately helping to create friction by grinding against his mouth.

His grip on your thighs tightens and he hikes one of your legs over his shoulder before slipping a second finger inside of you. It's overwhelming in the best possible way and when he leans back, only to spit on your cunt, you feel yourself clench around his fingers.

After a few thrusts, he lowers his mouth back onto your clit, flattening his tongue against it to lick and rub. His unused hand has an iron grip on your thigh, moving it so he could get his fingers deeper inside, curling them into you until a knot forms in your stomach. You instinctively grind your hips against his face, moaning as he begins to speed up. His actions are filled with need and when he feels your thighs twitch he takes that as a sign to continue, building you up to your edge.

You can only whine in pleasure when he moves his hand from your thigh to your abdomen, pressing down on it lightly. Your body twitches again and when he presses his tongue down onto your clit slightly harder it causes your thighs to instinctively close around him, bringing you to orgasm.

Halsin pulls away as you both catch your breath. From his position above you, he can’t help but think you’re the prettiest person he’s ever seen. He takes his fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean, sitting back onto his knees and taking his cock into his other hand. He strokes himself as you shift to sit facing him, legs weak and breathing still heavy.

Leaning forward, you replace his hand with yours before bringing him into another kiss. He grunts when you pull away, circling your thumb around his tip and pressing kisses onto his chest and neck.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks, voice desperate and needy.

“Gods, Halsin, yes. I want this— I want you.”

You can barely finish your sentence before your back is on the grass again, caged in the druid’s arms. He pushes a knee between your legs and lowers himself to kiss you again. You’re ready to start begging him to fuck you when he moves to position himself at your entrance.

He doesn’t move, just lifts his head to meet your gaze with a teasing grin on his face, “I can’t give you what you want unless you tell me.”

You don’t care about your pride, cursing before sputtering out, “I want you to fuck me, please, Halsin.”

The reaction is almost instant. Halsin sinks into you slowly, gently, keeping eye contact until you’ve taken every inch of him. He thrusts into you, drawing out a whiney moan, and leans down to kiss and nip at your lips.

Your name tumbles from his lips, unrelenting as he grabs your waist to push himself deeper into you, “Fuck— you feel so good”

His full attention is on you, moving a hand so he can thumb at your clit while pounding into you. A broken gasp escapes you, tightening around his cock at the touch, which gains a low groan in response.

You're a writhing mess beneath him, hands searching for anything they can grab onto. Halsin slows his pace so he can adjust your leg onto his shoulder, leaning forwards and sweeping up both your hands into one of his. The position lets him hit even deeper, the feeling is overwhelming, unable to stop the endless string of moans leaving your lips.

His pace is relentless, only slowing to carefully adjust the position so he could keep thumbing at your clit easily. You lift your head and he meets you halfway in a kiss. He leans down to your ear, breathing heavy, and groans out your name, "I want you to cum for me."

Just the words themselves have you clenching around his cock again, but when he presses harder into your clit, already overly sensitive and stimulated, it pushes you over the edge again, moaning out his name. The sensation is enough to have Halsin on the brink of his own orgasm, pace stuttering slightly.

By Gods does he never want this moment to end, he could mistake it for Heaven.

Your name is all he can manage to say as he continues, pulling out of you almost fully before rocking his hips back into you. The hand on your clit leaves to grasp at your hips, pulling you down onto him. He can feel you throb around him, "I'm gonna—"

He pulls out at the last second, decorating your thighs and stomach with strings of his cum. The sight is almost enough for him to bring his tongue back down to your cunt, indulging in you more, but you're both exhausted and it takes everything in him not to collapse onto you.

"Let me clean you up," he manages between heavy breaths, moving away to grab a clean rag and wipe you down, "you're absolutely wonderful, I hope you know that."

Halsin leans down to kiss you; it's tender and gentle, you can't help but smile into it.

"I could say the same for you," comes your reply, "come lie with me?"

It takes no convincing before Halsin is lying at your side, arms wrapped around you. Any thoughts you had had about him leaving the camp are long forgotten and you can feel yourself begin drifting off in the comfort of his warm grasp.

reblogs are hugely appreciated ♡ [masterlist]

#halsin x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate x reader #bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 halsin #baldurs gate halsin #halsin #reader insert #smut #bg3 smut #x reader #renoed

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writingficsanddaydreams · 7 months

Text

Little Paintings

Mihawk x gn!reader

Summary: surely the extremely observant and powerful warlord of the sea won’t notice your little paintings all over his castle…

Content: pure fluff, with just a hint of romance. reader is written as autistic.

A/N: I recently watched a TikTok where somebody was painting cute little designs all around their house until their spouse noticed. It made me think of this idea. Like all my stories, Mihawk is based on a mix of his live action personality and the little bit I know from watching some of the anime and reading the manga quite literally years ago. Enjoy!

—————————

You like painting. Always have, always will.

However, you’re not sure if the fearsome Dracule Mihawk will appreciate it so much as you, not when you’re painting inside his crystal ware cabinet. Especially not when you didn’t bother to get his permission.

Not that you’ll stop.

If anything, it makes you determined to work quicker, nudging more of the delicate wine glasses aside to you can lean in and finish the adding paint strokes to the fine wood, creating a minuscule image of a little bottle in the back corner of the cabinet.

Is it silly for a fully grown adult to be doing this? Perhaps. Yet you can’t help but smile as you add the final touch to the tiny little label on the bottle, a small swirl of purple paint to match the label of the wine he shared with you yesterday.

Perfect.

When you extract yourself and carefully push the wine glasses back in place, the painting is completely hidden. You have just enough time to hustle back through the chilly castle halls and tuck your paints in your room before he returns inside from his sword practice.

He gives you quite the long look when you settle in the kitchen later that day, those piercing yellow eyes seeming to cut through your surface and see so deep. And though you feel your breath catch—as it often does around this formidable man—you force yourself to smile innocently.

“Yes?” you ask.

“I will be sailing out for supplies this afternoon,” he says after a long moment.

You nod and draw your knees to your chin. “Do you need me along?”

“No need for that.”

You sigh with relief, watching as he turns back to his cooking. You don’t dislike people, but you do prefer your solitude. You always have, ever since you were a child. It’s why you feel content to stay here now.

That, and how utterly delightful it is to watch him cook.

He’s terribly handsome when cooking, though you’re fairly sure the man would look handsome doing anything. His knife seem to blur as he cuts up the vegetables, then begins to prep the meat. When he reaches for the pans, his cross necklace shifting against his finely cut chest, your heart skips a beat.

Yet he simply grabs a pan and gets to work, seeming to not notice the tiny cross shaped sword painted just behind where the pots hang.

Really, it’s foolish of you to do this. Yes, art has always been a passion for you, but you are a guest here. A guest he has allowed to stay for some months, and a guest who has shared just enough casual, accidental touches that you hope it might become something more, but still a guest.

Still, you’re curious. Just how much can you paint before the great swordsman notices?

You’ve been at it for a week now, ever since you found the dusty little bottles of paint tucked away in a forgotten storeroom. You use every moment he’s out to sneak little paintings around the castle, none bigger than your thumb.

There’s the little map against the doorframe of your room, like the treasure map you were following before you stumbled on this island.

Then there’s the small ape painted onto one table leg in the dining hall, a far less fearsome version of the beasts that chased away your captain and crew when you all landed here. You recall how frustrated you were that they left you behind, a frustration that has long since faded now that you can count on the safety of Dracule Mihawk’s castle.

He walks past you now, a hand brushing briefly against your arm before he continues on to grab the spices across the kitchen.

Not an accident, surely. Nothing this man does is accidental.

That makes you think of the minuscule wanted poster you painted in the corner of your doorframe yesterday, in honor of the fear you first felt when you realized just who inhabited this place. Funny how frightened you were that first day. And the second day.

…and the third.

By the forth, however, you had figured out he likely wasn’t going to kill you.

By the fifth you’d determined that so long as you didn’t irritate him, he didn’t seem inclined to make you leave either. In fact, as days went on, you became fairly certain he didn’t mind your company.

Which is why you now play this foolish game of sneakily painting designs all around his castle.

You always considered yourself clever. Yet apparently all it takes are a few “accidental” touches and heavy looks for you to throw all your caution to the wind. Teasing a warlord, vandalizing his castle… such a perfect plan for long term survival.

Still, you do truly enjoy painting.

Your favorite are the flowers you painted along a small crack in the stones of the great hall, colored with a yellow that makes you think of his stunning eyes, the eyes that have over the last few months shifted from disinterest and disdain to… something else.

Something that makes you hope perhaps you won’t always be just a guest.

You’re not brave enough to make any moves yourself—never really have been when it comes to matters of the heart—but that won’t stop you from seeing just where these lingering glances and soft touches might eventually go.

Those same eyes stare at you again now as you make your way to the dining hall and pick at your food, separating the small bits of tomato from the rest of your meal. You bite back a smile as his gaze cuts down to your plate and he takes note of the rejected vegetable. Knowing him, he won’t use it in your meals again.

You honestly don’t know how a man so observant has not noticed your paintings yet.

“Do you need anything from the village?” Mihawk asks, startling you from your thoughts.

“I’m alright, I think,” you say. Given the nearest village is several islands away, you take a moment to think about it truly, but everything you need has been provided for you already. If anything, you’re far more comfortable here than you ever were with the crew you sailed alongside, a crew that only cared about you for your rough mapmaking skills—your least favorite thing to paint if you’re being honest—and were quick to abandon you when the first hint of danger appeared.

He nods and turns to his own plate. You try not to stare at the wall behind him, where you‘ve recently painted a tiny little figure sitting in a tiny little chair wearing a tiny black wide brimmed hat, hidden just at the base of the dining hall floorboards.

Trying not to giggle about it keeps you distracted through most of lunch.

“I’ll be off then,” Mihawk says as you both finish your meals, rising from the table.

“Be safe.”

Ah yes, because you need to tell the strongest swordsman in the world to be safe. You mentally kick yourself, but feel better when he offers you one of his rare almost smiles, even as he pauses by your chair.

“Don’t worry yourself,” he says, that confidence that you’ve come to admire woven through every inch of his words. “I highly doubt there will be anyone to challenge me. Truly a shame. Oh, as a note…”

“Yes?”

Your breathe hitches as he reaches out, gently taking your hand and lifting it towards him. You’re hyper aware of how strong his grip is. So powerful, yet intentionally gentle. Of how piercing his gaze is, those eyes that are so hard to meet, even as they set your heart racing. He lifts your hand to his lips and presses a slow, deliberate kiss against it.

Oh.

When he lowers your hand, he’s… smiling. Not just that almost smirk, but a real smile. Your heart lurches again at the sight. When he speaks, it takes you a long moment to process his words around the pounding of your heart.

“The entry hall could use a few more flowers, perhaps, if you must paint all over the walls.”

Then he’s off, leaving you stunned where you sit. Your draw your hand close to yourself, staring at the skin he kissed.

You hadn’t noticed it until now, but on the back of your hand is just the slightest smudge of dried purple paint from earlier.

As you run a finger along the paint, you find yourself hesitating. Then before you know it, you’ve risen from your chair and are hurrying to follow, to catch Mihawk before he leaves the castle.

Perhaps you need some supplies after all.

More paints. New brushes. A proper tray for mixing your colors… and maybe even a true kiss from the warlord you’ve fallen for.

#mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #mihawk #one piece mihawk #one piece

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14thgalerie · 4 months

Text

under pressure

• pairing: theodore nott x reader

• now playing: linger by the cranberries

• word count: 2.4k

• genre: angst

— an old piece that i never finished but i just wanted to post something because my account is so dead. i know exams work differently in hogwarts but for this one, let's just pretend that they do a semestral exam also.

“Theo?” You call from behind him, as you enter the common room where he sits in solitude.

He makes no sound to acknowledge that he’s heard you, simply continuing to stare off into space. Long, slender fingers rhythmically tapping on his thighs.

Ignoring this, you make yourself comfortable on the nearest available seat, angling your body to face him. “You would not believe what I got for History of Magic!” You excitedly begin and with much enthusiasm, “But first you have to guess!”

Again, a silence greets you. This sparks concern in you since it was very unusual behaviour from him. But before you could ask, he emits a curious hum, still not looking directly at you. “What did you get?”

“You’re no fun.” You playfully jab at him, trying to lighten up the atmosphere. “Anyways! I got an Outstanding! Can you believe that?”

“It would’ve been hilarious if you hadn’t.” Is all he says in a deadpan, hollow voice. “What do you mean by that?” You prod.

“Imagine taking all of my time just for you to fail once again. I would have actually thrown myself off the pitch. ”

The muted glow of the scattered lamps and candles cast shadows on the walls, creating an ambiance that mirrors the strained emotions between you and Theo. The distant sound of chatter and laughter in the dorm rooms only served to accentuate the silence that ensued.

He sighs, “I am tired. Tired of your complaining, of your whines, of your stupidity over such a simple course. You are so excited over this when it isn’t something to be necessarily proud of. You know…” Theo trails off in an amused manner as if he has realised something funny.

“I find it funny how you are sitting all proud and excited about this one exam when in reality, it was all because of me. You wouldn’t have even gotten half of what you had if it weren't for me or with the help of the others. Leeching off of us like a goddamn parasite who hasn’t a mind of her own.”

Words fail you, unable to conjure up even a whisper in your shock. You stand up slowly, breathing out an unsteady exhale.

The words break on your skin like whips, cracking and splitting open still healing wounds.

“I have never asked you for anything, need I remind you? You were the one who insisted on spending your oh so precious time teaching me. Time and time again, I reassured you that I could do it myself because I didn’t want you to waste it on me. Yet, it was always fine with you and you were adamant on doing it so don’t you dare put this on me now.” You grit out. “I have no idea as to why you are acting like a rabid dog, snapping at me unprovoked, but nothing will ever warrant that kind of behaviour. “ You shake your head sharply, glaring at him from underneath your eyebrow.

You felt yourself becoming dizzy with panic and anxiety, confusion with the whole situation making it worse by the second. It was spreading so quickly and far into the recesses of your soul that you would fall to your knees if not for the support of the couch behind you.

Not willing to have him see you break down from his nonchalant words that were deliberately chosen to attack your deepest insecurities— unable to understand how it so easily came from the last person you expected it from. You quickly move towards the stairs, ignoring the weak call of your name.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

Seconds—or was it minutes— slipped away since you have made the decision to lock yourself in your room. Leaving the room before everything gets worse. Surrounding yourself with a number of inked parchments that are filled with hundreds of thousands of words, none of which your brain registers. Despite your earnest desire to find solace with work, it was all futile as they were only mere words on paper that held no significance in comparison to what was brewing in your mind.

Instead, an incessant question pesters you. Was it really something to be so excited over? Lost in a silent deep rumination, accompanied only by the rhythmic flutter of an owl's wings as they flew past your open window and the rustling trees to occupy the silence.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

The clock is still there to remind me of the hours that have passed— 3 and a quarter to be precise.

Perhaps you were being too over the top but you hadn’t meant to. The pure, unadulterated exhilaration overwhelmed you after Professor Binns called you aside after your last exam. It had become an accepted knowledge to you that History of Magic wasn’t necessarily your strongest suit. Enough so that it would’ve been perfectly fine for you to receive a less-than-average result.

To hear how exceptional you had done this time, possibly even greater than many of your classmates, your mind instinctively went to share your achievement with Theo. After all, he was the one who patiently dedicated hours guiding you in your review and it took precedence over his own. Assurances, that came off as more of arrogance, of how he would do just fine and that he could ace it even if he wore a blindfold.

Maybe that’s where it all went wrong. Could it have been the lack of sleep before? He does get a bit irritable with a lack of rest. You’ve seen it personally in the weeks that lead up to Quidditch games. The fatigue, in addition to the stress of the final exams before the holidays, must’ve steered him into that state.

Despite feeling upset and somewhat finding fault within yourself, you couldn’t muster up the will to apologise first. While his behaviour tonight could have been explainable, for goodness’ sake, the way that he has gone about it was unwarranted— shouting and hurling the harshest words that he is capable of, at you. The person that rejected every offer, made by him, because you were scared to impose on his studying hours. Now he cannot even be happy at what you had worked so dedicatedly on with him?

After spending hours in the cold and dark room, doing nothing but ruminating on the argument, you realise that you refuse to allow his words to dampen your joy and excitement any more than they have already. Sitting up straight, you stretch your arms wide. Swiftly tidying the scattered papers and dried pens into an acceptable arrangement in your trunk before you settle down beneath your duvet cover. Giving up on the idea of getting any work done when your mind was elsewhere.

The both of you made plans to have a sleepover in your dorm room after your roommates announced that they would be spending the night elsewhere. However, it will be safe to say that the idea had crumbled into non-existence after the heated exchange of words between the two of you.

As you lay there on your side, facing the stone wall with your back to the door, you couldn’t help but reflect on your argument. A hailing storm brewed in the furrows of your mind, unable to piece together what exactly you should do. The only thing you wanted was to hear his beating heart beneath you as you lay on his chest. But you knew that it wouldn’t be right for yourself to concede.

Of all the ways that you’ve imagined for him to react, what had truly occurred did not even appear in your mind. It left you tossing and turning in frustration and confusion, unable to fall asleep in peace. Only the warmth and lasting scent of his cologne on your duvet keep you calm— the realisation that you couldn’t even properly be mad at him makes you huff.

In the silent war within you, you were deaf to the aged door groaning in protest as its rusty hinges emitted a creaking sound that left the person behind it wincing. Nor did you hear the unusually gentle footsteps that followed.

So much so that even the shadows that lurked within the walls would have thought that the footsteps were a figment of their imagination. In the way that the presence hesitated outside of your room as if they were heavily contemplating.

It was only at the weighted dip of the bed behind you and the hesitant arm that crept around your waist that were you pulled from your trance. Yet, you bore no intent of recognition for him even as he had fully suited himself behind you with his chin tucked in the crook of your neck.

As his presence enveloped you, he began with a slight tremor in his voice. “Y/N…I-“

“I could write and speak a thousand sorry’s and reasons for why the words had so easily slipped from my lips, but they will never unspeak them from existence. I promised your mama that I will never let a speck of hurt flash across those eyes, and I will forever apologise to her for breaking that promise.” A shaky exhale lines the last few syllables. “I was so unnecessarily horrible and mean to you without meaning to. So consumed by this- this emotion that flooded me, something that I had lost control over.”

Every syllable was accompanied by a hesitant tone that left the words sounding shaky; nervous. Coupled with the drop of tears that lined your neck right where his head sat.

You listened, listening to his apology, but the wounds were still fresh. The echo of his sharp words runs deep beneath your skin, embedded into your bones, prickling with every second you are reminded of them. The sincerity in his voice clashed with the pain he had caused with his words, leaving you torn between the desire to understand and the reluctance to let go of the hurt.

“You really hurt my feelings, Theo.” If he wasn’t already drowning in misery, hearing his name fall from your lips after he worked many weeks to be called something else had him gasping for breath. “I genuinely want to forgive you, but at this moment, I can’t quite find it in me to do so. You blew up on me for absolutely no reason. I need you to help me understand, to give me a reason behind your outburst, not mere words of guilt. Because even if you say sorry a thousand times, I would never be able to forgive you for clearly attacking me where I would greatly feel it.

His voice, meek in the tense air between the two of you, unfolded with a raw honesty that lays bare his desperation for this to be over.

“The exhaustion from lack of sleep and finding that I barely got a passing grade…It was a bit too much for me. I have no idea why it even bothered me when, for so long, I could hardly give a damn about these stupid exams," he shared, sighing with exasperation.

A pang of guilt and shame flared within your chest at the knowledge. The initial shadow of hesitation and guilt that crept on you the days before came rushing back in. You should’ve known better than to allow him to persuade you. Turning around on the bed to face him. But before you could wallow yourself in these emotions, Theo quickly puts your mind to rest.

“Don’t blame yourself, darling.” He tenderly pushes a thumb against the forming frown on your forehead. “I should have told you that I needed to study also instead of leaving it to luck. I guess I was being a bit of a confident prick that got used to not reviewing for an exam that I fully forgot I missed a few lectures a few weeks ago. I truthfully never had and never will blame you, not when I had been the one, adamant enough, to help you out despite your protests.”

His admission carried a mix of self-awareness and remorse. The vulnerability that was clear in his words began to bridge the hesitance inside of you to relax, the layers of miscommunication slowly peeling away.

You could sense the weight he carried. Despite his casual indifference to his studies, you knew that it was something that he silently prided himself in. To have that be ruined in addition to the cumulative stress that built up over time with his hectic schedule. Being reminded that even if he may seem so perfect on the surface, beneath that, he was still human; flawed, vulnerable, and young. Although the hurt had begun to shift, not fully dissipating yet, it had turned into a sense of empathy that allowed you a clarity of thinking.

A small, understanding hum escaped you. The strain in your voice is gone now, ”We need to work on our communication, then. No longer hiding things from each other for any reason, even if we think it does not matter. Part of our relationship is to work our problems side by side, even if it doesn’t concern the other. We shouldn’t have things fester until it explodes on us.”

He nods, burying his head back into the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.” You gently pull his head back and look at him fondly. “And we need to also address the way you spoke to me earlier. Just because we were in the heat of the moment and lost in our emotions does not mean you have the right to do that, not when my mom raised me without raising her voice.”

“I’m really sorry. Merlin…I can still see the look on your face and I don’t think I would ever forget and forgive myself for being the reason behind it”. “I won’t say I forgive you just yet, that’s a boundary crossed for me. We should’ve had this talk in the beginning but better now than never. Let’s take a pause for now, and resume this conversation with a clear head.” He met your gaze with a blend of appreciation and a sense of resolve.

masterlist

#harry potter #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott angst #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott fanfiction #slytherin #theodore nott oneshot

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twola · 28 days

Note

may i request some slow and lazy spooning sex with high honor arthur? with some thorough aftercare at the end?😳

The first vestiges of the dawn creep through the canvas of the tent, the red-purple light from the east spills across a small hole in the fabric. You blink yourself awake, clutching at the old quilt that covers you.

Stretching in the cot, you realize quickly that though the morning chill rolls inside the flimsy walls of the tent, you are warm.

Incredibly warm. Warm and secure and, lord, it’s wonderful. A heavy arm slung over your waist keeps you grounded as you are unable to stifle a small sound as you arch your back slightly.

“Mornin’ there, sweetheart.”

You smile, the arm round your waist tightening as his voice is still hoarse with sleep.

“When did’ya get back?”

His lips press against your neck as he draws you impossibly close, so that all of you is plastered against all of him.

“Late. You were dead to the world when I got back, darlin’.”

“Well why didn’t you wake me up?” You pout softly, threading your fingers through his against your belly.

“Ain’t no reason to wake you up. ‘Sides, you’re a veritable Sleepin’ Beauty there.”

You cannot help but to smile, drawing his hand to your lips and kissing his knuckles. You settle it against your chest, fingers still intertwined.

“You know how much I like you crawling into bed with me,” you laugh softly; and you can feel the chuckle in his chest

“I do. But I think you like wakin’ up like this too.”

Your hand reaches backward to card your fingers through his hair as he kisses at your earlobe, drawing the hemline of your chemise up to bare your rear and hips to him. He groans quietly when he finds that you did not wear bloomers to sleep in.

Sliding his hands between your thighs, your neck arches back into him as you open your legs, letting him softly touch the parts of you only he gets to see.

“Arthur…” you sigh, bliss obvious with how breathy your voice has become.

Underneath that old quilt, his hand works blasphemous miracles, making you swear on the Lord’s name as his fingers dance across your most intimate skin. After moments that leave you whining, knuckles white from gripping the side of the cot, he withdraws, and you want to cry out loud from the loss of his hand.

Arthur tilts your head toward him and leans over you, pressing his lips against yours in a smothering kiss.

With his other hand, he deftly unbuttons his union suit and draws out his cock, pumping it several times under that quilt as his tongue plays with yours.

With a light push, he turns you fully back on your side as he grasps your hip, burying his face in your unbound hair as he presses the head of his cock through the rim of your cunt. Your hand flies to grasp the side of the cot again as you squeeze your eyes shut, biting your lip. Taking your lover is always a stretch, the girth of him pushing into your body burns for that first moment.

But he is gentle. For a man so practiced in violence and force, when he splits you with his flesh, he coos sweet nothings in your ear, rubs at your hip, kisses up and down your neck. Praises you, his love, with all the sweetness of a man smitten and drowning in affection.

By the time he is fully sheathed, his hand leaves your hip to draw your hair back so that he can press his cheek against your temple, looming over you with his much bigger frame. Arthur rocks his hips once, experimentally, within the confines of his cot, and you let out a breath raggedly as the column of him withdraws and fills you again.

In the solitude and quiet of the morning, the chill creeping in from outside, under the blankets he gently thrusts his hips into yours, cocooning the warmth of your bodies together as you lay side by side in the cot.

“One of these days, “ he rumbles, whispering in your ear as he moves against you, “I’m gonna stay, I’m gonna fill you ‘nd god, you’re gonna be so perfect all swollen up with my child.”

You mewl, unconsciously clenching down on him, making him gasp raggedly as he slows down. Breathing out harshly through his nose, he grits out his response, “Ain’t gonna last if you do that.”

“Ar-Arthur- god, y’ cant just say that-”

With a barely concealed groan, he thrusts himself into you hard before retracting his hips in the nick of time, his spend splattering hot on your ass as he pants in your ear. You shudder, your cunt drenching as you come also, wishing desperately that he could have stayed where he was.

Your fingers remain tightly wound against each other as you come down, he pants into the back of your neck for several moments before slowly unwrapping his hand from yours and and leaning the other direction, extricating himself from you to get up from the cot and grabbing his black neckerchief from the small table against the side of the tent.

He returns and wipes his spend gently from your skin, pulling you to lay down on your back as he dips the cloth between your legs, your slick smeared between your thighs that he quietly cleans from you. Arthur smiles fondly down at you as he draws his hand away, tossing the neckerchief in a pile of dirty clothes next to his shaving stand.

With one knee on the cot, he leans over you to press his lips against yours for a quick kiss, but you pout and throw your arms around his neck, trying to pull him down back to the cot. The idea of you pulling him down was laughable, but you try nonetheless.

“Lay with me.”

Arthur frowns, “I should really get the day goin’…”

“Please.” You whine, tugging at the neckline of his union suit, and his frown melts away as he chuckles softly, moving to lay down next to you once again. You nearly squeal in delight, scooting in the cot to give him room. You turn to lay on your side, facing him, as he does the same. Throwing your leg over his hip, you once again thread your fingers through his hair as you pull his lips to yours once again.

As the morning light invades the tent, it finds the two of you there, wrapped up in each other, staving off the day for at least one more moment.

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption #twolafic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic

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anakin-skywalker-always · 8 months

Note

padawan/atoc era anakin x reader, they're in love with each other (both jedi) but obviously can't come forward. Anakin confides in Padmé, reader becomes convinced/jealous that anakin is with padme

(bonus points if you can make it angsty and fluffy)

As Easy As Breathing

Hi nonnie! Thank you so, so, so much for this rec! It’s my first one on this account and it’s really quite the christening. Hope its okay, I’m not the best at angst!

Pairing: Padawan!Anakin Skywalker x Padawan!Reader (Star Wars)

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: none!! Should be all good, let me know if you caught anything I may have missed. Not beta read!

Words: 1.8k

Author’s Notes: Anakin is canonically 19 in AOTC, reader is the same, maybe a year younger. Clone Wars have not yet started in this fic, I’m just assuming Padmé and Anakin stayed besties after the whole nonsense in Phantom Menace.

The warm sun filtering through the windows fell upon Anakin’s face, in a soft moment of solitude, the sounds of the Coruscant cityscape provided him with a brief reprieve to Padmé’s chastising. He often thought that his ability to talk to Padmé about anything was his strength, but in this moment he couldn’t help to think of it as a weakness. Anakin cringed as Padmé continued to berate him; On a rare afternoon off the nineteen-year-old padawan found himself lounging on the senator’s couch.

“Seriously Anakin, you should just-” Padmé stilled, her slender hands finding her hips, huffing, she continued, “Are you even listening to me, Ani?” The forceful tone on his nickname got Anakin’s attention once again.

“I am!” Anakin raised his eyebrows in addition to his hands, in mock surrender. “I swear Padmé!”

The senator found it easy to roll her eyes at his antics, like always. But she could see the change in Anakin, could see how his emotions for his fellow padawan learner have caused conflict in him. Her friend wasn’t sleeping, he wasn’t eating. Padmé knew Anakin was an intense person, a strong personality, everyone knew that about him. But this, this was different. He seemed lost, like he was missing something he needed to operate. Padmé found her way to the couch, sitting beside Anakin, grabbing his tanned, calloused hands in her own.

“Anakin, if you do truely care this strongly for her, you must tell her.” Anakin’s eyes found Padmé’s own. “It would be cruel, to withhold this love.” There was a time in Anakin’s life where this is all he wanted, being with Padmé and he knew his nine-year-old self would be so excited by innocent hand holding. But his nineteen-year-old self was happier to have such a strong, nonjudgemental friend.

“How did you know that you loved Sabé?” Anakin asked gently, knowing how the senator safeguarded her relationship with her handmaiden fiercely.

Anakin noted how Padmé seemed to glow at the mention of her lover. A warm smile graced her pink lips, eyes crinkling at the sides, a faraway glaze coated her sparkling eyes. Her signature in the force felt warm, it wrapped around Anakin’s brain, made him feel safe. Padmé’s love for Sabé was so tangible it extended outside herself, adjusting her force signature.

“I realised I loved Sabé when being around her became a necessity, an honesty, a truth that I did not know I was constantly seeking out.” Padmé gushed, a light trail of pink lit itself over her high cheekbones and freckled nose. “I felt as if Sabé had breathed new life into me everytime I saw her, it was natural, it was right.”

Anakin was quiet for a moment, Padmé became worried that she had overstepped somehow, projected to far onto Anakin’s feelings.

“Loving y/n is as natural as breathing.” He replied.

Anakin rolled over on his hard, standard issue, Jedi temple bed. A sleepless night was not uncommon for him, but this felt inherently different. Padmé’s words from earlier in the day rattled around his brain, demanding to be dealt with. Anakin never saw love as a weakness, never saw attachment as weakness. How could he? Love was the basis of the light, the well of Jedi power that Anakin drew from was a labour of love, was purity, was peace, was built with empathy and centered by knowing himself. His love for you did not make him a bad person.

But he knew it would make him seem like a bad Jedi.

Not knowing your stance on him, on the rule of attachment was slowly eating away at Anakin’s peace.

Groaning aloud, Anakin ran his hands down his face.

Your head whipped around, anxiously. You knew it was embarrassing that you always looked for him in a crowded room, but you could not help it, you felt as if the force was electric until he calmed it. His signature singlehandedly smothering anything else it came in contact with. Being around Anakin, to you, felt as natural as breathing.

“Looking for young Skywalker, are you?” Your master, Mace Windu asks, a small smirk whispers across his face, lightly nudging you in the shoulder. The two of you stood in one of the reception rooms of the Republic building. The Senate was hosting a charity gala with the invite extending to the Jedi temple. So, there you stood, in your best robes, breaking your neck to catch a glimpse of The Chosen One.

“No Master.” You said, quietly. Turning your head away from the powerful Jedi Master to not embarrass yourself further with the luxury of him catching your furious blush. Your master excused himself, laughing, finding Master Plo Kloon.

So, you stood there, alone, foolishly searching the room for your fellow padawan, the one that consumed your mind and soul.

It wasn’t completely unlikely, you reasoned with yourself. You and Anakin were friends, were very well matched, sparring partners. But, Anakin was a good Jedi. A strong Jedi. Following orders wasn’t Anakin’s strongest suit, you’d admit. Pondering whether he would disregard the rules of attachment for you, however, was different.

Nonetheless, like a junkie craving death sticks, you craved Anakin’s presence, his force signature was all you needed to feel right. The anxiety of the gala was too much. Closing your eyes, tightly, you reached out into the force to find him. Anakin’s signature, golden like it always was flocked to your senses, like always.

Opening your eyes, you began to weave through the bustling crowd as quickly as one could who was masquerading as casual.

“I’m not going to say anything to her now, Padmé.” Anakin huffed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms across his chest, defensively. “Not in front of all these people, you’ve got to be joking.” He scoffed.

Sabé giggled quietly, the two women joined their arms at the elbow. Padmé just rolled her eyes at Anakin’s supposed insoclence.

Your frame weaving through the crowd in his direction caught Anakin’s eye. He smiled, quikly raised a hand, and was delighted when your devastating smile echoed back.

“Anakin.” You greeted him, with a small bow of the head. His name sounded heavenly whenever you deigned to let it fall from your lips. Anakin was convinced he could breathe easier with you around, like he had been purged of something suffocating him.

“Y/N, this is Sen-” You quickly cut him off, not wanting to hear the name of your rival come from his beautiful mouth. Your jealousy that you held for Padmé reared its ugly head, and you couldn’t help to feel shame burn deep inside the space between ribs.

“Senator Amidala, a pleasure it is to finally meet you,” You stuck your hand out, awkwardly hoping for a handshake. “Anakin has told me so much.” Cordial. It was a good tactic. You were a good person, a good jedi. You would not succumb to jealousy. Besides, Padmé had other qualities you were far more jealous of than just her nonexistent romantic relationship that you deludedly conjured up in your mind when you tried to sleep at night.

“All good things I should hope.” She smiled, her soft hand finding your own, a small shake. You could empathise with Anakin for falling in love with someone like her. Someone so intelligent, powerful, beautiful.

It was not lost on you, the way the senator’s hand quickly found the one of the woman she stood beside.

“This is Sabé.” Anakin started, introducing Padmé’s guest. “Padmé’s hand-” For the second time tonight, but surely not the last, Anakin was cut off.

“My partner.” Senitor Amidala said firmly, though her eyes twinkled with pride. Sabé’s own shock manifested itself into a wide smile. The two looked eachother in the eyes and you couldn’t help but feel silly. Of course. Of course.

For whatever reason, the words you thought you had died swiftly in your mouth, “Oh.” was all you managed to get out. “A pleasure to meet you too, Sabé.” You tried quickly to save the situation, to save embarrassment. But Padmé’s slight smile, Sabé’s coy smirk. You felt like the two Naboo women knew you, saw you. They somehow, in this embarrassing blunder of a meeting had already clocked that you harboured feelings for Anakin Skywalker. It made you feel foolish, moreso than what you already did.

“If you’d excuse us, Jedi, we have futher business to attend to.” Sabé quipped strongly, leading her senator lover to the next group of politicians. The art of smalltalk was something else you could add to the list of Padmé’s items you were jealous of.

Anakin turned to you, chuckling. His standard-issue Jedi robes moving effortlessly with his chest. Running a hand through his cropped hair, you felt his eyes scanning your face. You knew your blood would betray you, like it so often did around your friend, rising to the surface of your cheeks, splattering down your neck and chest. Embarrassment clung to you like a rash.

“Don’t mind them, they like setting me up.” Anakin scoffed, shaking his head.

“Setting you up for what?” You asked, eyeing him micheviously. Chatting with Anakin felt natural; He was quick witted and liked challenging you, he was a tease.

And, more often than not, a flirt.

This was different though, Anakin had an air of nervousness about him. You noticed as your fellow padawan’s large, veiny hands found the way to the back of his neck, rubbing sheepishly.

“Oh you know…” He trailed off, looking everywhere except for your eyes, his own blue ones scanning the ornate ceiling of the reception room. “Setting us up to be alone together.” He admitted, squinting as if the words bought him some kind of physical pain.

You quirked a brow, your arms quickly crossing your chest - a defensive stance. “Would that be so bad? Being alone together?” The words meant to be teasing, non-serious. But it was too late, the seed was planted in Anakin’s brain.

To him, that felt like an admission of sorts, an admission that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. Well, if he squinted it seemed like that.

In a tender moment, something rare for Anakin, he reached out. Tucking stray hairs behind your ear, gently following your padawan braid around the cusp of it.

“You know, y/n, that I want nothing more,” He smiled. It was pure, and real. You felt the sincerity in the force, the truth within him. Moreso, you felt your ear burn from the brief contact, felt your heart swell in your chest at the mere thought of being alone in close quarters with him. “I want nothing more than to be alone with you.”

He retracted his hand, but you still felt alight with his closeness. His force signature felt palpable, you were enraptured in his warmth. He was golden. Your golden boy.

“Why don’t we go get lost then?” You whispered, scared anything too loud would betray your eagerness. Anakin’s smile split across his face, eyes crinkling and dimples showing. Smirking he placed a strategic hand at the low of your back. He was so incredibly tall, bending over you to whisper back,

“After you, my lady.”

—--

AN: Hehe all done! Left it open for more if you wanted, but teasing enough to be left as it is! Hope it’s alright and I hope you could enjoy at least some of it <3

P.S This is a side account, my main is @mayhemories, so I will be answering any comments with that account but rest assured it is still me :) <3

Much love, El.

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suguru-getos · 6 months

Text

୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 26﹕✦﹕┈・୧

-> Event Masterlist

Yandere Itachi Uchiha x F!Reader -> Breeding

Warnings: Dub!con, yandere themes, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of baby trapping, Stockholm syndrome, manipulative Itachi, pregnancy of breeding!kink. Itachi is still soft because yeah >\\< and fluffy if you squint

It's the ridiculously delectable way, her doe-eyed self cowers down beneath him whenever she loomed in his presence. He adores her, watching her fidget every time Itachi says something, every time he glances at her unmomentarily. She is akin to a deer, and Itachi- a lion, a ruthless, sadistic lion wanting nothing more but to tame his prey, but no- he doesn't just want to prey on her, he wants to love her. He wants her to love him, to subdue everything she can for him.

It's the way he always excuses his behavior with the sentence that chains her neck, boiling down her very core. "It's all to protect you, to keep you safe." When he addresses her as an 'Angel' she loses a little faith in god, because no angel's wings should be pinned down as hers, the way Itachi does it.

No, he does not hurt her, but he does make sure she doesn't hurt herself, sometimes confinement and solitude is the most amicable way to stem down the essence of a punishment and a lesson. Treason, if you will.

He still feels insanity grip the very nerves of his self when she approaches him, slouching as if she'd break if she stood tall. He would break her for standing tall & sniveling at him to let her go. "Hmm, maybe bestowing you with some responsibility will help, you've become quite air-headed, dear Y/N."

Oh, it desolates his perfect, controlled mind when he imagines her tiny self inflated with his seed, having trouble pacing around, needing Itachi with every little beck and call, the vulnerability which will come with her last semester, how she will struggle to hold her urine when the little Uchiha would kick and eagerly wait to see Mother and Father... how adoring.

It starts slow, after months of living together with Itachi, she knows how to read him, how Itachi's eyes glint towards the impending, she wouldn't be unjust, Itachi treats her kindly when he demands something, especially when it needs his fragile, male ego stroked and petted.

So she complies, as he spreads her apart naked, pupils visibly dilated as his gaze turns tender, more subtle. As if she'd break under him, a vile part of him wants to break her instantly. Itachi is a paradox, after all. "It's okay, my angelic little thing." You're doing so well for me. His luscious, long hair tickles her tender breasts as Itachi leans in, kissing her neck, scraping at the sensitive, irritated skin & deviously marking her up. "Oh no, don't cry, I'm going to be gentler." He dotes on her being a sensitive crybaby, can't handle his length, can't handle him.

Oh but the little being Itachi owns, is ferocious on her own, knowing most ardently she has him in her grip, "Wa-ant to go out after this." She manages to barely choke out when Itachi's member ravishes her cunt, thrusting, rutting his hips inside, churning them up to his shape. Itachi couldn't say no to that face, the future mother of his kids. "Anything... Angel."

"Will you let me fill you up?" Itachi asks though she doesn't have any choice but to, Itachi is a master, a sorcerer of illusions and to earn her goodness, to pretend she owns the decision of freedom, ever so fleeting choices that are nothing but a mirage; Itachi loves that.

She nods, biting her lip like an anxious child, the background thoughts all super setting the imagery of her being pregnant, she's too far gone now though. Stockholm Syndrome hugs her every night along with the slender arms of her lover. She wants to please him, simultaneously hating herself for the same as she nods, feeling the thrusts slow down, sloppy and then the warmth of his seed deep inside her gummy walls.

"Nothing, Angel, without you... I'm nothing."

#itachi #itachi uchiha #itachi x reader #itachi thirst #itachi smut #uchiha thirst #uchiha smut #uchiha x reader #naruto thirst #naruto smut #naruto x reader #naruto shippuden x reader #itachi x you #uchiha x you #naruto imagines #itachi imagines #naruto kinktober #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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janaispunk · 3 months

Text

nights are so starry, blood moonlit

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

word count: ~1.4k

summary: Javi and you are neighbors. And friends with benefits, in a way. Things become… heated.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), smoking, mention of alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, Javi pulls reader’s hair, dom!Javi, sub!reader, unprotected p in v (it’s never stated in the fic but i headcanon that reader is on birth control), rough sex, dirty talk, Javi is a menace, a hint of angst and feelings because it’s me and if they’re not fucking while denying their feelings it’s not my fic okay

a/n: written for @iamasaddie’s moodboard writing challenge that was SO fun, thank you aly <3 this literally poured out of me, i wish writing would always feel like this 🫠

beautiful moodboards by @hellishjoel 🫶🏻

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

find my full masterlist here and follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates!

It’s the hottest day since you moved to Colombia, and probably the hottest that you’ve ever felt in your life. Sweat is all over your skin, pooling on your spine at the small of your back and making your dress stick to your damp body.

You groan as you open the door to your flat, the still air inside the small space somehow even more suffocating than you felt outside. You kick off your shoes and walk over to the fridge, letting the coolness wash over you for a few seconds while you just stand in front of the open door, your eyes almost slipping closed at the sudden reprieve from the sweltering heat. With a sigh you eventually grab a water and reluctantly shut the door again, pressing the cold bottle against your neck as you step out onto your tiny excuse of a balcony, hoping to catch at least the smallest bit of a breeze.

It’s just as hot outside and you flop down on the single plastic chair that you have and fumble for a cigarette, when you notice your neighbor on the balcony next to you. Javi looks as gorgeous as always, as you begrudgingly have to admit to yourself. While you’re sure that you look like you’re on the verge of a heat stroke, his shirt clings to his body in a way that makes your mouth run dry. As always he has one too many buttons undone and the perspiration on his chest has you dreaming of licking the sweat off his skin. He catches your stare and quirks an eyebrow at you, an amused smirk playing around his lip.

“You’re home early,” he drawls, leaning back against the railing.

“So are you,” you note, raising an eyebrow in return. “Slow day at the office?”

He closes his eyes for a moment. “Quite the opposite.” His scowl makes it clear that he doesn’t want any follow up questions and you shrug, busying yourself with unscrewing your water bottle instead.

A moment of silence passes between you before he raises his voice again.

“You free tonight?”

It’s a question that you’ve heard many times before, or some variation of it. You’re not a thing, Javi and you, not really. It’s just nice, to have a little company sometimes, in a city where, after months of staying here, you still feel like you barely know anyone. It’s fun. Stress relief. No strings attached.

You want to protest at first, thinking about how it’s about a thousand degrees, how you already feel the sweat on your skin again and you’re not even moving. But then you picture another lonely evening in your apartment, another bottle of wine drank in solitude while watching some crap on your small TV.

You look up at him through your eyelashes, mirroring his smirk from earlier.

“Yeah. Sure.”

Now you’re bent over the back of his couch, his cock roughly pounding into you as your skin feels sticky against the leather, moans falling from your lips with every thrust.

His fingers are digging into your hips and he’s pulling you against his body relentlessly, the intensity of his thrusts never faltering. His lips had been on yours as soon as he pulled his door open, pressing you against the wall and hands grabbing at your ass beneath your dress. You had basically thrown yourself at him, the rough way he handled your body only adding to the fire that was already burning through your veins and had wetness pooling between your legs.

He had skimmed over your underwear with his fingers and pulled back when your hips bucked against his touch, a chuckle rumbling in his throat.

“Missed me that much?” he had grinned in that smug way of his that made you want to roll your eyes.

“No,” you had grumbled, somewhat unconvincingly, threading your fingers through the dark hair at his neck and slotting your lips over his again, the coarse hair of his mustache scratching against your face and his tongue in your mouth until all that mattered to you was feeling him closer, feeling all of him.

He had taken you right there, with your panties pushed to the side and the neckline of your dress pulled down to reveal your tits to him. He had mouthed at the sensitive flesh while his cock plunged into your pussy, stretching your walls, making you whimper at all the sensations that washed over your body.

You were close to the edge when his movements slowed down, his breathless pants hitting your damp and heated skin. Your eyes had widened in mild surprise, taking in his flushed features, his hair turned into a sweaty mess by your hands.

“Need a break?” you had teased. “You’re losing your touch, Peña.”

You could almost see the way his eyes turned darker and his features hardened before he slid out of you and yanked you away from the wall, walking you into his living room.

That’s how you ended up where you are now, his cock hitting you from behind, reaching so deep inside of you that every thrust makes you see stars behind your eyelids.

“Fuck! Javi, please,” you manage to whine as your breath is repeatedly punched out of your lungs. You can already feel your orgasm, it’s so close, you can almost taste it on your tongue, a band waiting to snap.

“Losing my touch, huh?” he growls from behind you, reaching up to grab a fist of your hair, pulling you upwards while his other hand finds your tit again and pinches your nipple. His grunts in your ear drive you insane with want for him.

“N-no, I’m sorry, fuck-”

The different angle and the quick shot of pain from your breast set your body on fire and you clamp down hard around him as your orgasm breaks free and waves of pleasure crash over you. You think that you’re shaking in his hold, babbling an incoherent string of thank yous and his name while he fucks you through your high, never relenting in his thrusts, even when your orgasm subsides and you’re twitching away from the overstimulation.

“You’re gonna give me another one,” he demands, losing the grip on your hair and pushing your body forward again.

“Javi, I can’t, please,” you try to protest, but he sneaks a hand between your legs, slides through the slippery wetness and finds a home on your clit, rubbing slow circles over the sensitive spot. A shudder runs through you at the sensation.

“You want me to stop?” he asks, his tone making it abundantly clear that he already knows the answer.

“N-no,” you admit, your hips pushing back against his again, your body desperate for more.

“Then quit your whining and do as I said.” His voice is raspy; you know him well enough, have fucked him often enough to know that he’s close. His fingers on your clit speed up. “Give me another one.”

Before Javi, you wouldn’t have thought it possible to come that quickly twice in a row, but you’ve accepted some time ago that he has a power over your body that you’ll never understand.

It feels like only seconds until the sensation of his cock dragging through your pussy and his fingers on your clit build up again and bring you to your peak once more. You pulse around him, hoarse moans leaving your mouth while his hips still and he spills himself deep inside of you, his moans mixing with yours.

He pulls out gently and helps you into a standing position, leading you to sit on his couch and cleaning you up quickly.

You never linger after your visits to his place, always quick to slip back over to yours. It’s too much intimacy, too raw, just- too much.

It’s what you do now, heaving a sigh as you lean back against your closed door. You splash water on your face, trying to cool your body down. You’re gonna need another shower, feeling like you’re drenched in sweat, but first, another cigarette.

When you step out onto your balcony for the second time that day, Javi is already there on his side, still shirtless, blowing smoke into the dark night. You sit down on your chair and prop your feet up on the railing, the one that he’s leaning his back against, eyeing you.

Neither of you talk, but it’s nice, you think, not being so alone.

thank you so much for reading! if you liked this, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment, it always makes my day <3

#✏️ game #janas fics #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena narcos #narcos fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #javier pena fic #javier pena one shot #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro pascal characters

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javierpena-inatacvest · 2 months

Text

Promises

Summary: When you wake up to find your house quiet, your first reaction is panic. But after you find Javi and learn what he has planned for you this morning, your mood becomes a whole lot better.

Pairing: Dad!Javi x Wife!reader (Reader's nickname is Osita, no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1K (Y'all I wrote this in like a few hours I was feeling some typa way)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (don't do this pls but also they want another baby), vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving) creampie, cum play (ig??), praise kink, the biggest, fattest, nastiest breeding kink (... Don't look at me), ass slapping (but affectionately), mentions of body insecurity post pregnancy, Javi being the biggest menace of all time (this man has a MOUTH on him, lawd have mercy), Javi being the best husband and literally being so in love, it's honestly sickening, Chucho patiently waiting for his next grandchild 9 months from now LMAO

A/N: ... Hey... I'm gonna need all of you to not look at me for the next 7-10 business days after this one.... I'm not sure what's in the water over here, but uh... Yeah. I'll leave it at that. Thanks to @endlessthxxghts for letting me share my horny thots about our favorite dad, sorry for waking up on the feral side of the bed this morning 🥴

Part of the Forever and Always Series!

It was quiet.

Way too quiet.

You couldn’t remember a time in the past 5 years where you had woken up to the house being so silent.

No TV, no commotion, no little squeals and giggles from your girls waiting impatiently for you to get up and out of bed, and if you weren’t already confused enough, you rolled over to be greeted by the empty space where your husband should have been, the usual warmth left radiating after he had gotten out of bed before you long gone.

But the real kicker was that when you turned back over again to peek at the flashing numbers of your alarm clock, your eyes went wide at a number that you hadn’t seen since well before kids.

10:39 A.M.

“Jesus Christ…” You whispered to yourself, frantically rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and tossing the comforter off of your body before scrambling out of bed in distress, as your brain pieced together the worst sort of panicked puzzle as to why it was so late, so quiet, and Javi was nowhere to be found.

You pushed open the bedroom door, peeking into the hallway, just as ghostly and empty as you had suspected, each of your daughter’s bedroom doors wide open with neither of them in sight. Rushing back down the hall towards your stairs before stopping in front of Javi’s office, you paused your search at the sound of familiar, muffled humming coming from behind the door.

Pushing it open, you were shocked to see the image of your husband sitting at his desk, leaning back in his seat with a book in his hand and feet propped up against the wooden surface, quietly humming to himself as he turned a page, seeming completely unbothered by his solitude. As the door creaked open further, it caught Javi’s attention, peeking up from over his book with a smile on his face as he dogeared his current page, pushing himself out of his chair to walk towards you.

“Wow, look who’s up! I was gonna give you ‘til 11:00 before I really started to get worried. How’d you sleep, Hermosa?” He cooed, wrapping his arms around you to pull you in for a hug, pressing a soft kiss into the sleepy tangles of your hair, gently cupping your face and forcing your worried gaze up towards him.

“Javi, what’s- what’s going on? Where are the girls? Is everything ok-” Before you could finish the rest of your thought, Javi’s lips were pressed against yours, the familiar bitterness of black coffee and minty gum still lingering in his mouth as he caught the rest of your sentence with his kiss, the hand cupping your cheek now letting his thumb swipe gently across your soft skin.

“Relájete, mi amor (relax, my love)” Javi laughed, pressing another kiss onto your forehead, smiling down at you, “I know how tired you’ve been the past couple of weeks, and rightfully so. You take such good care of our girls- you are the most incredible mom to them, but it’s only fair that you deserve a break every once and a while, too. So,” he smirked, tightening his grip around your waist, letting his hand creep slowly towards your ass, “I asked my dad last night if I could drop Lucy and Elliot off with him this morning so we could have a day just the two of us. He’s more than happy to keep ‘em for as long as we want, so I figured I'd take him up on the offer and I can get some time alone with my beautiful wife to help her relax and show her how much I appreciate her.”

You could the anxiety and worry instantly wash away from your body, the fear that had been consuming you since you had woken up now replaced by excited butterflies swirling in your stomach, heat creeping through your cheeks as you smiled back up at him, tears welling in your eyes in appreciation for how goddamn lucky you were to have someone who cared about you as much as Javi did.

“Thank you.” You whispered, biting at the inside of your lip to try and keep yourself from crying, Javi immediately tilting your chin up towards him in response, softly swiping away the wetness pooling in your eyes.

“Hermosa…” He cooed, looking you up and down with an empathetic smirk, brushing a stray piece of hair from your bed head out of your face, tucking it behind your ear, “It’s the least I could do. Now, why don’t you go get back into bed. I picked up a breakfast sandwich and coffee for you from Leo’s on the way back from Pop’s place, figured you might be hungry, considering you slept until almost lunch time. And after you finish eating,” He rasped, leaning his head down to nip at your neck, the hot words of his breath dancing against your skin, the shift in his tone instantly sparking a fire in your core, “I think I might be feeling hungry, too.”

“You are a menace, I hope you know that.” You sighed, trying with every ounce in you to keep your composure, the tickle from Javi’s mustache at least providing some relief from the tension as you burst out into giggles, Javi playing along by digging his fingers into your hips, running his hands along your sides until you had exploded into a fit of laughter, flailing and squirming in his broad grasp. “Stop it, you meanie! You can’t just promise me food and sex and then hold me hostage like this!”

Finally releasing you, Javi grabbed your face to pull you in for another kiss, this one slow and tender, an electric energy pulsing between the two of you as your lips brushed against one another, only pulling away after Javi’s hand planted a loving smack on your ass, making you squeal in surprise.

“Go get your ass back in bed, Osita. I’ll be back in a second with breakfast.”

“Okay.” You giggled, turning back on your heels out the door, but not before turning back around to peek your head through the doorway with a sneaky grin on your face. “And you’ll also be back with sex?”

“Baby, you have no fucking idea.”

As you jumped back into bed, tucking yourself back into your sheets, it wasn’t long before Javi was back in your room with the first part of his promised bargain- Your favorite breakfast sandwich and an extra large coffee, grinning in delight as he passed both over to you before settling next to you, wrapping your arm around your shoulder as you demolished the better part of your food.

“Oh my god, I haven’t had one of these in so long. God, I love you so much.” You sighed, taking another bite of your breakfast as Javi laughed at the ferocity at which your sandwich had disappeared. “I bet the image of this is really doing a lot turn you on for the second half of your promise. If I would have known, I would have at least put on cuter pajamas.” You snickered, gesturing down to your nearly finished food and Javi’s worn, oversized shirt and boxers you still had draped over your body.

“Shut up. You know I think you look sexy in anything. I love seeing you in my clothes. Drives me fucking crazy. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.” Javi smirked, rubbing his hand along your thigh, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin.

“You just like it when I don’t wear a bra.” You snorted, rolling your eyes at Javi as you crumpled up the wrapper of your finished sandwich, setting it on your nightstand before rolling over to rest your head on Javi’s chest, draping one of your arms across his stomach. “You’re sweet, Jav. Sexy in anything seems like a bit of a stretch, there’s about half my closest I refuse to make eye contact with after having Elliot.”

You let out a quiet sigh, trying to hide the frown pursed between your lips, thinking about how much your body had changed since the first time you had ever worn Javi’s clothes all those years ago. Two kids and lots of time later, you couldn’t help feel a little self conscious about how different you looked from when the two of you had first met. And even though Javi said it to you all the time, it was much easier said than done to always believe it yourself.

“Hey…” Javi replied softly, looking down at you with a frown on his own face, “Osita, you know I’m being serious, right?”

“Well, you’re my husband, you kind of have to be.” You huffed, half forcing your laughter as you immediately began to feel yourself become more and more conscious of your weight laying on top of him, almost trying to shift yourself away before Javi’s hand was wrapped around your back, pulling you over to lay completely on top of him and forcing you to look at his serious expression.

“Out of all the women in the world, you are the only one I ever want. You are just as beautiful, if not even more beautiful than the day I first met you, you know why? Because your beautiful body that I love every fucking inch of has grown and carried our daughters. You’ve made me a dad, you’ve given us a family, you are the most incredible wife and mom I could ever imagine. Baby, if that’s not the fucking sexiest thing, then I don’t know what to tell you.” You could feel the warmth blooming in your chest as Javi looked up at you with his sweet brown eyes, his hands roaming down the sides of your body until his fingers were digging into your hips and ass, kneading the soft flesh in his grasp. “Promise me.”

“Promise you what?” You whispered, an ache beginning to grow between your legs as you could feel Javi’s bulge hardening beneath you, his hands roaming relentlessly around your body, making it hard for you to even think straight.

“Promise me,” He paused, nipping at your neck, the bridge of his nose dragging along the side of your face until his mouth was ghosting over your ear, his words dancing against your skin, “Promise me that you believe me. That I think that you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. That I know you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. That I love your body so fucking much, that I wanna put another baby into it.”

His last sentence had your heart literally skipping a beat, a quiet moan escaping from your lips as Javi carefully rolled your body off of his, flipping you onto your back and caging you under his broadness, planting hot, wet kisses down your neck as his fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, his hands creeping below the fabric to palm at your breasts, rolling your pebbled nipples between his fingers as he waited for your response. Unfortunately, the best you could muster was a soft gasp of his name.

“Fuck… Javi.”

“That what you want, Hermosa? For me to fuck another baby into you, huh?”

Javi knew it was exactly what you wanted, the two of you agreeing you were going to try for a third a few weeks ago, considering he was almost more ecstatic at the thought of growing your family than you were, and that the thought of knocking you up was something that made both of you absolutely insatiable.

With the wet patch in your underwear growing damper and damper by the second, you barely had enough power in your brain to respond, especially now that Javi had pulled your shirt over your head, letting his kisses travel down your collarbone, chest, and now to your breasts, taking the nipples that he had been toying with between his fingers into his mouth, his tongue flicking and sucking at the harden buds as your moans began to grow like the fire in your belly.

“Yes, oh fuck- yes. I want you to fuck another baby into me, Javi. Please.” You whimpered, your body squirming under his touch as he let his kisses drift down your stomach and hips, his fingers hooking over your shorts to pull them down off your legs, gently nudging them to fall open for him as he nestled himself between, admiring the wet, aching mess you had already become.

“Then you have to promise me,” He smirked, draping each of your legs over his shoulders as he brought his face to your soaking heat, gently kissing your clit and letting the strong bridge of his nose ghost over your folds, “You have to promise me that you believe me. That you believe that you’re the most fucking beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Then, I’ll fuck another baby into you, okay? Can you do that for me, Momma?”

“I- I- pr-promise.” Your voice trembled, ragged with want and desperation as Javi’s mouth hovered painstakingly still over your cunt, waiting for you to fulfill your promise so he could fill you with his.

“There’s my good girl.” He cooed, feeling his smug smile bury itself into your pussy, letting a long, broad stroke of his tongue drag through your folds, the satisfying sensation making you shutter, your hips instinctively bucking towards Javi’s face as his grip around your legs tightened to hold you in place. His tongue languidly dragged across your cunt, slowly circling around your clit, soaking up the juices of your arousal that had been pooling between your legs, drinking up every single last drop.

He let the presses of his tongue become firmer and more focused as he unhooked one of his arms, snaking his arm between your legs to gently press two fingers into your soaking entrance, easily sliding through your slick to curl against the soft spot inside you that had you relentlessly crying out his name.

You couldn’t help but feel your bottom half squirm against your sheets, reaching down to tug at the dark curls of Javi’s hair, trying to find any sort of relief to keep from being a loud, moaning and whimpering mess as his tongue worked along your cunt, lapping you up like a man starved. His mouth latched along your clit, sucking at your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers pumped inside you, making the tingle at the base of your spine already begin to build in a needy desperation.

“Javi, holy fuck- oh my god baby, don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You whimpered, somehow managing to keep your voice just above a whisper as Javi pulled away to respond, still holding a steady pace with his hand as he felt your pussy start to flutter around his fingers.

“I’ve got you, Hermosa. Want you to soak my face before I feel you cum again around my cock. Give it to me, baby. Cum all over me before I fucking fill you up.”

With that, he was back between your legs, relentlessly working along your heat with his mouth as the coil in your belly wound so tightly, you were on the brink of snapping.

“Javi, Javi, Javi, oh shit- Fuck, fuck, I’m gonnaahhhhhhhhh.”

It was barely seconds before your orgasm flooded through your body, pleasure spreading through every inch of you as you clenched around Javi’s fingers, soaking his hand and face with your arousal as you came, screaming out his name as you reached your high.

That’s it, Hermosa.” Javi smirked, squeezing his hand into the meat of your thigh as you rode out your orgasm, still slowly fucking you with his fingers as you came undone around them, your cunt clamping down on the delicious curve of his digits. Javi peeked his head back up as your breathing began to even out, your chest rising and falling in satisfaction as his kisses began to travel back up your body, stopping at your neck to take extra time to nip along your jawline, his teeth tugging at your earlobe as his voice rasped against your skin.

“Such a good girl for me, Osita. So fucking wet. Fuck, I need to feel you, baby.”

Before you even had time to catch your breath, Javi had his arms wrapped around your waist, flipping you over on to your stomach, dragging his hands down your back, stopping at your ass to grab a handful of the plump flesh and smack it, nudging your legs to spread open for him wider, pushing them out with his own.

Javi worked behind you quickly and methodically, shedding himself of all of his clothes to free his painfully hard cock from his boxers, leaking with precum from the minute he had thought of the prospect of putting another baby in you.

He stroked himself a few times, using his other hand to swipe through your folds, coating his fingers in your slick before wrapping them around his cock, now shiny with your arousal as he lined up with your entrance, filling you up inch by inch, almost painfully slowly, until he had bottomed out inside you, his hips flushed against your ass, letting you adjust to the sweet sting of his stretch.

“Javi… Move, baby, please. I need to feel yo- Oh fuck!” You whimpered, your words drowned out by your moans as Javi had pulled himself out, only to thrust his whole length back into, gritting his teeth while a groan rumbled deep in his chest, draping his body over yours, burying one of his hands in your hair, gently tugging at the ends as he whispered into your ear, keeping his slow and meticulous pace.

“You wanna feel me too, sweet girl? Wanna feel me fill you up when I fuck every last drop into you? Fuck myself so deep inside you it’ll fucking take? That what you want, baby?”

“Yes, fuck, fuck, yes, please. Fuck, I want you fuck a baby into me, Javi. I wanna make you a Daddy again.”

Another deep moan feel from Javi’s lips, scooping his hand under you to sit in his lap, your back flushed against his chest, one hand palming at your breast, the other wrapped around your waist, holding you in place as his pace began to increase, just enough to hear the wetness between the two of you with each thrust of his hips.

You couldn’t help but let your bottom half grind deeper into each stroke, pushing yourself further and further down onto his cock, the sweet stretch of his fullness making your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head, the wanton moans and whimpers babbling from your mouth almost as lewd as the sounds your bodies made as they melded into one another as you let him take everything you had to give.

“Fuck me- That’s what you want, Momma? Fuck, I can’t wait to get you pregnant. See how beautiful you look carrying our baby again. Let everyone know you’re fucking mine with our baby growning inside you.” Letting his hand shift from your breast, he began sliding it up your chest, wrapping it around your jaw to tilt your head over your shoulder towards him, staring into his deep brown eyes before engulfing your lips in a long, wet kiss, your mouths becoming a tangled mess of tongue and teeth without ever relenting his pace.

His other hand dipped between your legs to circle your clit, still sensitive and swollen from your first orgasm, now throbbing even harder from his touch and feeling the heat beginning to bloom in your belly as you felt your second high begin to approach.

Javi knew just as well as you did that you were close to cumming again, feeling your pussy begin to flutter around his cock as his hips slapped against yours, breaking from your kiss to tug your earlobe between his teeth.

“Give me one more, Osita. Cum all over my cock and I’ll fill you up. Fill up this pretty little pussy ‘til she’s fucking stuffed and it’s got no choice but to fucking take and I knock you up.”

“You promise?” You whispered, your breath shaky and legs trembling as Javi rubbed tighter, faster circles around your clit, still cradling your jaw to force your gaze on him.

“I promise, baby. I fucking promise.”

Almost instantly, you could feel the coil that had been winding tighter and tighter in your core suddenly began to snap, screaming out Javi’s name as you felt your second orgasm crash through you, consuming every inch of your body in euphoria, feeling like you had turned to Jello, the only thing keeping you up being Javi’s firm grasp around you.

“That’s it, sweet girl. That’s it. Fuck, I’m close too, baby.” He mewled, his pace becoming frantic and sloppy as he held you up, fucking you through your high with reckless abandon, wanting to, no needing, to make sure he made good on his promise- that in 9 months from now, you’d have one more member in your family.

Even though you were barely hanging on by a thread, you could feel Javi’s grip tightening around your jaw, tilting it back towards him, the firm pressure cupping your face enough to force your eyes open to meet the wrecked and ragged expression plastered across his face.

“Eyes on me, Hermosa. Fuck, I need to- mierda- need to see that pretty face when I fuck you full of me. God, I love you so much, I love you so-ahhhhhhh, fuck.” It was then Javi’s turn to follow suit, only needing a few more pumps before he thrusted up once more, keeping himself buried deep inside your cunt as hot ropes of his spend covered your walls, making sure to milk himself of every last drop before even thinking of pulling out.

Holding you in place still sitting on his cock, you could feel the mixture of the two of you beginning to drip down your thighs, prompting Javi to gently ease you off of him, letting your back hit the bed as carefully lifted your hips to slip one of the pillows underneath your bottom half, briefly admiring the wet mess between your legs before taking two fingers and collecting the arousal that had leaked from your cunt, attentively dragging it up your thighs and pushing it back into your heat, making you gasp at the sensation.

“Gonna keep you full of me all day, sweet girl. Gotta make good on my promise.” He smirked, leaning down to pepper soft kisses to the inside of your thighs before slowly making his way back up your body, stopping at your lips for another tender kiss.

“Given what just happened, I think you’re trying to kill me before you can make good on that promise, Jav. Jesus Christ.” You sighed, your voice riddled with breathy giggles as you playfully nudged your husband, now lying next to you, pulling you in to rest against the warmth of his bare chest. “You think Peña number 3 is gonna make an appearance soon?”

“Like I said, mi amor, promise is a promise.” He smirked, boyish grin plastered across his face as he laid your hand across your stomach, gently rubbing it back and forth across your skin. “Plus, I think the girls will be thrilled to have another sister.”

“Sister, huh? We don’t even know if there’s a baby in there yet you dork, let alone what it’s gonna be.” You snickered, rolling your eyes at Javi.

“Been right about the other two. I’ll bet you all the breakfast sandwiches you want that it is.”

“You’re absolutely ridiculous, I hope you know that. Thank you for this morning, Jav. The girls and I are so lucky to have you. I love you so much.” You sighed contently, smiling into Javi’s soft skin.

“I love you too, Hermosa. All of you are the best things that have ever happened to me. All of my girls.” He winked, gently squeezing the curves of your belly, gesturing towards the daughter he proudly assumed he would be meeting in 9 months.

“Well, all of us, or your new son and my unlimited amount of breakfast sandwiches.” you snickered, “When did your dad need us to go pick up the girls? We probably owe him a few breakfast sandwiches for watching the gremlins on such short notice.”

“He said any time later today. Which means…” He smiled, caging his body over yours once again, as much time as we need to make sure that I win our bet.”

“Game on, Peña.”

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