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capslocked · 4 months

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HONNE, TATAMAE & THE OTHER ONE

male reader x shin yuna

9k words

Yuna shuffles into your office with the same sneaky smile, the same easy slouch, and she settles into one of the chairs across the table. There is, apparently, more to talk about.

It's a matter of image, of perception, is what she knows.

You know every good lie starts with the truth.

So you swallow. You pause. Some other part of you understands Yuna can't ignore who she really is, and you’re not sure you can either.

Look - Shin Yuna is the kind of woman that turns heads, even with the best of intentions. A long, lithe silhouette; an easy, rosy sort of youthfulness clinging to the swell of her cheekbones, the curve of her waist. Take a dress that's cut to show a little thigh, or a hairstyle pushed back on one side - earrings, or heels, or just the subtle swipe of red over her lip - it doesn't take much for men (or anyone else) to figure that out. A girl who, more times than not, really ought to have a boy's hand planted on her ass, in possession.

So the opportunity to capture such a form perfected - all toned and graceful and flush for curves, her legs never seeming to end, the slithering fit of the dresses - these were the things they wanted. Package it, put a logo on it - better yet, a ribbon or a bow - and ship it straight to the consumer.

Somebody everyone wants, somebody no one can ever have.

“So,” Yuna asks from the other side of your desk, lips slanting halfway coy. “Are you going to treat me like an adult?"

Her fingers play idly with the hem of her skirt, and she lets a long, slender leg slowly slide out from beneath her.

“In what way,” you answer, half paying attention.

"The photos." She doesn't have the slightest qualms about lifting it higher. The soft creak of leather, and a deepening smile. "Am I not allowed to be a little racy?"

"That's certainly... one way of looking at it."

You glance away from where her stockings wrap around the soft curve of her thighs to flip back through the photos in your lap, one after the other, each a little different from the last. The beach, the sun, a flimsy white slip of a bikini top that hides exactly nothing, her muscles wet and glistening and perfect. Beyond suggestive, it's considerably inappropriate.

But then to a lot of people, Yuna is a lot of things.

She’s more clever than anyone gives her credit for. And she’s fucking gorgeous, sure. That’s definitely not up for debate, but god is she young - she's barely twenty. And here’s some rather uninteresting food for thought: you couldn't even technically take her for a drink without faking an ID or breaking some law or another, like a real one. So go ahead, chew that down. Girls her age are typically studying, or working a retail job and getting wasted on the weekends. And they aren't typically making six, seven figures turning their head to the camera and asking how much more skin?

You have some thoughts.

Prudently, you’re her publicist, and it’s your job to make sure that the public gets a good look at her and sees exactly what you want them to see. It's unfair. She wields sex like a weapon. She's got the face, the body; it's an easy sell, commodified and commercialized down to the finest detail, the softest curve, the slightest arch of her brow. The idea's to not let anyone look too long, should they catch something you haven't approved yet, or the fact that she's quite possibly a real person with a real life and real feelings, which could easily fuck up her brand, so unfortunately, that's a bit of a no-go.

Sign of the times maybe, no ethical consumption under another something, yadda yadda - it's a shitty business, really, and the whole thing usually leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

(And just to be upfront, as an important disclosure: you are fucking her brains out on the side, which is a different kind of ethical dilemma, with a different kind of flavor to it.

You’re supposed to be something of a role model - and she’s gone and fucked up bad by falling for you. From her perspective, it probably makes sense. Girl gets boy, bespoke song, credits roll and it's fine. No sin to atone, no 'after'.

It was supposed to be a one time thing. It’s metastasizing into something you’re not even going to attempt to put into words. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen, you know that. And you know the girl has daddy issues, but then you've never had a problem whatsoever playing into it. The possessiveness, the control - she gets off on it. You're pretty sure that she'd do just about anything if you asked her, and you'll admit that the thought alone makes your stomach stir, your mouth run dry.)

Yuna taps her knuckles on the wood of your desk. “What’s the verdict?”

"Well, professionally," you say, caveat in hand, and you give the photos one last flip through. "I'd say they're fine.”

"Oh?" Yuna cocks her head to the side. Her long, blonde hair curtains over her shoulder, and the smile that shadows in at the corner of her mouth is almost wicked. She leans forward, chin propped on a palm, and you see that her expression is bright, glittering with interest. "And unprofessionally?"

Sure. It's a fair question.

Though she's wearing her stage face, the one that looks all big eyes and doe lashes, a hint of a pout on her plush bottom lip, and she's staring at you expectantly, the way she might look at a man she's just asked for the time.

You've seen her look a million other ways. You've seen her with her knees spread, her cheeks flushed, on all fours, straddling your lap, face pressed into the sliding glass door of your shower, her eyes screwed shut as she chokes out your name. And god, doesn’t she look good in all of them.

Your fingers tap against the photos.

“Unprofessionally," you tell her, and the smile on your face is tight - unknowable. "I think they’re a little… gaudy."

Yuna frowns, and it's just a flash before her expression is carefully blank again, the stage face back in full swing. She's been doing this since she was a teenager, so the mask is impeccable, but you know her, and you know that she's thinking: about the photo shoot, the way the photographer was looking at her, and the way you had looked at her later, too.

She knows what you've seen. She's wondering if that's why.

"Really," she asks, a note of disappointment in her voice.

"Really," you confirm with a small sigh, though you're still smiling. It's a small, private sort of smile, like you're remembering a joke. You don't miss the way she glances down at your mouth either. "Let me be clear, you have a shot at real success. I mean, you have a chance at a career. A real, sustainable career.”

She's sitting there with her legs crossed, her foot tapping restlessly, and when she's silent for a moment too long, the way her eyes narrow just a smidge, her head tipped slightly, you realize how it sounds. Patronizing.

"Look," you amend. You're not the best at apologies, but you try. "I just mean - I think that you could be doing something that you actually enjoy."

"Who says I don't enjoy this," she says, and there's a bite in her tone, a challenge. She's leaning back in her seat now, arms crossed.

"What, taking your clothes off for the camera?" You laugh, a quick bark. Isn’t that a cruel question, and you can see it in the way her eyes flash. "You could do a lot more than that, I'm just saying."

"Right," she says, and she doesn't blink, doesn't even move. Her gaze is fixed, unwavering. "Because I'm not pretty enough."

You open your mouth. Close it.

It's not a question. It's a statement.

"That's not what I'm saying-"

"Do you know what makes me different from the IT-girl-of-the-month? The Jang Wonyoungs, the Bae Irenes, the Kim Jisoos of the world?" Yuna cuts in.

"Yuna, this isn't-"

"You should know. " She laughs. "It's your job, knowing things, isn't it?"

The silence stretches thin between you. She's not wrong. There’s the quintessential beauty, the timeless classic, the fantasy-wrapped-up-as-a-daydream - oh, it's all sexual, but the product there is palatable (read: marketable). An idea the general public wants to take home to their mother, not take to bed. A beauty so docile and innocent, you feel guilty harboring those untoward thoughts it makes you have.

Yuna is somewhere possibly, someway probably the opposite. You’ve sold her as such, as fantasy in sheep's clothing. She's neither afraid to put the images to words, nor speak her desires aloud. It's her own brand of sensuality, and it's what the public wants - has always truly wanted, since the dawn of man and of popstars fucking their publicists - what the public wants but turns itself in knots just to pretend they don't. The only way it’ll end up in anyones’ parents' home is under the guise that it will be smuggled upstairs and held down into the springs of a mattress. Hand over her mouth, or maybe around her throat, just so she'll shut up.

She's not a nice girl, or the girl-next-door, a bride-in-a-box, but you'd known that before. The line between fact and fiction is fine indeed.

"You're different," you tell her, finally.

"When I first came in here, you had no qualms, no issue to raise, and now all of a sudden, everything is too much," she says, and she's not smiling, her tone flat. "If it was a problem from the jump, you would've said so."

“I just think a little subtlety would be a nice change of pace. It could go a long way, I mean, I could show you the data- "

"So you're going soft on me, is that it?"

You blink, and the realization hits.

"Just where was this noble version of you when we first started out? You had no problem then, remember? Put a sixteen-year-old in front of a camera, in this industry, and all of a sudden-"

"Don't."

“And suddenly it's all 'oh no, that's a little too much, we need to dial it back'." She sighs, a single sharp burst. "Why is that? Is it because you think that now you own me? I fuck you, swallow your cum and call you daddy, and now these are your decisions? Is that it?"

She’s standing now, her chair shoved back so fast it nearly clatters to the floor. There's a storm on her face, almost a rage. This now become a familiar story. The one where the girl's too pretty for her own good. Too much, too soon.

"I'm not a child," she tells you, her tone measured, a sharp contrast to the fire in her eyes. "I know what I want. I know how to get it. You're not telling me anything I don't already know. I'm different. You're right."

She's different, but the girl's clever, too. And she's stubborn. It's a dangerous combination.

You breathe slow. "Then why don’t you act like it."

“If they’re going to call me a slut,” she hisses, and she's walking forward. Her palms land on your desk, hard, and you glance down at her clenched fists, at her neatly kept nails, "you know, after we leak them all those steamy photos online-"

Your mind clicks. You reach to slam the cover of the photo book shut. She's caught your hand, though, in hers, holding it firmly to the desk.

Yuna glances at the photos over again, at the tight fit of the swimwear, or how the ties slip in an invisible breeze. And she's biting her lip, trying not to smile, you can tell. "You know it might be worth it for once," she says, slipping a finger between the buttons of her shirt.

There's a long, tense moment, and before you can register it, Yuna has rounded your desk; she’s closing the distance, fast.

And she’s lowering her eyes. Putting her lips on yours.

It knocks the wind from your sail, for just the instant. You're speechless.

Because her fingers. Her mouth. Her hair. Yuna's everywhere, and she's warm. It's utterly selfish, you understand: you want her to be yours. You want her to be yours and no one else's.

She’s realizing she might be.

You feel her grabbing for more of you. Wanting. She tilts her head, her breath hot, and you kiss her back, her mouth slick against your own, and the kiss is a fast, deliberate kind of messy. Your teeth catch her bottom lip, and her tongue slips past yours, licking into your mouth, her hands clutching at the collar of your shirt. It's not like it is when you're fucking, which is slow and hot, and she's on her back, legs around your waist, her nails biting into your skin, or when she's bent over the arm of the sofa, her ass in the air and her back arched, her breathless moans a chorus of yes, yes, please. This kiss is more battle, more heat, less gentle and less finesse. It's the kind of kiss that's just short of an argument.

"You're an asshole," she breathes into your mouth, and it's not a compliment.

You smile against her.

"So are you," you murmur, and her lips are parted, her eyelids fluttering shut, her breath coming quick and hot.

"Then maybe you should just fuck me," she says. She's not asking. “Yeah.” You press your words right into her neck, her collarbone. “Maybe I should.”

Your hands are on her hips faster than you can realize what it is they’re doing, palms pressing into her, and then you're walking her backwards, shuffling a few steps until the small of her back collides with the edge of your desk, and you're lifting her up onto the surface, the photographs falling to the floor, scattering.

"I thought we weren't supposed to do this here," she murmurs, pulling away for just a moment, her mouth swollen and wet, her eyes dark. She knows exactly what it does to you: the goading, the taunting - the looks of faux-innocence later over a bare shoulder, her ass in the air. How it can get you to fuck her within an inch of her life. What it’ll get her, the return on investment.

"And I thought we agreed to longer skirts."

Her thighs are smooth, silky, and they part, the lace of her underwear stark against her skin. You slide a hand beneath the elastic band, sinking down, and down, until she inhales sharply.

"The fuck do you end up doing going up the stairs?" you add, and your fingers are tracing the swell of her hip, and you can feel the goosebumps on her skin.

She bites her lip. You sink down to press a kiss to her thigh, and then the other.

"Nothing," she tells you, and her eyes are wide. "I guess it all just hangs out."

She simply smirks right back into you, throws her arms over your shoulders. You’re snared, caught - she’ll always be able to fuck what she wants right out of you.

"Jesus, Yuna." Your hand curls around her wrist, thumb pressed to her pulse, and her shoulders roll back.

You push her down, and she's sprawled across the desk, legs stretching wide, her head tilted back and her chest heaving. “God, you’re so fucking wet, and I've barely touched you. That turns you on? Being a brat?"

She sucks air past her teeth, and you can measure each rise and fall of her chest. The lace under her hips is soaked, her pussy swollen and pink. Like if she doesn’t get your hot, open mouth on her clit this instant, you’re both going to have a problem.

You slip two fingers into her instead, and Yuna keens.

"I know it does," you say, and your voice comes out lower, drier than you expect. She's hot, so wet around you, her pussy fluttering. "It fucking turns me on, too."

"Please," and “god,” is what all you receive back in half whispers, while her legs are spread, her heels now really dug into the square of your back, and she's got a fistful of your hair like she owns it. Her voice is high, her eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t be such a fucking tease."

You're not going to make it easy. She's not going to make this quick.

"What, and you aren’t?"

You curl your fingers inside her, and the noise that leaves her is positively obscene. She's grinding against your palm, her hips bucking, and her lips are parted, her eyelashes dark and thick, fanning her cheeks. She's panting, her thighs trembling.

"No," she breathes. If she’s shaking her head, you can’t tell. "I'm exactly what you tell them I am."

Your hand stills, and it takes a moment for her to realize that the pressure inside her is gone. Her eyes snap open, her mouth twisted.

"Fuck you," she spits. "Put them back."

You're already sinking down to your knees, and you've got her skirt shoved up, the lace panties pulled aside, her hips canted, her pussy glistening. The stockings can stay, fuck, the heels, too. She's so fucking hot, her legs spread apart and her lips red. Her palm shoved into her brow, and her breath just barely more than a ragged huff of air. You can feel her body wound tight and ready, her eyes on the ceiling.

You put your tongue against her, flat and slow. Inaccurate, indiscriminate, licking up her wet cunt. And her whole body arches off the desk, a cry leaving her mouth with her head thrown back. Her thighs are shaking, and her heel presses into your shoulder, and god, she tastes incredible.

"Please." It comes like music, really, a song of desperation. You can hear it. She's singing it for you now. "Oh god, please, fuck-"

So you do her one better. You put your whole mouth over her, and she fucking shivers. You don’t even try to ease into it - you're devouring, ravishing her, working your lips and tongue all over her pussy, lapping the length of her in broad, hot strokes, and she's almost shrieking, her body going taut. You suck on her lips, pressing your tongue into her clit, and when you pull off her, your hand takes over the place where your tongue can't quite reach, her wetness slick around your fingers. Yuna's close - you can see that she is, you can hear that she is, and it's her gasp that lets you know.

"I'm -" she says, her voice reaching higher, her nails digging into the flesh of your shoulders, the wood of your desk. The sound she makes is wretched and beautiful. "God, I'm cumming, I'm cumming - fuck!"

The licking, the lapping, the fucking fingering. You can feel her slicked cunt pulse and throb in a satisfied, anticipatory kind of way. Even if she wasn’t audibly wet around your knuckles, you’d read Yuna like a map.

Your thumb taps across her clit, once - twice, thrice, and it’s just that.

She arches off your desk, thighs trembling as your tongue works her over, This hard, hungry kiss, and she tastes as sweet as she looks - as filthy as she acts, too. Her pussy is slick, her hips rolling, her body trembling, and she's making soft, little ah, ah, ah, sounds into the wet seal of your mouth. She's trying to keep it quiet, because she knows as well as you, everyone in the damn office does, probably - it's one thing to play at being a slut. A complete other to really fuck like one.

Your finger slips in and out of her pussy, and then another. They fill her up. The knuckles bending and pushing deeper. Yuna's fucking ruined - your desk is ruined.

But then there you are, complicit, and perhaps a little evil: licking and licking and licking right into her, making her grip twist in your hair and her thighs clench around your face. You can feel it in how her breathing is coming fast, faster, her whole body growing taut, and it was never going to take long, you figure, the way her hips were rolling the moment you got your hands on her. You can tell. She's close, and she's so pretty, all flushed and writhing, her skirt hiked up, her ass perched on the edge of your desk, and when her mouth falls open and her breath catches in her throat, you pull yourself up to watch her, the heel of your hand pressed against her clit, and she's shaking.

"Look at me,” you tell her, a kiss trailing unsatisfyingly into the crease of her thigh, your voice running coarse.

She does, her gaze glassy, and the sound that leaves her mouth is a sob. That’s all it really takes.

“Show me. What face you make when you cum on my fingers sweetheart, show me what a slut you actually are-"

You can watch it all in real time, the panting, the heaving. The sculpted lines of her pretty face screw up, real tight, and she lets out another moan, breathier this time, her mouth hanging open. She does it again when you press down. And Yuna fucking shakes, her hands balled, white-knuckling, and the desk rattling beneath her.

It's all a matter of slight degradation, you’ve learned, the barest humiliation. Like the paradoxical freedom she knows she can find in a hand clenched tight around her throat or her hair pulled and twisted into a fist or the sharp sting of a smack across her ass. Her pretty face. She likes a little something that burns. Something sinewy, visceral, raw: you call her a whore, a filthy fucking cumslut and it makes her body curl like she has hot metal pressing into her skin. Makes her breathless, like she wants you to own her.

Sometimes it's better than being fucked.

(Sometimes.)

Because just look at her: she’s in the middle of coming apart, mouth fallen slack, brow furrowed - and she gets real quiet when she cums, the absolute opposite of the journey she’d taken to get there, all those loud little, uh-uh-ah, fucking please god, her moans, her whimpers - her orgasm ripping right through the middle of her, the hourglass of her entire body stiffening on borrowed time as it washes across her features.

You let out a loud sigh, something she can moor herself to that isn’t your fingers, the desk, or your hair at the roots. Yuna can be every bit as uncomplicated as she can be complex, but god, you love her most like this: an unrehearsed, beautiful mess.

"Baby," you tell her, because it's easier to just call her that, and because you don't know how else to end the statement, because you know if you ask, she'll let you - hell, she'll beg for more, and that’s got your brain feeling rather mushily incoherent at present.

"Daddy," she responds - because of course she fucking does; she’s gasping, and her cheeks are still so pink, her body sated, and your heart leaps into your throat.

It's a problem; you've been trying to work it out for a good few months now, and by this, you mean the little moment you have right after you're done, where your eyes meet, and you smile at her. A problem, too, her lips. A problem, because she kisses you, soft, and slow, and easy. A problem, because her heart's probably already yours.

If anyone were to ask, you would have said there's no greater pleasure than knowing a girl that's almost died to take your cock, but maybe that's the point: it's just supposed to feel a bit better if you're a little head over heels, a little stupid about it too.

"I'm going to use this perfect pussy now," you warn her - just simple formality - because you're already rolling her down onto her back, your cock hard and aching against your trousers.

You've got your hands on her stockings, tugging them down to her ankles, the lace of her panties around her thighs, the neat garter of her garter belt wrapped around her hips, her cunt bare beneath it. You unzip, too slow. You tug yourself out.

“I’ll be good,” she says to you, a promise.

“Yeah,” you return to her, “I know.”

And you slip your cock into her cunt, just barely - maybe an inch, maybe more - and you hear a little noise leave her throat, low. Broken.

“Fuck,” she murmurs, and god, you just can't help it, it's easy; you sink deeper, nice, slow, everything smooth inside her, until another broken sort of gasp spills off her lips.

And then another: "oh my fucking god."

You snap your hips back in, bottoming out this time in the wet heat of her perfect cunt, and she just fucking collapses. Yuna looks like an absolute dream in this state of half-dress, half-distress: black suede around the ankles, stilettos, with just the perfect heel. There are worse things, you can imagine, and she looks perfect sprawled out against your notes and portfolios, all this hot, aching want. As gorgeous as she is fucked. You tear into her stockings, a little. You’ll tear more.

You already know you're going to hell. Or at least that’s where you should already be, but you hips crash into hers again, fucking her legs wider apart, spreading her open across your desk for you, getting her slick all over the photos, her career - it’s all so perfectly unfair.

"You have no idea, the things I want to do to you right now," you breathe, your tone hushed, and you're talking again, like you often do. There goes your mouth - but your hips drag back, and then again, her pussy clenching, vice tight and impossibly wet.

It's a long, torturous, lazy sort of a pull, that draws these pretty thin moans from the very center of her.

And the way that feels, your cock buried deep in her cunt: better than good - heaven, if you care enough about labels for it, or the names of things. You haven’t any real way to tell; the gates haven't opened or anything, so all you're working from here is an educated guess. From the fact that Yuna’s eyes have slid closed, her lips parted, and her whole body starting now to tremble gently with it.

"Jesus, this perfect, tight pussy grips me so good, god - such a good girl, always so fucking wet for me," and your mouth is pressed to the arch of her ear, whispering every last thing you know will make her cum again, like a dream.

And she is, she does.

She's twisting up to grip at your hips, her head falling to one side. When you drag your cock through her cunt, slowly, you watch her lips purse and the way the flush moves all the way down the column of her neck, past her collarbone, her shirt half undone and her tits heaving against the white, sheer fabric. You fuck her for a little, and then you roll your hips slow, so slow.

Until your pace is fucking punishing, deep, and so hard. You can’t help it.

Because it's unbelievable - she's so perfect, so tight around you. Fit snug like a glove, like she was made to take your cock, to whimper and mewl at your mercy. Her lips part further and she keens, her brows twisting in similar disbelief as you pound your length into her. The heat pooled in your belly, the way she looks under your desk: fuck, she's so beautiful like this, properly fucked.

You'd let her ruin you for life - it's that simple.

"Yuna, you - fuck," you barely say, and you sound more than slightly stunned, so she’s filling in the gaps, elaborating in the spaces you cannot - that she loves it, that you’re so good for her, and so is that, and that, and that - the way it hits, right there, keep fucking her just like that, because right there, right there, right there, right there - the way she props herself up on her elbows to tell you, "you're fucking me so deep, oh my god - yes, oh my god, fuck."

By the time Yuna shudders through another orgasm, a silent ghost of a wail leaving her pretty frozen mouth, her lashes are batting against her cheeks, and she's biting her lip, so hard you're certain she's going to break the skin, her back strung like a bow. It's the look on her face, that soft sort of reverence, and how her lips are swollen and spit-slick, the pretty hollow of her throat. Your thrusts become faster, shorter - your own moan thick in your throat, your jaw hanging slack.

“Here,” you say, and she’s just putty between your fingers, on your cock.

You’re flipping her around, onto a different angle. You know she likes it, the way her tits are pressed against your desk, and it's hot the way her ass tilts right into your hips, arched. Proffering. "Be good for me, and spread yourself open."

She's already so meek when she complies. "Anything, sir. Stretch me out; I want you to make me yours."

God, she's practically purring when she talks like this. She knows exactly what that fucking does to you. Knows that when her eyes draw back, big and watery and full, you're a goner - if your cock wasn't deep in her pussy, fucking her open and raw, the view would nearly be enough. And all of this, the pretense, the pantomime, she knows how to bend the line of your body to her own, because when she turns, and presses her red mouth to the crest of her shoulder, you are hers.

You could probably cum, right now, deep down into the molten hot of her cunt: if your hips keep up their ruthless pace, if her ass was sticking up the slightest bit more - the sound that would come from her.

"Take that perfect cock - and fuck my pussy up," Yuna mewls, her voice saccharine and slurring, a touch whiny. She rolls her hips. Your cock grinds, still, though it stutters now - shallow and quick.

"All this pussy, for daddy's cock," and you're sure that the entire office can hear her now, the moans that escape from her mouth - but you can't even find it in you to care. You're caught, all of her a net you've willingly been ensnared by, and here you figure that's the slightest bit appropriate; you're so fucked, and it's funny, too. Funny enough to laugh about, later. "Nobody fucks this tight little pussy the way you do, sir."

It's a smile she hears in your voice when you say, "is that right? Go on then, let’s hear all the things you'd have me do to your slutty little cunt."

The line's crossed again, in some indecipherable direction. Where, again, exactly, does it matter? There are lines and lines, and none of them quite mark the beginning, the end, the periphery. This time you don't pull back; you dig deep, and it makes Yuna cry out like you’re killing her. Which, in a way - you already have.

So your hips stutter forward again, once more, and you lean into the slant, so fucking deep it's practically impaled. There’s nothing quite like holding this girl’s hips and pounding her from behind. Her pussy alone is fucking incredible. And the sound her ass makes against the flat of your stomach, the crease of your thighs - it's unimaginable, the way Yuna makes these little squeaks of a noise, like half-broken moans, when you fuck deep, deep, deeper into her. The way her arms splay wide and search frantic across your desk. And as you grab her slim, dainty wrist, pin it back and pull her tight - fixing her upright until you have her head lolling back against your chest - you simply fucking pound away.

Fucking all these little curses and sounds of appreciation out of her throat. Your cock forcing out each syllable, "yes," and "fuck," and "god, oh my fucking god - I cannot believe," now on repeat, how her tone grows tighter. How she moans - a lot, like something's being worked loose.

"Uh-uh," and you're holding her steady now, with one broad, strong hand at the back of her neck. "Keep telling me, and maybe I'll let you cum."

Your free hand finds purchase in her hair. Yuna's groan coming out pathetic and wanting, her mouth half open. You wrap her silky golden locks around your fist, her hair thread neatly through your fingers, and then give the slightest of yanks.

Christ, her pussy just fucking soaks onto you. Greedy. Needy.

"Shit," and Yuna gasps when she can, where she's allowed to.

"Oh, is my little girl into getting her hair pulled?" and you can see the signs of affirmation: the muscles inside her flexing, grasping you as you roll in, a small, soft nod, and the way she sighs your name, like a prayer on her lips.

Listen, she can barely speak, the way you're fucking her apart. Yuna's body is wound like a bow, like string and taught wire. Bent into the side of the desk and open for you, her pussy pulsing tight around you with every stroke.

"Sir, I'll do - whatever you need, just - just - let me have your cum, please -" and there, she's begging now, and her voice is tinny, breaking, breathless and airless.

Then it’s her fucking hair. You pull so much on it harder this time, with another measured thrust inside her, your body flush against her ass. Fingerprints searing down onto where her hips flare and taper, impossibly narrow.

You’re probably hurting her. You’re probably ruining her for anyone else - nothing will ever satiate her more than the way she sobs as your fingers twist tighter through her hair. Around her fucking miracle of a waist. It's an obscene sound that echoes down to your cock, as deep, hot and fucking filthy as her cries when she cums for the third, fourth?

"Just," Yuna barely makes, her eyelids heavy, her gaze flitting somewhere behind her. "Just look at you, fucking me so hard, filling up my tight little pussy, making me take everything your cock has to give. God, you love wrecking my perfect little hole, don't you?"

No, or yes, or probably. You’ll figure out the details later.

"God, I love it when you get real messy, when I get you like this-" your words run seamlessly into the searing heat between your bodies, like punctuation, like the end of days -

"Use me." She doesn't just say it. "Take me, and cum in me, wherever you want. Daddy, you can have my mouth, or, or, you can - you can finish inside me."

And god, you could, you really could: just the timbre of her voice does things to you, the way that it curls around the words daddy, and sir, and you're fucking me so goddamn good. She's saying them now, her whimpers breaking into outright moans and all: shit, please, please - you're gonna make me cum - oh - oh fuck! And when she's wound that tight, a quivering, sopping mess of a girl, you put your fingers against her clit, circling and pressing in tempo to the thrust of your cock.

The cruel metronome that makes. Hell, it fucking sends her.

She’s begging you to finish inside her. It's fucked up - and she knows it. She wraps her heels around the square of your back, and the tension rises, and rises, the coiled spring tight and waiting - just a push away, so you slam into her once, then twice more, the push of a hand splayed between her tits and your fingers digging into the muscle of her thigh. She wants you to cum in her pussy, fill her right up; she tells you that, again, that she wants it, and her voice is raspy, high. That she wants you now, as if she didn't before, and how does this compare, because she needs it now.

You hold out for just a little. You’re holding your breath. Just a little, just until Yuna’s eyelashes flutter open over her shoulder and she says your name, so sweetly, and says, "please, just, inside."

You shouldn't.

You can't.

So here, barely able to think at all, you end up doing the unthinkable - thinking all the while of pumping her right to the finish and draining your balls straight into the deepest reach of her cunt, how fucking tempting it may be - you muster an ounce of good judgment still adrift in a sea of lust. Your throbbing cock draws out of that wet, inviting heat and into your fist, and watch how that makes her begin to unspool: the way she tries to press her knees shut. She's sobbing for it, pleading, her lashes dark with tears. "No, no, fuck me, please, I'm begging you. Please, I'm going to be so good - god, please -"

You tug her back, look her in the eye, and let out a loud, shaky exhale. "Knees, princess."

She's too wracked with need to do anything other than comply. Her jaw drops. “But-”

"Mouth," you cut in, sharp enough that her gaze lifts, and you're right there - on the precipice, so close, watching her tongue dart out of her mouth to run across the swell of her bottom lip.

Watching her knees fold into the carpet, her stockings down loose around her thighs, her underwear hanging off an ankle. The rise and fall of her chest like rolling waves, and you can see her hands fisting on her knees, and her face: you watch the emotion flash over, like water on glass, and a moment is all it takes. She leans her face forward to your hand, as you wind her hair into your fist, her lips parted and her gaze lowered. She's obedient, taking the weight of your cock with her pretty pink mouth like the fucked-up-little-fantasy that she is, opening so nice and wide.

Her eyes flit up to yours, her mascara-ringed lashes fanned against the pink of her cheeks.

"My face," she tells you, or something close to it, "fuck my face. Go ahead, use it - cum all over me."

Your cock slides halfway home, her cheeks hollowing, and when it presses to the back of her throat, she gags. You curse and tip your head back, the wood of your desk digging into the flesh of your palm.

"What did you say," you half groan out. "Baby," you add, just for good measure, just to play along, "c'mon."

The tip of Yuna's tongue sweeps and swirls just beneath your cockhead, and she moans her answer around your length, lapping at a leak of precum. "I said," she's repeating now, her cheek brushing across your shaft, and you shudder. "Fuck, what I said was I want you to cum all over my face.

Jesus.

You bury your cock into her mouth once, twice. Let it sit there. Let her really struggle for it, the angle just a tad awkward from above. Let her lips stretch wide, and her shoulders shake a little - tears start to gather, pricking her eyes, her lipstick a mess, the way your cock fits, plugging up her throat so full. You hold her like that for just a second, a little less - until Yuna's moaning, the vibration low in her mouth, and her eyes flutter open, closed.

"Fuck," you spit out, and "perfect," and your voice is shot, your whole face warm, and you're going to cum on her - everywhere on her. Yuna, who’s been staring up at you in wide-eyed submission, gives you a little nod, like she means it.

Like she’s earned it.

And maybe she has: it only takes one last look to seal it - her hand curled around your cock, her cheek matted with her own spit and lipstick, the bright smudge of her own cum from the point of her chin to the cleft of her cupid's bow, and her eyes are locked on yours, eager and hot. Maybe she hasn't - and maybe you should make her beg, fuck her mouth some more - it's almost cruel, how she looks. A perfectly pretty picture, poised and pliant and waiting, and she's right there, beneath you, and fuck - this is so wrong, and you'll ruin her, you'll mark her up like this. She'll be painted like a work of art.

Your pulse thickens. Stands right up in your veins.

Then, your control, snapping: her pretty lashes flutter, her mouth gone slack, her jaw still tilted up like she expects a gift, an offering, her palm wrapped so nice and snug around the base of your cock, her expression dazed, and so easy, and perfect, so eager. You tilt your hips just a fraction further, and she fucking swallows, her tongue tracing the underside where you throb harder, heavier - her body lilting up as you press in so deep.

“God,” you breathe in, out. It hits hard. It hits fast. “Yuna-”

A tensing of your stomach coils up through like smoke, and your grip tightens on the edge of your desk, the other in her hair, a helpless, desperate thrusting, and there - it's a wonderful, brilliant sort of explosion, like light, the white-hot burn of a fever breaking. You cum all over her face and into her hair, spilling out streaks of hot, filthy white onto her sculpted features and the sweet line of her throat, and god, there's so much, she's taking it so easily, all her breathing hot and heavy and loud.

Her skin alabaster and porcelain; cotton and canvas; she lets you fucking paint her, all messy and ruined.

In fact she’s even smiling like she’s holding in a laugh, all gooey-soft with satisfaction, and you're jerking your cock slow through her slender fingers, even after there's nothing else left to give and every inch of her face is marked - the way she wears your cum like new skin. You feel the shockwave tear your nerves open, and then the calm, right on its heels, spreading out from your core to your fingertips, out through the roots of your hair.

"Ah," you exhale, a tight gasp. Yuna takes the entirety of you into her mouth, sucking down your length - harder - as she swallows back a final, sticky load, her own hair sweat-slick to her face.

Just look at the damage: that’s a story not even you’d be able to spin. There's cum on her nose, dribbling past her cheek. On her jaw and on her cheek. Filthy white streaked all over her parted lips, her neck. Down her shoulder blades, and soiling her hair, and leaking down past her collarbones.

(Christ, was this better or worse? You can't even tell. Every version of her that's been served on a plate for you has seen fit to make you sweat.)

When the dust begins to settle, you’re left panting and spent. Yuna, the collateral on this fine, whiny, disaster of a deal. A collection of photos, and some thoughts and ideas, that now sit disheveled on the ground. There's a scathing voice inside your head that's demanding to be heard, reminding you all-too-casually that this is not any way to manage a client. She could snap her fingers, call out to that sycophant at the top floor, and your career would be over - she could do anything she should ever desire.

You know, on a baser level, this, and worse: the duality of the thought. Her tight cunt on your desk, you on your knees; the sharp gasp you can steal from the top of her throat, perhaps when she feels the gentle pressure of teeth around one rosy nipple. The pinch of your thumb and index finger around the other. Her nails down your back in ten angry lines, and the throb in her throat, while you slide the whole width of a hand, rough, over the flesh of her ass.

Maybe the desk, like everything else, can just join the pile on the floor.

"Yuna," you say, the vowels pitching like a sigh.

Her palms find the sharp crease in your pants and slide upward. She's gazing up at you, bright, her face sticky with you.

"You can't send me out like this," she tells you, matter-of-factly, letting a smile cross the lines of her lips - or a smirk. A wordless extension of the previous sentence - of a few.

You pull out and away from her: a white and gray dotted tie hanging loose, unknotted; a button still fastened somewhere mid-center, your trousers pulled off and loose down just below your knees, the fly gaping open. She's in a similar state, the cups of her bra slipping loose, her mouth flushed, lips swollen and red, the outline of how she’d let you use her in a smeary, runny stain across her cheek.

"Maybe let your manager know," you tell her, pulling your belt in place, and you think you catch her eye rolling. "That you're going to be late."

Yuna doesn't hesitate.

"Tell her yourself," she responds, "I'm sure she'll be relieved to hear I'm not actually dead - just having gotten fucked stupid on my PR person's cock."

"I might forget to include a couple details."

"You shouldn’t." Her eyebrows jump. And she's chewing, lazily, on the full curve of her lower lip, her teeth glinting like razors. "Here, before you throw all this to the sharks -"

So, so very dramatic, and with this: her thumbnail pressed beneath your chin. It draws your gaze up - up, and down: from the splay of her legs and the gleam of wetness between them, a brief rest along the arcs of her chest - the room's a total fucking wreck. Your necktie, her skirt, her blouse, her pantyhose. The papers and books all spread, bent, broken, the stack knocked clean onto its side. The skirt's probably still pulled too far up her hips for decency, her breasts shoved up to her neck and the collarbone, and then there's her face - her chin streaked with cum. Yuna smiles then, the corner of her mouth pulled upward.

She might kiss her if you'd let her.

Cum on her lips be damned, she's beautiful like that, like she isn't even trying. And in fact, she never really had to - this girl, she'd do it alone. The idea that someone could be as universally loved as she, is enough, a marvel even, but here she is in front of you, every atom and curve a siren, a study in perfection and composition. Like she’s not just all your mistakes laid out to bear.

"Take a second to take a proper look, hm? Get all the memories in, while they're fresh."

"Because?"

"You can remember I'm only the person you say I am, for you."

"You can remember I'm only who you say I am, for you."

"Oh, of course," and the laugh that leaves your throat sounds dry, cracked open. The band of her skirt stretches, snaps back, so neatly that it leaves a pale line on her flesh. And now there are your hands, fitting around her hipbones, a sigh: a short, sudden motion, tugging her up. Yuna gasps: something surprised, delighted. She's all grins and teeth, all clean, bright incisors.

"Mine," you're breathing, the flat of her stomach underneath the fingers you've placed upon it. "This is mine - you. Yours - you're all mine."

It’s possessive, but, you’re not all incorrect.

"Yeah," she more than agrees.

There's a ribbon-taut quality in the way it leaves her mouth, the tension in her body coiled up through to the bones. She makes it sound like the beginning of a promise, the beginning of something much larger.

And by the way." She’s still buttoning her shirt. Putting herself together. You’ve seen the triage, the damage control. This is the Yuna you get.

So, she needs the second - a respite to lick a stray stripe of slick and cum off her wrist - blotting her cheeks with a ball of wet tissue, until all that's left is the smeared lipstick, her stockings splayed around the floor. The pattern you've worn, where your fingerprints would've shown, gets covered up under her skirt and her coat, wrapped up in a scarf.

The smug satisfaction in her tone pulls your focus, just in time, her hair's falling in waves down her shoulders - perfect, but not flawless: there's a creased line, a hint of her throat, just beneath the collar. There's a slight wisp out of place. The buttons aren't arranged all the way from her collar to her sternum.

"I'm going to go with that photoset, with the white top, in the sand - gonna post 'em online and generate some buzz. You even said it yourself: they're fine. " She pauses, pushing away a strand of hair. "Professionally, of course."

"Professionalism." You smile. "Of course."

She walks out carrying the stilettos: pumps in either hand.

"Always. Catch you soon," she promises, and you do catch a last flash of her expression, lips parted, the lower curving into a satisfied smile, right as she flicks the lock on the door open and your office goes back to quiet.

For a split second, it's unbearable: the silence.

And you think again.

She can have anything, get any boy, girl, whoever, any designer, photographer, make-up artist in the world; there's something so unmistakably intoxicating about the fact that the thing she's decided she wants, is you.

#yuna smut #itzy smut #itzy yuna smut #male reader smut #kpop fanfic

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katakaluptastrophy · 6 months

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Can we talk about Magnus in Harrow the Ninth? Because there's a tendency to paint him as this constantly cheerful figure and he's not - he's just very Fifth.

He's the only person who seems even slightly upset about the whole gun-toting horror thing:

“Did the Sleeper get them?”

“Only by assumption,” said Harrowhark, while Abigail’s dolt of a husband said, “I bloody hope so.”

“Magnus,” Abigail said, a touch disapprovingly.

“Well, if the Sleeper didn’t, that’s two maniacs with an ancient weapon and a love of blowing off faces, dear,” said Magnus.

And he's got a very low opinion of Silas:

"She won’t tell me what he said to her, just that he ‘was horrid.’”

“Cheeky little so-and-so,” said Magnus. “If he were my son, I’d give him something to think about. I’m not surprised he’s gone to ground.”

“I would hope your son might be of different character,” said his wife, half-smiling.

“Protesilaus should have biffed him.”

“It’s strange,” said Abigail, ignoring her husband’s exhortations to biffing.

Behind the jolly Jeeves and Wooster-esque talk of biffing people, let's remember that this is Magnus - who from Gideon's POV never saw a teenager he didn't want to adopt - earnestly wishing that a grown man had hit a 16 year old kid.

And when Harrow explains that she thinks she saw him jump to his death, Magnus isn't particularly sympathetic:

“We should have made him a greater priority,” said Lady Pent.

Magnus said, “I’m not certain.”

and

“We didn’t need him,” he said bracingly.

Abigail said, “We need everyone.”

“I never thought he was quite the thing.”

This "never quite the thing" line is the same one Abigail uses when she says Ianthe shouldn't have become a Lyctor and you get the sense it has a quite specific meaning on the Fifth. You get the distinct feeling Magnus is saying "good riddance" in response to a teenager's apparent suicide.

And then of course there's Magnus' conversation with Harrow as the River bubble collapses, as Harrow debates whether she should leave her body to Gideon:

She said: “If I go back, it will finally destroy her soul.”

It was Magnus who stepped forward and looked at Harrow face-to-face. And perhaps she felt that more keenly: that he was the man who had, in Gideon’s own words a lifetime ago, been nice to her cavalier. His mouth was hard now, but his eyes were as kind as they had ever been. And kindness was a knife.

He doesn't pull any punches in laying out his understanding of the situation to Harrow:

“This whole thing happened because you wouldn’t face up to Gideon dying,” he said, which was a stab as precise as any Nonius had managed. “I don’t blame you. But where would you be, right now, if you’d said: She is dead? You’re keeping her things like a lover keeping old notes, but with her death, the stuff that made her Gideon was destroyed. That’s how Lyctorhood works, isn’t it? She died. She can’t come back, even if you keep her stuffed away in a drawer you can’t look at. You’re not waiting for her resurrection; you’ve made yourself her mausoleum.”

His wife looked at Harrow’s face and murmured, “Magnus, you’ve made your point,” but he uncharacteristically ignored her.

He's trying to get through to her in a very fraught situation, but he's certainly not pulling his punches:

“You’re a smart girl, Harrowhark. You might turn some of that brain to the toughest lesson: that of grief.”

Abigail is also trying to talk her out of things, but she's much more discursive and apologetic. Magnus is kind, but it's kindness as a knife, not a cushion.

Magnus is so often written off as just a silly, goofy character, when he's more complicated than that. He's allowed to have a very real frustration with the River bubble and with Harrow, however much he does also care for her and want to help her.

And you know what, he's a CFO stuck in a horrorscape with his delighted ghost nerd wife and a bunch of soldiers. He runs with it - he cracks one of his House ordinal jokes while physically tackling a gun-toting ghost and makes a decent go at it before getting shot. But he's very much out of his comfort zone, angry, and no longer entirely held back by propriety.

#the locked tomb #tlt #magnus quinn #harrow the ninth #To digress into TUG spoiler territory...#A Lyctoral Abigail slowly blurring her calm and polite filter into Magnus' directness...

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actiniumwrites · 1 year

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BLURRED LINES

synopsis: the defining moment that changed the course of your relationship with them from being enemies to that of lovers

characters: kaeya, yelan, scaramouche, ayato, cyno, dottore, and alhaitham x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, injuries, blood, fighting, harassment (not from any of them), not proofread

notes: idk man i just wanted to write some enemies to lovers scenarios. each of these get longer as they go, so uh, sorry if you wanted some of the first ones to be longer cause i don’t really know what happened 😭 enjoy <3

Kaeya watched how you laughed so loudly, so confidently at him as you fought somewhere behind him. It was as loud and recognizable as usual. He felt his heart beat faster — flushed, annoyed, and fed up with your constant need to one up him, laugh at him for no reason, and point out each and every small mistake he makes. As the Cavalry Captain racked his brain for a comeback, anything to take you off your high horse, his ears began to hurt as your laughter faded into that of dreadful screams. Blue eyes caught yours in an instant, turned so fast that his body almost gave him whiplash. No. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this. Not when he hadn’t realized his hatred for you was nothing more than a guise for his buried love.

Yelan’s faint laughs scared the people on the harbor. Such an intimidating women, softly — yet arrogantly — laughing to herself was certainly an odd sight to see. She had bested you once again, and you hadn’t even known it yet. And Archons she couldn’t wait to see the look on your face when you realized it. Her laughter quickly subsided at the faint sounds of desperation and begging, coming from somewhere within a nearby alleyway. Nearly walking past it out of the need to be in other places, Yelan stopped in her trail when the whimpering cries turned into your voice. Fury festered throughout her body in an instant. Nobody was allowed to mess with you, not unless it was her. Maybe she hadn’t realized it yet, but she would do anything to protect you — even if it meant giving her life.

When Scaramouche fell limp out of the robot, falling from great heights as he plummeted to the ground, he held no beliefs he would be caught — no less by the hands of you, his sworn enemy. Yet, there you were, arms wrapped tightly around him as the traveler and Paimon stared at you in shock. Something about the way your heart felt the moment you saw him fall was deeply painful, like weeds growing around your heart. Though, the strong heat from your love was enough to burn those weeds, enough to propel yourself forward without thought and save the man you had unknowingly come to love. And as Nahida watched the scene play out in front of her, a knowing smile crossed her face.

Ayato loved nothing more than to argue and debate with you. It came as a package deal alongside the fact that you were from the Tenryou Commission and he was from the Yashiro commission. Because god you were so smart and always had the perfect comebacks, even though it was infuriating when you would win. What he didn’t like, however, was when he would watch you argue with someone else. Especially when you lost to them. Ironic, right? He hated watching his enemy lose? So when his eyes spotted you around the corner of Ritou, backed up against a wall as a rude man berated you, his eyes filled with fury and his heart was racing. No one was allowed to treat you like that. So he took care of them for you, even though he knew you were fully capable. And as you stormed away from him, he was left with a single question: if you were supposed to be his enemy, then why the hell did he care so much about you?

The moment Cyno saw you fall backwards, he scoffed. Honestly, when were you actually going to beat him while sparring? But then you didn’t get up. Cyno swore he felt his heart fall out of his chest. And oh archons, the moment he saw blood, the weapon fell out of his hand and his feet propelled him forward. His knees scraped against the rugged bricks of the floor as his arms wrapped themselves around your torso and hoisted it against him. But then your eyes opened and the laugh he always thought was so beautiful fell from your lips. Stopping when your eyes met his serious expression, you joked, “What? Don’t tell me you were actually worried about me?” Cyno’s eyes pierced through yours, a serious, yet genuine, expression painted across his face, “Don’t scare me like that, it’s not funny…I thought I lost you for a second.”

Dottore felt annoyed the moment he heard you knock on the door. So he ignored it, knowing only you would be stupid enough to get hurt and go to him at such late hours of the night. You could’ve seen another doctor, but he knew you loved to annoy him more than anything else. But then the knocks came again, weaker and more fragile this time. Sighing, he opened his door, only to find you. Your eyes were kept on the floor, but he could see the tears that pooled in them. Blood adorned most of your body, and your clothes were all tattered and torn. The arm that was holding you up against the door gave out and you collapsed, but not before Dottore caught you in his arms. You were mumbling, shaking, and absolutely terrified as you leaned against him. And yet, for some reason, Dottore couldn’t help but feel a small feeling of warmth spreading in his cold heart at the thought of you coming to him when you were most vulnerable. Though, it wasn’t enough to stop the anger he felt for the person that hurt you.

Alhaitham sighed for what felt like the thousandth time that day as he spotted you in the library late at night. Shouldn’t you have already gone home? Or were you just trying to get ahead him again? Perhaps aiming to steal his position at the Akademiya this time? He never knew with you, but at least the competition kept things a little more entertaining each day. So, he made another sarcastic comment toward you on his way out. He couldn’t see your face from the way you were sitting, but your silence stopped him in his tracks. No rebuttal? No comeback? Not even an annoyed sigh? And then your shoulders started to shake, and small whimpers fell from your lips. Shit. Alhaitham didn’t know what to do in situations like this. But even so, he stopped and walked toward you. Sat down next to you and stayed quiet, only offering a few tissues and some water he had on him — which you hesitantly, but gratefully took. Maybe you were his “enemy” and maybe he didn’t know how to deal with people crying, but for some reason it felt natural with you and he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave you alone.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfiction #kaeya x reader #yelan x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #ayato x reader #cyno x reader #dottore x reader #alhaitham x reader

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skipper1331 · 1 month

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Spider // Alexia Putellas

a/n: inspired by a tik tok I saw, but sadly can’t find anymore!

Early on in your relationship, you learned that Alexia wasn‘t afraid of anything - the complete opposite of you.

It was you who hid in the crook of her neck when you watched horror movies,

it was you who sent her downstairs when you heard some weird noises,

and it was you who had a night light on when she was away.

Seeing Alexia scared or frightened had never been on your agenda as you had tried to scare her multiple times already, her reaction always the same, "I know you‘re there" or "don‘t even try it, mi amor, I heard you"

But the one time you did see her scared was in a way you never expected it to be.

You stood in the kitchen as you debated on what to cook tonight.

You weren't the biggest fan of cooking nor the best at it, but since it was an unspoken rule that one night you would cook and the following day Alexia, you naturally stuck to it, especially when you knew that she had training until the evening.

So, as you leaf through the cooking book, you stopped at every recipe you knew Alexia enjoyed, checking if you had the ingredients.

With the music playing softly in the background and your daydreaming, you didn‘t realize that your girlfriend had entered the room. Silently, she walked up behind you, resting her chin on your shoulder while her arms looped around your midsection as she pulled you against her front, "what got you so distracted, mi amor?"

Your body tensed and froze - being frightened before you quickly melted into her embrace.

"I don‘t know what to cook" closing your eyes, you rested your hands over hers.

"What about some simple pasta?" she proposed as she started to press featherlight kisses along your neck, making you melt even further in her touch. In responds you nodded, turning in her grasp, "how was training?" you asked, putting your arms around her neck, the two of you swaying to the music.

Tiredly, she smiled "good but exhausting. I scored some goals"

"Something new" you teased, pinching her cheeks, grinning widely at her expression.

"Stop"

Biting your lip, "Hm? I‘m not doing anything. All I was saying was-"

Leaning in, the Catalonian locked your lips, preventing you from finishing your sentence. Immediately, butterflies erupted in your stomaches while your minds went blank, only focusing on each other.

"If it was always that easy to shut you up, hm?" the girl grumbled jokingly, pulling you back in. Kissing you would always be her favourite activity.

That girl was obsessed with and addicted to you - she could never get enough of you.

She loved kissing you,

she loved hugging and holding you,

she loved talking and listening to you,

she loved protecting and claiming you as hers,

she simply loved you.

After a few kisses, the midfielder excused herself to change into more comfortable clothes when all of sudden a hair-raising, terrifying and horrific scream came from upstairs - Alexia.

"Ale?!" you shouted, grabbing the nearest weapon - a fork.

Running to your bedroom with adrenaline pumping through your body, you prayed that she was alright.

Please let her be okay.

As you threw the door open - ready to fight whatever was behind it - your girlfriend stood on your shared bed, gripping the sleep shirt in her hand and screaming.

"Are you okay?! What‘s wrong?! Are you hurt?! Why are you screaming?!"

Alexia had a look of disgust and fear displayed in her features, "araña!"

At this point, you really should have continued your duolingo strike because you didn‘t understand what she was talking about at all.

"Spider"

She pointed to the wall, her body tense and slightly shaking.

Sighing in relief that it was nothing dramatic, you walked to the wall where she was pointing at, the spider not visible until you were one step in front of it.

"la araña is huge!"

"It‘s tiny" you laughed, shaking your head, putting down your 'weapon' "baby, I thought someone was in here"

"She is!"

"yes but she probably lives here" walking towards the bed, you held out one hand for her to take, leaving your guest alone "she does not pay any bills! She‘s not allowed to live here! Kill it" your girlfriend demanded, crossing her arms yet her eyes not leaving the gigantic monster, "I will not leave this bed until it‘s out of my house"

"Okay" you stated, walking towards the door, intending to get an item that would help you remove the spider.

"Where are you going?!" Alexia‘s voice shrilled, more fear appearing in her eyes.

"Getting a glass" your voice was calm and gentle, not wanting to stress out the footballer even more.

Which didn‘t seem to help.

"Why do you need to drink something now?! Kill the monster!" she panicked, "don‘t leave me alone in here"

"I want to-" you cut yourself off, there was no point in explaining what your plan was as everything seemed to freak out the Barcelona player. So instead of walking out of the bedroom, you walked towards her, offering your hand once again.

She clinged onto you, her legs wrapping tightly around your waist, arms holding you around your neck as she hid in the crook of your neck - something that had never happened before.

Roles were reserved - you were the protector and she was the one to be protected because the 'I’m never scared'- girl was in fact scared and very so.

Gently, you sat her down on the couch, pressing a kiss to her forehead before you got a glass and a piece of paper, heading back to your bedroom. You felt Alexia‘s eyes burning holes into back of your head until you were out of sight.

The tough girl was seriously afraid of a tiny tiny spider, somehow ironic.

When you arrived in the room, you walked towards the spot were the spider was - it wasn‘t there anymore.

Slightly in panic, (not afraid of the missing spider but your girlfriends reaction) you thought about what to do. Telling Alexia was definitely not an option and neither was searching for it. The spider was tiny and compared to your bedroom, it would take hours to find it, so there was only one option left: leaving the spider wherever it was and acting like you removed it.

And even though, you were the worst liar and you hated lying, was this an acceptable lie - after all, it was about her safety and peace of mind.

With a plan in mind, you headed to the bathroom. You knew Alexia would hear the flushing toilet and assume you killed the spider, exactly what you needed - for her to think the spider was gone forever.

All you could do now was to hope and pray that you would eventually find it and not her.

Making your way downstairs, Alexia waited patiently at the edge of the couch, "is it gone?" she asked.

"Yes, baby"

"Gracias amor" she got up, keeping her distance as the items the spider had touched were still in your hands.

She followed you in the kitchen where you threw away the paper, about to put the glass in the dishwasher, "what are you doing?!" the midfielder‘s eyes wide, voice high-pitched, "put the glass in the trash!"

"What? Baby, it’s perfectly fine"

"No no no, this will not stay in my house!"

You admitted defeat as you also threw away the glass. The lady needed her inner peace back.

"Maybe we should get some takeout tonight?" you proposed, taking her hand and walking in the living room.

"Sí, that‘s good"

The midfielder collapsed on top of you, hugging your figure as she pressed soft kisses along your jaw, "my hero" she smiled, finally interlocking your lips, showing her appreciation of protecting her. She purred every inch of love and affection into that kiss, thanking you yet also shutting you up as she knew you had a teasing comment resting on the tip of your tongue.

After puling away to catch some air, it left your mouth anyways, "never scared, hm?" you giggled, her cheeks turning red.

In responds, she just kissed you once again, the spider long forgotten as the touch of your lips made her forget everything in the world.

If the spider had still been there, you would have gotten rid of it to protect your girl and though, the plan had changed, the intention stayed the same, so you happily accepted the thank you and love you were getting at the moment.

next day

"AMOR!"

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #woso image x reader #woso imagine #barcelona femeni x reader #fc barcelona femeni #fc barcelona women #barca women #barcelona femeni #barcelona women #barça femeni #barca femeni #espwnt #espwnt x reader

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lila-went-missing · 3 months

Note

Saw you want to write Clarisse x Reader and I NEED more clarisee x reader fics SO!

Can you a Clarisse x reader of when Percy broke her spear and just like readers reaction to the her scream and just very angsty but very fully at the same time! Pls and thank u!

I swear on my life reverse hurt/comfort is one of my favorite things to write on this planet. Also, I feel like it’s worth mentioning that Dior said she literally BLEW OUT HER VOICE when she did that scream?!?! She never fails to amaze me.

This got a bit sadder than intended but it's not too bad. Also, sorry this took so long, I had a math test, two essays, and a debate, on top of personal shit. But I FINALLY got it finished.

My Love is Waiting For You to Come Home

Warnings: Slight violence, mild angst, hurt/comfort, cursing, small amounts of blood, mentions of wounds, lmk if I left anything out.

Pair: Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Apollo!Reader

For the first time in what felt like forever, capture the flag was going great. It had been a long time since the red team had won, but you were actually doing really well. You were up in a tree close to the flag, shooting anyone who got too close with your arrows. They weren't sharp, but they had enough of a point to hurt.

Clarisse was hunting in the woods below you. You'd occasionally catch sight of her from the place you were perched on your branch. She always looked amazing like this. Hair pulled back, armor on, spear in hand. She was in her element, and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't extremely attractive. The way she looked so tough, her lucky red bandanna tied around her bicep.

Anyone else would say she looked terrifying. But to you, she was the most beautiful person you'd ever laid eyes on. You were the only one who got that side of her.

It wasn't long before she disappeared again, hunting down anyone who dared to get close to the flag or your tree. She had mentioned something before the game. Something about revenge on the new kid. She didn't go into detail about said revenge, but you new it wouldn't end well for someone.

You didn't move from your tree, assuming her and her siblings had everything handled. And they did, for a while at least. You had shot down another four people by the time you heard your girlfriend scream in a way that genuinely terrified you.

Jumping down from the tree, you raced to the sound as the conch horn blue. You made it in time to see her storm off as the blue team carried the flag over. Just before she made it out of sight, you saw the spear in her hand. Or rather, what was left of it.

Oh gods. You thought.

You tipped your head back, letting out a breath before turning in the direction she went. You found her in the arena, tearing dummy after dummy into shreds. You let her go at it for a while, watching from the doorway.

Eventually, you slowly walked towards her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Clar.." You whisper.

She jumps, turning quickly, ready to knock you into the ground before relaxing. All of the tension disappears from her face, her bottom lip trembling. You reach forward, taking the sword from her hand and tossing it into the rack haphazardly.

"I- fuck.." She drops her head forward, breathing hard.

"Come on.. it'll be okay." You lead her towards your cabin, knowing all of your siblings would be in the infirmary tending to peoples wounds. You can see cuts and bruises on her arms, giving you a feeling that her back will be even worse. You make sure to grab the pieces of her spear on your way out.

On the way to your cabin, her eyes don't leave the ground. Your hand stays on her back the the whole walk, not leaving even as you open the door for her.

She sits on your bed, putting her head in her hands. The broken weapon lays on the foot of your bed as you sit next to her. Her breath shakes with her body.

"Let me clean you up, okay?" She nods, at your words.

"Okay.." Her voice is smaller than you've ever heard it before. You lean forward and pull her shirt over her head, confirming your suspicions about her back. An angry red covers almost the entirety of her tan skin, small amounts of blood leaking from a few spots.

You hover a hand over the scrapes and cuts, a warm glow emanating from your palm. Her wounds slowly heal as her muscles relax. Your heart breaks for her every time you hear her wince or feel her breath hitch. Your free hand reaches forward, grasping hers. A few small scars form over the area, but nothing that won't fade.

You lean your chin on her shoulder when you finish, wrapping your arm around her front. Her other hand reaches up to hold your wrist.

"I love you.." You whisper into her ear.

She hesitates, not speaking for a few moments. When she does her voice is as shaky as her body.

"That was the only thing- the only proof he-" She can't finish either sentence. You can feel her holding her breath as if she's trying not to cry.

"I know, my love. I know." Your lips press into her shoulder. "I'm gonna talk to some Hephaestus kids, I think there's a couple of Hecate kids in the Hermes cabin. I'll do everything I can to fix it."

Her whole body shudders. She's never had the best relationship with her dad. He'd always said that she should've been a son. That spear was the only acknowledgement she'd ever gotten from him. And now it was broken.

A few tears slip down her cheek that you pretend not to see.

"It'll be okay, Clar'." Your arms tighten around her as her head leans into you.

"Thank you." She mutters. If it wasn't for your close proximity you probably wouldn't have heard it at all.

"You deserve someone to care about you.. I'll be damned if I don't do everything I can to be that person."

"I love you. So much." Her voices is so soft, so gentle.

"I love you more." You're not sure how long you sit like that, but it's long enough for your legs to go numb. You can bring yourself to care as she looks so comfortable. She's always had to fight for her dad's love. It gets tiring after you do everything you can to get no recognition. It was nice to know she had someone. If she didn't have anyone else, she would have you.

Eventually you moved positions to her laying on your chest. Your hand rubs up and down her back as her wrap around your waist. She traces patterns across your skin with her finger tips. It's not long before you're both sound asleep in each other's arms. She would never have to fight for your love, it was just there, ready for her when she came home.

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #clarisse la rue #dior goodjohn #clarisse la rue x reader #x reader #percy series #percy jackson disney+#clarisse pjo #hurt/comfort #light angst #fluff #one shot #clarisse x reader #clarisse is bae

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strawberymilku · 4 months

Text

Hate fuck

featuring: Blade x female!Reader

genre: smut, hate fuck, a lot of swearing, mentions of slut and whores, blowjob, degrading, slapping, choking, rough sex, enemies to lover arc, daddy kink, unprotected sex, doggy style, creampie

a/n: i really wanted to write a hate fuck for so long, so i tried. reader is a horny mf, so blade gotta show who that toy belongs to.

word count: 3.2k

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"I really hate you," the girl Stellaron Hunter muttered, he stole her snacks form the fridge as always.

Blade smirked, the edge of his eyebrow raised.

"And yet if I wasn’t here, you’d be bored out of your mind. I don’t think you want that, Princess."

"Don't Princess me, I never share food, you know that," she hissed, throwing the half eaten cake, in the bin, glaring at him.

"Now now, is that any way to treat your enemy?" His smirk got wider, revealing just how much of an annoying bastard he could be. The bastard part was mostly true, it was the annoying part which was up for debate.

"Besides, I’m still pretty hungry…"

"How about I touch your sword, do you like it?" she intentionally touched his weapon, smudging it with the icing she touched just now, just to tilt him further.

He rolled his eyes. His sword was the last thing he wanted a careless girl like her touching. Then again, it was hard to deny how attractive she truly was. In a more perfect world, the two of them would end up together. But unfortunately, this wasn’t one of those. A smirk once again spread across his lips, his hands quickly reaching over to hers, his thumb stroking the inside of her palm as he held her wrist, bringing it closer to his mouth.

Her anger turned into frustration as he took her hand and licked the cream off her hand on purpose, kneeling down in front of her, however wasn't pleasurable on her face as it turned into a scowl, removing her hand from his grip. "You're disgusting, really." she slapped his face away, backing off from her seat.

Blade stood up and looked at her with a small smirk. Though her anger was far from being cute, he still had no regrets in his actions. That was just how he was, a disgusting bastard.

"You’re no different, darling. How many times have I seen you walk in late with a different person each time? I doubt you even know their names."

"It's none of your business," she furrowed her eyebrows, pissed at how observant he was with her, it was rather creepy.

"Aren't you just Kafka's little lapdog?" she had crossed that line, wayy cross that line. His face turned into huge rage, staring her dead in her eyes.

"Don’t you even go there, you filthy whore." his voice got louder as he glared at her. His expression twisted and his body language was now more threatening, even. No one dared to call him Kafka’s lapdog, and especially not from her. Blade was his own man.

"Isn't that why you joined the Stellaron Hunters, you're just her boy toy," she grinned. It was just her assumptions, he had his other reasons but that doesn’t matter, she was literally humiliating her. He cannot allow that.

Blade’s blood boiled. He had only a few things that could get him really riled up, and being associated with Kafka was one of them.

"You little slut. I’ll have you know, I did not join because of her. I have my own reasons for doing so, and they do not involve that woman."

"Don't call me a slut, you are a simp. A literal simp, do you even know what that means?" she snickered, enjoying to see his angry facial expression.

He was just about done with her. He clenched his hands, the veins on his forearms bulging. How much he wish to destroy her right at the moment, he imagined if his cum was all over her face, he want to humiliate her right there, but he kept his composure.

"Shut the hell up and keep your mouth shut. Don’t think that just because I didn’t join because of her means that I’m a simp." he tried to act calm instead, folding his arms.

Blade sighed, running his hands through his hair. He had let her get to him too easily. She was clearly trying to piss him off, and she had succeeded. In response, he was simply going to have to do the same.

"You know, now that I've actually gotten to talk to you for more than a few minutes, I can see exactly how much of a disappointment you are to everyone around you. Your parents must be ashamed to have you as a daughter."

"Don't bring my parents into this..." she looked up at him, he had gone way too far, she got up from his seat, approaching with him with her fan made of different blades attached to it, pointing on his neck.

He smirked, noticing his remark must have gotten to her. That is the exact reaction he had been wanting for. He raised a brow when her fan approached his neck, though he didn’t bat an eye at that either. The only thing he seemed interested in was the fact he had successfully gotten her.

"Or what? You’re going to hurt me? Come on, do it then."

She dug his skin with the point of the blade as it went further deeper, but she held her urges for murdering him, which she knew Kafka would come after her, for not getting along. "You have gone way too far, Blade. Take it back," she growled, looking into his red and golden gradient eyes.

Blade didn’t even flinch. In fact, he only smirked while blood slowly dropped down his neck. This certainly hurt, though he decided it was too late to back up now. Her anger was already through the roof. So all there was left to do was continue what he did best - piss her off.

“Make me.”

It seemed he was going to have to show her who was boss. With some quick and fluid motions, he was able to knock her backwards and pinned her to the wall using nothing but the strength of his arms. The red stains on his neck had now gone all the way from the front down to the back. He leaned in close, his body heat and breath filling her face. He liked how he had power here.

"Let go of me you lapdog," she looked above him, but he was twice her size.

“No.” Blade smirked, gripping her shoulders tightly. “Now tell me, little girl. Who’s the one in charge here? Who decides what happens and what doesn’t? Answer me.”

"No, what I said was right," she shrugged, daring to look at him back, or even say a word against him.

It made him smirk- he was enjoying this. It was a power trip for him. The satisfaction that came from him having complete control over her.

"That’s not how this works, darling." He leaned in even closer and whispered. "Say it."

"I'm sorry for calling you Kafka's lapdog, although which is true.." she apologized, giving it a half ass sincere words.

He finally released his grip from her, pulling her slightly closer. Now they were eye-to-eye, she was probably now noticing just how much of a height difference they had. But other than that, he was now in a much more relaxed position.

"At this rate it seems to me like you’re begging for a kiss." Blade said, his voice laced with an air of smugness.

"Quite the confidence you have, who said I want to kiss you," she rolled her eyes, wanting to push him away from her, ready to get out of the room, wanting to storm in Kafka’s office room and file a report but first she need to escape from his strong grip.

“Tell me, what’s stopping you?” Blade said, his voice getting more seductive with each word.

"Hmm, yes there is, actually, you got a pretty face but an ugly personality, nah not a man in my eyes" she hummed, wanting to piss him off, if she could.

“Is that so?” He smirked and got even closer to her. His breath and body heat were now on her face, his lips only a few inches from hers.

“Hate me all you want, but I see the way you look at me. Your anger clearly hides this intense lust for me. It’s clear as day how much you want me.”

"Oh please, aren't you jerking off the pictures Silver Wolf took for me?" her forehead vein was twitching from the bitter truth, exposing him to tilt him even more.

Blade got pissed just from those words alone. She had clearly touched a spot he was uncomfortable with. Now he was going to make her regret it.

“Shut up, you little whore.” he hissed, his voice dripping with anger and hatred. “I’m surprised you haven’t begged for me to punish you yet.”

"Why should I? I knew you want me," she looked smug, saying the words to drill it in his head.

Blade froze for a moment. Was she... actually enjoying this? That made him madder than anything! But... he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying it a little bit himself. Blade leaned in even closer, his voice now laced with a sadistic and condescending tone.

“And I think you want me too, honey.”

She scoffed at that line he told her, but she could feel his grip on her soft arms, still pinning on her wall. It was true, she wants him too, and why are they acting so tough about it. "You're a bit delusional, Bladie" she hid her true self again.

He was enjoying this game more than he let on. He pulled her even closer.

“How cute... I wonder why you keep calling me delusional. Could it be because you’re afraid to let yourself be vulnerable to me?”

"You're so annoying, can I just shut you up already?" she whispered, she could feel his breath so close.

Blade smirked at her request. He was tempted. It’d be so easy... with a quick movement, he could pull her in fully, and their lips would meet. It was a simple motion. However, his mouth remained shut. Instead, he gave her that seductive smirk once more, his eyes locked on hers.

“Make me.”

She pushed her head, their nose were already touching, the proximity was too close, but she was such a tease, she didn't kiss him yet, she just want to push his buttons, their lips just a centimeter away, she let out a giggle as she earned a growl from his impatience.

Blade finally pulled her in and their lips met. His tongue swirled around her mouth, their tongues making contact. It was the most passionate kiss he had ever shared with anyone. She’d finally broken him. His hands grabbed her by her waist, his grip slightly tight, pulling her closer to his body. Blade just wanted to forget everything else. It was just them, now. Just this moment. All he wanted was to keep kissing. Keep kissing until she lost breath.

She bit his bottom lip, until he part away for air, a saliva string was formed after they cut their hot headed kiss, she looked up at him for answers, but she really enjoyed the kiss as much as he does.

They fuel their hate into desires, she was placed on his laps on the sofa, as she kissed him deeply, head tilted so they could deepened the kiss, she touched his bandaged chest, trying to take the bandage off goddamn slowly as they continued kiss.

Blade wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her even closer to him. Their hot-headed love-hate kiss was growing more and more intense with each passing moment. Blade didn’t even realize how much his hands had began to explore her body, one of them slipping between her legs, squeezing her ass. She was right, he was a bit of a simp.

“Get down now,” he ordered her, he unbuckled his pants as he made her kneel down, he put a thumb softly inside her mouth. “Okay, suck it, whore.” he loved how obedient she was. “Now, beg, beg for my dick, Princess” the girl glared at him underneath but she was down bad for one right now.

“Please, can I suck your cock, daddy?” she gave with such submissive pleading eyes.

“I’d hate myself if I weren’t to give you one, know you place, slut.” he sprung out his massive cock, twitching with precum just from her whines, veins popping but he chose to slap it across her face.

“Say, who is in charge right now?” he asked for more powerplay.

“You, daddy.” she replied trying to lick his tip as he inserted the entrance of her mouth.

“Suck it, suck it like you mean it,” he growled in a moment of satisfaction, he wanted her like this, taking in his cock in her mouth, wanting to shut that blabby mouth shut like this.

The girl listened to his demands, sucking him as if she needed that dick for so long, her cheeks hollowed, trying to earn more moans and heavy pants from him.

“I hate you so much I want to fuck that mouth of yours,” his hips pushed more, as the tip touched the girl’s throat. His hand held her head, as he fucked his throat as much as he want.

“That’s what you deserve,” he hissed, every thrust as he could feel the inside of her throat, the poor girl was tearing up from gagging off his huge dick.

“Deserved to be fucked by the mouth, can’t talk anymore?” he laughed evilly, going feral as she continued to suck as tears formed under her eyes, he wiped that tears off from her pretty face.

“You can take more, no?” he liked it, liked how much control he has right now. The girl shook her head but he didn’t like that answer, pushing his cock further in her throat.

He kept fucking her mouth as if she was a toy made just for her.

“That’s for the boys you have been fucking with,” he pushed his hips deep as the balls were touching her chins. He could feel his orgasms near in just a moment.

Before he cum, he took off his dick, giving it a few pumps as he came all over her pretty face, just like how he imagined. He grabbed his phone, snapping a few shots of the facial he painted on her face, as if it was a masterpiece he made. “Hey, that’s not-” she had no right to deny.

“Yes, it is. God, you look so pretty for me, Princess. I will be saving this picture,” he showed her the snap he took. “Gotta make it a wallpaper for me to stare,” he tossed the phone on the table. He carried her body in one arm, making it in a bridal style. She looked so small in his arms.

"I hate you so much," she whispered in his ears. She really hate in for wanting him so much, she wanted to see what will happen next.

“Hate is just a replacement for love, dear.” Blade smirked and whispered back, his breath now hitting behind her ear, giving a few nibbles on her earlobes, placing her on his mattress. He got on top of the bed, ready to fuck so she stop talking as well.

"No, it's true I hated you, Bladie," she could feel his hands roaming on her body, as if he already owned her as his.

“Keep telling yourself that if it’s going to help you sleep at night, darling.” He smirked again and looked down at her. Now that he had her pinned down, he didn’t know what was next, but he had some ideas in mind. “I could always make you feel worse, if you’d like?”

"I hate you so much that I wish to f*ck you," he growled, taking off the clothes from her covering her beautiful body, ripping the undergarments in one tear.

He gave her breasts a few massage, “Say you want me inside, slut.” he whispered close in her ear, as he placed his cock on the entrance of her wet cunt.

“I don’t-” she replied, to tease him.

“But I will,” he entered her folds, giving it a few adjustment to his size. He let out a moan of satisfaction on how tight she was.

“So tight, even though you are a whore. Take my dick slut,” he gave a few slap on her ass as he took off his dick, spun him in a doggy position, pulling her hair, entering inside her again.

“You want me to fuck you like a good fucking whore you are right?” he asked again, pulling her wrists behind her back with one hand, the other hand pulling her arm. The girl couldn’t even reply, mewling in pain on her scalp and the pleasure she was getting from below.

“Y-yes, daddy. Please. I want your cock inside me, use me as much as you want,” she moaned out, feeling him fucking her, pushing his dick, kissing her cervix many times, abusing it until she gripped on his sheets of the bed.

“Good, your wish is my command,” he slapped on her ass, thrusting his dick, bullying her gummy walls, faster. She felt so good wrapped around his dick. He wanted her like this for so long. She belonged to him, and him only, wanting to take control of her all night like this.

The room was filled with the smell of sweat, and the sound of his balls slapping on her ass, abusing her with slaps, moans and grunts in harmony, as he fucked her as much he wanted to fuck her life as well.

“God, you’re so tight for even, as a slut. Want this slutty pussy of yours,” he groped her breasts with his two hands, his hips pushing inside her body with greater pace penetrating that one G-spot until she moaned louder and louder.

“Moan louder so everyone can hear how much I’m pleasing you, Princess.” he bit her ear, he pushed the tip of his dick in her cervix to earn himself a scream by rubbing her clit for her, rubbing the bud until it goes numb.

“Blade, ahh!” he was fucking until her brain wasn’t working in pieces, she was obviously drunk from the fucks he been giving.

“S’so so goodd,” she moaned out his name, mewling in pleasure. “Want you, want you daddy, hnghh” she panted desperately asking for his cock to abuse her hole.

“P-please, I’m so close daddy, can I cum?” she begged, trying to hold for herself, as the bed started to make creaking noises.

“Do you want my cum inside you too, Princess?” he hummed, not stopping his pace, as he could feel her pussy tightened more around his cock, he didn’t stop rubbing the clit, pushing her to an edge of pleasure.

“Y-yes, I will take it, please, I need to cum.” tears were glistening as he kept the sensitive bud.

“Good, you will earn that.” his dick twitched, shooting all the white hot seeds inside that womb, in a massive load, riding her orgasms. He let out a low groan from the immense pleasure by the moment she screamed.

He wasn’t that cruel, wiping the sweat off her face, putting the tired girl inside his arms. “I hate you so much, but stay in my arms tonight,” he closed his eyes, putting her in his chest, touching her hair, kissing her forehead. The female Stellaron Hunter just nodded, giving him a smile, calling it a night as they both cuddled in Blade’s bed.

Hate and love there is no in between but, they are really in love right?

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#blade x reader #blade smut #blade hsr #hsr blade #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #dom blade #enemies to lovers #blade honkai #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #star rail blade #blade x you #blade x y/n #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x you #hsr x female reader

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spectralreplica · 1 year

Photo

Uhhhhhhhh Sburb AU!! This was more of an excuse to classpect and make sprites, so don’t ask me questions about plot details because I put like zero thought into it. Tsumugi probably had something to do with setting up the session, and she’s hiding her real title and the fact it’s not her first session. Baby Kiibo is a robot baby because I thought that was the funniest option.

Drawing with anti-aliasing off really brings me back...

Classpect thoughts under the cut if you really want:

Immediate caveat: I mention speculative stuff here like unconfirmed active/passive class pairs and inversion theory. If you don’t like those things or otherwise disagree with the titles I gave people that’s fine but just know I’m not super interested in debating about it and won’t reply.

So, to start out with I wanted to make the 8 of them a session, so I needed no overlaps in class or aspect and one Time + one Space. I also wanted to have Kaito and Kokichi as opposing aspects. In general, I think of a Title as kind of the end of your assigned character arc, so depending on your level of maturity/introspection at the start, it can seem either really obvious or really unintuitive. I tried to base them off of the hypothetical chapter 6/survivor versions of characters, since those (plus maybe the chapter 5 deaths) of the ones that get a full arc in DR canon.

Immediately Tsumugi seemed like a deadringer for Space, not so much because of the literal physics-related stuff but because of its associations with creation/narratives and setting things up for other people to act. I made her Sylph of Space here, but that's a facade. She's actually a Muse of Space who participated in past session(s) and wants to watch how things play out.

Based on the Extended Zodiac description, Kaito or Kaede has to be time, but Kokichi CANNOT be Space by any stretch of the imagination. I made her Heir of Time with the interpretation of Heir as someone who invites change/influences of/through their aspect. Time is also associated with music and death, which is both fitting and a little mean. (I can also see Kaede as Breath outside of having to have someone be Time.)

So moving onto Kaito and Kokichi, I was considering Hope vs Rage (belief vs doubt, possibility vs restrictions), but 1) Rage is defined partially by hatred of lies despite otherwise sounding Kokichi-ish (that alone could be interesting, with the possibility of a negative/reverse title or else giving him Hope and Kaito Rage for the unexpected swerve........) 2) I really wanted to give Hope to Kiibo. So instead I went with Heart and Mind (emotion vs logic, intuition vs planning, identity/motivation vs action/decisiveness).

Kokichi is Thief of Mind for taking away other people's decisions for his own purposes but also for generally "stealing" things (e.g., the Mastermind Role, narrative importance in general, along with literal items) through his own cleverness. Vs Kaito, a Knight of Heart, who uses his constructed identity as a weapon to face challenges. I'm also a fan of inversion theory, so I think at low points they'd both trend towards Page of Heart (grows powerful late in the narrative based on his own ego/identity) and Rogue of Mind (taking choices/agency/logic away from people for their own good), respectively.

I always wanted Kiibo to be Hope since 1) Ult. Hope Robot 2) big on possibilities/faith but can be a little self-centered. I went with Bard at least partially to make a "guess we know whether he has a dick or not now!" joke, but I also think "inviting destruction through Hope, inviting destruction of (false) hope" is pretty spot on for chapter 6 Kiibo. Like, as the camera/audience surrogate, he's been forced into passively leading the others to despair, not to mention how the audience takes him over to destroy the hope of ending the show. But Kiibo ends up reversing this and helping destroy the audience's faith in Danganronpa, destroying the whole academy in accordance with the vote. (Sidenote: I wonder if Kiibo gets taken over by Horrorterrors and goes grimdark? Or if he's just really, really susceptible to orders from his Exile)

Shuichi, Page of Void, was another one that immediately came to mind. Like, "starts off weak but becomes really strong/important by the end" is Shuichi's thing! Also, counterpart to Kaito's Knight. And Void is all about secrets, mystery, etc. From the Extended Zodiac: "Where others might be compelled to go out and seek answers, the Void-bound lean more toward casting doubt on what is already considered understood. They don't take much on faith and would rather live in a state of confusion- than believe something that might be untrue or bow to intellectual authority... At their best, Void-bound are wise, intuitive, and vibrant. At their worst, they can be dismissive, indecisive and apathetic."

I had considering Light, for seeking out knowledge/truth, but Shuichi's character arc ends on "fuck you, I refuse to play. You all get nothing more from us" and learning to live with ambiguity, so I think he's way more Void. But, again, inversion would be Thief of Light, so selfishly taking away knowledge/importance from others.

Speaking of Light, I made Miu Mage of Light. Mage is like, active Seer, seeking out knowledge for yourself (vs advising others) and Light is luck, knowledge, and also importance/plot relevance. As an inventor, Miu keeps innovating and figuring things out, plus she's very motivated by her own importance to the world. She wants to be seen more than anything else and loves being smarter than those around her. Also: "At their best, the Light-bound are resourceful and driven. At their worst they can be fussy, pedantic, and insensitive." Inversion is Heir of Void, so "inviting change via hiding things" or "changing what's kept secret", which suits Miu when plotting murder.

Finally, Maki is Prince of Blood. Blood is trust, bonds, relationships, stubbornness, duty, obligation (vs freedom, change, choices) so "someone who breaks bonds/destroys relationships" but also "someone who destroys using/motivated by duty/relationships". Like, Maki is inherently a fracture point in the group because of her talent and then directly breaks the group apart and sabotages her relationships with the others in chapter 5, but also she's deeply motivated by her bonds to others in all of her destructive actions (protectiveness for orphanage/friend, love for Kaito). This sound super negative, but I think this is also the Maki who commits to destroying the institution of Danganronpa in chapter 6. Sometimes you have to be decisive and cut bad relationships out of your life.

Inversion would be Sylph of Breath, so "healing via change" or "encouraging growth towards freedom", which you can argue is sort of the way Kaito wants her to go? But she just doesn't. Idk, for better or worse, I think Maki is very aware of who she is and how people related to her, so even at her worst she's true to herself, vs, say, Kaito or Kokichi, who act "ooc".

#Homestuck #Kokichi Oma #Kaito Momota #Miu Iruma #Shuichi Saihara #Kaede Akamatsu #Maki Harukawa #Kiibo #Tsumugi Shirogane #New Danganronpa V3 #Danganronpa #Sburb AU #Spectra Art

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anzulvr · 6 months

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Karma x Goosip!reader? Like I'd love to imagine they're in the middle of class and reader just whispers to Karma "I heard Koro-Sensei was keeping a favorite student list in his desk" or smth. The two would be gossip buddies with Rio but a bit better bc they're in E-class

Karma X Reader <3 || Gossiping with Karma and Rio — fluff!

Karma has no censor, he’ll say anything for a laugh (like in the episode where he calls the REAPER kinky?? Gtfo 💀)

The class will be completely silent and he’ll be talking to you so loudly because he has issues whispering, he doesn’t care if people hear but you do, so gossip sessions consists of you constantly shushing him and him talking louder to mess with you.

“And then that’s when I beat the crap out of the Koyama infront of Seo. Asano hasn’t said anything yet so I thi-”

“Karma shh..”

“Its fine no one cares.”

Karma then proceeds to finish his story louder than before (put ur hand over his mouth to get him to shut up.)

He acts like he doesn’t care about the things you and Rio gossip about, but he’s listening INTENTLY 😭

You’re Karma and Rios biggest secret weapon.

They love to make fun of everyone and you have all the info, they know exactly how to get things out of you.

“[Name] Cmon we’re friends just tell us what you saw..!” Rio is practically begging for you to spill.

“I can’t! I promised Takebayashi I’d stay quiet for a cookie.”

“[Name] a cookie?? Over me?”

“Sorry Rio it was chocolate chip.”

Karma says “please..?” one time and it’s over, you literally tell them everything. (Rios very salty you gave into him so easily and not her😭)

“I saw him at a maid café and he and the worker were baby talking eachother, I got a video and everything.”

“NO WAY- LET ME SEE.” Rio is the first to react

“Wait why were you at a maid café?", Karma asks.

“I saw him through the window and I was feeling nosy.”

— They keep tabs on everything to stir drama.

About the scenario in your ask they do pull stunts like that.

“I heard Korosensei keeps a list of his favorite students on his desk.” They spread this rumor knowing well they planted that list themselves 😭

The class believes it and gives Korosensei the cold shoulder for a hot minute.

“Does anyone want to answer the problem on the board?”

“Why don’t you answer it Sugino? Since you’re one of his favorites.” Maehara calls out.

Korosensei frantically tries to assure everyone he doesn’t play favorites and believes in everyone equally.

“I SWEAR I DONT KNOW WHAT LIST YOU ALL ARE REFERRING TO IWOULDNTEVERDOSUCHATHINPLEASE.”

“Woah slow down teach, we don’t understand a single thing you’re saying… all we hear is sounds of a traitor.”

Everyone gives him a hard time until Karma and Rio admit they’re messing with everyone.

They do things like that all the time but they have such a knack for debating and convincing, your class falls for it every time!

#ansatsu kyoushitsu #karma akabane #akabane karma x reader #assassination classroom x reader #karma akabane headcannons #karma akabane x reader #karma x reader #assasination classroom #assassination classroom #assclass

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cultofdixon · 4 months

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People change, it takes time to prove that

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Not every Savior is bad. Some were stuck in the Sanctuary because of Negan’s manipulative ways. You wiggled your way into the archer’s heart and understood why he didn’t trust you right away. But when the war was over, he would do his best to get his family to accept you • ANGST/SFW • TW: Canon Violence / Injuries / Scars / Suicide Mentioned

Requested by: Anon

“I met someone”

The declaration only brought a confused expression onto Carol’s face when her best friend said such. Met someone? In the middle of a war?

“Who is this…someone?”

“Her name is Y/N” Daryl picked at the soup that Carol made for him when he came to check on her in the house given by King Ezekiel. “She is…something. Definitely another made for a world like this”

“Like you?” Carol smiles resting her head in her hands. “So she’s a perfect match for you already. Tell me more”

“She’s a savior”

That was pretty much the end of that conversation because who wants to hear Carol tell Daryl how wrong that is? Or that she could be manipulating him for Negan’s gain? He’s going to hear this from more than just Carol so it doesn’t need to be told now.

When the final fight came and the Saviors were lined up on one side of the field with their weapons full of ammunition made by Eugene. The second they triggered their guns, the ammunition backfired against the few. Daryl immediately tensed to the action searching through their lineup for her and noticed Eugene quickly helping Y/N to her feet as she noticed Negan booking it.

“Eugene someone—-“

“No one is going anywhere” Rosita caught the two off guard by pressing a gun to Y/N’s back after taking out a few saviors to save Eugene.

“Rosita. She ain’t a threat”

“You’re on thin ice, Eugene. But I know you, I don’t know her” Rosita frowns debating on taking out the Savior for what she indirectly has done.

“Drop it.”

The stern gravely voice that came from the archer took all three off guard to the point that Rosita listened. But to the degree that she knocked Y/N onto her knees making her crawl to the other Saviors they were holding hostage until Negan met his end. Even then, some expected to bring out revenge on the saviors that caused them trouble but they were met with a second chance.

Especially…Negan.

When the crowd dispersed back into the communities for the night knowing tomorrow will be the start of the rebuild for every community. The Sanctuary especially.

Before Daryl could even think about making his way to Y/N, Jesus had stopped him asking to come with him and Maggie back to the Hilltop to talk about the decision Rick made that is supported by Michonne and a few others but not immediately.

“I have to check on someone”

“The Savior?” Jesus questioned only for confirmation by a nod. “I know what she did for you, but tonight is a lot. Especially on Maggie and you’re the closest thing she has to a brother. For now just. Please stick with your family”

The archer didn’t even give it another thought, but that didn’t mean she left his. Just meant that late in the night when Y/N found herself in the loading dock of the Sanctuary taking care of another pile of dead walkers, she didn’t expect to hear his bike rolling in. Daryl brought his bike closer to the building to avoid the fire pit that the now ex-Savior had made to contain the blaze keeping it from catching onto the main building.

“Why’re you up?” Daryl asks as Y/N fiddles with a matchbox but her hands were shaking too much. “Hey…I’ve got it” he reaches to take the box noticing her wounds from before weren’t treated. He tosses the box down quickly making her turn toward him to find she bled through the bandages that were covering the shrapnel pieces that embedded in her when the ammunition backfired. “Why haven’t you changed your bandages? How’d yea even—“

“Please stop asking a lot of questions…I’ll just tell you what you want if you re-dress it” She sounded defeated and granted she was. That day was a lot and not just for the victors.

As Daryl got out his bandages that he started carrying on his person, Y/N started to talk about what happened after Rick practically dismissed everyone.

Those from the Sanctuary returned home, but as for those who were more of the civilian variety were given the opportunity to disperse into the other communities. Some stayed to help rebuild it, given Rick checked on the place once Siddiq and Jerry took Negan back to Alexandria with Michonne’s supervision. He’s going to have to have one of his own watch the Sanctuary and it’s rejuvenation because he doesn’t trust any of the soldiers of the Sanctuary. He even snapped at Y/N when he heard about her association from Carol, because she offered to watch the rejuvenation but he took that as her possibly becoming the next Negan.

But she left out that part when telling Daryl. Rick is his brother who already made a terrible decision by letting Negan live and that took a toll on his image. She didn’t want to make it worse, though she’s still a bit confused on why he cares so much for her.

She may have not done any of the killing…but she was still a part of the wrong side.

Daryl tossed the lit match onto the pit watching it burn for a moment before returning to his spot right beside Y/N. He kept his eyes on the fire for a moment longer before bringing his attention to Y/N who seemed to be watching him.

“Somethin’ on my face?”

“Besides sadness? No”

“I ain’t sad” He scoffs. “Disappointed more so.”

Y/N frowns bringing herself closer to him and gently taking his hand feeling him squeeze it instantly. She brought both hands to hold his one gently tracing her fingers against his knuckles.

“I’m sorry”

“None of this is your fault, sunshine” Daryl reassures with a squeeze of her hand. “I just…wish for a few things and time can only really make them happen”

“Anything I can help you with? Any wish to make come true” Y/N chuckles lightly, being taken by surprise a bit when Daryl pulled gently on their conjoined hands bringing her close enough to bring his lips softly onto hers.

It lasted for just for a second and as Daryl slowly pulls away he couldn’t help the small smile to grace his lips when hers finally returned to her features with a hint of a blush to her cheeks.

“Let me take care of yea, like you’ve taken care of me”

________

“Y/N? The fuck are you doing here?”

“Was asked by Negan to check on his new prisoner. To make sure you haven’t killed him”

“That son of a bitch has zero faith in me” Dwight scoffs as Y/N rolls her eyes to his words. “I haven’t even touched the man. All I did was do the usual for our prisoners. Hose them down and strip them”

“That’s…we do that?”

“You’re lucky you’re not that important”

Y/N was struck by such but it doesn’t entirely matter. She wished she was the one to die at her line up. Instead Negan took her as collateral that eventually had her become one of his men and her old group perished.

“Negan is the one that asked me to check his injuries given our doctor is currently with one of his wives” Y/N gestures to the medical bag she had as Dwight’s expression fell instantly.

“You can handle this by yourself?”

“I knocked Negan on his ass once, yeah I got socked after but I think I can handle myself”

Dwight gave her a certain unreadable look before swinging “his” crossbow over his chest. “I’ll be back”

The second he left, Y/N approached the door unlocking it from her end as she opens the door she noticed the naked man flinch to the sound.

“I’m sorry” She frowns hesitantly approaching setting her bag on the floor and while she knelt by her stuff she pulled out a pair of clothes which Dwight didn’t know about.

Daryl didn’t say a word only grunted when this woman he barely knew asked if she could take a look at the bullet wound amongst others. He felt a bit exposed half way through the whole check up but Y/N kept her attention where it needed to be.

Once he was patched up, he noticed her quickly glance back outside before reaching into her bag for a few more things. A water bottle and a sandwich wrapped it paper.

“I’ll come back in after thirty minutes to clean up so it looks like I didn’t give you these. The clothes are also meant to be spray painted, I can’t control that”

“Why are you doing this?” He finally spoke in a whisper loud enough for Y/N to hear.

“Because I can. And I’m going to help you out of here” She whispered the last part and with that took a step out closing the door but left a crack for him to be able to see what was in his cell.

________

It’s been about a little over a week since the war ended.

Y/N stood outside the Sanctuary amongst other Saviors listening to Rick’s list of items from their place and where they were going into the other communities. Hence the three cars behind the man. A few of the people protested but he of course offered sanctuary in the other communities as long as they help with their rebuilds just like they were doing with this community. It honestly felt like they were purging the Sanctuary and who could blame them? Who else would want a physical reminder of where the dictator used to call home? Well then you remember all the places your history teacher talked about and it’s really saying nowhere is a good place for most glorified individuals.

“Y/N.” Rick caught her a bit off guard and granted a few of the men that Negan had favored as well. “You’ll be in charge of seeing everything on the list make it to the trucks while I scout out the place with a few others”

“Seriously trusting this woman?”

“Yeah she could never follow an order correctly back during the Savior days” Savior days…gross.

“Negan only had her in his arsenal of command for the woman vote type shit” a third made the final comment as Y/N was both tensed and defeated, but she was feeling the second one already today.

She was supposed to go hunting with Daryl but Michonne and Carol had asked to join him when they came with Rick to the Sanctuary, where he’s been staying. He told them he already had Y/N, but Michonne argued saying it could benefit the other communities if they caught more game and Carol added the “you need people you can trust to watch your back” hence why Y/N didn’t go. Daryl trusted her, but Y/N knew they didn’t.

“I don’t trust her with my life but I trust her enough to get this shit done and since y’all seem to like to poke the bear—-You’re comin’ with me to see the integrity of your gates and scope out what y’all have to add to the place” Rick gestures for them to follow and of course they did, meanwhile the others followed Y/N’s lead hesitantly.

A couple hours went by and Y/N found herself in their infirmary putting away what was almost ransacked when they came through. It really did feel like they were purging when 90% of the equipment is gone to replace most of Alexandria’s and give one to the Kingdom. 80% of their pantry and artillery was split between the communities. Then a few more people left entirely or into another community.

Daryl had returned to the Sanctuary in hopes of finding her but instead found Rick loading up the last vehicle, the Alexandria one.

“The fuck are you doing?”

“Giving back to the communities. What else would I be doing? I told you this the other night”

“Yeah but looks like you’re liquidating”

“Five dollar word coming from the man that barely shared more than three words with me when we first met” Rick jokes and it obviously didn’t reach. “They’ve lost a lot of their people to the other communities. For the most part it’s those who have grown to live in the sanctuary or ex-Saviors that need to be monitored if things go south”

“Is Y/N still here?”

“Who? The ex-Savior that a lot of the men don’t like?”

“Who doesn’t like Y/N.” Daryl said with a bit of sternness in his tone taking that more as they are messing with her. And he’s not far off on that note. “You’re dodging—-“

“She’s still here. Cleaning up the mess we made when shifting shit around.” Rick states shutting the trunk. “You coming with or what?”

“Or what” Daryl scoffs about to head inside when he heard Rick mumble to himself. “What’d yea say?”

“Carol told me you fell for a Savior and I’m sorry that my immediate thought was she manipulated yea”

“Are you—-Is she fucking endorsing that thought when she’s never met the girl completely?! How’d yea think I got out of this fucking hell hole?”

“I’m sorry Daryl, but you keep comin’ back cuz she’s here. You sure she’s not trying to make you into the next Ne—-“

“I’m not”

Y/N just had to walk into the wrong moment of the conversation as she held herself with this disappointed look on her face toward the retired sheriff and a bit toward the archer but more in a different sense.

“Daryl doesn’t have to be here if he doesn’t want to. Besides, you should’ve tried harder to get him out instead of sitting on your hands.”

“Are you seriously gonna go that route with me? You have no idea how much we’ve lost because of that bitch dog you called a leader”

“Rick—-“ Daryl was about to cut in when he watches Y/N hop down from the platform she stood on bringing herself up in Rick’s business. Then suddenly her fist met his jaw knocking him off balance as he quickly collects himself. The shock stunning him.

“HE KILLED THE ONLY FAMILY I HAD LEFT TO BEAT ME INTO SUBMISSION IN THE BEGINNING. KILLED MY ONLY BROTHER IN OUR LINE UP. TORTURED MY FATHER TO HIS BREAKING POINT AND HE GAVE UP ON HIS LIFE. HE DID UNTHINKABLE THINGS TO MY BEST FRIEND THAT SHE DIDNT WANT TO LIVE ON THIS FUCKING EARTH ANYMORE” Y/N shouted in Rick’s face making him retract but she kept on. “HE BROKE MY NOSE—-BROKE MY RIBS—-…” she hesitated and fell the hot tears get the better of her. “I wouldn’t let him use me and he wanted to kill me because of it. Instead I watched his prisoners, made sure they were taken care of while their main watcher did all the dirty work. I never killed a single person while as a savior, expect for another savior when it came to getting Daryl to escape….Ive lost enough and I lost myself.”

Daryl felt the blade dig deeper in his chest hearing all of that come from her as she’s never shared so much all at once. He tried to bring himself to her and all he wanted was to engulf her in his embrace but Y/N stepped away wiping away the tears that just continued to fall.

“I wasn’t going to let him kill another of your family…and I wasn’t going to let Daryl never see his again.” Y/N frowns turning to Daryl and feeling the tears come on strong. “You don’t have to keep coming here. Trust me I get what it’s like stepping in that building…It’s just been my home for too long. I can’t go anywhere else without being labeled a monster”

And with that she headed back inside but after cleaning up the mess, Y/N went outside with her pack and lighter to have a smoke before turning in when she noticed Daryl sitting on the platform in the loading dock with his pack beside him. She brought herself to sit beside him at a respectable distance but he closed the space between them bringing his full attention onto her as she didn’t utter a word only felt more tears spring on feeling his rough calloused hands gently brush away the tears.

“I’m not going anywhere. You’re a part of my family now whether you like it or not” He states feeling a small smile grace his features when he heard her laugh escape her lips. “Rick’s gonna talk to the others about yea and thinks you’d be more comfortable in Alexandria…plus you can stay with me”

“Daryl…I…“

“You saved me, and…I love you for that” Daryl gently pressed his forehead against hers. “It’ll take time for them to get used to yea, yeah. But they’ll eventually love you almost as much as I do”

Y/N felt an old warmth return in her chest after so long of not feeling it as she brought her arms around his neck pulling herself into his embrace feeling him pull her into his lap keeping her close as humanely possible.

“I love you too, Daryl”

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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writeforfandoms · 8 months

Text

The Little Things Give You Away

Find my CoD Masterlist

You've been with the 141 for a little while now, part of the team but not part of the pack. A mission to Urzikstan changes that.

Warnings: Feelings of inadequacy, canon typical violence, non descriptive violence, shifter etiquette, swearing.

Word count: 5.4k

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x f!reader (fennec fox shifter), with background Alex x Farah

You’d been with the 141 for a few months now, after tons of work and a few test runs. You meshed well with their skill sets, your long fuse and medical training giving you an advantage over other hopefuls. By now, you’d run ops with all of them, as a large group and in smaller groups. You knew these men, trusted them on the field.

But that trust still only went so far. You still didn’t feel like part of the pack.

It took time, you knew. You’d integrated into other packs before. Part and parcel of this kind of life - you’d already been in half a dozen packs. (Which was perhaps a high number but you got along well with people. You didn’t think that was a fault.)

So you had a job you loved, with men you trusted and respected. And a pack that kept you at arms length.

One of these things was not like the others.

You managed. You did the best you could, which was still pretty damn good. And that was enough.

Getting called to the briefing room was nothing new, and you sat a couple seats away from Gaz and Soap.

"Got a call from an old friend," Price said as he walked up the front of the room. "So we're gonna go help out. Off the books."

"Where are we going?" Gaz asked, looking interested.

"Urzikstan."

Gaz lit up, but Soap and Ghost didn't. Well. At least you weren't the only one who didn't know what was going on.

"Weapons will be provided once we get there," Price said. "Pack light, our ride will be here in an hour. Dismissed."

You stood and let the others go first. You didn't have too much you had to do, after all. Just throw some necessities in a bag.

"Question, sergeant?"

The voice of your captain and alpha broke you out of your thoughts, and you shook your head. "No, sir."

Price eyed you for a moment before he nodded. "Best hurry," he advised quietly.

You tipped your head in acknowledgement and walked faster, turning down a different corridor. Your quarters were a little bit away from the rest of the pack.

Which was fine. It was fine.

True to your prediction, you threw things in a bag and carried it out to the heli pad, and ended up being the first one there. You debated shifting, but knew you'd catch shit if anyone else saw you. So you sat down and pulled a book out of your bag, settling in to wait.

"Good book?" Gaz stood over you, his own bag slung over his shoulder.

"So far," you agreed, craning your neck back to look up at him. "Sounded like you know where we're going."

"I know which old friend, at least." Gaz shrugged, taking a step back so you could get to your feet. "You'll like her."

Your eyebrows shot up. Her? Well then. This would be interesting.

"Hurry up, wee menace!" Soap called as he passed the two of you. You immediately scowled after him. You hated that nickname and the whole team knew it.

"One of these days," you muttered.

"Only if you can catch him," Gaz pointed out with a grin. When you turned your withering stare to him, he held up his hands, laughing. "Was just a joke, love!"

You huffed and turned away from him, ignoring his soft groan. The walk out to the heli was short, and you buckled in silently. Gaz sat across from you, trying to catch your eye, and you relented somewhat. Enough to smile at him.

The flight was long and boring. The pilot, Nikolai, was a cheery man who occasionally told jokes over the headsets. Price sat up near him.

When you finally landed, Urzikstan was hot and dry. Nothing too unusual for the region. Part of you luxuriated in the heat, wanting to shift and stretch out.

But you didn't, falling in at the end of the line. The sandy tarmac crunched a little under your boots.

"You still know how to make an entrance," an American voice drawled. You blinked.

"Alex!" Gaz jogged forward, clearly excited.

"He's not wrong," a woman added. You finally got up to where you could see too. The man, Alex, stood next to the woman, both of them looking pleased.

"You're one to speak," Price said, holding out his hand. "You both know Gaz. These are the rest of my team." He introduced Soap, Ghost, and then you. Of course you were last. As usual. “These are Farah and Alex.”

You nodded to the pair, watching them. Hopefully you’d get some answers soon. You were starting to feel antsy.

“This way.” Farah took the lead, Price falling in next to her. Gaz stuck with Alex, and of course Soap and Ghost were together. You trudged after them, taking a few moments to look around.

Farah didn’t speak again until you were all inside, a little bit pressed together. The room was probably not really meant for five men as big as them.

“We’ve had problems with the Russians again,” she said, glancing meaningfully at Price.

“Who?” He frowned down at the map.

“A lieutenant of a man named Makarov.”

You straightened, feeling the tension in the room ratchet as your teammates did the same.

“One of his lieutenants, huh?” Price mused, leaning a little closer to the map. “Show me.”

Farah went over what she could, showing where the Russians had come from and what territory they’d claimed. It wasn’t much, yet, but she was rightfully worried about them taking more.

“We will need to do recon, but I can do that.” Farah shot Alex a quelling look.

Alex huffed softly. “Be better if you didn’t have to do it alone.”

“Nobody notices a cat,” Farah pointed out, half gentle, half exasperated, the tone of an old argument.

“I can go,” you offered, barely glancing at Price for permission. “I’ll blend right in.”

Price hesitated only a moment before he nodded. “Fennec fox,” he said to Farah’s questioning look.

Farah nodded, pleased. “We have time. We should learn each other’s scents now.”

You grinned, immediately stripping off your tac vest. Ignoring the noise of protest from Gaz, you dumped your vest and boots off to the side and shifted.

It was easy to wiggle out of your clothes as a fox. You were, you had to admit, pretty tiny, weighing only three pounds. Your ears swiveled, taking in all the sounds around you (you were pretty sure you heard a quickly stifled “aww” from Alex) before you yipped, once.

“Enough of that,” Price grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. You huffed at him, uncowed, and took a few steps back and forth.

Farah, when she emerged from Alex’s other side, was a cat. A sand cat. Also nearly perfectly suited to blend in with the sand, and very close to your size. But with smaller ears. You perked up, tail wagging as you crept forward. It had been a long, long time since you’d had anyone properly sized to play with. Farah’s nose twitched and she stepped closer to you, giving you both a chance to familiarize yourself with the other’s scent.

And then you carefully bopped her on the nose.

She reared back, looking startled, ears flickering. You readied yourself to roll over in apology, until her tail flicked and she bopped you right back. You yipped, high and pleased, and bounced at her before racing away.

You weren’t sure exactly how long the two of you played tag, but it was long enough that you were thoroughly worn out. You’d seen multiple buildings, wound your way between at least half a dozen people (not including your own pack), and had even stumped her twice. All in all, you’d say that was a pretty good showing.

Until one big hand scooped you up. You squeaked, resisting the urge to bite when you sniffed the hand. Gaz.

“Not leaving until tomorrow,” Gaz told you quietly, holding you close to his chest. You were still a little mad that he could hold you with one big hand, but, well… Being so small was to your advantage sometimes. “Food, then relaxing for a bit. Price’s orders.”

You huffed a little in acknowledgement, settling against him. Of your four packmates, he was the most conscientious about holding you, with Price as a close second. You didn’t even let Soap pick you up anymore.

You did shift back to eat, not quite surprised when Farah ended up next to you, and Alex on her other side.

“I have not seen a fox shifter in a long time,” Farah said, glancing at you.

You smiled. “I’m the only fennec in my family,” you admitted. “Which is okay! Not like any of us are too big.”

Farah nodded knowingly while Alex just blinked at you.

“How long have you been with the 141?” She nudged Alex into eating. Aww. Adorable.

“Few months.” You shrugged, pushing your food around your plate. You were hungry but not - the food looked good but sometimes making yourself actually eat was harder. You had protein bars stashed in your bag for this very reason.

She glanced between you and them. The rest of the pack had all settled around, not quite including you. Which didn’t bother you as much as it probably should. You could see the wheels turning in her head and shook your head a little. It wasn’t worth asking them.

“So, how’d you end up here?” You looked at Alex with an easy smile.

Dinner passed easily with the two of them, exchanging stories. You had a few of your own, including a few pranks you’d pulled off when you were younger. Sometimes being small had its advantages.

But when Price called your name, you still straightened and looked his way.

“Finish up,” he ordered, nodding to your plate. Dammit. You’d hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Then lights out, since you’re scouting tomorrow.”

“Yes sir,” you muttered, only a little sulky. You were quick to finish off your plate, even as Farah excused herself to talk to Price.

“Sure you’re alright?” Alex asked very softly, giving you a quick look over. “Just, I’ve seen packs before, not just here but all over. They’re normally…”

“Tighter?” you asked with a wry little smile, carefully keeping your voice low enough that the pack couldn’t hear you. “Yeah. I know.”

He eyed you carefully, gaze flicking over to where Farah and Price were talking. “Well, if you need anything, you let us know.”

Warmed by the unexpected offer, your smile softened. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” You nodded to him, and his lips quirked in return. You stood to put your dishes on the pile and retire for the night, per orders.

“Everything alright?” Gaz asked, catching up to you easily, almost touching you.

“Yeah, fine,” you were quick to assure him. “Which one’s ours?”

“Here.” He guided you to the room the pack had been given. Quarters were tight, you understood. Was far from the first time you’d be sharing with them. “You sure you’re alright?”

Your smile definitely felt frayed. “Why do people keep asking me that?” you mused, not quite expecting an answer. “Do I have some cosmic sign above my head?”

“No, just–” Gaz cut himself off with a sigh, shoulders slumping. “Checking, I guess. I know it’s easy to feel on the outside of things.”

You paused in the middle of taking your boots off, looking at him. For a wild moment, you wondered if he’d heard you talking to Alex. Then you shook it off. “It’s fine,” you said, looking back at your boots. “Not a big deal. Temporary additions are like that, I get it.”

“Temporary?” Gaz’s jaw dropped, distress leaking into his scent.

“Yeah?” You frowned at him.

“Who told you this was temporary?” He even sounded distressed now, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

You blinked. “My last CO,” you answered slowly, only a little uncertain now, even as you grabbed your sleeping bag. “Nobody said anything, so I figured–”

“That you were replaceable.” His eyes had gone wide now too.

You shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“Fuck.” He dropped his head. “You… fuck.”

“Hey, it’s fine, I get it.” You shot him a grin, easygoing and a little mischievous. “Foxes aren’t easy to be around for everybody.”

Gaz looked at you like you weren’t speaking the same language. "You think we care about that?"

You shrugged. "Who doesn't?" You shook your sleeping bag out and double checked that your stuff was as out of the way as you could get it. "It's not a big deal, Gaz."

His jaw clenched, distress still in his scent, but something else was overpowering it now. Some odd combination of anger and determination. "Think there's been a misunderstanding," he said slowly, looking at you.

You shrugged, wiggling into your sleeping bag. "Look, it's fine. Stop worrying about it. I'm here to do a job, same as you lot. Just leave it."

He did not look like he would leave it, but he did turn and walk out, letting you finally settle down to sleep.

Or at least to lay there with your eyes closed, trying to turn off your brain.

You woke briefly when the rest of the pack trooped in, but Price touched the top of your head. "Just us," he murmured, low and almost gentle. "Go back to sleep."

You blinked slowly at him before you nodded, closing your eyes again and curling up. You'd be less of a bother if you took up less space, so you tried to take as little as possible.

There was a soft but brief conversation behind you. You tried to tune them out, letting your eyes close and tucking your nose down again to block out errant scents.

You were asleep before the pack had finished settling in.

You woke first, slipping out of bed as quietly as possible and taking a moment to look at the pack. Soap and Ghost were curled together, Soap shamelessly using Ghost's bicep as a pillow. Price was between them and Gaz, stretched out and breathing deeply in sleep. Gaz… Gaz was on his side facing where you had been, a little furrow in his brow, looking faintly uncomfortable.

You resisted the urge to check on him, to crouch next to him and touch him. You wouldn't be welcomed, anyway. So you turned away and went in search of a warm drink.

Damn Gaz for making you wonder about your place in this pack.

You had some nice quiet time before the rest of the pack got up, and then it was mission time. You got ready silently, taking as little as possible. One of your teammates would hold your stuff while you were scouting, you knew.

But you didn't want to burden them further.

"Woke early?"

You nearly jumped at the voice of your captain behind you, and you turned to look at him. "Yes, sir."

He nodded, making tea and then sitting next to you, close enough that your knees touched. You eyed him for a moment, uncertain. Price was not exactly the most touchy-feely alpha, although you'd seen him touch the others plenty of times.

"After this mission, I think we need to have a talk, hm?" He tipped his head to look at you, eyes very blue for the brief look you allowed yourself before your gaze dropped to the table.

"Yes, sir," you agreed softly, heart plummeting. Well. Months was not a bad run in a pack. Better than your personal low of three weeks! You'd be fine. Everything would be fine.

"Nothing bad," he assured you, because of course he did. He didn't want you distracted on mission. "Just clarifying some things."

"I understand." And you did. Foxes weren't good for a lot beyond scouting and recall, after all.

He nodded once, firm, and turned his attention back to his tea. You swallowed the last of your drink and slunk away quietly.

You needed to get your head on straight and stuff your feelings back in the little box to be examined never.

By the time you all gathered, you were ready, bouncing lightly on your toes. Gaz stood next to you, bumping into you lightly.

"We've got two forward teams," Price said without preamble. "Soap, Ghost, you're with Farah and Alex. You two are with me. Farah's people will provide backup once we've got our intel."

You nodded. No surprises there.

"We will need to look for numbers, locations, entrances," Farah told you. "Weapons."

You nodded again. "Got it."

"Right. Let's get on it, then." Price smirked, jerking his head to the waiting cars.

The drive out into the desert was quiet but for the roar of the engine. Gaz kept shooting you little looks, and you clenched your jaw.

He must have talked to Price. Maybe he'd talked about your position on the team… or lack thereof.

You couldn't help the niggling doubt that this talk Price wanted to have would end with you off the team and out of the pack.

You breathed in deep and shoved it back down. You needed to focus. You needed to be clear headed. So you could report accurate information.

The car stopped, and the two groups got out and moved up. Farah's group split off, and Price led you and Gaz away.

He halted and turned to look at you, one eyebrow raised. You hunkered down, stripping off your vest. Shifting took no time, and you stretched out.

"Ready?" He asked you softly. You resisted the urge to yip, instead stretching out your front legs and then bouncing in place. "Alright. You report right back to me."

You bounced again and took off, weaving through the sandy landscape easily. You blended in perfectly, your ears flickering.

Honestly, this kind of work wasn't hard. A former assignment had had you doing this near daily for a month to keep an eye on a high value target.

You could always do more of this after Price ousted you from the pack.

Huffing at yourself, you slowed as you approached the enemy base. Okay. Time to work.

You made sure to take thorough mental notes before you crossed paths with Farah. She flicked her ears at you, tail twitching. You bobbed your head carefully. She mrrped very softly and gently headbutted you before she turned and headed back to her group. You did the same.

You shifted back and Gaz hovered until you had your vest back on. You spoke while you dressed, being sure to speak clearly and as concisely as you could.

Price nodded. "Well done," he murmured. "Right. Follow me."

You shoved down the little thrill at the praise from your alpha (for however much longer that lasted) and nodded.

The op was… not easy. Never easy. But you all made an excellent battering ram, clearing enough enemies off the field for Farah's people to make good headway.

Price even managed to take the lieutenant alive, something that left him very pleased.

You stood off to the side after the dust settled, watching the celebrating with a little smile.

"Get over there and join in." Alex stopped next to you, nudging you a little towards Farah.

"Maybe in a bit." You shrugged, trying not to fidget anxiously.

"Hey." Alex frowned, ducking his head a little. "What's up?"

"Nothing. Just… I'm fine." You shrugged again, fingers tapping against your vest in a restless pattern.

Alex didn't get a chance to ask further. Soap threw his arm over your shoulders, pressed up tight to your side, while Ghost's hand landed heavy on top of your head.

"There ye are!" Soap crowed, giving you a little shake. "Finally! Been hidin' from us?"

"What?" You blinked, caught off-guard. "No, I just–"

"Come on." Ghost tapped the top of your head and let his hand fall again.

Alex grinned, looking far too pleased as Soap dragged you away. You didn't fight it, too confused to even object.

"Found her?" Price asked, amused.

"Aye, Cap." Soap pulled you in front of the captain, grinning, before he finally let you go. You couldn't entirely shove down the slow curl of dread in your stomach.

"Have you eaten yet?” Price was once again focused on you.

“No,” you admitted slowly. “Figured I’d eat in a while.”

“Gaz told me you assumed this was a temporary position.”

You did not falter, because you’d been expecting this all day. “Yes, sir.”

“Your last CO?” Price’s head tipped, just a little. The kind of mild curiosity that you didn’t believe for a second.

“Yes.” You clenched your jaw, trying hard to be very still.

“He was wrong.” Price took one step forward, just barely in your space.

You blinked rapidly, confused. “...What do you mean?” You felt slow, like you were missing something that should be obvious.

“Means yer pack, ye dafty!” Soap piped up, and then yelped when someone slapped a hand over his mouth.

“It means you’re ours,” Price reiterated, not even sparing Soap a look. “I never intended you to be temporary.”

“Oh.” You blinked again, flabbergasted. “You… did?”

Price huffed softly, his hands landing on your shoulders and pulling you in, slow but sure, until he was properly hugging you. You melted. You’d been so sure you wouldn’t have this–

“You’re pack,” he rumbled quietly, just for you. “Until you tell me otherwise.”

You hid your grin in the hug. “You’ll be waiting a long time for that, sir.”

Price huffed, amused, and released you. Only for Soap to tackle you from behind, obnoxiously rubbing his head on top of yours and ignoring your yelled protests. Price just watched, not moving to help you.

Gaz came to your rescue, because he was the best.

“Shove off,” Gaz grumbled, helping free you from Soap’s grasp and instead wrapping his own arm over your shoulder. “C’mon, you need to eat.”

“Have you always been this fussy?” you asked, amused more than anything, letting him steer you to a table. “And just repressing it?”

“No,” Gaz tried to deny at the same time Price said, completely deadpan, “Yes.”

You sputtered a laugh, shaking your head even as you sat. But you didn’t have a chance to grab food - Gaz beat you to it, loading a plate for you and putting it in front of you. You blinked. That… that was new. And very interesting.

Even more interesting was him claiming the spot right next to you, sitting close enough that your thigh pressed against his.

But he didn’t say anything, so you didn’t either, just focusing on your food. You ignored Soap snickering about something with the ease of long practice. He was always a menace.

The celebration lasted well into the night. Soap pulled you into a few dances, Gaz kept you supplied with drinks and snacks, and Ghost silently watched over all three of you with little huffs of amusement. Price stayed for a little while before he slipped away to do work.

You honestly weren’t sure what time it was when you finally begged off to go sleep, but you did know that Gaz followed you back to the room you were all sharing.

“Think we’ll head out tomorrow?” you asked sleepily, dropping your boots next to your pack.

Gaz shrugged. “Depends how long it takes Price to get what he wants,” he murmured, sounding only slightly more alert than you.

“Leave packing for the morning, then.” You dropped down into your spot, curling up again without even waiting for confirmation.

“Good plan,” Gaz agreed, settling next to you. He didn’t quite touch you, but he did settle close enough that you could feel the warmth of him.

You woke to him curled around your back, his breath puffing softly on the back of your neck. You blinked sleepily, tempted for a few moments to just go back to sleep.

Until the position you were in actually sank in. Then you very carefully extricated yourself, praying your pounding heart didn’t wake him.

That… that was odd. And new. And a little bit terrifying, honestly. Because you liked Gaz, you’d always liked Gaz, even when he poked fun at you. You’d always forgiven him the fastest for the teasing.

So to wake up to him like that? Made you want things you shouldn’t want.

But you escaped without incident and went to find some food.

Somehow, you weren’t surprised when Farah stopped next to you, Alex behind her. “Come with me,” she said.

You didn’t even question her, just got to your feet and followed her. “Do I need to grab anything?”

Farah shook her head. “I’ve already told Price,” she said, glancing back at you over her shoulder. “We are not going far.”

Well, that wasn’t quite as reassuring as she thought it was, but you didn’t question her. You just followed her and Alex to a car.

“We will be scouting,” Farah told you as Alex drove. “Look for any sign of escaped Russians, or reinforcements.”

“Can do.” You sat up a little straighter, calmer now that you knew the mission. This wouldn’t be bad. Not bad at all.

You and Farah both shifted in the car and Alex opened the doors to let you out. Farah went one way, and you went another.

The base was large, spread out, but the two of you covered the ground easily. But everything was quiet, to your relief. You didn’t doubt that the Russians would hear of this, and they might retaliate. Possibly.

If they had the resources and decided this was a high value enough target.

You kind of hoped they just gave up. These poor people deserved some peace and quiet.

You passed Farah, darting over to greet her and sniff her face before you continued on your way. You just wanted to check one more area, just to be sure, and then you’d head back.

But you got lucky. No sign of life out here. (Apart from the little lizard you chased off.)

You trotted back to the car, enjoying the little buzz of a job well done. Farah was already back, sitting on Alex’s shoulder with one of his hands on her back to help stabilize her.

Aww. They were adorable. (And also making the ache in your soul much worse.)

You hopped into the back seat and shifted back, pulling your clothes on again. Alex didn’t get in until you were finished shifting, and even then, Farah just sat in the passenger seat very regally.

“All clear,” you said, and Farrah chirped her agreement.

“Good.” Alex started driving. “Thanks for the assist.”

“No problem.” You grinned. “Always a joy to go out for a run.”

Alex glanced at you in the rearview mirror. “Especially with someone your own size?”

You laughed, leaning back more in your seat. “Pretty much.”

Alex nodded. “Farah said something about that too,” he admitted, glancing at the cat next to him. She just huffed but didn’t actually object or bat at him. So clearly he was fine. “What do you do with your pack?”

“What, in terms of running?” You snorted, shaking your head. “I don’t. Not shifted, anyway. I can’t keep up.”

“So you and Gaz don’t…?” Alex trailed off.

You blinked. “I mean. Not really. Sometimes he trots after me, but we really can’t go running together.”

“He trots after you?” Alex grinned. “Boy’s got it bad.”

You blinked again, startled. “What?”

“Following you around. Saw him make you a plate last night, too.” Alex’s grin was mischievous. “Farah does that for me, sometimes. Confused the hell outta me the first couple times, until she explained.”

“Until she explained,” you repeated slowly. Because. He was wrong. There was no way Gaz had been… Had been…

“Yeah,” Alex said slowly, glancing at you in the mirror again. “She said it’s pretty typical behavior for shifters.”

“For courting, yeah,” you agreed, still speaking slowly. “But you’re wrong about Gaz.”

Farah actually turned around to look at you, giving you the most disbelieving look you’d ever seen on a cat. Alex gave you a matching look, which would have been hysterical under other circumstances.

“He’s been flirting with you literally the entire time you’ve been here,” Alex pointed out.

And you were about to deny that. You really were.

Except.

He’d been the one to follow you and check on you. He’d held on to your stuff while you’d been scouting. He’d made you a plate and made sure you ate.

Oh. Shit.

Ohhhh shit.

“Alright there?” Alex was not teasing any longer, concerned now.

“Yeah,” you muttered almost automatically. “Fine.”

Farah growled, low and short, expressing her disagreement with that. But she didn’t have a chance to do more - the car stopped.

Without a second thought, you popped your door open and shifted, slipping easily out of your clothes and running.

You didn’t want to be around people while you went over all the instances suddenly coming into startling clarity.

Gaz had been trying to court you. For weeks. He’d been subtle about it at first, just walking with you, or making sure he was the one to pick you up.

But dinner really cemented it. Sitting so close to you, fussing over your food like that… That was courting behavior, undoubtedly.

It was too much all at once.

You found a good space under a cluster of rocks right at the edge of base, burrowing under them and curling up.

Gaz had been trying to court you for weeks, and you were an absolute dumbass who hadn’t noticed. You covered your eyes with your tail.

A soft whine caught your attention some indeterminable amount of time later. You blinked and moved your tail to find Gaz as a wolf with his nose trying to get into your hiding spot. He whined softly again, and you could just see one paw scratching at the rocks.

You huffed and crawled towards him, pushing your body against his snout. He withdrew, backing up a step to give you plenty of room. You tucked your ears down and wiggled out of your hiding spot, shaking briefly to get rid of any lingering sand.

Gaz laid down in front of you, eyes big and pleading, tail wagging hopefully.

You cocked your head to one side, one ear up one down.

He huffed and wiggled a tiny bit closer to you, tail wagging a little harder. His tongue darted out for a quick kiss to your muzzle.

Oh. That. He must have talked to Alex or Farah.

You eyed him for a moment before you took one step closer, until you were right in front of him. If this were anyone else, it would be a little scary just how much bigger he was than you. But this was Gaz.

You weren’t scared.

You licked his nose. And when his eyes absolutely lit up, tail wagging so hard he was practically causing a sand storm behind him, you licked his nose again.

He hopped to his feet to nuzzle you, exceedingly careful. You huffed at him and started back towards the pack room, since you did want to have an actual conversation. Gaz, to your surprise, kept pace with you. Which meant you were trotting while he was walking leisurely.

Stupid long-legged wolf.

Soap got one look at you and whooped. “Took ye fuckin’ long enough!” he crowed.

Your ears flattened to your head and Gaz snapped at Soap with a low warning growl. Soap completely ignored the warning, starting to tease you two. And promptly ended up with a wolf tackling him.

You ignored the mess as the two of them rolled around, growling and snarking. Instead you went to the door and then sat and yipped at Price to open the door for you.

“Fuckin’ muppets,” Price muttered about the other two, scooping you up in one big hand. You yipped at him again and he huffed back. “Hush. We’ll talk while they figure shit out.” The door shut behind him. But you still weren’t scared.

You believed him when he called you pack. And if this was part of being his pack… You wouldn’t trade it for the world.

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #f!reader #shifter au

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azrielsdove · 25 days

Text

Longing Pt.2: Cassian

Warning: Violence, Suggestiveness

Pt.1 Here

***

Yelling woke you up early the next morning. You opened your eyes and took in the way the sun hadn’t even fully risen yet, the room still cast in shadow. You looked towards the cracked door, quickly discovering the source of the sounds that woke you.

Azriel and Cassian.

“Why should I let you in there? I had to give her triple dose of sleeping tea to get her asleep. Even then, she shook and cried all night! Because of you.” Azriel’s words sent a cold chill down your spine, before the heat of embarrassment took over. Oh gods. They were out there arguing about you.

“Well, maybe she needs me! I just want to help her.” Cassian is almost pleading with Azriel, his tone desperate.

Azriel scoffs. “If you truly cared about her you wouldn’t have had your tongue down someone else’s throat! I don’t know what’s going on with you Cassian, but figure it out. I’m not letting you do any more damage to her.” You shut your eyes again as you heard him walk back into the room, not wanting to discuss that you overheard some of their fight. The bed sunk down next to you and you felt light fingers brush your hair off your face, a deep sigh coming from your friend. You knew he had a fierce protectiveness over you, the sister he never had. He hurt as much as you did.

***

You would have rather stayed tucked up in your bed for the rest of your life, but Azriel was having that. “Come to training. I promise you will feel better to be out there moving again!” He pulled the warm blankets off of you, ignoring your cry of protest. “Come on. You have five minutes to get out of this bed and get dressed, or I am dragging you up there as you are.” You glared at him, crossing your arms tightly in front of you.

“I’m not going.” He crossed his arms as well, giving you the same glare you were giving him.

“It is not a choice.”

“You will not force me.”

“I will not let you waste away in this room! You will come willingly or I will drag you kicking and screaming, but you will go.” You fought hard to keep your eyes locked on his before groaning and falling backwards on your bed.

“Fine. Get out so I can change.”

***

You shivered in the cold morning air, thinking of all the ways you were going to get Azriel back for this. He had barely allowed you to get your training leathers on before barging back into your room and dragging you out to the training ring. You had no interest in being up here today, and especially had no interest in seeing Cassian all over Nesta. The rather innocent jealousy from before had turned into a vicious evil darkness, your vision going red every time you looked at them.

“I hate you.”

Azriel looked over at you, eyebrows raised. “No, you don’t.” You rolled your eyes and walked over to the weapons rack, carefully selecting a gleaming blade. The sword felt sturdy in your hands, a symbol of power and strength. You usually preferred daggers, but you needed something more today. You turned to challenge Azriel, halting in your movements when it was Cassian who stood behind you.

“I’ll practice with you,” he said, not asking. You debated ramming the sword into his stupid face before you nodded begrudgingly. Fine. You supposed you couldn’t avoid him forever. You took up your defensive stance across the ring from Cassian, carefully watching his movements. You had trained under him for long enough to know his tells, unspoken warnings before he strikes.

The glint of silver through the sky was nearly imperceptible, but you met it with a quickness of your own. The blades clashed harshly, the sound making you feel a bit more alive. You loved the power fighting gave you, the raw energy that flew through your bones when you became a weapon. Cassian pulled back to strike again, aiming for your legs to make you unsteady. You jumped over his sword, enjoying his swear as your counter struck him in the arm.

The two of you battled fiercely, the unspoken anger and tension festering between you. You blocked and swung against Cassian as if he were a true enemy trying to kill you, not caring if you injured him in the process. In fact, some spilled blood may even make you feel better. You allowed your hurt to overtake you, pushing all rational through aside. You knew Azriel would yell at you for this later, for letting yourself lose control.

But you didn’t really care.

You swung strike after strike at Cassian, hardly more than a blur in the wind. You enjoyed the way your sword cut into his shin, causing him stumble backwards. You put a matching knick in his other one, watching him fall to his knees. A swift kick in the chest and you were hovering over him, your blade tucked tight against his neck as you pinned his arms with your legs. You watched a thin trickle of blood run down his neck, your sword unrelenting against his skin. You heard a faint yell of your name behind you, but you ignored it as you looked up to Cassian’s eyes.

You did not expect the fear and pain in them.

You shot off of him without a second thought, dropping your sword in horror as you stumbled back. Strong hands wrapped around your arms, pulling you towards the stairs to the House. You allowed yourself to be dragged away, gaze never leaving Cassian’s form on the ground.

***

“What the hell got into you?” Azriel seethed through his teeth, pacing in front of where you sat on your bed. You gave no answer, not even looking up from the cup of tea in your hands that had long gone cold. “You are allowed to feel whatever you need to feel about him and Nesta, but nearly killing him? Have you lost your mind?”

Perhaps you had. Maybe the shattered mating bond in your heart was poisoning your soul. Would you ever be able to handle seeing Cassian without feeling like you were being gutted? Azriel was still pacing around your room, stress radiating off of him in waves.

“Are you even listening to me?” The pacing ceased in front of you, two boots stopping in your line of vision. Azriel called your name, frustration palpable in his voice. While he may be your closest friend, Cassian remained his brother. And you had threatened his life.

“I don’t know what else to do for you. I’m going to Rhys to speak about this situation. We will see what he says.” The boots stormed out of your room, door slamming unceremoniously behind them. Rhys. You knew that should have instilled fear in you, or at least a general alarm. But you felt nothing. Maybe Rhys would demand you leave the Night Court, seek residence somewhere far away. Leave Azriel, and never see Cassian again.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

***

It was late in the night when Rhysand came to your room. He was alone, no brooding Azriel or gentle Feyre with him. Perhaps it would be easier to dismiss you from court with no one around.

Rhys walked slowly to your bed, eyes locked onto yours. His movements were unhurried, relaxed, as he pulled a chair over and sat next to you. A deep sigh fell from him while he scanned your face, reading what he could.

“Can you tell me what happened?” His voice was soft, but no anger lingered in it. You blinked at him, still lying in the same position you had been before he had entered.

“I tried to kill Cassian.”

You spoke bluntly. There was no point hiding it, you knew what you had done. Lost in your own despair or not, you had tried to end his life.

Rhys nodded, looking carefully over you again. “I do not think that’s quite what happened. There is more to this story, is there not? What sent you into that blind rage this morning?”

You blinked. You had been so drawn into yourself after coming back to your room you had almost forgotten. You slowly pushed yourself into a sitting position, turning your body to face Rhys. Your stare was level when you looked at him, resigned to what you were about to tell.

“Do you know what happens when a mating bond is rejected unknowingly?” Your voice was quiet, but the words seemed to ring throughout the room.

“I do not,” Rhys answered, equally as quiet.

You nodded. “It shatters the bond inside into a million tiny pieces. Sharp pieces. You go about your day being stabbed in the very soul, every movement a reminder of what was lost. It’s enough to drive one deep into insanity, if they allow it.”

“And is that what has happened with Cassian?” He kept his tone light, eyes still locked onto yours.

“Yes. I walked in on him and Nesta, and it broke. I broke.” Emotion clogged your throat, the cold fog you’ve been in all day dispersing. “I do not know what to do, Rhys.” Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, your body curling in on itself. Within a second he had moved to sitting next to you on the bed, wrapping his arms soothingly around you. Your head fell to his shoulder as you cried, letting out all the confusing feelings about what had happened. You had nearly killed Cassian, without even realizing it. What kind of a life could you live here without knowing if you were safe for him to be around?

***

CASSIANS POV

He paced back and forth outside her room, waiting for Rhys to come back out. He couldn’t stand the not-knowing, the endless wondering of what went so terribly wrong. He knew she had seen him with Nesta, and he knew nothing had felt right since that moment. Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed her to train with him this morning, should have given her more space.

He didn’t want space. He had finally decided that this was ridiculous, that if anyone should talk to her it should be him, when Rhys quietly exited the room. The look on his face took all the air out of Cassian’s lungs.

Something was terribly wrong.

***

He had never felt more uncomfortable sitting in his friend’s office than he did now. Rhys slowly stirred the tea in front of him, studying Cassian thoroughly. His head cocked to the side as he took him in, and Cassian had never felt more vulnerable in his life.

“You have made a grave error,” Rhys finally said, lifting his cup to his lips. Cassian’s head spun. What could he have done? He assumed now that she must have had some feelings for him, if all of this spiraled from her seeing him and Nesta. That did make him feel like a fool, as he had pined after her for decades now. The brave General of the Night Court, too scared to make a move on his friend. When the eldest Archeron was put under his instruction, he shoved his feelings down and replaced them with the mutual attraction he had felt from her. He thought she was doing the same with Azriel. How could he have read everything so wrong?

“I know,” Cassian finally replied, voice thick.

“I do not think you do. I think you have realized that all this time the two of you desired each other, yes. But I do not think you yet realize how deep that pull goes.” Rhys spoke as casually as if they were speaking of a recent training session, waiting for the words to fully hit Cassian.

Pull. He had always felt drawn to her, different than any other female he’d been interested in. He assumed it was from the years of friendship they had, nothing more. It couldn’t be anything more. It couldn’t-

Cassian sucked in a deep breath, feeling the golden string inside of him. No. It was weak, as if the other side that should pull it taught was broken. No. No. His eyes flared wide with panic as he looked at Rhys, who only nodded.

“Mates.”

Cassian ran.

***

READER POV

Rhys had instructed you to take a long, relaxing bath after he left. He had sent his favorite teas and oils up to your room, threatening that he would send a healer to do it if you wouldn’t. You would have argued if you weren’t so drained.

You had just finished with your bath, standing before your closet as you selected something to wear, when the doors to your room burst open. You gave a small scream, turning to face the assailant. You were stunned into silence to see Cassian, tears streaming down his face.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped out, not moving from the doorway. You debated shoving him out and locking the doors behind him, but the tears threw you off.

“Come in. Close the doors,” you instructed, voice stronger than you had expected. He did as you said, walking to stand in front of you. You remembered then that you were clad only in a bath towel, one hand all that was holding it up around you. You opened your mouth to tell him to let you change when he dropped to his knees in front of you.

“Please,” he whispered, red-rimmed eyes looking up at you. “Please, forgive me.”

You stared down at him. At Cassian, on his knees in front of you, begging your forgiveness. While you wore only a towel. The fractured shards of the mating bond stirred inside you at the sight, the edges not quite as sharp as they were a minute prior.

“You do not need my forgiveness. You are allowed to be with who you wish, Cassian. Do not ruin your happiness for me.” You lied through your teeth. You would act as if it was no big deal, as if you didn’t feel insurmountable pain with every movement. A mating bond didn’t mean you would be endlessly happy together, and if he hadn’t felt it by now you certainly wouldn’t force him into it.

His hands reached out and grabbed ahold of your waist, holding onto you like you were his lifeline. “No. I do not wish to be with Nesta. I never did.” You shook your head.

“I will not be your second choice, Cassian. I will not let you come to me out of pity.” You spat out the last word, the broken mating bond turning deadly sharp again.

“No, no, you don’t understand,” he begged, fingers digging into your sides. “You have always been the only choice for me. I allowed male pride to get in the way, assuming you felt nothing for me. I…distracted myself with Nesta, yes. Anything between us was purely physical, a way to use each other to forget what we couldn’t have.” Tears flowed freely down his face now, a vulnerability you had never seen from him. “I didn’t feel the bond until today. I feel it, I feel it broken. I don’t want that. I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

Your head was spinning. The broken bond inside you began stirring once more, the edges of it smooth. Forming back into a solid string at his confession. Allowing you the choice, to accept Cassian or not.

“Get up,” you said hoarsely, pulling yourself out of his grip. He hauled himself up onto his feet, towering over you. You took another step back, hoping that increasing the distance would clear your head. “This-I don’t-Cassian, why hide it?”

He shook his head, looking down at you. “Why did you?”

Why did you? The fear of rejection? That nothing would ever be the same again? You hid your feelings deep down, only to end up in a possibly worse position due to it. Cassian had done the same. You had damned each other.

He took a step closer as you took another one back, a fierce determination now in his eyes. You moved back until you hit the desk behind you, Cassian following your body with his own.

He stood directly in front of you now, every breath causing his chest to brush against yours. “Tell me what you want,” he breathed out, hand ghosting over your hip. You opened your mouth to respond but no words came. You couldn’t think with him this close to you, with the mating bond reformed in your chest. Wearing a godsdamned towel.

“I want….” you trailed off, eyes studying his. He brought his head down closer to yours, breath ghosting over your lips with his proximity. “I want…” His hand rested fully on your hip now, drawing your body tight against his.

“I’ll tell you what I want,” he murmured, eyes flicking down to your mouth. Oh, gods.

You let all rational thought leave you as you surged up and pressed your lips to his. Cassian’s other hand cupped your neck, angling you up to him. The kiss was full of all the words you couldn’t say, of all the feelings you didn’t know how to voice. You wrapped your free arm around his neck, pulling him closer against you.

“I love you,” he said against your lips, kissing you with each word. “I’ve loved you for far too long. I’ve allowed pain to come to you, when I could have had this the whole time.” He growled that last part, kisses trailing down your neck. You arched back against him, body on fire under his touch. At his confession.

“I-I love you,” you gasped out, Cassian all tongue and teeth over your bare skin. “I- Cass-Oh let me get rid of this damn towel.”

***

im sorry this took SO LONG to get out!!! i hope you guys enjoyed it, and the Azriel ending will be out soon as well <3.

#cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #acotar x reader #longing

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