#i have on occasion done this with people who have commented
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Sometimes I wish ao3 would tell me who subscribes to your works mostly because sometimes there will be one subscription on a story and eventually I turn it into something longer than a oneshot and I wanna go “this one’s for you, MrsDoomguy743” in the author note.
#chit chat#i have on occasion done this with people who have commented#but i used to do it a lot more on ffnet lol#man ffnet was weird and i couldn’t go back to it now#but on occasion there are features i miss#i mostly like that ao3 doesn’t show the subscriptions unless you work for it tho#it can get very stressful knowing that a bunch of people are waiting there for your next update#< - - also speaking from ffnet experiences
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i will follow you into the dark || bradley
"rooster" bradshaw
summary: your first instinct has always been to push people away when they get too close, but for some reason, you have trouble letting one pilot go. but little did you know that he had settled into your heart from the start and has no intention of leaving. (in which you have Bradley Bradshaw wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even notice—5 occasions that solidify your love for him, and 1 time you realize it)
words: ~3.3k
warnings: angst (BUT A HAPPY ENDING, I PROMISE), near-death experiences, brief mentions of violence, also my writing LMAO
a/n: hi guys i haven't posted a full-length fic in a LONG time but here we go :) this fic won the vote so it's going up first! hope you enjoy :)
I. meet me in the middle
“Mav!”
You and Maverick turned around at the same time. “Which one?”
“The pretty one,” Rooster stated.
“Be more specific.”
“I am being specific, Captain.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“Fine, I need your daughter.”
“You always need her for something.”
“Sorry, pops,” you grinned and clasped Maverick’s shoulder, and walked over to Bradley. “Come to kidnap me again, Bradshaw?”
“Actually, I’m hungry.”
“Then…go eat? I don’t see what any of that has to do with me.”
“I’m going to dinner, and I want you to come along,” he explained. “So, let’s go.”
“Is that why Cyclone was grumbling about someone spilling coffee all over him earlier? I knew it had to be you that put him in that mood.”
“Doesn’t matter. Come on.”
You looked back at your father, who simply laughed and motioned for you to go. The test flight would have to wait.
It was 5:30 when you got there, but the usually-crowded cantina had only one other person inside. Rooster didn’t hesitate as he set down his car keys and slid into the booth right next to you.
“There’s a seat right there,” you pointed out.
“And?”
“You can sit over there.”
“I don’t want to, though.”
“Alright, then.”
You weren’t even done for the day and already, felt tired and worn out beyond belief. The one thing that had been keeping you going was Maverick’s promise to take you on a Mach 7 test flight. (With the Admiral’s permission, of course. But you wouldn’t be surprised if he had never asked.)
Rooster tells the waitress your order without blinking, and you give him a tired smile as a thank you.
There’s no animated conversation, no loud comments or jokes or anything of the sort as the food comes out, but neither of you mind. Sometimes, all you needed to cool down from a long week was each other’s company and a steaming plate of fajitas.
The little routine you’ve established falls into place so easily you don’t even have to think. Impromptu dinners, blasting 80’s music as the sun goes down, taking the offbeat path down to the coast with salt in your windswept hair. Little to no words spoken, and somehow the silence speaks volumes.
But you don’t understand why he’d choose you to do this with, out of everyone. You’d expect him to drift towards someone less damaged. Someone who could keep up to his free and daring spirit and push him to his limits. Someone who had less baggage and didn’t flinch at every little touch.
But despite all that he doesn’t leave. Even when everyone else around you seemed to, he was always there, assuring you he’d wait no matter what.
“Don’t worry about it.” He places a gentle hand over yours as he hands his card over to pay later that evening. “Let me treat you tonight.”
“Thanks…”
He holds the door open for you as you walk out and keeps a ghost of a hand against your back the whole way to the car. You’re trying to burrow into yourself, but he doesn’t stop looking at you. The feeling of his eyes on you sends shivers running down your spine and you nervously shift in your seat.
“You okay?” Rooster places his hand on the headrest as he reverses out of the parking lot. “You seem quiet tonight.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t press any further, assuming that you’re tired and that’s why you’re unwilling to say much. He knows. He understands. “If you ever need to talk, though, I’m one call and a 15 minute walk away. Or 7, if I sprint.”
This makes you laugh a bit. “If you say so.”
II. waiting on you
As soon as you hop out of your plane, he’s the first one there to greet you and pulls you in for a hug. You have no time to react to it because he’s so quick to sweep you up into his arms. You can smell a mix of sweat and coffee and a little bit of raspberries on him, and it helps bring you back down to reality.
“You saw me a few hours ago, Roos…please let me go…” you mumbled into his shoulder. His grip on you only tightens further. “What’s with the excitement?”
“Nothing. I’m just happy to see you.”
Not knowing what else to do, your hands awkwardly reach up to pat him on the back. “It’s good to see you, too.”
Though you don’t say it out loud, you’re also just as happy to see him—it’s comforting to know he’ll be waiting whenever you return from something. And that, you think, is more than enough.
Rooster carries your things for you without asking, and you’re grateful because your shoulders feel like they’re going to fall out of their sockets. Once again, he’s standing close by as you go to your quarters, ever the watchman. If he doesn’t have a hand on you, then his eyes will stay glued to you for as long as they can be.
“Is that my shirt?” he asks as you step out of the bathroom wearing an oversized vintage T-shirt and a pair of jeans.
“No.”
“It looks better on you, anyway.” He smirks; you fail to notice the way his gaze lingers on you a bit longer than normal. “You ready to go? They’re waiting for us at the Hard Deck. Hangman’s complaining about a rematch or somethin’.”
You lean into his side and smile, and he puts an arm across your shoulders. It feels so natural that you almost don’t notice. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
His eyes never leave you, even when he’s in the thick of the game. It’s impossible to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach every time his gaze flickers over to yours.
Coyote notices your dazed look and nudges Payback in the side. “How is it that everyone knows that Bradshaw and Y/N love each other except Bradshaw and Y/N?”
“Because they’re stupid,” Payback whispered back.
“Ah. Makes sense.”
“So, we need to do something about it.”
“Hm…I’d say we wait it out. They’re going in the right direction.” A small smile graced Coyote’s face as Rooster pumped a fist up in victory before rushing over to embrace you. “A room full of people, yet all he sees is her.”
“You’re so right, man.”
III. rose-tinted glasses
“What are you looking for out there?” Rooster called out.
“Something pretty,” you replied as you stood by the ocean’s edge, the wind fanning your hair around your shoulders. He’s sure that he’s never seen a more mesmerizing sight.
“I beat you to it, because I already found one,” he stated with confidence, eyes never leaving you.
“Where?”
“I’m looking right at her.”
“That’s not what I meant, silly. Do I look like a seashell to you?”
“No, you’re even better.”
You laugh once again and resume your search. Right then, a glowing scallop catches your eye, and sand dusts your clothes as you bend down to pick it up. It’s smooth and seems to glow in rose gold amidst the early evening light.
“Would you look at that,” you breathed out, palm extended to show him what you’ve found. “It’s perfect.”
Rooster encloses his hand around yours, and you can feel the heat radiating from his skin. It’s cold out but you’re not freezing at all because he’s so close. He’s so close. Your heart skips a beat.
“Wow…it sure is.”
He kneels down with you, and you spend the next few hours making it a competition to see who can find the most unique set of stones. A strange feeling washed over you as you watched his brows furrow in concentration. Never had you imagined to be spending Thursday night with Bradley Bradshaw by the seashore, and yet, it feels like you’ve done this thousands of times before.
Everything seems to fall into place.
IV. for you, i’d cross the line
“Y/N, hey.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Doesn’t matter. Move over.”
You shifted on the bench to make room for him and he sat down next to you. This was probably his tenth time playing his rendition of ‘Great Balls of Fire’ but that didn’t matter; the man knew how to sing. You found yourself leaning into him and listening to his heartbeat, and the sensation lulled you into a peaceful trance.
You took one good look at your best friend. Sweat lined his forehead and his face was bright red from both the alcohol and heat, but still, you were 100% sure that you’d never seen a more beautiful sight in your life.
The way he seemed to gaze at you made your heartbeat pick up speed. It didn’t matter that he had too one too many drinks in the moments leading up to this, nor did it matter that he was always one to be rather affectionate with you. It didn’t make you love him any less—if anything, it made him all the more endearing.
“You’re looking at me very…intensely,” you mumbled. “It’s making me nervous.”
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured. “A man can’t help it when he’s in love.”
“Was that tipsy you or sober you?”
“Sober me is saying I love you.” He continues playing, unfazed, and the sound of the piano in your ears fades away into nothingness.
It’s drunk Rooster telling you he means what he says, the confidence boost making him do things he normally wouldn’t. It’s drunk Rooster attempting to serenade you as his warm, alcohol-riddled breath falls against your neck. It’s drunk Rooster talking…but there’s a sober truth hidden behind his words that sends a shiver down your spine.
You’re nose-to-nose as he starts to sing, and you lose yourself in a sea of gold and blue as his warm thumb grazes over your cheek. As if there’s an invisible string drawing you together, you move closer and closer towards each other. Drunk or not, he was utterly enchanting and you couldn’t turn away.
Once again…you ignore the stirring feeling in your chest at the feeling of his body being so close to yours.
V. saving grace
You find yourself opening the door to Rooster, who has a bouquet of your favorite flowers and some large Tupperware in hand. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you accept them and step aside to let him in. “What is this for…?”
“Thought you’d want something nice to add to the kitchen. You and Mav need to work on decorations,” he said. “Why? Do you not like them?”
“No…I’m…how’d you know these were my favorite, anyway?”
“I heard you talking on the phone to Phoenix about them six months ago,” Rooster explained, taking his jacket off and hanging it over the couch. “I pride myself on being observant like that. Also…I woke up early to cook you that pasta you always go nuts over when we drive to LA.”
“Oh.” Your heart twinged as you glanced over—that damn pasta was your favorite thing on the entire planet. You claimed that nobody could make it as well as the diner in Newport did, except Bradley himself. (He didn’t tell you how many times it took to get it just right, though. He didn’t want you freaking out over that. And besides, Maverick’s pots and pans that he borrowed had already paid the price.)
He paused for a moment after setting the container down on the counter. “I noticed you went home early today. Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I’m fine,” you lied as you put the flowers in a vase. But that was no use; he could see right through your monotone response. “Didn’t sleep enough last night.”
Bradley sees your hands tremble slightly. “Sweetheart.”
That’s all he needs to say before you step forward and lean your head against his chest. One arm finds its way around your waist to pull you close, while his free hand smoothes your hair out. A cracked sob escapes your lips and you squeeze your eyes shut in the hopes that if you kept them closed long enough and prayed hard enough, a guardian angel would swoop in and save you.
“I’m here, it’s okay, you’ll be okay,” he murmurs. “You’ll be okay.”
“Please don’t go, Bradshaw,” you begged, voice hoarse. “Don’t leave me.”
“I’m right here, don’t worry,” he reminds you, his hand moving down to rub your back. “I’ll be here whenever you need me, I promise.”
You reach your pinky out a bit, and the two of you link your fingers together.
You’re never letting go, and neither is he.
epilogue—soul ties
“I’m trying to shake them off. They won’t let up—shit, I’m hit—”
His panicked voice cuts through the buzz of static and you can feel your whole body go numb. What if he doesn’t make it back… The thought alone is too much to bear.
He curses under his breath and you hear something like that of a whispered prayer and several mentions of Please let me come home to her. Your heart clenches in your chest and you feel like you’re going to puke. Noticing your sudden uneasiness, Maverick grips your hand to keep you steady.
“Bradshaw, what the hell is going on there?” Coyote nervously rubs at his forehead as he looks up at the screen. “If you die, we’re all going to kill you.”
“Left engine’s completely blown out. I have two bogeys on my tail.”
You bite the inside of your cheek until the tangy, metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. This couldn’t be happening. There already was a ghost amongst the skies, and Rooster could not afford to become the second…
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, I’m going down, guys—” Rooster curses again, and the earsplitting sound of a large blast interrupts him before he can say much else.
“Bradley!” you shrieked as you watched his radar signal slowly fade off the screen. “No—”
Silence punctures the air and you finally lose balance, succumbing to the black void of nothingness.
—
10 hours later, you sit outside the hospital room in the cold hallway, a thin, tear-stained blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Hangman and Phoenix had long since given up on getting you to move, so they took turns sitting with you.
“You should try eating. There’s In-N-Out nearby, I’ll get something for you if you want,” Jake offered.
You shake your head.
“Come on. It’s been all day.”
“No.”
“You’re really that worried about him, aren’t you.”
“No,” you muttered bitterly.
“You claim to not care, yet you’ve been sitting here for the past ten hours.”
“I don’t care. This is me looking out for him in the same way any colleague or teammate of his would. This is what I’m supposed to do. What we’re all supposed to do.”
“Y/N.” Jake sounds a bit more serious this time, and this makes you stop trying to bury yourself within your thoughts. “Listen to me.”
“What,” you exhaled.
"The fact of the matter here is,” he cleared this throat, “Bradshaw cares about you…a lot. Not in a simple and innocent ‘friendly’ way. And if you keep pushing him away like you always do, all 'cause you're scared, you're gonna lose him for good. Losing a good man out of fear is never worth the cost."
Your heart stops.
Every hug, every word and cheesy pickup line, every lingering glance and touch and intertwined set of fingers—he'd fallen first long ago, and pulled you down with him. But you let him, and you'll walk to the ends of the earth if it means he'll hold your hand along the way. And that's when everything hits all at once—the realization comes crashing down like a waterfall.
You were hopelessly in love with him, the man who brings you flowers every Friday night. In love with the man who holds the door open for you, gives you his favorite jackets, and stays up late or wakes up early to learn your favorite comfort meal (even if it means failing 17 times in the process and ruining Maverick's kitchen), the man who serenades you to classic rock ballads with the taste of rum on his lips.
This was Rooster Bradshaw, and he was your soulmate.
“But I already lost him,” your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words to say, “I can’t.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. That man is going to stay waiting for you until the day his body is buried six feet underground. Deny it all you want, but he’ll keep waiting long after he takes his last breath.”
You let out a long sigh and stood up. “Okay.”
You’re hesitant as you step inside the small hospital room. He’s asleep, but he must’ve sensed your presence and his eyes flutter open.
“Sweetheart…”
“Bradley.” He moves over a bit for you, and you sit down next to him. “You’re alive.”
“Sorry for not dying. That must’ve disappointed you,” he jokes. If he’s in any sort of pain, he manages to mask it behind a soft smile. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
“I waited ten hours.”
“You should’ve gone home and slept.”
Closing your eyes, you rest your head against his chest. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that you weren’t okay.”
He hums some tune against the crook of your neck; lips brushing over your skin. “But I came back, like I promised. I’m okay, because you are.”
Helovesmehelovesmehelovesme.
As if he could read your mind, he leans in just that bit closer. You look up at him and your heart somersaults in your chest.
When your lips meet, everything clicks into place and it’s like you finally found the missing puzzle piece you’d been searching for. He was here all along; it made so much sense. Everything else fades away into the background as you get lost in the feeling of him and him alone. You knew from the moment he stuck out his hand and told you with a million-dollar smile “I’m Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, and I can make a mean lasagna or anything else you want,” that choosing him would be the single best thing you ever could’ve done.
And you were most certainly right about that now.
“I kept it, you know.” he murmurs as you eventually break away, “I didn’t think it would last as long as it did, but here it is.”
“What…what are you talking about?”
He fingers dip below the scoop of his T-shirt and he brings out the glittering charm, laying it in his hand. “You gave it to me ages ago. It was a while ago but I still remember the exact time and place. August 5th, 2010, 2:26 a.m. We were both on the verge of falling asleep.”
Your heart grows warmer. “Roos…”
Rooster opens the locket, and inside is a picture of you beaming as you wrapped your arms around him from behind. So young and so in love, but not yet knowing how you felt about each other.
“I think this is what kept me alive up there. I was in the air long enough to think about and reflect on the fact that I was dying, but I knew I had to come home to you. I was dying, Y/N, but you saved me. If you didn’t come into my life right when you did then I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be telling you that I love you.”
He has you at a loss for words yet again. It didn’t matter that you’d known each other for years because he would always find a way to steal your breath. The once-tiny caterpillars crawling in your stomach had morphed into giant butterflies that never stopped fluttering when he came too close.
He leans in and he’s kissing you again; this time it’s like you’re his sole source of oxygen and he’s in desperate need of fresh air. Your grip on his hand tightens as he deepens the kiss, and you pray to God that your heart won’t explode into a million pieces like it did when you thought you wouldn’t see him again.
I’ve died and come back to life twice now, Rooster tells himself.
And both of those times, you’re the angel that magically appears to save him from a certain, unfortunate fate.
tags, including people who may be interested (sorry if this list seems off, it hasn't been updated in a while hahah): @sarcastic-sourwolf @totomoshi @sebastianstangirl01 @purelyfiction @lunamoonbby @hazelgirl355 @multifandom-fangirl4 @paintballkid711 @buckysbeloved @lyn-lc @spawn0fsatan @milestomaverick @teacactusworld @cherry-waved @ellabellabus07 @vitanileon @lam-ila @criminalyetminimal @whatlovegattado @queenbbarnes @yeehawnana @t-stark35 @thesunsetphantoms @danirose-0420 @callalily2000 @the-untamed-soul @shizzybarnaclee @bananaa @luvfurdogs @shalaniela @unordinare @and-claudia @lgg5989 @katiemcrae @elenavampire21 @joyfullyswimmingface @nyx2021 @cosm1cfae @ellabellabus07 @vane28282 @bittergomez @littlebadariell @tallrock35 @whotfatemywaffles @hoedameronsworld @aerangi @julia-marshal @uwiuwi
(also if you filled out the general taglist form/top gun taglist form and you're not on here, that means i couldn't tag you for some reason)
#top gun#top gun: maverick#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw fanfic#top gun fanfic#top gun fic#rooster x reader#bradley bradshaw imagine#rooster bradshaw x reader#miles teller#bradley bradshaw fluff#bradley bradshaw x y/n#top gun maverick fic#top gun fanfiction#bradley bradshaw x you
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Charles Leclerc - Arthur, you are not French...yeah Charles, drag his ass!
I’ve been excited to write this chapter! I know that reader is a Red Bull driver, but I am a Tifosi through and through. Charles holds such a special place in my heart (but so does Max). I feel like one of those “breaking my silence – how I got into F1,” low and behold, I got into the sport from that one Ferrari thirst trap where Charles is lying on the couch. Yeah, you know, that one.
Anywho, I write these little things before I even get to writing the story and sometimes I don’t even know where I’m going with it. I know it's not Christmas yet, but the people spoke - SO HERE WE GO!
Sadly, the tag list is closed to do us reaching the 50 people mark! I never thought that I’d get there though with my story! So thank you to every one of you for making that happen!
Like always, comments, questions, concerns, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated! Love you all <;3
Your beanie had started to itch. You had needed it outside due to the cold weather, but now that you were in the car with the heat cranked, it was starting to get a little too warm. As you pulled up to the red light, your hand quickly yanked the hat off. Not to your surprise, your hair was sticking in all directions. That’s ok, you could fix it before you walked into the house. The light turned green, and you had to remind yourself that this was a regular car, on a regular street. Not a hybrid-engine-ran rocket ship that exceeded 300 kilometers per hour on sweet Grand Prix asphalt.
This year, you had finally accepted Arthur’s invitation for Christmas. Earlier, you had done Christmas morning and afternoon with Max, Kelly, and Penelope. It was everything you could have wished for. And now you were going to spend the rest of the evening with your best friend and his family. You were a tab bit nervous. Sure, you had met them on a handful of occasions, but you tried not to get too close. They were always at grand prixes for Arthur, not you.
You glanced at the presents that were stacked on the passenger side. The most important one, however, was placed in a bag on the floor. You were not about to let that fall over and possibly break. You knew it was made to be sturdy, but you couldn’t be sure. Arthur had given you the gate key. You pulled up to the little black box and pressed the numbers. You rolled your eyes as you realized that it was just Charles’s and Arthur’s racing numbers squished together.
Arthur had also reminded you that Lorenzo was not going to be joining due to him being at his wife’s family’s for the holiday. That was one less person to impress you had told yourself.
You pulled into their driveway and parked your car. It was not as impressive at Charles’s custom 488 Ferrari Pista Spider. It wasn’t as if you were almost drooling at the sight of it. Knowing yourself, you’d probably be too scared to drive it to actually enjoy it. Max also had a Ferrari, maybe he’d let you drive it.
In a parking lot and not exceeding 5 kph. You snorted. Yep, that was Max.
You did however, have your eye on two special cars. But you wanted to wait a bit before purchasing. You Pinterest board was full of different ideas, but you had to be careful. Maybe Christian could help you out with purchasing. You technically hadn’t bought this car, it was a gift from Lorenzo. You wouldn’t trade it for the world, but it might be nice to have more than one car. Besides, multiple drivers had multiple cars. You’d just join their ranks.
Juggling the presents, you walked to the front door and pressed the doorbell. Your face was hardly visible over the tops of the boxes. The door opened and a familiar voice sounded.
“Mon Dieu, let me help you.” Presents were being taken from the big stack.
“Thank you Charles.” You prided yourself on being one of the few people who could recognize the difference between Arthur’s and Charles’s voices. He didn’t reply as he took the presents farther into the house. You followed him through the door and toed off your shoes. Your eyes caught all the lights and decorations in the house. Growing up, you didn’t have such things. Your family always said that being in karting was always going to be your present. Nothing more, nothing less. There were no cookies for Santa and no tree to decorate.
As you walked more into the warm house, the decorations just kept getting better. Where Max’s house was decorated by Kelly who like a clean Christmas aesthetic, the Leclerc household leaned towards the warmer decorations. The lights didn’t necessarily match and flickered colorful light. The stockings weren’t the same color: they showed personality that matched their owner. Even the ornaments weren’t all from the same container. You found Charles staring down at the presents that he had taken from you.
“Who are these for?” he turned his head to look at you.
You snorted, “They’re for your family.” His eyes widened as he rubbed his chin.
“You didn’t have to.”
You only shrugged as you began to take off your coat, “I felt like I did. You all have been so kind to invite me here on a holiday that I couldn’t come empty handed.” Charles gestured for your jacket and you gave it to him.
“You can look around some more if you’d like to. Arthur and maman will be back from the store soon.” Your cheeks heated at the thought of him catching you ogling at his home. You shook the thought away and looked at everything a little bit closer.
Like all homes seemed to have, there was a wall filled with picture frames. Some were of each child; some had the full family. It was nice to see all 5 of them together in the center one. You cocked you head at one of them though. You all but tiptoed to get a closer look. It was one of Charles and Arthur, and then an unfamiliar but familiar man stood between them.
“That’s Jules. If you were wondering.”
You jumped in place, not noticed that he had snuck up behind you. You looked over and saw that a sad smile had graced his face. Arthur had told you little about him. Charles and Lorenzo would always have been much closer to him.
“I met him once. During karting,” you trailed off. Charles raised his eyebrows.
“Really?” It seemed as though the breath had been knocked out of him.
You gave him a comforting smile, “Yeah. My race was right after yours. I think it was back in 2010,” you looked back at the picture, “and you won that day. I watched him cheer for you like he was the proudest person there that day. He was in a racing suit and had a helmet. I thought that he had come straight from a race or something. But, I only remember wishing that I had someone there for me like you had.”
Charles now had a guess as to what day that was. He vaguely remembered finally beating Max and feeling so happy. But, he didn’t remember Jules having a helmet. He took the picture down so that the two of you could look closer. It was definitely not taken the day that you were talking about, but the way you talked about him intrigued Charles. He gave you a head nod, silently saying to continue.
“That day, I also won my race. It hadn’t been the easiest, but the boys were too busy pushing each other off that they didn’t even notice me. I was able to overtake and win. The boys though, weren’t the only ones who didn’t notice. My parents weren’t around when I looked for them. I must have turned around so many times, just trying to find them, but I never did. I had taken my kart back to my station when someone tapped me on the shoulder. He scared the ever-loving crap out of me, but he held my shoulder and told me that I did a great job.”
Your eyes were slightly watering at the confession. Charles just continued to look at you.
“I knew who he was. He was the man who always cheered for the Justin Bieber look-a-like who liked to push a certain Dutchman off the track, into a puddle, and claim it was just an inchident.” Charles snorted.
“I did not look like Justin Bieber.”
“Whatever floats your boat.” He gave you a look. “American expression. Anyway, after he said that he gave me a hug before my dad came stomping over, complaining about something, I don’t even remember. But all I know is that he made my entire day. My godfather wasn’t able to visit that much or come see me race. So, it was nice to have someone in my corner, even if they weren’t truly there for me.”
Charles hung the picture back on the wall. The two of you stood there for a quiet moment before Charles spoke up. “How’s your godfather?”
You inhaled sharply. “He died in 2020. Caught some illness in 2018 and wasn’t able to recover.”
It broke Charles’s heart to hear you talk about it so nonchalantly.
“Does Arthur know?”
You nodded your head. “He caught me crying the first year of his anniversary. Made me spill the beans about what happened. He thought he needed to go beat someone up.” You let out a wet chuckle. When did you even start crying? Looking at Charles, you saw that he was crying too. You continued, “Lorenzo, he, uh, died the day before I debuted in F2.”
Memories hit Charles like an 18-wheeler. That was you? He remembered that most of the F1 drivers had been invited since the F1 and F2 races were so close together. Hell, even Max was given the opportunity to give the winner the trophy. He remembers watching you dominate that race. He watched you offer that trophy to the sky. He saw a hunger that he hadn’t seen in a long time.
He finally spoke up, “You were incredible.”
“Thank you,” you paused before adding, “he’d be proud of you. Jules, I mean.” You looked back at the picture and how it seemed right at home amongst the others.
“Lorenzo would be proud of you as well.” You flashed him a grateful smile, full of teeth. He mirrored, dimples prominent.
You threw your head back and laughed. Charles cocked his head.
“What’s the matter?” he barely got out as he began to laugh as well.
You poked his cheeks, “You and Thur have the same dimples.” Charles rolled his eyes and ruffled your hair. You pouted. “Rude.”
He was about to reciprocate but the sound of the door opening caught the two of yours attention. Charles quickly pushed you into a dark room. You gave him a confused look before he put a finger to his lips. You smirked back and stayed silent.
Pascale walked in first followed by Arthur. Charles greeted his mother and then brother.
“I saw Y/n’s car in the driveway. Where is she?” Arthur looked around the house.
“She went to the bathroom, but hasn’t come back. I think I scared her off,” Charles faked a sad look.
Arthur flashed a comforting smile to his brother. “I’ll go find her. Hopefully she didn’t fall in or something.” That almost made you laugh.
Arthur flipped on the lights to the hallway. This was your chance. He barely got past the doorframe before you jumped out onto him.
His squeal echoed through the room, laughter following it. In your grand scheme, you had accidentally fallen on top of him. Your giggles continued as Arthur tried to push you off. He finally gave up after a few moments. You knew you probably looked ridiculous, but honestly you didn’t care. You swear you heard a click of a camera, but you disregarded it.
“Are you done?” Arthur sarcastically asked.
“No, I’m actually quite comfortable. Thank you for asking though,” you smirked. After a few more moments later, Arthur quickly rolled you off and got up. You let out a huff before making grabby hands at him. He rolled his eyes and pulled you up.
You were finally able to greet Pascale. She brought you into a hug and did the two kisses. You reciprocated. It came naturally after being teammates with Arthur for so long. You smiled at the memory of him doing it to you for the first time. He was so embarrassed after until you calmed him down enough to say that you didn’t mind. You knew it was a part of his culture and that he shouldn’t feel embarrassed to do so.
“Thank you for inviting me.” You shot her a shy smile. She rubbed your back before exiting the hug.
“There is no need for thanks. Arthur has been begging for years.” A noise of protest rang through the air.
“I have not.”
“Non, it’s true. He has.” Charles looked at his brother. Arthur had a look of betrayal that sent you spiraling into another laughing fit.
By the time you were finished, Arthur gave you a look.
“Where’s you Christmas sweater?” You looked down at the one you were wearing. You thought it looked just fine. It was a nice dark green and Kelly had complimented you many times.
“I thought this looked nice?” You were beginning to doubt. Maybe you couldn’t do this Christmas thing.
Arthur shook his head before disappearing down a hallway.
You glanced at Charles and whispered, “I ruined it didn’t I?” You looked down at your feet.
“Non gosse, you didn’t ruin anything. Just look.” You looked back up and saw that Arthur now had another sweater in his hands. (translation : no kid)
“I can’t believe I forgot to give you this. Sorry Y/n, we normally wear ‘ugly’ Christmas sweaters to celebrate. The one you have on is fine, but this is the Leclerc celebration now.” He all but shoved you towards a bathroom so that you could change. You slipped the other dark green sweater on after you took off your first one.
The front made you laugh. It wasn’t ugly per say, Arthur must have toned it down for you. On the front was the Grinch. It was actually kind of cute if you thought about it. You folded your first sweater and walked out. Now you noticed that Charles’s had a bright orange sweater with a gamer Santa on it; Arthur’s actually lit up; and Pascale had a cute one with a reindeer on it.
When he noticed your return, Arthur’s arms shot up. “Now you look festive!”
“How long did it take you to find that one TurTur?” You motioned your finger up and down, pointed at his sweater.
His arms crossed protectively around it as he let his jaw hang. “I’ll have you know that this is imported.”
You gave him a bombastic side eye. “Sure.”
Pascale clapped her hands, “Picture time by the tree!”
You kind of awkwardly stood there as she took pictures of the two boys. You warmly smiled as she gushed over the two of them. You made your way to the kitchen and picked up two bottles. Were these alcoholic? You squinted at the label.
“Y/n!” You froze and looked at the family of three. Arthur was snickering.
“You know you’re not allowed to drink yet.” You rolled your eyes.
Charles shot you a mischievous smile. “Gosse, come, we’ll send a picture to old Maxy. Maybe give him a heart attack.”
You smirked back as you walked with the two bottles. You posed in front of the tree with the glasses on either side of you. The four of you laughed as you set them down. You wanted to make a run for it, as to not ruin the pictures, but Pascale insisted that she wanted one of the three of you.
Your heart swelled as she took a picture of you in the middle of Arthur and Charles. She also insisted to get one of just you and Arthur. Your cheeks heated as you caught her muttering about a picture to show your kids one day. You only hoped that Arthur hadn’t heard.
He did and his heart soared at the thought.
Once the pictures were done, everyone was able to have a few snacks and drinks, yours of course being non-alcoholic.
Then it was time for the presents. The thing you were worried about the most. You soon found yourself seated on the floor in a half circle. Pascale was the only one in a chair, but you didn’t blame her. The boys were the ones to pass out the presents. To your surprise, you had received three presents. Your eyes wanted to water, but you blinked the tears away.
They all opened the ones from you first.
Arthur lit up like a Christmas tree (pun intended) when he saw what you had gotten him. The two of you had been shopping earlier in the year, when you had come across a watch shop. Arthur had wanted to buy a specific one, but was heartbroken when they said that they were sold out. But, while Arthur was having a crisis about it, you secretly asked to be put on the waitlist. They had said that they couldn’t be 100 percent that you’d get one, but there was no harm in asking.
Surprisingly, when you got back for a small break, there was a package from the store waiting for you. You had also taken it to another watch store to have something added.
“Turn it over,” you whispered, scared of his next reaction. He inhaled sharply at what the engraving read.
January 25, 2020 – Best Friends for the Rest of Our Live, Keep at it TurTur!
Arthur quickly clamored over to you and wrapped you in a deep hug. Again, you heard the sound of a camera, but dismissed it.
Next Charles opened his. It wasn’t as sentimental as Arthur’s but you tried your best. Before hand, you had asked what type of jewelry Charles likes. You knew he was a ring and bracelet guy, but had rarely seen him with a necklace. So, you got him a simple one that he could wear with any outfit.
He thanked you with a warm smile.
Pascale was very happy with hers. Knowing that she had a hair salon, you googled many gift ideas for her. But every sing one of them to come up was always a pair of scissors. Wanting to do better, you did some more digging. Finally, you decided on one of those fancy circle vacuums that moves by itself. You knew how your back hurt after sweeping up a floor. You couldn’t imagine how her’s might feel. She also gave you a hug.
Now it was your turn.
The first present was from Arthur and it had you in tears. There in a rectangular box was a new pair of Lightning McQueen crocs.
“You know this is like my third pair right?”
He only nodded, “Yes, but are those pairs signed by Lightning McQueen himself?” Your eyes bulged as you turned them over.
You were expecting Owen Wilson’s signature, but when you read it, you laughed even harder. There on the bottom, in fancy script, was Charles’s signature. You looked over at Charles as you wiped your eyes.
“I’m honored sir.”
Charles rolled his eyes, and touched his heart, as to accept the thanks. His present wasn’t as funny, but it was appreciated. You guessed that Arthur had told him what your favorite restaurant was because his gift was a hefty gift card. Your eyes widened when you saw the total.
Pascale’s was very sentimental though. In her present were multiple pictures in frames. Some you noticed that she must have gotten from the internet or had Arthur reach out to Vito. The one that made you tear up was one of the last pictures taken of you and Lorenzo. Your smile was so bright as you held you trophy. You were looking into the camera, but Lorenzo was looking and smiling down at you. Your fingers traced his face.
You placed the pictures down and brought her into a giant hug. After you were done, you wiped your eyes, overcome with emotion. Arthur clapped his hands to bring everyone’s attention to him. You almost jumped out of your skin.
“All right, party time!” He raised his arms and started to walk toward the kitchen.
Your eyes widened as you remembered something. “Wait!”
The three of them stared at you. You inhaled.
“I have one more thing. For all three of you.” They looked at you with a puzzled look. You walked over to the counter where you had placed the black bag that you came with. You gestured for them to come over.
Arthur cocked his head, “Y/n, why’d you bring a helmet bag? We swapped helmets already.” His accent got thicker as he got more confused.
You shook your head slightly as you let out a shaky exhale. You carefully started to unzip the bag. It was true, what Arthur said. The contents were a helmet.
“Gosse, is this your new helmet for next year? It’s very outdated and I don’t think this is safe, ” Charles questioned, confused as to why you’d bring a helmet to Christmas.
However, Pascale let out a gasp as her eyes danced over the helmet, now in your hands. She put her hands to her mouth. She had recognized it immediately.
“Is this?” The rest of the question went unsaid, but you knew what she was going to say. You nodded you head and handed it to her. She turned it around, expecting all the angles. She let out a wet laugh as she carefully and slowly handed it over to Charles. Arthur stood close, looking at it as well.
“Arthur, before you got here, I was telling Charles of how I was able to meet your godfather,” you started. “And I wanted to tell you how thankful I was for his encouragement. I knew that he had come straight from a race, because he was still wearing his suit and he carried a helmet.”
Charles made a confused face, “But he didn’t have a helmet. His hands were both empty, because he caught Arthur when he ran over to him after he showed up.” You could tell that his mind was trying to connect the dots.
“Well. He wouldn’t have had the helmet,” you trailed off. Arthur’s head shot up.
“Because he gave it to you,” Arthur finished. Charles inhaled sharply as he looked over the protective gear in his hands.
Pascale had come close to you, a hand around your shoulder that rubbed up and down, trying to give some comfort.
The two boys looked as if they were going to cry. Charles let Arthur hold it.
“How? Why?” Charles questioned, tears threatening to fall.
“Well, I thought it had gotten destroyed or thrown away. I left it at my parent’s house, and when I told them I was moving out for reasons, they didn’t react well.” You didn’t want to give too much away. “I was sure that they were going to burn all of my things. But, I went back to see just in case. I was mostly correct; except they didn’t touch my closet. It was hiding in the back behind some clothes.” You remembered crying when you found it, holding it close for comfort. It had been one of the few things that you took from the house back to your apartment in Nice.
“I also wanted to bring it back, where it belongs.”
Charles glanced at you and then the helmet between Arthur’s fingers. “But, he gave it to you. You need to keep it.”
You shook your head. “Jules told me to keep it safe and to hold onto it for safe keeping. I always thought that I’d be able to give it back to him one day. I guess this is the closest thing I can do.”
Arthur gave the helmet back to his brother and walked over to you. You looked into his big blue eyes, filled with tears. Unable to hold back, he tucked his face into your neck, holding you tight. You squeezed your eyes closed, tears falling down your cheeks.
You knew that Arthur always felt bad about not being as close to his godfather, like Charles and Lorenzo had been. He had been 15 when Jules died, and you always wished that the family had had more time with him. Pressure was added on your other side. Looking over slightly, your eyes caught sight of Charles’s brown hair. You managed to put your other arm around him. You held the two brothers close, your heart melting.
Is this what a family is supposed to feel like?
Max’s family was a different dynamic. Yes, they enjoyed hugs and being close, but it wasn’t like this where you could hold each other for hours. Well, maybe Max would let you, he was so overdue for a giant group hug.
Arthur couldn’t get over the fact that you were so close. He hoped that you didn’t hear his heart racing. He’s waited this long; he can wait a little longer. His tears had dried up, but he never wanted to let you go. Your heart was too big and too fragile for anyone else to have it. But here you were, opening it up to his family. He couldn’t have asked for someone better to hold your place in his heart. He could only dream that you held him close to your heart, as he did with you to his.
You would never tell him, but you did.
Charles on the other hand could not stop the tears. He wondered how long you had waited. Shy, quiet you. Before this, he had seen you a couple of times before with Max at the beginning of the break. He’d often run into the two of you shopping or getting groceries. You’d always find a way to give a small wave, before turning to do something else while Max talked to him. He wondered what was so special about you. Max, in all his life, had never looked at something as he looked at you. It was different than the way he looked at Kelly. Heck, he even looked a Penelope differently. Charles had rolled his eyes a few more times than he’d like to admit whenever Arthur would bring you up in conversation. But now, as you tried to comfort him and his brother, he finally understood. You were the family that they were missing.
Pascale watched as the three of you broke your little hug. Smiles adorned your faces as you held the other close. She wished Lorenzo would have been here to meet you. She had a feeling that he and Charlotte would like you, as her other two sons did.
Their little celebration started moments after, the helmet at the center. Your smile never left your face for the rest of the night. You were sad that they didn’t let you sneak in one sip of the bottled drink.
“It’s probably not even good,” you told them as you took a sip of your drink.
“Y/n it is good. We French know what good alcohol is,” he took a sip. You raised an eyebrow and smirked as you saw Charles gawk at him.
“Arthur, you are not French,” you watched as Charles put an arm around Arthur’s neck. You were quick to grab his drink so it wouldn’t stain the carpet. “Yeah Charles, drag his ass!”
Arthur held out a hand, dramatically going down. “My best friend betraying me for my brother. Could this day get any worse?”
“Charles, you should have heard all the times he said that he was French when we would do videos.” You smirked evilly at the two.
“Y/n! You weren’t supposed to tell him!”
“Arthur, how many times to I have to tell you? WE ARE NOT FRENCH, WE ARE MONAGUESQE!!
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#charles leclerc x reader#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 x driver!reader#max verstappen x reader#platonic grid x reader#arthur leclerc x reader#carlos sainz x reader#formula 1 x you#lando norris x reader#oscar piastri x reader#logan sargeant x reader#alex albon x reader#george russell x reader#lewis hamilton x reader#daniel riccardo x reader#fernando alonso x reader#f1 fanfic#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x female reader#formula one x reader#formula one imagine#f1 x you
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Heya! I just found you and I knew that I immediately had to put in a request!! May I ask for Alastor x chubby reader?? With hurt and comfort?? Where a random demon makes her feel bad for being chubby and Alastor comforts her AND CONFESSES that he's in love with her 🙇🏻♀️🙇🏻♀️🙇🏻♀️ and then in true Alastor fashion he rips the demon apart for making reader feel bad PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
A/N of course!! this is good vibes. yes. 11/10 for the adorable scale. I've been writing so much angst,, the fluff request is so welcome. ALSO THIS GIF I FOUND FOR THE IMAGE OF THIS STORY IS SO CUTE WTF.
Sweet (Alastor x Chubby!Reader)
Pairing: Alastor x Reader
Warnings: Hurt//comfort, tw for body image stuff/issues, gore but make it cute, uh... fluff. Sickeningly sweet fluff. Extra TW body image stuff. May or may not have channeled some of my ten years experience with eds into this one besties, sorry about that.
Word Count: 3,330
Master Lists:
Master Lists
Hazbin Hotel Master List
The truth of it was: Y/n knew exactly how pretty she was. That didn't keep it from hurting when people made unprovoked, snide remarks about her weight. More than one thing can be true at the same time.
She was kind of used to it by now. People in the human world had been rude on occasion, she'd had doctors occasionally act discriminatorily towards her because of her weight, a shitty date or partner or two who told her to lose it, but it had been nothing in comparison to Hell. It was Hell after all, home to the worst of the worst. Y/n tried to toughen up, thicken her skin. After a life on earth and another fifteen years down below she couldn't help but feel like it shouldn't hurt anymore. It still always did.
This one had been particularly bad. Y/n had stepped out of the hotel, intent on meeting a friend for lunch. She'd gotten all dressed up for it too, in her favorite outfit with her makeup done all pretty. She hadn't just felt good stepping out, she'd known she was hot. There had been a spring in her step and a coy smile on her face as she lowered her heart shaped sunglasses from the top of her head.
Five minutes, four blocks. That's all it took.
"Jesus, who let you outside in that?" the man had laughed, "Cover that shit up, I'm gonna vomit."
Y/n had sent her friend a text, saying she wasn't feeling well. She had apologized and asked to reschedule. Y/n had gone home.
Angel Dust had tried to approach her as she had stormed into the lobby but, she had brushed him off, rushing to her room. Y/n hand't meant to be rude. She had every intention of finding him later to apologize, the tears had just been pressing hotly behind her eyes and she needed to be alone. She loved Angel, trusted him, through of him as a brother but god, she did not want to cry in front of him. Not right now anyways, not over something so... so... stupid.
Y/n slammed the door to her room harshly behind her as she entered it, throwing herself onto the bed and burying her face in the pillow. In the comfort of pinks and piles of stuffed animals, she sobbed.
It wasn't even the comment that was getting to her anymore, although it had been a particularly awful one. No, what was upsetting her now was how she'd let it get to her. She felt stupid and weak and more than anything in the world she just wanted to rip the clothes off her body along with her skin and disappear from the physical world.
Her shoulders shook harshly, the pillow now damp. She was sure her makeup was a mess but didn't care. It wasn't like anyone was going to see her anyways, not until tomorrow at least. Y/n was trying to get redeemed but she wasn't trying to get made fun of. If she could keep this to herself, she was going to.
It wasn't that she didn't trust the others in the hotel. Y/n actually trusted them more than about anyone she'd met in Hell up to this point. They were kind and caring, invested in themselves and one another even if they pretended they weren't. There was just the fear. There was always the fear, the internal need for perfection, to show no weakness.
Almost as if the universe was fucking with her, as if it could tell exactly what she didn't want, there was a knock at the door. Y/n groaned audibly into the pillow. Of course, just when she wanted to be left alone. The knock came again and she slowly sat up, still sniffling and hurriedly wiping her eyes.
"Uh, yeah." she called, trying her best to keep her voice from trembling and praying she didn't look too much of a mess even if it was probably just Charlie or Angel, "It's open. Sorry."
Y/n's eyes widened slightly in shock as Alastor opened the door. Out of everyone in the hotel, he was probably the person she knew the least. She made the effort of course. Despite knowing his status and his history, she tried to play nice and make friends. It was he who avoided her, not the other way around.
To be perfectly honest, Alastor made Y/n a bit nervous. It wasn't because of his reputation. They were in Hell for heaven's sake, everyone had one of those. No, it was the way her heart beat a little faster when he was in the room. It was the way that every time she looked at him, she secretly hoped she'd catch him looking at her too.
Alastor had never been in Y/n's room before. It was all satin and pink and lace. He couldn't help but think it suited her to a t. It was all perfect, she was perfect. Except here she was crying, just as Angel had said she might be.
What had happened was this: Alastor had over heard Angel saying something to Husk. They were at the bar, Angel was drinking as always, and saying he was worried about Y/n. Alastor had pressed and when Alastor pressed, he always got his way. Apparently Y/n had come back to the hotel mere minutes after having left to go get lunch with a friend. Angel said she had seemed really agitated, genuinely upset.
That had made Alastor angry. Not normal angry more delicate than that, more minute. It made him upset, he hurt for Y/n in her theoretical pain. He wasn't used to this whole feeling things thing. His body on autopilot, Alastor himself had been surprised when he found himself before her door, poised to knock.
Y/n watched him, her eyes glassy and her cheeks flushed. There were dark circles of mascara beneath her eyes that matched the stains on her pillow behind her and her pretty dress had a few wrinkles in it.
"Whatever is the matter, my dear?" Alastor asked, stepping fully in to the room.
"Oh, nothing." Y/n tried to brush him off, looking away towards the window as she pulled a stuffed animal into her lap.
It was her trembling lip that gave her away. Alastor let the door fall shut behind him. Y/n turned as she felt the bed dip beside her, her mouth slightly open.
"I would advise you not to lie to me."
He hadn't meant for it to sound like that. He saw the way Y/n stiffened instinctually at his words, at his tone. Alastor didn't know how to exist in a non threatening way, its how he'd lived his whole life in this world and the one before it. It was how he protected himself. He took a breath.
"What I mean," he slowly corrected himself, "is that you don't need to lie. I..."
He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the way he was forcing himself to be honest. Honesty was, however, the only option. He saw the way Y/n's gaze was distant, her body tense. For the first time in his life, he wanted to help someone else. It was strange. Alastor submitted himself to the oddity of it all, the discomfort. It was his gift to her.
"I'm here to help."
"I..." Y/n trailed off, big wet tears pooling in her eyes, "It's nothing. I'm okay, really. It's stupid."
With a gentleness that surprised both of them, Alastor lifted a hand to her face, wiping a stray tear. He held it on the tip of his finger before his eyes, examining the way a jeweler would a diamond.
"If it's upsetting you this deeply, it's not stupid."
That was the last straw. Y/n, unable to hold herself back any longer, collapsed into his chest. Her body shook with sobs. Alastor held his arms out, unsure of what to do with them. It took him a second to comply with her unspoken request, wrapping them around her. He found himself rubbing small circles on her back, trying to soothe her.
There was a reason Alastor avoided Y/n and it was that the demoness made him feel things. Things he was unaccustomed to feeling, things that felt dangerous in their warmth and care. Bubbly little things that got caught in his chest and tied up his tongue. If he had thought about his actions, he wouldn't have come to her side but he hadn't and so, here he was. This was all unknown territory, he felt blind and alone in the dark. Alastor didn't like that.
They stayed like that for several minutes until Y/n was finally able to regain some control of her breathing. She calmed herself methodically, as if it was a ritual she was well practiced in. Alastor found himself wondering how many times she had felt like this, reacted to something in her life like this, and had no one there to hold her. He didn't like that thought. He couldn't decide what was worse, if no one ever had been there or if there was someone else who she wanted in times like this, someone other than him. Someone better, more well versed in the delicate intricacies of emotion.
She lifted herself from his chest, his arms falling from her back to his sides as she wiped the last few stray tears.
"I'm sorry." she half laughed, "I don't know what came over me... and I've ruined your suit."
Alastor looked down. There were indeed black stains from her running makeup on his jacket. Normally such a thing would irritate him to no end, anger him even. It was Y/n who had made them however and so, he didn't care. He turned back to her, shaking his head slightly.
"Nothing a wash can't fix. Now, why don't you tell me what happened?"
"It's stupid." Y/n shook her head, her eyes finding her hands in her lap.
She still held the stuffed animal there, a rabbit. She fiddled with it's ears absent mindedely, twisting them and rubbing them in a practiced manner.
"Y/n." Alastor gently warned and she sighed.
"It's just... something someone said to me. That's all."
Alastor's brow furrowed slightly at the notion.
"What did they say? Who was it?"
The words had fallen from him quicker than he had meant them to, more earnestly. He was grateful Y/n seemed to stuck in her own world to notice such a thing.
"Just some asshole making a comment about my weight. Saying that I shouldn't wear what I wear, saying the sight of me made them nauseous. The normal dickwad stuff. I should be used to it by now, I've been chubby all my life but... I don't know. It still just makes me want to disappear. To rip myself apart by the fistful, you know?"
Y/n looked up at Alastor when he didn't respond, her cheeks red with embaressment.
"I told you, it's du-"
"Who the fuck said it?" he asked through gritted teeth, trying his best to remain calm.
"Alastor, it's fine." Y/n sighed, "I don't know why you're getting so worked up about it. Like I said, I've heard it all before."
She made to turn back to the plushie in her lap but before she could, Alastor cupped her face gently in his hands.
"Al... what are you..."
"Y/n, you are stunning."
There he went again, not thinking. Y/n was dangerous, to be avoided. She paraded around in her sweet sundresses and angelic disposition, practically unfit to have been sent to Hell in the first place. She was the simple syrup in lemonade, she was the best mixed drink.
Her tongue ran gently over her lips, an innocent and thoughtless gesture on her part that sent his mind reeling as she mulled over his words. Her brow furrowed.
"Alastor, I-"
"You are the most beautiful person I have ever laid eyes on, living or dead."
There he went again, his tongue a million miles ahead of his brain. Y/n let out a light laugh, her head still in his hands.
"What?" Alastor asked, feeling the heat rush to his cheeks, "I mean it."
"I thought you hated me." Y/n confessed.
"Far from it, my sweet."
His voice was barley more than a whisper. Y/n looked away.
"You drive me to distraction."
Her presence was like some strange truth serum rushing through his veins, now he had started, he couldn't seem to stop.
"I've never... You're unlike anyone I've ever met. You shine in this dark place."
"Alastor, this is a lot." Y/n admitted after a moment.
"My apologies." he let go of her face, his heart sinking, "I did not intend to make you feel worse."
He should have known. Alastor, in his foolish frenzy, had forgotten himself, his legacy, his persona. How could someone as sweet as a sun ripened strawberry stolen straight from the bush feel anything towards him save fear?
"I'll go."
Alastor made to get up, had every intent to actually leave and give Y/n her space. At the felling of her small hand on his arm, he paused and turned back to her.
Y/n's face was bright red, she refused to meet his gaze. Her arm not holding him was wrapped tightly around her stuffed animal like a charm.
"No, please." she took a deep breath, meeting his eyes once again at last, "I... I think... you're rather... handsome... as well."
Her speech was halting, uncertain in its anxiety. His smile widened.
"You do now, do you?" he asked, lifting her head a little higher with a finger beneath her chin.
"Oh hush." she scolded him, "If anyone was going to lie out of the pair of us, I'm pretty sure it'd be you. I am trying to be redeemed, in case you've forgotten, and you probably just want my soul or some shit."
"How can I prove to you that the only way I want your soul is given willingly and out of contract?"
Y/n laughed again, a genuine joy.
"Pinky promise me."
She held up a hand and Alastor quickly locked pinkies with her.
"I meant every word I said. I've had... eyes for you for a while now. You are the rosy fingered dawn. You are... you're you. You are Y/n."
"I am Y/n, aren't I." she smiled cockily back.
It was a relief to see her return to her normal confident self.
"I meant everything I said too. I've... I've had eyes for you too, or whatever."
She looked away, her cheeks even brighter pink than before. Alastor let go of her pinky and, leaning forward, pressed a soft and tentative kiss to the top of their head. Y/n immediately snapped her head back to him. Before he could register what was happening, she had tackled him in a hug, throwing them both to the bed.
Looking down at him from her perch on his lap, she smiled brightly.
"Can I kiss you?"
The question took him by surprise. He had never kissed anyone before save the tender kiss on the cheek reserved for dear friends and close family. He hesitated in indecision, in uncertainty.
"You're allowed to say no." Y/n followed up, noticing his apparent discomfort, "I don't want to move things too fast for you."
Alastor shook his head, the truth of his own desire unexpected even to him.
"No. You can."
Y/n's smile widened as they dipped down, pecking him on the lips. His cheeks warmed as she straightened herself up again, her hands pressed flat against his chest.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that for."
She smelled sweet, she looked sweet, god, she probably even tasted sweet. His tongue darted out of his mouth across his lips jus ever so slightly, the flavor of her strawberry lipgloss fueling his infatuation.
"Do that again."
It didn't take long for Alastor to track down the demon in question that had sent Y/n spiraling that afternoon. After their promise had been made and she had agreed to the date he had proposed for the next day, she had spilled everything. Her head in his lap as he had run his fingers through her hair, she had complained liberally about the demon. Her complaints had, thankfully, included a full description of the man.
Once the hour was late and he was sure she was fast asleep along with everyone else in the hotel, Alastor had slipped out onto the streets. The demon was, of course, easy to locate. He was loud and distinctive. Alastor found him drunk in a bar harassing a woman. He watched, waiting patiently until the man left and when he did, Alastor followed him.
He cornered the demon, sending his shadows to torment the man. He was on his knees close to tears by the time Alastor finally decided to join in on the fun. He leered down at the demon, grinning from ear to ear.
"I heard you said something rather cruel today." he hummed.
"I didn't!" the man pleaded, "I swear!"
"Not even to a pretty little demon in heart shaped sunglasses?"
The man's eyes widened slightly in obvious recollection.
"I... fuck, I didn't know. I swear, I didn't know who she was. I didn't know she was with you!"
Alastor stretched in the darkness of the ally, his horns growing thorny and tall as he entered his true demon form. The man trembled in fear. It was pathetic, truly.
"It doesn't matter. You ruined her plans for the day and so, in return, I am going to ruin you."
With those final words, he pounced. The tongue of the man was the first thing to go, ripped with great force from his throat and tossed to the side.
Next were his ears, Alastor tore them from his head slowly. The man screamed, a choked and guttural sound through the blood in his throat. Alastor laughed shamelessly, his claws finding a home in the demon's stomach next.
He disemboweled the man with ease, careful to keep everything connected so he was still alive. Then, he went for the eyes, gouging them out in harsh slashing movements. Alastor straightened himself, looking down upon his mess of a creation.
"I would say that next time you will think before saying something like that again but, I think we both know there wont be a next time."
A strange sound left the demons throat, obviously a plea of mercy. Without a tongue, he could not articulate his wishes.
"What?" Alastor asked, putting a hand to his ear as he slowly returned to his normal appearance, "I am sorry but could you say that again? I couldn't quite make it out."
Another strangled, desperate sound left the man's throat. Alastor laughed.
"Well, I've given you a chance to beg for your life and you have chosen not to take it." he taunted, leaning back over the man, "I supposed that means you have opted for death. Very well."
In a single, swift movement he tore the man's throat from his neck. The demon twitched under him for a few seconds longer before at last stilling in death. Alastor examined his work for a moment before pulling himself to his feet. Without a glance back towards the body, he straightened his jacket and let his shadows take him from the ally.
Y/n was under his protection now. He had tried so long to avoid the call, the weakness, her charms pulling him in. At long last, he had succumbed and under his watch, no one was going to ever make her feel anything less than perfect ever again.
----
A/N This is the first time I have ever written something like this, I hope it was okay.
#x reader#fic writer#hazbin hotel#alastor#x reader fics#fanfic#hazbin alastor#one shot#x reader one shot#x reader writer#request#requests open#requested#request fic#request one shot#requested fic#chubby!reader#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor x reader#radio demon#alastor the radio demon#hazbin#alastor fanfiction#alastor x chubby!reader#x reader fanfiction#x reader fanfic#hazbin hotel x reader#hurt/comfort#comfort
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Sea Foam | Chapter Three
Theodore Nott x Siren!Reader
Read the other Chapters here.
Summary: It’s been three weeks since Theo found you by the Black Lake, and he’s tried his best to respect your wishes. But it hasn’t done anything to help either of you, and all of your efforts come crashing down in the bathroom at a Slytherin party.
Length: 2.1k
Notes: More of a Theo POV than the usual. Angry Theo. Teenage boys being teenage boys (foul and icky, nsfw language). Overbearing best friend Blaise. Smoking Theo. Slightly intoxicated reader. Soft Theo. Tears. I did not proofread this at all you have been warned, pls do tell me if there are any errors. Listen to Cinnamon Girl by Lana if you’d like to go through it. ily enjoy!
“You’re staring again,” Blaise grumbled under his breath from beside Theo in Divination. It had been three weeks since Theo had found you on the shoreline. Dressed only in your nightgown in the height of the winter frost. That crestfallen look on your face while the wind had bitten at you both. He’d tried his best to respect your wishes since then; making sure to steer clear of you whenever he could, to stop flitting through your mind like it was his favourite novel. He’d tried his best and still he’d failed, over and over.
He knew it was wrong, but he was beyond help. Slipping into your mind was unbearably easy. So much so, that he’d found himself doing it purely by accident on a few occasions, and he couldn’t quite figure out why. He knew you could practice occlumency, had even witnessed you obliterate Malfoy’s attempt at invading your mind in a Defence Against the Dark Arts class last year. Yet you barely even seemed to notice when he did it. Your apparent lack of awareness only made it harder for Theo to stop himself.
“Sorry,” Theo mumbled, blinking his trance away as he glanced over to Blaise with a dull apology. Blaise and Theo had become fast friends in First Year. After Cormack had made a comment about Theo’s Mother on the train, and Blaise had responded by hitting him right between the eyes. Blaise and Theo were close. Though not as close as you, Milli and Blaise were. Everyone knew that the three of you were utterly inseparable. Having met long before the rest of them at Hogwarts.
Unfortunately, it also meant that Blaise had adopted a tendency towards being irritatingly over-protective of you. Likely for good reason; Theo hadn’t made the best of impressions when it came to his relationships with women. They were often fleeting, borne of convenience and nothing more.
Which was exactly why Blaise was currently pissed with him. Blaise spent an awful lot of his time watching people. Regrettably, for Theo that included him, and these days he spent most of his time firmly stuck on you. To say Blaise wasn’t pleased would have been an understatement.
At this point, he may as well have been your damn guard dog, and Theo was tiring of the act quickly. He’d spent years wanting to know you, outside of the occasional class project. Years of pretending you didn’t exist for Blaise’s sake. When really, you were a large part of the reason that he had never settled on anyone to begin with.
Theo turned back to his parchment, huffing as he saw the ink stain leaking across the page. That, along with several half-finished notes, provided rather damning evidence of his distraction.
He stole a glance over at you again, keeping his head low in the hopes Blaise wouldn’t catch him. You were sitting beneath the window, stuck in a daydream of your own as Trelawney prattled on. Eyes misted over, one hand woven through your hair as you rested on it.
You were lovely.
Theo wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had resumed his staring. But as Trelawney brought the lesson to a close, the dull edge of a textbook collided with the side of his head in a singular, harsh thud. Breaking his focus on you as he looked up in bewilderment to Blaise, who stood with his edition of Astrology for the Ungifted raised.
“Git.” He hissed, lowering the book with scathing eyes.
Theo didn’t see you for the rest of the afternoon, not with Blaise practically escorting him to their dorm as soon as Divination concluded. Enzo was already there, lazily slung across his desk chair. Brow raised as Blaise entered in a huff, Theo trailing behind him in defeat. There was supposed to be a party in the Common Room tonight. But right now it wasn’t looking like Theo would be in for a particularly enjoyable evening.
“I know what you’re trying to do. You want to fuck her.”
“I don’t want to fuck her,” Theo winced at his friend’s choice of words.
“You don’t want to fuck her? You don’t want to fuck her?” Blaise rounded, textbook jabbing at Theo’s chest incredulously. Theo groaned, knowing Blaise wouldn’t rest until he knew Theo was being honest with him.
“No, I- fuck, fine. Yes, I want to. Of course I do, but that’s not-”
“Not what? Forgive me for my utter faith in your fucking abysmal track record. But she is my best fucking friend Theo.” Blaise snapped, turning from the boy’s dead-eyed stare and viciously tugging at his tie as he stalked towards his bed. Whipping it from his neck in a surge of anger.
Enzo rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. Watching the display unfold with anxious eyes as Matt cracked the bathroom door open, lighting up with sadistic intrigue. The pair exchanged a glance, the former silently begging the latter not to stick his foot in.
Theo felt his chest tighten at Blaise’s words. His hand running roughly along his jaw, trying to soothe his irritation. Gazing at the ornate wooden panels on the ceiling with a sigh before he attempted to break through to him again. It was out in the open now at least, it likely couldn’t get worse.
“You don’t understand, she-”
“Please, Nott. Tell me what I don’t understand about the girl I’ve known since she was three years old.” Blaise bellowed, reigniting as he swung back to the taller boy. The click of the door interrupted them.
“What’s with all the shouting? I can hear you fools from the hall,” Malfoy droned, bored as he kicked the door shut behind him. Flicking his wand to cast some sort of muffling charm across it.
“Fuck off, Malfoy.” Blaise sneered, not even glancing over to acknowledge his friend’s arrival. The words feeling far more aimed towards Theo than the blonde. Draco only sighed, moving past the both of them.
“None of you ever thank me for anything that I do for you,” He grumbled in response. Throwing a stack of books onto his bed before going to shove Matt out of the bathroom.
“If you even think about fucking touching her-” Blaise continued, steam practically rising from his skin as he narrowed in on Theo again.
“Oh, he has.” Matt interrupted, leaning back against Enzo’s desk with folded arms. Theo shooting him a heavy glare as Matt only smirked back knowingly. An expression Enzo swiftly answered by scolding him with a kick to the shin.
“Look at me, Nott,” Blaise demanded. His voice low, lip curling back in a sneer, “I’ll skin you, understand?”
“Listen, I-” Theo started, his own voice rising as his attention shifted back to Blaise, irritation swelling. But he was impossible to reason with when he was like this, everyone knew it.
“You don’t fuck with her,” Blaise cut in, his voice soaked with finality. Standing before Theo while his chest heaved with anger, book still clutched in his accusatory palm. Theo could feel his own restraint unwrapping. The other’s eyes on them only pushing him further into that corner of himself. He needed air, now. Or else he was going to do something he couldn’t undo. Then you were certain to never speak to him again.
Hands raised in silent surrender, he backed away from Blaise. Jaw set as he plucked his jacket from the end of his bed, turning for the door. Enzo’s tired sigh leaked through the dorm as he pulled it open harshly, likely readying himself to chastise Blaise. Something he’d also likely do to Theo when he caught him later. Though if he had any luck today, maybe Enzo and the others would already be drunk by the time he got back.
He made for the edge of the forest. Rolling a cigarette as he went, trying not to bite down on the filter between his teeth from residual disdain. The icy air was a small mercy, quenching the heat running through him almost immediately. For hours he stood out there, letting the smoke in to empty out all of the things he didn’t want to feel. Watching as the moon chased the sun down to the horizon.
The party would be well underway. God willing you hopefully had yourself tangled in someone else by now. At least then Theo might have been able to give himself a proper reason to stop, smooth things over with Blaise. Though he had begun to doubt if even that would work.
Theo made his way through the tangle of writhing bodies in the heat of the Common Room. No desire to taint himself further with the desperate need to forget that rolled off of the sweaty air. Matt was by the stairs, where the crowd thinned out at its edges. More enticed by the girl whose cigarette he was lighting than by any questions he might’ve had for Theo, as he continued his path to the dorms.
He had meant to go straight there. To take off his jacket, untie his shoelaces. Instead he found himself headed past his door, down to one of the communal bathrooms that lined the dormitory halls. He wasn’t sure why, until something tugged at him. Drawing him to push open the bathroom door; and there you were.
Gaze flitting to his hazily in the mirror. Eyeliner smudged, haloing your eyes. You stilled where you had been standing, as if he had walked straight out of your thoughts. Softening as you took in his wind kissed hair, and he the tremble of your fingers on the countertop. Theo pushed himself away, against the pull of his chest, away from what he wanted. He made for the door again, unsure of why he had allowed himself to be led to you to begin with.
“You weren’t at Dinner,” you called softly, not daring to turn and look at him without a reflection between you. He stilled, one hand on the door as his heart hammered at his ribs.
“You told me to stay away,” he answered simply. Afraid to turn around in case what he saw laying in your eyes only salted the wound some more.
“Not that far.”
You breathed, turning to face him. Eyes aching to touch his cheek, graze across his thoughts, his desires. Theo’s hand dropped from the door, chest swelling from your proclamation. He could feel his breathing falter, hear the force of it. He turned hesitantly, a rasp collecting in his throat.
“Well how far would you like me?”
He saw your breath hitch, didn’t even have to scratch at your mind. You seemed to be leaking into his on your own accord. He could hear just how far you wanted him, and it wasn’t far at all.
Your lips parted, so he made sure to be the first to speak. To save you both the trouble.
“You’re drunk.”
You shook your head, eyes growing glassy with the salt of tears as you moved towards where he leant against the door.
“I’ve been getting your little messages. The ones you keep leaving for me to find,” he murmured. Suddenly enraptured by his hands as his voice creased over his words.
“Theo-”
“It’s unbearable for me. Is it like that for you too?” He cracked, eyes flashing up to yours. Entirely afraid before you, before the possible weight of your answer. Because the truth was he couldn’t tell. He couldn’t tell which words were real and which you fed him to keep him at arm’s length. He searched you, begging for any kind of answer, but hoping only for one.
“Yes.”
Your tears spilled in an instant, and maybe you were a little drunk, but you were also sure that it didn’t change any of it. He knew as much, taking a tender step towards you to grasp your cheek. Running his thumb along the soft skin to collect your tears.
“This trance you seem to think I’m under,” Theo clarified, eyes lingering on yours as his thumb continued its path. Despite no longer having any need to do so. “It’s lasted five years already,” he breathed, “it’s not going to pass any time soon.”
You paused, smudged eyes widening as you gazed up at him. His confession sucking the air out of your lungs until you could no longer doubt that you needed him. You simply watched him for a moment, as though debating whether to say something you wouldn’t be able to swallow. The one thing that was still holding you back.
“I don’t know how to stop myself.”
“Then don’t,” he whispered, leaning closer to brush a strand of hair from your eyes. “You don’t need to be scared of wanting this.”
Theo drew back slightly, letting his fingertips linger. Brushing through the strands of your hair, behind your ear. His voice gentle, certain, “I’ll be here, whenever you’re ready.”
Keep an eye out for Chapter Four here, or comment to be added to the tag list for future updates <3
Taglist: @hemlockmuncher @hoeforvinniehackerrr @moonlightttfae @thecraziestcrayon @itssomeonereading @leona-hawthorne @liaaanie @not-so-bad-ass @wildestdreamslover @slytherinboysappreciation @nat1221 @melllinaa @aykxz98 @chgrch if i missed anyone please let me know!
#i have caused myself emotional damage with this one#theodore nott x reader#gemwrites#theodore nott x siren!reader#theodore nott series#theodore nott x y/n#theodore nott x you#theodore nott angst#theodore nott fluff#theodore nott fic#theodore nott fanfiction#theodore nott imagine#theo nott#slytherin boys#harry potter
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"Can you meet me halfway (I'll meet you halfway" | hobbit
pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader x Bard 👑 [king's special]
you went out clubbing on new years eve when a gorgeous rich couple hits on you and invites you back to their apartment to finish what you started right on the dancefloor
warnings/tags: NSWF! THIS IS ADULT CONTENT ✋️, modern!AU, threesome, oral sex (male & female), dirty talk, semi-public-sex, soft dom! bard and bratty dom!thranduil, protected sex, fingering, passing out during sex, slight overstimulation, age-gap (reader is of age, though its described that thranduil and bard are older), hairpulling, aftercare,
words: 13,8k
an: this is by far the dirtiest thing i've ever written and my god i'm not a smut writer; i get too flustered over my own writing lmao. Hopefully you can enjoy this out-of-character story even if it isn't new years anymore!
inspired by early 2000s club bangers like Kesha, Britney Spears, Black Eyed Peas (that's where the title came from) and Lady Gaga
+ masterlist +
🌿 reposts and comments or anonymous messages in my inbox are very appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3
"What?!"
"I said," the barkeeper leaned closer and pushed a filled to the rim shotglass over the counter, "this one is from the pretty one to your right!"
With a myriad of people in this club who fit your definition of "pretty" you found yourself on the brink of shouting at the red-haired bartender once more.
This would mark the third attempt, given that the club's 2000s music was blaring to the extent that communication was damn near impossible if you weren't screaming or using your hands trying to get orders across the sticky, littered with neon glowstick wristbands counter.
Before you could ask her who the hell she'd meant, the bartender had turned away, leaving you to figure out the mystery man for yourself.
You lifted the shot glass to your nose and took a deep breath— pure tequila.
At least you would enjoy this one; the last few shots other men had sent over to you had been nothing but disgusting, ranging from vodka to Jägermeister and one you didn't even bother to drink.
The world spun a little when you turned your head over your shoulder and for a second the flashy lights blurred the people crowding the bar into one mass, unidentifiable and mushed together; then your eyes zeroed in on him and pretty didn't even begin to cover it.
Next to the bar, holding out his own shot glass in hands that could've fit three or five of them, stood a man that was intimidatingly gorgeous and decently tall even as he rested his hip cheekily against one of the chairs, elbow on the wooden top while he flicked his fingers against the rim of the glass.
Not even that he was just tall, and he was –surely taller than most of the men standing between you two –, but he had this quality about him that let him stand out of the crowd.
Maybe it was the hair, blonde like starlight and pulled into a long and messy ponytail, with just a few loose strands framing his strong jawline. Or maybe it was the smug look on his face, the smirk that tugged on his lips when you dragged your eyes over the see-through shirt that clung to his well... and oh so– so well-defined chest.
On any other occasion, you would have simply raised the glass and disappeared back into the crowd of dancing people, but tonight felt different.
New Year's Eve had that ring to it. The careless "Fuck it all, it's all going to shit anyway"-attitude.
Any newspaper or media marked today the last day of yet another frustrating, wonderful, soul-crushing, draining, exciting, and overall overwhelming year, full of things you regretted having done, and as you stared at the man meeting your gaze with a questioning arch of a dark eyebrow, you found yourself giving a flying fuck about whether you'll add another mark on that board.
There was a surge of power washing through your body as you toasted the glass in his direction before tipping it against your lips and letting the tequila rush into your mouth.
The alcohol went down burning, hot, and dry and left a warm trail down your throat into your stomach.
"I see you not only bear a resemblance to the devil, you drink like her as well," a sultry voice drawled, sufficiently loud for you to lift your head.
Somehow the man had managed to appear right next to you within seconds and got so close that you were confronted with a very exciting view of his chest.
You eyed it, naturally because who wouldn't take their time looking at the flexing pecs covered in silver glitter and sweat?
Slowly, you dragged your gaze upwards, only faltering for a moment at the sight of a pink tongue running over plush lips. You met his eyes again, this time with no more than half a meter separating you and you were glad your knees didn't buckle like they threatened to do.
"And what are you? Some angel that has fallen from heaven?" Your counter was weak, a bad example of what was usually some excellent flirting, if you dare say yourself, but it's all you could manage with those cerulean eyes staring down at you in interest.
He laughed, thank fucking god, and tilted his head to the side. "It must be fate that we met, is it not?"
"Buy me another drink and we'll see"
Somehow, it didn't surprise you that he simply raised his pointer finger and the server immediately rushed to prepare whatever order he'd signaled her.
"Unfair, I waited, like at least five minutes for some water," you complained, not really putting any real annoyance into it but pouting nonetheless for the effect.
It went a long way because the stranger stepped closer, up into the little bit of personal space one could have in an overcrowded club, and cooed, "What a shame. Who could ever pass such a lovely face and not serve you right away?"
"I don't know," you sighed and smiled at him sweeter than sugar, "I do know that we shouldn't let that tequila go to waste though"
"Then be a good girl and drink up"
Oh, yeah.
Suppose you hadn't already contemplated sleeping with him, that certainly solidified your decision.
This wasn't just fate, this must be compensation for all the shit you've been through this year, wrapped up nicely in 6 feet and more of dripping sex and sultry smiles.
Eyes locked, you both clinked the glasses together before throwing them back. You couldn't help it when your lashes flutter shut.
Once again, the tequila burned all the way down to your stomach, adding to the cocktail of drinks that lowered your inhibitions and made your core throb in excitement.
You would've asked him for salt and lemon if he hadn't looked so unbothered by the pure taste. His lips didn't twitch, while you're sure yours were pulled into a grimace.
"Thank you, Sir," the words left your mouth without a second thought.
Thinking, in general, started to become more of a theory than something you were willing to do tonight; much too exhausting if you could simply let your tongue run wild.
He rewarded you for that decision, for his eyes widened and he stepped even closer, now slotting one of those long legs - and fuck, was he really wearing leather pants? Who had access to your wet dreams?- between yours as he leaned down.
"I must say you caught my interest the moment I saw you on the dance floor," He placed a hand on the countertop, not touching you yet, though the invitation he gave you, the silent question for permission, spoke for itself.
The second move was on you to lure him in and you blinked up at him while you trailed your fingers over the arm, scratching hairless skin with the tip of your nails until it changed into the fishnet top and you placed the hand to rest on one strong shoulder. The red color of your nail polish made such a beautiful contrast to his fair skin that your mind conjured imagines of how they must look on other parts of him.
Surely, with the size of him…
Now that you initiated the contact, he drove forward with his second hand, and the large palm cupped your chin.
While the touch was hot in how it's delivered, so dominating, and fuck if that didn't send warm licks of pleasure down your spine, his hand itself was surprisingly cold.
The temperature in the club was almost unbearable, only manageable through refreshing drinks and a trip or two to the bathrooms, and the spikes of the cool touch fought the heat pooling in your body.
One of those silky locks of hair brushed your neckline, falling right into the cut out of your dress that his eyes shamelessly took in from his higher-up viewpoint.
You took a deep breath, maybe even pushed out your chest as he eyed it in the knowledge that the lace bra was showing through.
All you inhaled was the intoxicating smell of his cologne, vanilla (even though you suspected he is anything but...), and something sweet and without a doubt expensive.
You're addicted to it the moment it hit your nose and clouded your mind.
"Do you not believe that an appropriate thank you is in order?" he inquired; no, he demanded.
You decided to play dumb, not because you thought he's into that – on the contrary, he seemed the kind of man who admired eloquence and intellect rather than dullness – but because it's a game you both enjoyed playing.
There was intrigue in tip-toeing around what is most obvious (lust as well as the urge to rip each other's clothes off as soon as possible, maybe even a fuck in the bathrooms).
"I thought I already said thank you," you mused, pushing out your lower lip into a pout again, "and that lousy shot is hardly worth more than a few words. You can't expect something greater if there is nothing to thank for."
He raised a dark eyebrow – you wondered if he colored his hair or eyebrows – and the hand around your chin lifted your head to twist it right and left.
One smooth thumb brushed over the pout, and he clicked his tongue. "Now now, I would consider this greedy if you were not in the right. You poor thing must be exhausted after all the dancing"
His eyes flashed when yours widened; he really did notice you before, had watched you.
"Yes," he drawled as if he read your mind, and his lips curved into a smirk that flashed a row of perfect bright teeth, "I saw how you moved out there, how wanton you presented yourself. However, it did not escape my notice that you rebuffed anyone who dared to approach."
When you opened your mouth to say something, his finger swiped over your lip again. Without hesitation, you sucked on the fingertip, collecting a few drops of tequila that you made a show of swallowing.
The protest disappeared with it down your throat.
He was right, why deny it?
The way you danced was just an expression of how comfortable you felt in your own body, the rhythm provided by provocative music a tool to follow the movements.
Everything you did, you did for yourself, not for the men who attempted to touch you simply because they were captivated by the dancing. As if you would accept some clammy hands grabbing for you.
"Maybe it was wanton," you said after releasing his finger, but not without scratching your teeth over it.
His pupils dilated, his chest raised at a sudden inhale of air; he apparently underestimated you.
You nodded your head toward the dance floor, "maybe I came here to look for a good fuck, but it's my decision who I take and not theirs"
"As you should. Those boys who tried and failed miserably were amusing to watch. None of them were good enough for you, right, sweetheart?"
You hummed in agreement as well as disagreement. "I'm not searching for anyone good enough," you thought back to all the good-guys who had lured you in with promises of treasuring you only to become insufferable with their need to control in the end.
"Then what do you need?"
"I want someone bad," the tone in your voice was challenging, just like the stare you gave him. "I want someone who won't be afraid to break me"
There was a slight tug on your chin, his hand pulled you in slightly but any further without any movement from you, it would've cause a strain in your neck.
You craved it.
The blonde god, he must be, the thought became clearer with any passing second, a gift, a god, an angel, crushed his mouth against yours. There was a fleeting moment where you realized you didn't know his name, but then his other hand wrapped around your neck, and your teeth clashed, and you found yourself not caring one bit.
You're sure he wouldn't mind if you moaned "God" instead of his name. Maybe he would even get off to it.
Only one way to find out.
It turned out quite hard to manage saying anything at all, his kisses stole every last bit of oxygen, robbing you of the ability to string together words and turning you into a whimpering mess with his tongue and wandering hands.
He called you a devil yet here he was, corrupting you in a way that will ruin you for any other person.
"You taste divine," he sounded as breathless as you felt when you separated and dizziness cultivated in your lust-clouded head at the compliment rasped in that deep voice of his.
"Do not worry," he continued, smearing the string of spit that connected you over your plush lips, "If you allow me I will try my very best to break you"
Hell or heaven, wherever he was leading you right now, your need tripped over itself eagerly.
When was the last time you were this aroused? You felt yourself growing wetter and wetter, and that only through his words and kisses; the state he could push you into if he truly fucked you would be completely new territory, you realized.
A nod is all you could manage.
The last you saw on his face was a wide grin before he kissed you again, this time though, he moved on to your jaw and then your neck. You beared it to him by tilting your head, eyes falling on the ceiling where the neon lights hushed over black brick, coloring your sight while your face took on a flushed red.
The blond devil nipped and bit, sucked and scratched in a manner so animalistic you wouldn't have thought a surely unquestionably sophisticated man to be able to.
You whimpered again, and your hands rose to grab something, anything and you found that ponytail the most accessible. Your fingers twirled a few soft strands as you gasped when his teeth sunk into the delicate skin right where your neck and shoulder met, and the slight pain following wasn't unwelcome.
It made you feel alive.
You're close to pulling him away to the bathroom– an amused laugh to your side prevented that thought from festering any further.
"I'm away for one smoke and you just couldn' wait?"
Unable to think straight after the assault on your neck, it took a moment for you to come back to your senses that don't revolve around lips, kiss, bite, fuck, suck…
Your sight spun as you snapped your head back, nearly knocking your chin into the man still busy marking you up, unbothered that there was another man watching you and clearly waiting for an answer.
So you decided to do the only thing that must convince him to let go, and you pulled on his hair.
He growled, fucking growled, and his lips twisted, flashing his teeth again.
Your heart dropped into your wet panties until you found he wasn't pinning you to the floor with the hard stare but the new arrival.
"Did you not see that I was busy?" he snapped at the dark-haired man, and while you felt slightly scared he was going to rip his handsome head off, the man only sported an annoyed expression.
"Yes, exactly. If I remember correctly, we decided to wait until I get back?"
Decided, waited?
"You took too long"
The man threw his head back in a raspy laugh, "Incorrigible bastard. Will I have to sit you down with a toy to keep you busy while I'm away?"
The blonde turned back to you and smirked, "That will not be necessary as I am quite capable of finding my own toys"
"Hey!" you cut into the conversation, not amused that they talked as if you weren't right there, "I'm not a fucking toy!"
Both men turned to you now, towering over you in their height, and mustering you so intensely that you slightly squirmed under their gaze.
The man with salt and pepper hair chuckled. "I am so sorry, Darlin'. I hope Thranduil didn't play too hard?"
Considering that you still felt the scratch of his teeth on your neck and the wet spit he left there, you felt like some kind of chew toy one would throw their dog but nevertheless, you pushed your chin up high. "Nothing I can't take."
The blonde's, Thranduil's, hand on your waist pulled you into him possessively. "I told you there is some bite behind the pretty face," he smirked.
While it didn't escape you that this hinted to a previous conversation, a plan formed over you, it's the attractiveness of them that led you to turn a blind eye.
"Weren't you the one biting a minute ago?" The music made it hard to talk normally and you stood up on your tiptoes to yell the words, but all that it resulted in is a deep chuckle.
"Oh, I like you," the other man laughed as well.
You took him in, the tight pants that showed off strong thighs and the black and gold shirt with more buttons open than actually buttoned that presented muscles and hair leading down and oh–
"What a surprise," you said, looking up to meet his hungry eyes, "I find I like you too" You turned your head to Thranduil, who smirked and sent you a wink that had you blushing, "So how's this gonna work? I'm going to be blunt and say that five minutes ago I was convinced you and I were on the same page, what's with your friend?"
"Husband"
"Husband?!" you parroted, unconvinced yet when your eyes fell on their hands a gold ring flashed back at you from both fingers.
Heat curled in your body like molten lava at lustful and otherwise utterly inappropriate thoughts this provoked of these two married man having their way around your body.
Thranduil bowed his head lower again, playfully nipping at the part of your neck that surely was already bruising. "I have to admit that I promised Bard to wait for him to come back, though I found I could not follow through when I saw you approaching the bar."
You swallowed. Hard. Not that it helped your very dry throat.
Bard came closer, reclaiming your attention.
His face, more defined than Thranduil's, was adorned with a rugged layer of dark stubble, crow's feet framing his vivid green eyes when he smiled at you. He looked the picture of a soft soul, but you remembered that this couple was picking up a third partner on New Year's Eve, so you shouldn't judge a book by its cover.
There was some spice behind the old-armchair-and-book-vibes.
"Will that be a problem, Darlin'?" he asked in that ruff voice, posh and Welsh accent dripping over you.
A refreshment to hear that accent in this city, so enthralling in how it wrapped around you; especially that damn nickname. There was no way you would say no to him.. both of them if he called you Darling one more time.
You shook your head. "No. I think I'll just need a bit more liquid encouragement if I am to survive this night."
"Oh, what a shame," Thranduils lips left where they continued to suck and lap on your neck, peppering kisses, leaving bruises, and moved to your earlobe. His voice dropped as much into a whisper as the music allowed it, "I had my hopes on fucking you into heavenly spheres"
There went the last string of sanity holding you back.
Hearing a man who was seemingly hell-bent on avoiding abbreviations like "don't" and "can't" at all costs speak in such a filthy way was something you never knew you needed.
"I hope you can follow through with that," you trailed a hand over his smooth chest, collecting glitter on your way and smeared it over his throat where his adams apple bobbed, "because if you break that promise like you did the one with your husband, I will just have to let him finish the job"
Thranduil yanked you back into him, back into a kiss that seared itself into your memories and burned the touch, taste, and movement of his lips into every cell of your body.
It was almost aggressive how much teeth went into the kiss, how he bit down and all you could do was gasp and whimper.
Briefly, you thought of the poor people around you, because if all you wanted to do was get a drink and were confronted with one person devouring the other, you would be seething but right now you were being the one he kissed, whose sounds he swallowed and whose hands held you to him.
So fuck them.
With your senses heightened now that you wanted these men all over you, the sensation of Bard leaning in, hair tips tickling your neck as he licked Thranduil's throat, led you to pull away from the blonde. You watched as Bard sprinkled something flaky and white onto the spot wet with spit, and only when he lifted a shot glass the thought crystalized that he salted Thranduil for you.
"Come on," Thranduil's smirk taunted you just as much as his words, "What is another lousy shot? We even made it easy for you poor baby, after you could not take the first one easily"
Rolling your eyes at the mocking, you dove in to copy Bard. The salt sticking to his neck coated your tongue and you took longer than necessary to lick the skin free of it. The rush that this sent through you was exhilarating.
As soon as you were finished, your head got tilted backward firm and yet gently.
Rough fingertips cupped your neck and one thumb moved to press against your jaw, as you felt a solid chest in your back.
"Open wide, Darlin'," Bard ordered and encouraged you to follow him as his other thumb pushed between your teeth.
You obeyed, never once breaking eye contact with Thranduil and taking in his lust-blown pupils, as Bard poured the tequila into your mouth, directly down your throat. Then, while you pulled a grimace, shutting your eyes for a second, Bard turned you around, sandwiching you between them.
When you opened your eyes again, you saw the green slice of lemon between his teeth and following the wink he sent you; you knew exactly what was to come next.
Kissing Bard was very different from getting kissed by Thranduil.
His lips were slightly cracked, not soft and they tasted like smokey whiskey and cigarettes, with hints of coffee and lime instead of fruity cocktails and rose chapstick. Lifting one hand to his face, your fingertips grazed the rough beard growing on his sharp jawline, the stubble scratching you in a promising way.
While you had been surprised when Thranduil had kissed you, you eagerly answered Bard's kiss with fervor. Your mind already teetered on the brink of shutting down and you poured the desperation into his mouth with a moan.
He chuckled, drawing back just enough that he could spit out the lemon – sucked empty – before wiping his thump over your lips.
"Sweet thing"
There was a softness in that gesture, but only short-lived before he kissed you again. His hands trailed your body, coming to rest on either side of your neck again and even that slight of pressure loaded a million images through your head.
A second pair of hands joined him on you, it's confusing until a large body pressed into your back and you realized- it was only Thranduil.
Well, only…
It had been clear that the man could and would not accept being reduced to anything. He radiated an attitude that you would call bratty but with his expensive clothes, that rich perfume, and the wave of the hand that brought him drinks, aristocratic diva seemed more fitting.
His demanding character became clear when his hands set on your waist, immediately fingering the seam of your jeans, pulling you more into him by the belt loops.
You followed that tug, though Bard deepened the kiss to keep you by him, his tongue exploring your mouth and enticing you to breathlessly moan against his smiling lips.
Despite the loud music, Thranduil's voice was loud in your ear.
"As stunning as you right now, I can not help but imagine you squirming on our silk sheets– moving those bewitching hips of yours," Thranduil playfully took the burning tip of your ear into his mouth, "If you want to follow this invitation, of course"
"Whatever you just said," Bard broke away from you to look over your shoulder at his husband, "It better have been the idea of finally getting out of here" he pushed his hips against yours for you to feel the hard outline of him, "because I don't want to wait til the ball drops"
"Is that a metaphor?"
"Thran–" There was a warning edge in Bard's voice, and you felt Thranduil huff.
"Funny, how this old man can not take a joke as soon as he is aroused"
It's absurd how casually he said this while his hands slid down the front of your jeans, earning himself a gasp from you.
Unashamed as a man only his status can be, he toyed with the seam of your underwear, not caring one bit for the glare of his husband.
Your body arched into him, answering the question he had whispered earlier.
The only thing keeping you from getting down on your knees to worship him and his obviously talented fingers was the blaring music, reminding you that you were not yet somewhere private and very much on display.
You briefly wondered if these two were rich enough to simply pay their way out of a public indecency arrest. You wouldn't be surprised if they wouldn't even get arrested.
Since Thranduil made no sign of disengaging himself from you, you stepped away from him, right against Bard's chest.
"Shall we go? Your husband mentioned luxury sheets which I bet are more comfortable than a threesome on the dance floor"
The way out of the club presented itself as more difficult than you would have thought.
With Bard shoving a path through the dancing crowd in front of you, holding on to one hand, Thranduil breathing down your neck and you pausing now and again because "Oh my gosh, I love this song!" it took a lot longer than necessary.
Not that any one of you minded.
Lost in the mass of people shouting, dancing, and pushing you three closer together and the tequila in your bloodstream you ended up undulating to Nicki Minaj's 'Pound The Alarm' completely lost on the fact that both men had stopped to watch you.
The lights were colorful and sharp and in their hues, Bards and Thranduil's jawlines looked even sharper tinted red, blue, green, and whenever the disco ball flashed white across their faces the lust in their eyes caused shivers on every part of you.
Thranduil's hands moved to your lower abdomen, making it easy to grind against him as you raised your hands to Bard's strong shoulders.
Two huge pairs of hands gripped your waist from either side and held you steady and close to themselves, keeping everyone else from getting any nearer than they allowed.
"Fucking hell– Darlin' you drive me crazy!" Bard yelled over the music as you suddenly decided to drop down intact with the beat, dragging your nails over his torso.
You laughed, low and full-heartedly.
Coming up, his hands moved to the flushed skin that your shirt had revealed by riding up, holding you tight to sweep you away into a kiss.
One thigh, leather, and flexing muscles shoved itself between your thighs and you responded eagerly, grinding against it without a second thought.
Just when you thought you were ready to finally go, the song ended and faded into yet another pop hit. 'LoveGame' by Lady Gaga and intact of the low thumping beat, Thranduil's hips circle against your behind, pressing what was an impressive hardness into your arse while his deep voice switched from singing to humming the lyrics.
One of his hands spread over your abdomen, the other arm blindly reached for Bard and pulled him into a kiss right over your head.
Amid the mass of sweaty people and the multicolor array of colors flashing over Thranduil's blonde hair, the 2000s music blaring through the speakers and resonating in every cell of your fevered body, they looked hot enough for the porn industry to sign them under contract.
You were never making it out of the club.
You did make it out eventually, sweat dripping down your temple, Thranduil's chest in your back whenever you stumbled, his hands steadying you.
On what you assumed was an oversight or blind eye of the club owners the crowd had doubled in the last hour.
Far too many people joined the floor and even with Bard's commanding presence leading you it had been close to impossible to step forward and not swerve out of the way of someone drunk.
Outside, the line curved around the block, and those who waited or didn't get into the club or even just hung in groups celebrating on the streets blocked the whole sidewalk.
A number of fireworks were already soaring into the air, sent up there by early birds who couldn't wait until midnight – cheered up by loud excited screams and laughter as the dark night sky lit up here and there with colorful explosions.
Quite sobered up, the dancing had contributed to that, you stared at them.
"How the fuck are we supposed to get out of here?" you asked and crossed your arms in front of you; the winds were biting cold and you hadn't bothered bringing a jacket, "It's madness."
"We will just get a cab"
You barked out a laugh though Bard stayed completely serious.
"Wait, that wasn't a joke?" you rubbed your palms over the naked skin, still warm and thrumming with the afterglow of the unbearable heat of the club, although the cold fought hard and unfairly.
"No, sweetheart, it wasn't," Thranduil said, not bothered by the chaos of people pushing each other, waving their hands like they're trying to flag down a spaceship.
On this day, the chances for that to happen were more likely than actually getting a cab.
He took one step into the busy street, and you yelped, overcome by the shock that he just walked into fucking traffic, his long ponytail swaying with his steps.
Then, like movie magic, a car swerved to the side and stopped right next to Thranduil.
Bard pulled you along, your hand cradled to his chest so as not to lose you. Thranduil opened the door, gracefully sitting down behind the empty passenger seat.
You stumbled onto the back seat next to him, and mumbled a half-hearted "Hello" to the driver, who gave you a nod – a nod, an hour before midnight, from a cap driver, fucking miracles– before shut the plastic window close.
"Holy crap," you exhaled. "Is this what the high life's like? Getting drinks and cabs without any fucking effort?"
Despite the crude and cutting words swinging in their direction, Bard and Thranduil chuckled. The synchronized deep sound reverberated in the quiet cab, warming up the space instantly.
"Do you really think that this" – Thranduil languidly gestures to all of him – "takes no effort?"
Bard huffed. He leaned into you as if he wanted to whisper a secret, but didn't lower his voice: "We were supposed to be here five hours ago. Took him that long to figure out what to wear." He shot a teasing grin at his husband.
"Oh, I have had enough of your whining," In one elegant movement Thranduil folded one long leg over the other. The point of his boot caught your shin in a soft tap that drew your attention to him.
He smirked, one eyebrow raised. "If you are interested, though, I could show you what it is like to ride the waves of the high life"
"Is that a metaphor?"
"No," Bard's lips ghosted over your neck, peppering more kisses to the skin there, "A promise for an unforgettable high"
You were unable to think of what they could propose.. well, you could, but they wouldn't, not here in this cap, right?
Bard's legs were spread a little far apart and, fuck, the flickering lights of the city flying by highlighted a very prominent bulge that he made no effort of hiding. Was he going commando?!
Your eyes snapped back, burning a hole into the roof of the cab.
A hand fell behind you on the headrest at the same moment as Thranduil's cold fingers slipped onto your thigh.
Thranduil's hand snuck to your jeans and played with the button and zipper before,
Oh-
he opened your jeans and immediately slid his cold, long, slender fingers down your panties.
Oh, fuck
Your hips twitched into his hand and you had to bite down on your finger to muffle the gasp that itched behind your teeth.
Without a care in the world, Thranduil cupped your sex, mumbling something to himself under his breath that sounded like a "So fucking wet- for us?" and worked his middle finger into you.
Pulling it out again, he started circling your clit, smearing your own slick over it, moving right over the spot where your nerve endings were sparking white and hot and you shuddered uncontrollably.
The chill of his fingertips heightened your sensitivity. Still flushed all hot from the club, you instinctively arched upward, a soft gasp escaping your lips as Thranduil's fingers tapped against your swollen wet clit.
The noise prompted his gaze to lock onto yours.
Your gasp broke off as your hips nearly flew off the seat and it was only for the belt snapping tightly against your lower abdomen that your head didn't make contact with the roof.
That, and the arm Bard put around your shoulders. He held you down and gave you his biceps to let your head fall against something that wasn't the uncomfortable seatrest.
Your cheeks flushed under Thranduils scrutiny, as well as at the general scene and obscenity of everything, and a subtle smirk played on his lips.
"Do you enjoy that?" His voice was flirty, and while you want to retort that it should be very clear how much you liked his fingers fucking into you, you only managed a nod.
"Say it." He leaned forward, a teasing glint in his eyes. His fingers stopped, clearly waiting for you to obey his order. "Use your words, you still know how, right? I haven't even started, clearly there must be something you could tell me."
"Yes," your admission was barely a whisper, but it sufficed.
Thranduil hummed, using his other hand to open your legs as wide as the tight jeans allowed it before he worked two agile fingers into your throbbing cunt.
You stared at him through half-lidded eyes, watching his relaxed demeanor while fingering you open without caring about anything else.
The heel of his hand pressed into your pelvis, giving him a reasonably steady hold in the jolting cab so that he could hit a spot inside you with precision and with every, goddamn, perfect, thrust of his fingers that made you pant out.
"Thran-" the nickname you heard Bard call him slipped out unconsciously, it's the only thing you could pull out of the depth of your mind, "Thran.. please"
"Beggin' already?" Bard chuckled, "Darlin' you have seen nothing yet and here you are, beggin' to cum in the back of a cab."
"Bard you have no idea how fucking wet she is. She's dripping down my hand, squeezing my fingers, and fuck she's so tight," Thranduil muttered and as he slipped his other hand to the one slipping and sliding against your g-spot in a maddening relentless rhythm, he rubbed them over your folds.
He collected some of your wetness on those fingers, circling your clit again before pulling them away, out of your pants, and to your horror, he held them up into the air, inspecting how his fingers glistened in the city lights.
He rubbed them together, all right in the view of the rear back mirror of the cab driver, who – thank god – kept his eyes on the road and only turned up the radio in unspoken ignorance of what was happening in his car.
God, you hoped these men would tip him adequately.
"Here," Thranduil reached his arm out past your half-opened lips and for a moment you thought he was going to offer you his fingers, but he leaned further forward.
A gasp broke out of you as you watched Bard open his mouth and greedily took both fingers right between his lips, and.. sucked.
His eyes fell shut with a contented sigh as if he were tasting his favorite drink.
You saw his tongue run thoroughly over Thranduil's patiently waiting fingers, cleaning them off every last bit of you, and god, you wanted to be those fingers so damn bad at that moment.
Then he looked at you again. There was such a deep hunger in those eyes that would look beautifully between your legs, brown hair falling messily into his sight as he ate you out.
Meanwhile, Thranduil's fingers inside you moved harder and faster, curling to brush every sensitive spot of your walls, in, out, in, another curl, and then out.
You clenched your entrance in anticipation, the feeling of two of his fingers filling you this deliciously and continuously.
You were so so close, almost there–
"Shit, you're the sweetest. I think I'll eat you for breakfast tomorrow"
The abrupt halt of the cab barely registered for you; instead, it finally propelled you over the edge.
Thranduil's precise movement hit that spot inside you perfectly, crooking his fingers just right to brush against it. Combined with Bard's downright filthy promise, you nearly let out a scream as the powerful orgasm surged through you and you had to flex your muscles so you didn't continue riding his hand.
Thranduil, however, didn't stop, even though there was no way he didn't know you climaxed and he kept up the same pace, same fucking precision and pressure that your body convulsed around those long talented fingers and you couldn't even go anywhere, the seatbelt cut off your escape to the front and you were so far into the seat that wasn't an option as well, and it took a soft broken whimper, for words were long lost, for Thranduil to press a kiss to your neck before he sucked his fingers dry.
Your legs were still shaking as the elevator took you up to the penthouse at the top of the skyscraper the cab had stopped in front of.
Four mirrors gave you a splendid view of Bard's broad back as he crowded you against one of the walls, his thick fingers down your jeans again, as he mouthed hot kisses onto your neck.
"Gonna have to work you open," Bard grunted, his slippery fingers curling inside your cunt in a sinful squelch that sounded absurdly loud in the confined space of the elevator. "You're really too tight, don't wanna hurt you"
Thranduil watched the whole scene leaning at the railing, hands curled around the pole behind him as his hips twitched whenever you let out another whimper; your hands trying to get a hold on his husband's shoulders.
The ride was far too short, Bard's fingers not fast enough for you to reach another peak though the constant movement kept your head in such a nice empty mindless space that you didn't complain.
As soon as the doors opened Thranduil led the way, sauntering into the darkness illuminated by the first exploding fireworks. He pulled on the tie holding his hair up and flung it away let his hair flow down his back, ending just barely over his exquisite arse.
You didn't get to see much of the penthouse, all three of you were very eager to take this party finally somewhere comfortable and you only made out a giant white couch in front of a fireplace, an open kitchen with two glasses, one crystal with golden stains of whiskey, and the other high, the rim still dripping red wine, and a few bookshelves.
"You can get the full tour tomorrow," Bard said while you two kicked away your shoes, leaving them behind on the dark wooden parquet.
You stumbled over his left sneaker and halted in your tracks at the offer. While you had considered his promise of breakfast a spur-of-the-moment chit-chat, it now settled in your head that this wouldn't be like any one-nightstand you had in the past.
This observation only solidified as Bard caught your hand and raised it to press an open-mouthed kiss to your palm. "Do you need anything before we go into the bedroom? Any wishes or no-gos? Safeword?"
"Red," you immediately answered, and he nodded in acknowledgment, "and no, well– maybe hold me a bit afterward?" You blushed at the question though this should be the least embarrassing thing after all these two did to you in the span of a few hours. You continued to ramble, "And sometimes I cry, so.. you don't have to stop then. Sometimes I'm overwhelmed but you can continue your.. thing. Don't bother, I'll be fine on my own–"
Bard's eyebrows scrunched together the more you babbled, the look in his eyes becoming more confused until he shushed you with a quick kiss.
"Darlin', there is no need to explain what you want or don't want. If this is what you need then we won't question those demands," his eyes wandered over your face, making sure you were listening; which you were, heart pounding fast in your chest.
"And it's important you don't push yourself just because of us. It's not our intention to use you for a simple release. Thranduil and I don't take whoever is the first best, especially not to our home. We're looking for someone who suits us, with whom we feel completely comfortable and that should also be equally important to you."
You trusted them both, Bard as well as Thranduil.
The fact that Bard was asking you, nevertheless listening and responding to you was feeding something very primal.
They had done this before, unlike you. They had experience in this, but you were willing to learn, to submit yourself to these imposing men who surely would change something inside you forever.
The pride you felt at his admission of choosing you specifically mingled with the need to get this perfect man inside you quickly, especially now that he said such meaningful and reassuring words.
You nodded and croaked out a soft: "Alright, then please hold me after we're done" which he rewarded with another soft yet sensual kiss.
"Good girl"
Then his hands traveled south and slapped your ass so that your hips flew towards him.
"Now, let's not keep Thran waiting any longer. He tends to get a bit… impatient if left on his own for too long, as you've probably noticed."
Bratty.
You were so on the money earlier.
With that as well as the guess that the blonde was more kinky than the vanilla of his perfume.
At that moment the deep voice of his called out from down the hall.
"I swear, if you two started without me, I will fuck you until neither of you can walk for a week!"
Bard chuckled, then caught your widened eyes.
"He's joking," he said and you let out a relieved breath.
Bard pulled you along, a wink thrown over his shoulder.
"Mhm, partly; he won't fuck me tonight."
You needed a deep breather to ready yourself for what was about to happen, then you nearly tripped over your own feet as you raced after him through the dark hallway and to the only opened door.
You crashed fully into Bard, who for whatever reason, stood right in the doorframe of their bedroom.
"It seems Thranduil got tired of waiting," he chuckled and you wondered what he could mean when he turned sideways.
Your eyes instantly fell onto Thranduil, spread out on the enormous bed in the corner of the room– completely naked except for black, very tight boxers.
There was no air in your lungs, not a single breath left to take as you drank in the sight of him, fair and marble skin shining in the moonlight that fell through the big window next to the bed; the remaining glitter gave his body an unearthly glow. His hair fanned out all over the pillows, silver against grey, moving with him as he lazily lifted his head to stare at you.
There was an indescribable beauty in this man, he could lounge in the bed, his long legs opened in an invitation that you yearned to take, and his lean yet softly defined body posed as if he was waiting for someone to draw him.
"There you are," the corner of his mouth twitched into his smirk, "Strip"
His words, spoken in a gentle tone, boomed loud in your ears.
Your hands flew to your jeans in no second, though they were stopped by Bard, who covered them with his larger, rougher ones.
"No, Darlin', let me"
He stood behind you, taking over the job of undressing you. He did it much slower than you would have, not ripping everything apart in a hurry to obey the command of the blonde whose eyes were heavy on your body, taking in every bit of skin that got revealed.
Bard unbuttoned your jeans first, then his large and warm hands rubbed over your arms.
"Are you cold, sweetheart?"
You shook your head. "No, not cold. I– I feel like I'm burning up"
It was the truth, and nothing but the full, honest truth; you felt as hot as you did in the club, though the reason wasn't the hundreds of people and the alcohol but rather the sight of Thranduil, whose hands trailed over his own body and teasingly played with the waistband of his underwear.
Bard followed your fixated gaze to his coyly smiling husband.
"Should we turn down the heating? We would not want you melting away," Thranduil blinked his long lashes at you in faux-concern. He must've known the goosebumps covering your skin were his doing.
You would've rolled your eyes if you were able to look somewhere else than Thranduil. The man had to be magical, how else could you explain the spell he put you under if not for some supernatural powers?
"Stop the teasing, Thran," Bard cut in, slipping his hands under your shirt and kissing your shoulder. You melted into his touch, comforted that he took care of you like this when he continued, "This poor sweet thing hasn't even all her clothes off. It would be a shame to make her blush like this and not see it"
"Oh, and who's fault is that? Certainly not mine, I have been waiting so long I was close to wrapping things up myself"
Bard pulled your shirt over your head, covering your sight long enough for a wave of braveness to surge through you. "I sure hope you wrap it up," you said and heard both of them snicker.
"Do not worry," Thranduil began.
"There is enough protection for weeks," Bard finished and the band of your bra snapped against your skin.
Despite the warmness of the room your nipples puckered as soon as the lace fell away, growing hard under the avid eyes, cerulean and green, so different yet similar in the way both are dominated by the blackness of their pupils.
Bard's hands came up to your front and he cupped your breasts first tenderly, mapping out how perfectly they fit into his large palm, then rougher as his fingers found the hard buts of your nipples and rubbed them between them until every pinch had your legs trembling and you whimpering.
You cried out, body bucking on its own.
"Oh how nice," Thranduil's comment was full of sarcasm, followed by a click of his tongue against teeth, "Why, let me lay here and play all on your own, why not? After all, I am nothing but pure decoration"
Bard huffed a puff of hot air onto you, "Grow a pair of tits like this and maybe I will get to you first"
Thranduil's dark eyebrows raised to his hairline, passing an unspoken threat that had Bard scoff before he grabbed the waistband of your jeans. He pulled them down slowly, getting on his knees as he did and you were acutely aware of how wet your panties were when you feel his lips kiss your ass.
"This must be uncomfortable," he murmured, holding one leg to help you step out of the jeans. He kneaded your thigh, fingertips against muscles and flesh, before moving on to do the same on your other leg.
He used the moment where you lifted the second leg, to dive his hand to your cunt again, dragging his knuckles over the dark-colored patch, and he laughed as you buckled into the touch. "Oh, the fun we'll have"
Finally, undressed to your panties that cling to your crotch like a second skin, you were free to walk toward the bed. You would've lied if you said you didn't swing your hips a little bit, relishing the raspy groan this evoked from Bard.
Feeling like you should await further commands you stopped (un)patiently when your knees hit the mattress.
Thranduil's lips curved into a devilish smirk at this sign of submission.
He let his legs fall open wider, waving in an elegant gesture into the space in between. "Come here, sweetheart"
The bed was raised and you rose to your tiptoes and, making sure your eyes were trained on Thranduil, you crawled over the mattress, knees digging into the silk duvet he had promised you.
He reached out as soon as he could, one hand curving around your neck to pull and you landed directly on him, legs spread on either side of his thighs, hands somehow, despite their nervous trembling, found their place against his collarbones, standing out from his broad chest rather delicate.
Not that you hadn't suspected and expected him to be big, but, fuck, he was long and hard, a pulsing pressure against your stomach.
"Be a good girl and remove this unnecessary fabric, will you?" Thranduil whispered and you scrambled to lose your panties, throwing them off into the distance only to turn again and find him smirking. "I meant my boxers, but it fills me with joy seeing you this eager"
Lowering your head to hide your laughter, you grabbed his boxers. He lifted his hips just barely for you to pull on the black boxers, rolling them over his tight ass, and after giving you a loving pat on the head, he crossed his arms behind his head, relaxing into the pillows.
His cock sprung free from the containment of the tight boxers, twitching as it hit his abdomen and you felt your throat dry out.
Of course, he was smooth everywhere; not one bit of hair covering the flushed beauty of him.
You sat up, hands pushed into his flexing thighs, to take him all in. No one should look this perfect, this utterly ridiculously beautiful, right? There should be something on him, a scar, a mole, anything to prove he wasn't straight-up carved out of marble, but you found nothing.
You glared at him as you sat down a bit lower, ass in the air, and spit into your hand before you wrapped it around his cock. The sight of his size had your mouth water, and seeing how your fingers couldn't meet had your cunt clench around nothing.
No way any of their preparation had been enough for this intimidating masterpiece of Mother Nature's creation.
"Tell me, how is it fair that you are rich and have a dick like that?" you asked and just as Thranduil opened his pretty lips for probably another witty answer, you interrupted him by letting his cock slide over your tongue deep into your throat until you gagged around him.
Whatever he wanted to say was forgotten.
Instead, Thranduil groaned a low: "Fuck" and threw his head back.
You wanted to see him come undone, to unravel him until he lost this bratty attitude and reduce him to that wild behavior he had shown in the club.
You had the feeling that that's only possible if he thought he had the upper hand.
You bobbed your head, taking him a bit past what you could manage without gagging before lifting your head again.
"Use me," you said and his eyes flew open.
"What?"
Cocking your head, you shot him a confused look, while spreading his precum over the head of his cock with your thumb. "I said," – you spit again, mixing it and coating his dick further – "Fuck - my - mouth"
Every word was punctuated with a kiss to his slit, and you swore you could see his eyes darken further; black taking over blue – desire fought whatever held him back to fucking give into whatever you offered.
Behind you, Bard swore nearly breathlessly: "Fuck me" though you stayed focused on Thranduil.
"Are you sure?" his voice was raw, his facade of composure cracking ever so slightly.
"Wouldn't ask if I wasn't"
His hand was behind your head in seconds, drawing you down his cock again and you opened your mouth wide to not hurt him. He pushed you down until you choked on him and although your eyes watered, you couldn't take them away from the sight of his mouth and the low throaty groans that passed the opened lips.
The lack of air cut off your moan, the tip of his cock bullying the back of your throat just barely short of painful. Reminding yourself to breathe through your nose, you inhaled deeply.
"Good girl," Thranduil's hips bucked, pulling back until he was only half-lodged in your throat, "Just like that, fuck"
He gave an experimental thrust, keeping his sharp eyes on you, his hand in your neck, ready to stop if he saw any discomfort, but all you showed him was how you choked on spit and salty precum.
"Oh, you sweet girl. Behaving so well," his voice was ruined, and he thrusted again, punching away the little breath left in the tiniest space that wasn't occupied by his thick cock.
This was by far the first time you have ever given a blowjob, but it was a first to let someone use you like this. Controlling when you could suck or when you just had to take what he gave you.
And oh– how much you loved it.
So much that you wanted to rub your thighs together only to be stopped by rough hands grabbing them.
A confused sound left you, no more than a choked "Huh?" vibrating around Thranduils cock continuing to fuck into you, just like you had asked him, hindering you from turning to see what Bard was up to.
He didn't leave you wondering for long, just as Thranduil's thrusts took on a sharper edge, hitting the back of your throat every time, filling your mouth like no man ever had, Bard's flattened tongue licked through your exposed cunt and the moan you let out sounded so pornographic you surprised yourself.
"Do it again," Thranduil took in the sight of your wet lips, the drool dripping out of the corners of your mouth, his cock disappearing so deep inside you that felt him in your lungs, "Fuck, Bard, do that again now!–"
He talked for you, praising Bard as he licked your pussy again, this time using his fingers to pry you open further and there was the delicious scratch of his beard stubbles, burning on your skin.
You cried out, tried to do, stopped by Thranduils cock stuffing your mouth again and again, his hands curled around your neck as if he wanted to feel the imprint of himself pushing through.
"Prettiest woman out there," Thranduil groaned. His thump reached over to stuff some of the spit back into your mouth, opening your jaw up impossibly wide.
Bard's tongue was as precise as their fingers have been, covering your folds, fucking into your hole and sucking on your clit with expertise that no man should be allowed to have. Two of his wet fingers slid into you while his tongue mercilessly attacked your clit, the other hand buried itself in the soft flesh of your ass, kneading and pulling, opening you up further for his face.
"C'mon," his voice was muffled by your thighs, drowning you in his accent while he drowned his tongue inside your opening, circling the rim in maddening figures, "Give me one more, gorgeous."
Electricity flowed through your body, hot tingles of nothing but fire spreading into your fingertips wrapped around the inches of Thranduil's cock that didn't fit into your mouth, to your nipples that brushed against his muscular thighs.
"Fuck Bard, please–"
Not sure what you were begging for, for his tongue to stop the attack on your clit, for his fingers constantly finding that spot inside your spongy walls that had you wailing and rolling your hips into his face, or for him to get on with it and get you over that build-up.
Bard kept going, somehow finding a rhythm that matched the one his husband hammered down your throat and you were helplessly stuck trying to hold on.
Until you lost the fight to keep yourself upright. Your hands slipped on Thranduil's thighs, your body crashed down and if it wouldn't have been for his quick reaction of pulling himself out of you, you would for sure have impaled your head on his still hard and throbbing cock.
Instead, it just wetly slapped your face as you collapsed into his lap.
Bard's rough hands grip your thighs, blunt nails digging into soft flesh as he maneuvered your legs around to give his head more space.
The other pair of hands, soft, delicate, Thranduil's, cupped your face, lifting it gently yet demanding, giving him the perfect view of your cute face, all scrunched up as you gasped and mewled, and your backside, ass arched into the air under Bard's commanding hands.
"Such a beautiful thing," Thranduil mused.
His fingers danced over your cheeks until he used another whine, another desperate moan when Bard alternated between open-mouthed, sloppy kisses and using the point of his tongue, to slip his thumb into your mouth.
As soon as he did, you closed your lips around him. Staring up at him, begging him silently for a release only Bard could give you, you started sucking on his finger as you would have done on his cock if not for the stars dancing in your field of vision.
Thranduil tutted, "So needy as well. Bard, if you were so kind as to stop, I can not stand seeing her this distraught. I think you are working her up far too much"
"Nooo! Please, please, I'm alright, I'm– please, so close," The desperate scream that came out of your mouth at his words was probably loud enough to alert the neighbors, followed by a cry and sob as Bard kissed your clit one last time.
"Of course, babe" The words were muffled, spoken directly into your dripping cunt.
Which he then shuffled away from, beard stubble scratching you, his fingers letting loose on your thighs.
"No, no please, please," you were already babbling, reaching behind you in a sad effort to force him back between your legs, "Please, I'll be good, please!"
"You sweet thing," Thranduils arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you up into a kiss, "I think–" his voice dropped deeper and you heard the rustle of plastic, felt Bard's hand rolling the condom over Thranduil's cock pressing into your stomach, "–you have behaved so well, you deserve a reward"
You nodded fast, legs spread wide apart sitting on his thighs and your cunt stretched open.
Staring into his eyes, you saw how much his pupils were dilated, how he only watched you, only saw you.
You could see and feel his chest lift as his cock slid through your folds, finding you drenched from all their playing around.
"Eyes stay on me"
Your pussy was wet enough for the tip of his cock to slip right into you and right away you wanted to shut your eyes at the sensation of him spearing you open.
"Please–," you gasped, and tried to move your hips to get more of him into you than just those few inches, but he didn't budge, didn't loosen his grip on your waist, "Please, Thranduil. Green, my color is green, fuck me, I can take it!"
"Yes, and if not," his voice was back to the self-controlled powerful tone, "I'll make you take it, sweetheart."
Thranduil let go of you the second he snapped his hips upwards and suddenly, you were split open.
You keened as his cock sunk into you in one fast, swift, hard movement. There was a burn, in your thighs as you flexed them, in your throat as you cried out, in your pussy at the intrusion of his long cock.
When Thranduil bottomed out, his head shoved against your cervix, the whole length forcing you to stretch, to make room, and fuck you wanted your pussy to be carved into the shape of that perfect cock.
It should've been uncomfortable, but you only groaned as you appreciated the second he gave you to relax while making room where they shouldn't be some.
"Fuck–" he moaned, "you are tight, so fucking tight"
Bard moved next to you, and you could only get one short look at his naked body, the brown hair coating his muscular chest, the happy trail leading down to his thick cock, before Thranduil began to fuck you.
His strokes were fast, hips snapping into you and nearly throwing you off his lap at the speed and brute force and you fell into his chest, clinging to his arms.
This, him rutting into you like your pussy could quench a year-long thirst at a punishing pace, this was surely the epitome of getting fucked. How he knew how to fuck you just right, hitting your g-spot with every single thrust was a riddle you couldn't and wouldn't want to solve; not with his cock penetrating you hard enough you swore you felt him in your throat as you called for him through moans.
You had no chance of even trying to meet his thrusts, not while he pounded into you like a madman.
"F-Fuck, good fucking girl– so tight," Thranduil groaned out his gritted teeth, his face turning a beautiful shade of rosé, "Even tighter than you, Bard–"
Bard, you totally forgot he was even there, laughed and moved on the bed again, slipping back behind you, "Yeah? Tell me more"
And you wanted to scream, to yell at them to stop talking in words that only added to the overstimulation, that spun around your head without meaning because how could anything have ever any meaning more important that Thranduil's cock fucking you a little further, a little deeper.
"So tight, s-so hot, clamping down on me like this sweet, fuck, pussy doesn't want me to leave"
"Mhm, I can see that," Bard hummed and his hands caressed your shaking thighs, before leaving his mark on your ass with a soft slap that had you wailing into Thranduil's shoulder.
It was too much and not enough at the same time.
You were going to lose your mind like this, fucked to near-unconsciousness.
"More, I–" your speech was slurred, brain scrambled into loose words hanging onto thin threads.
You tried to hold on to Thranduil but it was impossible with your sweat and the glitter covering him.
Luckily for you, Bard found the time to stop ever kindly toying with the pearl of your clit to lean forward.
"Put them inside his hair, Darlin'. He doesn't mind" There was a lopsided smirk on his face that you could barely see out of the corners of your eyes.
You still hadn't stopped looking at Thranduil.
The attempt to tentatively guide your hands to his head was prevailed by another particular hard thrust, and your fingers slid through blonde locks, grabbing onto them as you fell back down on Thranduil's cock.
You tugged on them much harsher than intended.
Thranduil's eyes blew wide.
You wanted to apologize when his lips quivered and his hips snapped into yours even faster.
Quickly you reached for him again, nails scraping his scalp as you readjusted, gripping more, much tighter.
"That's it, Darlin'.. that's my girl," Bard leaned back, and not shortly after his fingers were back on your clit, tapping intact of Thranduil's thrusts.
It was only a matter of seconds until the pleasure became too much.
Thranduil's hips fell into a stutter as your walls clenched around him; even for someone with his stamina the heat of you surrounding him, and your sweet moans drove him into a raging need to imprint the shape of his cock inside you.
"F-fuck.. Thran–" you whimpered, hands fisting his hair, trying to get a literal grip as reality started to shift around you.
Outside, close to the windows, there was a whistle as the first of many fireworks greet the New Year and just as Thranduil pushed you over the edge, your whole body shaking and tensing up as you screamed his name, the darkness of the sky exploded into an arrangement of thousands of colors.
The white fuzziness that enveloped your vision transformed into creeping darkness at the edges.
Your eyelids closed shut as you descended into blissful oblivion.
When you came back to yourself, it was to the murmur of deep voices mixed into the loud bangs of fireworks.
For a moment you had no idea where you were, enveloped in a haziness inside your mind, but the gentle nudge of something against your lips forced you to open your eyes.
There were two faces very close to yours, was the first realization.
Then, following up, you let out a giggle.
"Don't look so concerned, I'm fine," you greedily took a sip from the water bottle that the very flushed blonde held in his hands.
"You said it was possible you would cry, not bloody pass out on Thran's dick!" Bard wiped the drops you couldn't swallow away from the corner of your mouth with one hand and continued to rub your thighs with his others.
You hadn't noticed they were still shaking.
"Yeah, that never happened before," you shot a smirk up to Thranduil, "Never had a guy fuck me like this as well"
He snorted into the bottle of water, "Believe me, I never had someone lose their consciousness on me before as well. I came shortly after you and when I opened my eyes to find you completely out of it I nearly passed out on the spot as well"
"Would have been quite a shock for you," you said and let your head fall to the side to look at Bard, "both of us orgasm into fainting"
"Not funny, Darlin'," Bard warned, though he laughed as you stuck his tongue out at him.
Stretching your hands over your head and raking them into the air until your bones cracked, you sighed happily. Blissfulness was all you felt after cumming harder than you ever had.
For the first time, you could really enjoy the sight of both men in the nude, you hadn't had the chance to appreciate how fit Bard was while Thranduil had fucked you and you reached out to run your hands over his chest. Twirling some of the hair on there, traveling lower to scratch nails down his happy trail like a route description straight to his still-hard cock.
Stopping shortly before his pubic hair, you glanced up at him, a coy smile playing your lips. "You haven't cum yet." It was much a purr as it was an invitation, your legs falling open right when Bard's hand came to a still on your thighs.
He shook his head, chestnut hair swaying with the movement. "No, Darlin', no! You just passed out. I won't force myself on you. Thran can suck me off or I'll take care of it myself if you want to rest"
Your heart contracted in adoration for this man, and an embarrassing amount of slick gushed out of you.
"Bard," you said, voice wavering as you suppressed a whimper. Somehow this turned you on even more, "Bard, there is enough time to be this caring later but please–" Once again you were begging, and the man wasn't even inside of you yet, "please fuck me"
On the other side of you, Thranduil chuckled, "Insatiable, I knew it. Bard is right though, if you are not well, then he can fuck me"
Slowly but surely you were losing your patience.
As sweet as their concern was, the fact that these two gods were both sitting naked in front of you, one sweaty because he just knocked you out, and the other hard as steel and flushed, only aroused that much more.
Without saying anything else, you maneuvered yourself in the bed until you could rest your head on Thranduil's stretched legs and angled your legs in an invitation.
"Come on you stud. It's the new year after all"
The brunette scanned you with a piercing gaze, you could see him struggling with himself, but the twitch of his cock told you what he'd decided before he nodded.
"Thran, condom please"
You giggled again, excitement and the need to be catapulted to new heights spreading warmly in your stomach.
As Bard put the condom on, you wiggled around, your hand on the move to beat time, but Thranduil reached over you.
He caught your wrist before you reached your center, grasping it with his much larger hand and pulling your arm back with him enough that it forced your shoulders up, a "Tze, tze, tze" admonishing the behavior.
"Impatient brat, make up your mind!" he hissed and tugged some more until you whined, "Feel free to use those pathetic little fingers, knowing they will never fill you the way Bard could" Now that Thranduil knew you were on the same page, his voice dropped into that rebuking tone that left you whining and pouting.
He was so good, so fucking mean in the right amount you never knew you needed a man to act in bed.
"I just wanted–"
"I know baby," he cooed, and patted your cheek, "you just need your cunt to be filled, right? Just need to be stuffed full. Bard will do that for you, no need to worry your pretty head about it"
"That's right, Darlin'," Bard shuffled in between your legs, hooking them both over his thighs as he leaned over you. His cock landed on your abdomen, pressing against your pulsating clit, "Tell me what you want," he grabed himself, guiding it slowly toward where you leaked for him, completely drenched from the orgasms they had already given to you.
"I can go slow, or I can go fast"
You contemplated for a moment and lift the free hand to stroke over his handsome face. His beard tickled the inside of your palm, the chestnut waves silky as the sheets.
"Slow," you whispered, "I want you slow first"
"Alright," he gently nudged his nose against yours before capturing your lips in a kiss.
Although you were still sensitive, still pulsing and throbbing due to Thranduil (who caressed your face and your neck, having let to of your hand to arrange the pillows in his back for more comfort), you relished the stretch and sting of Bard as he guided his cock into you.
He was thicker than Thranduil, not by much but that inch made itself known, splitting you open heavenly so. You gasped into the kiss, giving up the fight of tongues to swallow back the drool that collected the further Bard pushed inside you.
It's just a little bit, one inch at a time, but you cried out all the same.
The thrum of excitement pulses, leaves you trembling and begging in incoherent moans and whimpers.
You could feel him throbbing inside you.
"Good girl," Thranduil's praise washed over you, chilled fingers tweaking one of your nipples as a reward for the exhausted smile you gifted him at that, "Has anyone ever told you that you make just the sweetest sounds? Give me one more?"
He twisted your other nipple; you moaned again.
"Fuck, Thran, you were so right," Bard grunted, his fingernails digging into where he held you by the waist, leaving crescent moon-shaped imprints that you hoped wouldn't fade for a while, "She's fuckin' tight; how are you still this tight?"
"For you," you fisted your hands into his hair again, hoping he enjoyed it just as much as his husband, "J-just for you, everything, ngh– for you"
With one last push, he sheated himself in you completely, filling you up just like Thranduil told you he would, stretching your walls thin.
You felt him everywhere, in every part of your body.
Every nerve, every tendon, every cell burns and was lit aflame, sizzling hot fire licking your skin and bursting when he dragged himself out, leaving barely the tip and pushed back in.
His cock nestled deep inside you, Bard stilled.
There was a silent vigilance in his mesmerizing green eyes. "Talk to me beautiful, is this alright?"
You nodded and pulled him down on his hair into another kiss. "Yes, god, yes"
That's all he needed to hear and while licking over your lips, entangling your tongue with his playfully, he set a slow rhythm. Nevertheless the tempo, he brushed that spot inside you with every stroke.
Pins and needles all over your skin, goosebumps wherever Thranduil's fingers wandered.
There were more fireworks, lightening up the bedroom filled with gasps and grunts, whispers of encouragement and begging. The sound of Bard's hips snapping into yours, the wet squelch of his cock driving itself inside of your pussy again and again.
"There we go," he murmured and positioned his arms on either side of you, using the balance it gives him to roll his hips instead of just thrusting. Mumbling between kisses, he talked against your lips: "Aren't you just the sweetest? Darlin', I couln' believe my eyes when I saw you in that club, shining far brighter than anyone else"
He swallowed your gasps with kisses, nipping at your lip then moved to your earlobe, "You are so perfect, letting us fuck you like this"
In one swift movement, he dragged Thranduil towards him, long blonde hair curling at the edges hanging into your vision in a starlight waterfall. Their kiss left you breathless and you would have felt left out if Thranduil didn't lean down further to you, kissing your lips upside down.
This time it was his fingers that found your slick, poor and abused clit. A couple of firm circles had your hips bucking up to meet Thranduil's fingers, crying out for both men in a mix of their names.
You whimpered as the next orgasm build up fucking fast, your breath catching in your throat.
"Bard," your hips moved on their own, trying to get him to fuck you faster, "Please– more, I need m-more,"
"Darlin'," Bards forehead pressed against yours, his grunts strained as if he was holding back himself but kept the same and steady pace you asked him for, "You sure?"
Grabbing his hair again, you weaved your fingers through it, tousling it haphazardly, achieving nothing but adding to its wild appearance.
When you met his gaze again, his eyes were fixed on you, it felt electric and charged, akin to lightning, causing you to momentarily forget to breathe.
"Yes"
He obeyed instantly, with the next thrust you screamed at the pure force of it. Bard wa spiraling the same way you were, becoming erratic as his teeth grazed over your collarbone, biting every mark they have left on you.
Raising your legs to keep him close, your ankles locked behind his back, heels digging into the tight muscles of his ass. The new angle allowed him to drive impossibly deep, reaching pleasure points inside you you didn't knew existed before him.
The pleasure was blinding, high electricity running through your veins and into every part of your body and soul. This was nothing you have ever experienced before, not with anyone and they made sure it would never feel like this with anyone ever.
Bard, feeling how your walls clenched around him, fluttering and pulsating, begging him to stay inside, sucked on your nipple, hard.
"I need you to come, fuck. Let me feel this pussy come, I'm right there with you," he rasped, voice like gravel, leaving you to scream for him, head knocking into Thranduil's legs, who dared to add to the crescendo of your pleasure and pressed down on your clit.
You found yourself gripping the bed covers, fingers twisting, in an attempt to anchor yourself, sobbing and shaking.
Instead, the coil inside you snapped.
Soaking Bard's cock choking and sobbing, tears spilling out of the corners of your eyes as every limp of you tensed up, he pushed you over the edge, his moans in your ear the most erotic thing.
You felt Bard following you, felt him spilling inside the condom, his cock twitching inside of you as he reached his peak moaning and burying himself to the deepest point, hips flushed close against yours, still rolling and shoving into you.
Moments of silence and heavy breathing followed. Of broken sobs, hushed murmurs of praise, even more affirmations.
Thranduil scootched closer to you, laying down next to you while Bard's weight on top of you was just what you needed. The heaviness of his much larger frame and Thranduil's long arms wrapped around you held back the cold that threatened to take a hold of you as the shivers of pleasure subsided.
"Gods," Bard exhaled, chest moving, pressing more into you. "That was something"
"Happy New Year" Thranduil rumbled.
Minutes passed, more fireworks exploded, celebrations of the New Year while you weren't even sure you even knew what time was anymore.
Bard tried to move, though your legs must have cramped for they felt disconnected to your body.
"Darlin'," he dropped another kiss to your neck, laughing low as your head lolled to the side.
"Mhm-mhm," you groaned, eyes still shut close, "Stay"
His lips moved to your ear, continuing to bathe you in soft kisses that leave you floating in that blissful headspace. "I know, I know–"
Thranduil's hands cupped your face, caressing your glowing cheeks and wiped away the loose tears that rolled over them. "Aftercare first, then cuddling," he whispered and cradled your head, massaging the spot in your neck that started to ache after Bard had folded you in half.
Despite knowing he was right, that you needed to use the bathroom, the warmth their bodies provided held you back.
You whined, arching your back into Bard's chest as he pried your legs away and slowly pulled himself out of you, stopping when your hips twitched at the overstimulation and only continued after a soothing kiss.
As soon as he left to stand up, tying up the used condom and going into the ensuite bathroom, Thranduil's steady hands on your back helped you sit up on the edge of the bed, where he wrapped the covers around your shoulders and gently tapped your nose, before scratching his nails over your head.
"You did very well, sweetheart," One finger tipped your chin up. "Thank you, you are a wonderful partner."
Thranduil, crouched to your level in front of you, still naked as the day he was born, simply picked you up. Legs folded over one arm, your head fell against his glittery chest that was covered in red streaks of where your nails had scratched him.
"Come on, let's get you cleaned up"
The afterglow of the very much fantastic sex lulled all three of you in a comfort that blurred the barriers of you being a stranger in their home, laughter and giggles as the shower washed away sweat and glitter.
While there was a liveness to massaging soap into hair, hands rubbing away soreness and splashing water around until the mirror was all but fogged up and steam filled the entire bathroom, the exhaustion of the night caught up close after Thranduil dressed you in one of Bard's large sweaters.
Smelling like wood shavings, pine and toothpaste, hair still damp and eyes dropping close even though you tried to stay awake, Thranduil carried you to the bed.
The sheets were changed, encasing you in laundry detergent and brushing against your naked legs as you let yourself be placed on the pillows.
Outside, the world still celebrated and you did as well, in your own way.
There was a shuffle, a murmur of voices, then the bed dipped on either side as Bard climbed to your right side and Thranduil to your left, leaving not much room between all of you, legs entangling with each other, more giggling until everyone lied down comfortably.
Face tugged under Bard's chin, one arm of his reaching over your head so that Thranduil could nestle his face into it and the blonde wrapped around your back, you were surrounded by something you couldn't put into words.
"Maybe– maybe you can stay for breakfast and lunch," Bard's low words were murmured with a deep sigh, his other hand sliding down under his sweater, resting just below where your heart sung contenly.
"And dinner," Thranduil added and you heard him kiss Bard's hand.
"No talky-talky," you snuggled your face deeper into Bard, nose bumping into his neck, "But I would like that, very much"
Just as you fell asleep, held tightly by them both, you could hear them exchange quiet I love you's and you smiled, feeling their love seep deep into your bones.
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Sanguine Sky
DEMO [Public] [Updated 11/05/2024]
genres: romance, modern-fantasy, supernatural, mystery, dark-fantasy.
Sanguine Sky is a work-in-progress modern dark-fantasy interactive novel. The story is heavily focused on romance, characters, and relationships.
The story rated 18+, contains mature and distressing content that may be triggering to certain individuals. It is recommend to check the full list of warnings before you proceed to the story. Please exercise caution and take care of yourself.
Word count [Public]: 96k [excl. code] | 116k words [incl. code]
You are a detective, tasked with investigating mysterious murders that have taken place in your normally quiet and peaceful hometown, Fallenmor.
With two victims confirmed already, the initial one being your former mentor, Detective Bergmann, the situation couldn't seem more dire. Or so you thought until you received the news of another body, a possible third victim, discovered at the police station. In your very own office.
An accident, a mere coincidence, a straightforward warning, a looming threat, or something entirely else… Whatever is happening, you feel it affecting you, awakening something both significantly familiar and distinctly foreign inside of you.
If only you knew that this was just the beginning… Things could have been different.
But back then, in your ignorance, your singular concern lay with a pressing question: if you failed to find the murderer, who would become the next victim?
➤ Play as male, female, non-binary or trans; straight, gay, or bisexual.
➤ Customize your appearance and shape your personality.
➤ Take on the role of a detective, immerse yourself in the work of the police station.
➤ Embrace the mystery of your existence, or reject that inner sight of you.
➤ Seven romance options to choose from. Select their gender, be shy or bold, or focus on your goal without pursuing anyone.
All ROs are player-sexual and gender-selectable [M/F].
Kyle / Keira Moreno
Your colleague, a police inspector, and one of the rudest people you have ever met. Sharp and stern, K is surprisingly perceptive, and they use it to really see you. The good, the bad. Everything.
Appearance: icy blue eyes, dark red hair, very pale skin.
Alexis 'Lex / Lexie' Conlan
Your best friend, and also your former partner from times when you were just a patrol officer. With a heart of gold and an approachable attitude, L always chooses you over the others.
Appearance: forest green eyes, copper hair, beige freckled skin.
Morgan Schoivell
Your other colleague, a highly-skilled lab technician. M is rather reserved when it comes to emotions, and after almost a year of working together, M is still a walking mystery for you.
Appearance: dark brown eyes, ash blonde hair, light skin.
Roderick / Rebecca Reyes
The commanding agent of the Criminal Investigative Division (CID) team sent to catch the killer. Overbearing and ruthless, R has their own way of getting things done.
Appearance: gray eyes, blonde hair, pale skin.
Theodore 'Theo' / Theresa 'Tess' Vazquez
Another member of the CID team. With a cocky smile, T is full of flirts and sneering comments, regardless of the occasion. T has no doubts about what they want and isn't afraid to vocalize it.
Appearance: dark green eyes, black curly hair, rich brown skin.
Isaac / Iris Brailsford
I looks the most mature and approachable of CID's fellow agents. Looks can be deceiving, though. Working behind the scene and watching from afar, I carries all the scars within.
Appearance: hazel eyes, dark brown hair, olive skin.
Sebastian / Selena Goldstein
Someone new and temporary, S has a velvety voice and a perfect smile that doesn't reach their eyes. You're not sure if your paths will cross in the future, but something tells you S can't be trusted.
Appearance: black eyes, long black wavy hair, bronze skin.
Other notable characters:
Your twin-sister: Your sweet, kind, caring, and gentle twin sister. She always tries to be there for you, and show how much she appreciates you, no matter what.
Chief of Police, Kendrick Nash: Your boss, who is not handling his job so well after the recent death of his husband, Klemens Bergmann.
Detective Klemens Bergmann: Police chief's husband, who happened to be a senior detective and your mentor. He was the first victim, murdered under mysterious circumstances.
A full list of warnings is available in the demo before beginning of the story. I recommend to check it before you proceed to reading. Please take care of yourself.
Links: DEMO | CoG forum | Q&A | RO's info | Tags | Patreon | Ko-Fi |
Thank you for your interest ♥
#interactive fiction#interactive novel#choicescript#dashingdon#choice of games#hosted games#sanguine sky#sanguine sky if#if: intro#if: wip#romance#supernatural#dark fantasy#modern fantasy#mystery#cyoa#if intro#if wip#ss about
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My COTL References
(you can use them as inspo if you want)
A little more:
Wow, I didn't think this would take so long, but I think it was worth it in the end.
I have had to look for all kinds of references to be able to draw the bishops in a satisfactory way (references from the game itself, from animals, body types, eyes, and even how to draw cat paws). I think I have done them justice.
Although I don't plan to draw a comic or write a fic, I did want to define my own reference when drawing them. That way my little doodles would have some coherence.
A couple of details from the designer (just me commenting):
• I had to look for references of many body types and choose the one I thought was most suitable for each character. It was a long road!! The most difficult to draw was Narinder.
• Heket's outfit is inspired by a dress I recently saw in a store, it looked like a tunic so I decided to use it as a model. I added the veil because I wanted to cover her head (it's difficult to draw), plus I think it gives her a distinctive touch and personality. She accidentally ended up looking like a very flirtatious nun.
• Kallamar's design was particularly difficult because in the game itself he doesn't have a torso! but for reasons of ease and patience here he is going to have one. It's funny that he's super tall, but he keeps hunching over trying to hear what others are saying (you know, he doesn't listen very well for obvious reasons).
• Leshy was my favorite design! He has all the characteristics that I usually give to a protagonist!! He ended up looking like a young boy who surely likes soccer. I drew him thinking that he would surely like to walk around, so he should be comfortable... but he will surely end up crashing on more than one occasion. The green looks so fluffy!!! ah! but I also gave him a sting (I thought it would be fun)
• Shamura was interesting. I didn't want to give it too many legs, but I also didn't want it to look strange. In the end I ended up taking inspiration from different insect characters I know (like the red guy from Adventure Time). His clothes are all torn, I think he would have a hard time adjusting to them and would end up destroying them very often.
• Although I have drawn Narinder before it is not easy without him looking like an anime boy with a cat head! so it took quite a while to try to get out of there, that's why his proportions look more animalistic now!! I like to think that his body was vaguely more human when he was a god, but that when he transforms into a mortal he becomes more animal-like. It was difficult to design his clothes, but I like the change of coat he has...I hope I don't change it again soon or I'll have to make him a wardrobe.
• I have no special notes about the lamb, except that I forgot to put the leg warmers!! I realized it too late, but let's imagine they are there. I liked designing the second fleece, obviously based on Narinder's.
• As you can see, each of the coats are made from the remains of the tunics that the bishops previously wore. I want to imagine that after they were defeated, the lamb recovered them and turned them into new garments so that they would feel more comfortable in the cult (but also so that they would be distinguished from the common people).
• I have planned jobs and positions that each one would occupy in the cult, but I don't know how close they are to canon since I haven't taken the time to research. We'll see!!
And that's it, if you made it this far, have a candy 🍬 , thanks for reading my ramblings.
#cult of the lamb#cotl#cotl reference#cotl the lamb#cotl the one who waits#cotl narinder#cotl heket#cotl leshy#cotl kallamar#cotl shamura#ane doodles yay!#character design#Chain for a promise AU#CFP au
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Chocolate-covered strawberries
riddle x gn!reader
have u ever wanted to have a (totally definitely platonic with no romantic feelings involved, wdym? *wink wink*) sleepover w riddle? bcs if so, you might wanna read this
thanks to @chillpanda36 's plant related encouragement i am once again riddleposting (hope u dont mind being tagged ＞︿＜)
I kinda got carried away and wrote waaaaay more than I thought i would
"Wow, your room is so... swanky." you commented upon entering his room for the first time. It was decorated in checkerboard patterns and heart motifs, which was very fitting for the dorm of Heartslabyul.
You never expected him to actually agree when you jokingly suggested a sleepover, but you're definitely not complaining.
"Thank you. It was modeled after the Queen of Hearts' castle and has mostly stayed the same throughout the dorm's history. I only made a few adjustments to have it be better suited to me." he explained. Clearly, he took good care of the place since it looked very clean and organised.
"By the way, you won't collar me if I happen to break any of your weird rules by accident, will you?" you were still somewhat worried you'd have to sleep with that uncomfy collar around your neck.
"I will excuse you from the rules, just this once. But do not call the rules 'weird', as it is quite disrespectful to do so." he crossed his arms.
Well, atleast you're glad about that.
You placed down the little bag of stuff you brought with you just for this occasion. You got so excited you ended up planning out several activities for you and Riddle to do.
But first, you have pyjamas to change into! Riddle graciously offered to let you change in his bathroom. Even in there, everything is super clean and organised, almost to a scary degree. Somehow, you get the feeling that Riddle doesn't really know how to "have fun". In a 'casually messing around with firends' kinda way.
After changing into your pyjamas, you call out to Riddle to make sure he's done changing as well. Once he confirms he has, you exit his bathroom to find Riddle in an oversized, frilly pair of white pjyamas, the kind you'd find people wearing in the medieval times. Oh. My. God.
"Pffft.... You-" you had to pause to hold back from laughing. "You look like a starving victorian child." you couldn't help but point out the silly resemblance. The pjyamas brought the whole look together.
"I haven't the slightest clue what a victorian child is, but I am certainly not starving. Why must you constantly insult me with such strange phrases?" Oh, it makes sense he wouldn't get the comparison. And even if he did, you feel like he wouldn't be very amused.
"They aren't insults. Just little comparisons." You smiled innocently at him. While they are just comparisons in a sense, they are usually meant to rile him up a little bit. You just can't help but banter with anyone and everyone sometimes.
Riddle felt a slight shiver run down his spine since you reminded him of a certain someone who likes comparing people to sea creatures at that moment. Though your lovely smile didn't resemble his creepy grin at all.
Lovely... smile? What is he even thinking about right now?
"Are you... good? You're making a weird face." your voice snapped him out of it and he assured you he was perfectly fine. No cause for concern.
"You might not be starving, but are you in the mood for a little snack?" you tried your best to sound enticing, like you're mass advertising the little surprise you brought along with you.
"The rules state that-"
"I double-checked the dorm rules, don't worry. And I also know you don't like junk food, so I made sure my snack is on the healthier side. Sorry for interrupting you, by the way." you laughed awkwardly at his offended pout. But you weren't going to lie, his angry face wasn't intimidating or scary at all (atleast not right now). It gives off more of an 'angry little kitten' vibe to you. But you already made one silly comparison tonight so you feel like Riddle might appreciate this one even less.
"Well then. I'd like to know what it is." he actually seemed pretty interested in what you came up with. You dug around your bag, pulling out a packet of chocolate-covered strawberries.
"Feast your eyes on these bad boys!" the specific choice of chocolate-covered strawberries was a calculated one on your end. You had asked Trey about Riddle's food preferences before, but it was unrelated to this sleepover. You can only thank your past self (and Trey) for arming you with the valuable knowledge that Riddle likes strawberry tarts (and consequently strawberries, you hope).
"Oh. I suppose these look quite tasty." he was actually really pleasantly surprised about your choice of snack. It's surprisingly fit to his tastes.
How thoughtful of you...
"Here, have one!" you actually made homemade chocolate just for these. Trey gave you a good baking lesson on how to do that. So of course, you want him to be the first one to try!
He hesitates for a moment. Although the food you're giving him doesn't break any of the Queen's rules, it still feels off to be eating so late at night. Scheduled meals are so ingrained into his mind that he feels the sudden urge to reject the offer and go brush his teeth immediately.
But something strange blooms in his heart when he sees the excitement in your gaze and he submits, telling himself he'll do it just this once. For you.
He grabs one of the strawberries from the packet, slowly and hesitantly raising it to his mouth as if it were forbidden to eat. It still felt forbidden, no matter how many times he told himself it was fine to let loose sometimes.
"It's... delicious." he comments upon eating the entire strawberry.
"Oh, goodie! I was worried I messed up the chocolate, somehow." his eyes went slightly wide upon hearing that you made part of them yourself. He felt his chest tighten up slighly. In a good way.
"In that case, I shall have some more. And you eat them too, since you prepared them for this occasion." the two of you sat down on the edge of his bed, placing the strawberries in between you so you could both easily reach for them while talking.
You still made sure you swallowed the food before you talked though. To avoid a scolding about proper manners from Riddle.
"So, for this sleepover I was thinking we could try summoning a demon, playing board games, doing karaoke, watching a movie, playing 'would you rather', making a pillow fort, and-"
"What was that first one?" Riddle had never experienced a sleepover before, so he had no clue what people actually did in them but he always just imagined sleepovers were purely sleeping at eachother's houses, not doing anything BUT that. He could barely keep up with all of the things you were listing off, but the first one ESPECIALLY stumped him.
"Summoning a demon? Everyone tries that in sleepovers. Usually doesn't work." you shrugged casually, reaching for another strawberry.
"How... horrific. And utterly nonsensical. What joy do you get from doing something so horrible? Especially if you know it won't work?" he seemed genuinely stumped by the concept, which made you want to laugh but you held back since you didn't want to choke on a chocolate-covered strawberry. It would certainly be a way to go.
"It's about the thrill, Riddle. What if it actually works this time? You never know...." you whisper teasingly, like a narrarator in a horror movie.
"In that case, we are absolutely not doing that." he hates to admit it, but he's actually kind of worried a silly ritual might workmand is taking precautions right now to not let it happen at all.
"Hahaha, that's fine! We can do all the other stuff, then." you decided to take mercy on him after seeing how hard he's trying not to let it show that he's scared of demon summoning games. He reminds you of your friends on your first sleepover when you tried summoning a demon. All of you were acting tough and unbothered back then, but were deathly afraid and unable to sleep after.
When you reached for another strawberry, you just happened to grab Riddle's hand instead. Seems you were both going for the same one. Actually, that one's the final one!
"Oops... you go ahead and take it. I feel like I've had enough." you smiled awkwardly at him. Gosh, is it suddenly slightly hotter in here or is it just you?
"Thank you." Riddle looked away, turning his head so you wouldn't see his reddening face as he ate the final strawberry. He's kinda mad at himself for getting so flustered over an accidental hand hold. Your hand felt so... nice to hold. It would be so nice if he could hold it more often. Gah, what on earth is he thinking?! None of this is rational...
An awkward silence fills the room.
And you get a cheeky little idea.
You picked up a pillow from his bed and threw it at the back of his head.
"Hey. What do you think you are doing-HHMMF!" you threw another pillow, this time directly at his face as he turned around to scold you.
"PILLOW FIGHT!" you yelled out excitedly, already grabbing another pillow to defend yourself with as you scurried on the other side of his bed. You giggled at the way his entire face flushed red with anger.
"That was no fair! I was not prepared at all!" you totally caught Riddle off guard, but now he was prepared to have his revenge. He never had a pillow fight before, but if little kids are capable of having one, so is he. And he is quite confident that his magical abilities will give him the upper hand against you.
"Even if you were, I'd still win! They called me the pillow fight champion back in my world!" you throw a pillow at him, which he stops with his magic.
"Oh, we'll see about that. You've had quite enough of landing hits on me, I believe." he smirked confidently at you, feeling a childlike excitement running through his veins.
Now that he thinks about it, it has been a long long time since he has felt this excited and relaxed. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to do this over and over and over again.
In moderation.
#˗ˏˋ ★ ♡ 「Wolfie’s other works」 ♡ ★ ˎˊ˗#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x yuu#twst x you#twst x mc#twisted wonderland x you#twisted wonderland x yuu#twisted wonderland x mc#riddle rosehearts x yuu#riddle rosehearts x reader#riddle rosehearts x mc#riddle twst#riddle rosehearts#riddle x reader#riddle x yuu#riddle x mc
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Would you write something where the reader feels some kind of insecurity and by talking about it with Spencer she feels better?
Only if you want!
“Spencer,” you murmured from the front desk.
It was already night in the bullpen and there were only the two of you left, so your friend didn't even look up from the reports he was reviewing to respond to you.
"Yeah?"
“Do you think I'm weird?”
"Definitely"
The response had been sudden and playful, probably without any intention of hurting you, but the pencil crashing into his long, golden hair forced him to look at you only for him to realize that you were expecting a different kind of response.
“I'm serious,” you insisted, a little sterner than the first time you spoke.
Spencer observed your lightly made-up face with a smile, not too much to make you look vulgar but enough to enhance your features, and stopped to connect with your eyes, obviously restless.
"Why do you ask me that?"
“Do you think I am?”
“There are many kinds of weirdness, sometimes they don't necessarily involve something bad.”
“Yeah, but I mean like awkward weirdness. You know, those people who are suddenly too loud or too annoying or too… I don't know, just like they don't fit in.”
The tone of genuine concern made him frown and he suddenly wondered why you were having those kinds of thoughts. Had the team done anything to make you feel this way? Spencer wasn't very good with social cues and that's why he constantly felt like a weirdo, but he never believed that someone like you would have those kinds of fears.
You were always so kind and pure, like you didn't care about anything. You had a lovely way of saying things and you brought joy wherever you were. You and Garcia were the best of friends because of that, thanks to the surprising optimism you both seemed to share even in the worst situations.
And then there was him, who loved you like he had never loved any girl even with the few years you had known him. You were passionate about completely random things and he listened attentively to all your talks about why seahorses carry their children or about the life of butterflies or about strange weather phenomena.
Spencer had always seen a little of him in you and that's why he felt great affection, as well as trust.
“I don't think you are. Not like that”
“It's just that the other day... with that officer in Washington I felt pretty stupid, you know?” you started to say. He thanked his eidetic memory because he knew exactly what incident you were talking about. “She was so pretty and professional and I felt like I was thirteen again with a mean girl. And on those occasions I see myself and, I don't know, I feel very weird”
“So what if you are?” He asked nonchalantly, “We all are, haven't you seen who you sit in front of every day?”
That comment finally brought out one of those smiles that he loved to see on your face and so he took it as a victory.
“You're right, it's nonsense.”
“I don't think it is,” he murmured gently. “It's a valid fear, but if you want a professional’s opinion I wouldn't describe you with that adjective. You're not weird, you're more like... unique”
Another smile flooded your face and then you looked away, slightly embarrassed to be having that conversation with your coworker.
"Thanks for being honest"
“Don't be ashamed of who you are. You are wonderful, we are lucky to have you here” he continued. He didn't even have to go out of his way to seek praise for you, his mouth spewed it out as if worshiping you was his full-time job.
“I love you, Reid, have I ever told you that?”
“Not as much as you should, but yes,” he responded and one of your laughs filled the air.
“How about we leave this for tomorrow? And I’ll take you home” you offered and he smiled.
Spencer's voice describing you as something unique would accompany you for the rest of the night and would repeat itself in your mind every time the situation warranted it, reminding you that, in the right eyes, we are all special.
taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @instabull @rhiannonhippiegirl @r-3dlips @missabsey @olivia’s-25 @liptonsbabe
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#dr spencer reid#matthew gray gubler#aaron hotchner#derek morgan#jason gideon#JJ#penelope garcía#david rossi#emily prentiss#spencer reid x you#luke alvez#matt simmons#tara lewis
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Owed It | Jack Hughes
summary: you’re less than happy with how things ended between you and Jack so when the Devils come to Vancouver to play you decide to give him a piece of your mind, but what happens when he has the same idea?
request: yes/no
warnings: sexual themes, p in v, face riding, use the of the word slut once, swearing.
word count: 2.25k
authors note: I sort of merged a request of some prompts for Jack and a part 2 of Misconceptions and Confrontations. Although I have left it on a cliff hanger I’m not going to make this into a full blown series which is why there hasn’t been a Masterlist made for this.
pt 1 | pt 3
To say you were surprised when he showed up at your door it was an understatement.
After your conversations died down in December you pushed him to the back of your mind. Sure it was hard at first as you missed staying up until the late hours of the night giggling as you would be on FaceTime with Jack. But when Tito moved to the Canucks within a month of things pretty much ending with Jack you didn't complain. The Quebec native was fun, sure you two hadn't done anything under your clothing yet but that didn't mean that there weren't a few shared kisses when you two got far too drunk for your own goods or after big games as your own celebration for him.
The Canucks player had come over to grab his suit jacket that had he had left after you two went to watch a movie "thanks again," he smiled as you walked him to the door.
The gesture was innocent as he placed his hand on the small of your back "don't mention it," you shook your head as you opened your front door "Jack?" Your eyes went wide as the two of you were met with the middle Hughes boy.
Jack mirror your reaction as he looked at Tito. The boys had met each other on numerous occasions when the Canadian was still with the Islanders "Beauvillier," he scowled as he sent the older boy a glare.
The creased shirt on the Canucks player was not helping your cause, because to the untrained eye it seriously looked like you were letting him out after you two spent the night together.
Tito wasn't one to be scared of Jack or most players for that matter but the look that he was receiving would have made him a dead man if looks could kill "I guess this is my queue to leave," he murmured as he gave you a side hug before the older boy scurried out of your apartment.
The Devils player was still trying to comprehend what he had just seen "what the fuck?" Jack let out an exasperated gasp as you pulled him into your apartment.
You let out a growl "keep your voice down," you grumbled as it was barely eight o'clock in the morning.
It caused the boy to scoff "so now you care about if others can hear you?" The hockey player shook his head as he placed his hands on his jean pockets.
The comment caused you to grow irritated "last time I checked you are not in the position to parent me," you shot back as your eyes went into a glare.
It pissed you off how nonchalant the boy was "you're the one who left me on read," Jack had been left hurt after you ignored his question asking if you were planning on joining Quinn for the Hughes Christmas family dinner, an event that she was always an honorary guest to.
You grabbed the orange juice from the counter that you had been drinking "you're the one who decided that you wanted to see other people," you pointed out as you waved your finger at him "and I'm not one for sharing." Your voice was a low grumble as you brought the glass to her lips.
Jacks once irritated look was now a smirk "were you jealous?" He asked as he knew you were talking about the rumours that he had gotten back with his ex girlfriend.
The reminder of what happened lit a fire beneath you "you know I actually missed you," you scoffed as you couldn't believe that you wanted to see him.
You saw why you hated him so much back then.
The devils player rubbed his hand against his jaw "I missed you too," he blurted out as he walked over to where you were in the kitchen
"Bullshit," you blurted out as you sent him a glare.
The Hughes brother placed his hands on your hips as he pulled you closer to him "come sit on my face and I'll show you how much I missed you." He murmured as his lips were a mere few inches from your own.
Darting your eyes from his down to his lips your voice went croaky "Jack," you mumbled as you kissed him.
Oh how you missed the feeling of those lips on yours. Weirdly enough though the the amount of hatred in it was next to nothing when compared to the first time he kissed you, dare to say it but it was almost like there was a hint of love in this kiss.
As Jack pulled away from you he caught your lower lip in between his teeth as he gave it a small tug "where's your bedroom princess?" He asked as he cocked his head.
Your furrowed your eyebrows almost like you were confused by what he was hinting at "end of the hallway," you let out a soft gasp as you realised what he was hinting to.
So like any horny girl, you locked your hand with his as you pulled him in the direction of your room "you're so eager," the hockey player teased as he reached under your baggy shirt that was clearly one of Quinn’s as he helped you out of your panties.
As you stepped out of them you couldn’t help but roll your eyes "fuck off," you warned as you shook your head.
Jacks lips turned into a pout "that's not very nice," he had this shit eating grin as he sat on your bed bringing you closer by your shirt.
With his other hand he let it trail over your slit "god Jack just," your voice was breathy as you tried to grind on the individual finger.
The boy lay down flat on your bed "come here," he motioned for you to join him on the bed.
But when you only sat next to him he wasn’t happy "up here honey," Jack tapped his lips as he hooked his hand behind your leg helping move you closer.
As you hovered above his face you couldn’t help but remember why you were so irritated "you got a lot of ner-" you were quickly cut off when Jacks tongue darted inside of you.
You never really thought that Jack was the kind of boy to be a munch but god were you wrong "right there," you groaned as his nose continued to knock your clit.
The sensations were something that you weren’t used to. Sure you had been eaten out before but never like this "fuck!" Your one had gripped at the headboard as your other locked onto his hair.
Jacks eyes never left yours “so good," you moaned as you continued to grind on his face.
His lips moved with a pop as he replaced it with his fingers "you like this don't you?" He asked in a teasing tone.
You nodded as you watched him move back to his original position "yes Jack," you repeated your words as he kissed your clit "fuck yeah I do," your voice was broken as you tried to remain calm.
The smirk on his face was clear and you had to break him "this is what you've been missing out on," your comment drew a moan from his lips.
Playing with fire seemed to be your forte "what Tito had been getting whenever he wanted." You cooed as you forced him by his hair to make him look at you.
You got your wish of pissing him off "off," Jack tapped your thigh as he pulled his mouth away from your clit.
The build to your high was quick to become unraveled "wha-" you grew surprised.
He repeated his words "get off.”
Not wanting to piss him off you listened "I'm gonna fuck you so hard that you'll forget that guys name." Jack warned as he sat up to kiss your lips.
You loved the way that you could taste yourself on his lips "you want me to forget Tito?" You asked making sure that you put more effort into the boys name.
It caused Jacks eyes to grow dark "see that you've still got that mouth on you," he murmured as he ran his thumb over your lower lip.
Nodding with a smirk "would never lose it for you," you explained as the boy pulled your top over your head.
Jack let out this guttural groan "missed these," he reached out to cup your bare breasts.
It drew a giggle from your lips "just my boobs?" You asked as the hockey player got up.
The boy tucked your hair behind your ear "missed all of you," he placed a kiss on your lips.
You watched as he grabbed a condom from his jeans "you knew what was gonna happen didn't you?" A scoff fell from your lips as he nodded.
He smirked as he pulled his shirt off of his head "cause my baby is my cock hungry slut," Jack rolled the condom over his cock “want you on all fours," he added as he motioned for you to flip over.
Your lips form a pout "got a thing for not seeing my face?" You teased as you let out a giggle.
Jack was surprised that you made that comment no matter how playful your voice was "thought you didn't want me to see your face when you came.” He explained as he pulled you closer now deciding that missionary was going to be the preferred position.
His cock teased your clit before he thrusted inside of you “you gonna be a good girl and take it for me?” Jack asked as his thumbs teased your breasts.
The moan you released was your worst enemy “not a big challenge,” you were proud of yourself for getting the words out.
They seemed to egg Jack on as he pulled your legs over his shoulders. It gave him access to fuck you in a much deeper angle “you liking that don’t you?” He smiled when your face scrunched up as his hand went to your clit.
You wanted to reach up to hit him but as he increased his pace it caused your hand to land on your boob “god,” you groaned letting your fingers tease the nipple.
Jack loved the way that you were so responsive to his actions. Sure other girls had been like that in bed with him before but this all felt different.
The girl that he had been pining over since he was a kid. Yes you thought he hated you but of course your mothers were right, Jack had liked you from the moment he saw you on that swing. The reason why he pulled you off of it? That’s simply because you weren’t listening to him.
You let out a moan “you’re so good Jacky,” you cried out as you made grabby hands at him.
It might have been a childish gesture but you missed the feeling of his lips on yours “my little girl wants a kiss?” He asked as he let his lips hover above yours. The angle that he was now thrusting into caused him to be best friends with your g-spot.
Given the new level of pleasure that you were felling all you could do was nod. And luckily for you Jack wasn’t in the mood to tease you. So his lips went on yours as his tongue swiped across your lower lip as he wanted to feel the feeling of his tongue fighting with yours.
When you let out a moan you granted his wish. Jack swore that the moment forced your head into the mattress that he loved you. Seeing you in the position that you were in made him feel like he was on cloud nine “I’m gonna come,” you announced as the boys motions on your clit quickly sped up.
He wanted you to see reach your high first because Jack was literally seconds behind you “go on my pretty girl.” The hockey player smiled as he kissed your neck.
It was crazy how that little moment caused your orgasm to not only come but also it hit you like a truck.
You repeated a string of “oh my gosh” as your pussy almost suffocated his cock “this pussy was made for me fuck,” Jack cursed as his high was met shortly after yours was.
The boy let out a soft laugh as he took in your sensitive state, it was like that simply didn’t change from the previous time you two spent together.
As he slid out of you your body shuddered “sorry honey,” he apologised as he hook his fingers under your jaw so that he could place a peck on your lips.
But when your phone went off you two each looked at the other with wide eyes.
Quinn x: I’ll be up in three minutes
Quinn x: Got you breakfast.
Sure you shouldn’t have been surprised by this, it was your tradition before every home game “fuck,” you groaned as you quickly got up.
You didn’t seem to care that your legs felt like jelly as you quickly tried to get ready “what?” Jack asked as he hadn’t gotten a chance to see the messages.
You didn’t get a chance to answer his question when you heard the front door open “I’m here!” Quinn called out as he shut the door behind him.
You and Jack were now truly fucked.
#jack hughes smut#jack hughes x you#jack hughes x reader#nhl imagine#nhl oneshot#hockey imagine#hockey imagines#hockey smut#nhl smut#oneshots#imagines#amber writes fics
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BRINGING THEM TO THANKSGIVING (PART TWO)
characters: reiner braun, bertholdt hoover, levi ackerman, erwin smith, and hange zoe (gender neutral pronouns for hange!)
description: headcanons on taking your favorite aot characters home to your family for thanksgiving.
read part one here
author’s note: hello! thank you for all the love on the first part of these headcanons. from my love all mine blowing up to also part one of the thanksgiving headcanons, i’m over the moon. i hope these headcanons are just as good, and happy (early) thanksgiving to those who celebrate! maybe i’ll do something christmas related in the future? in the meantime, i’m working on the next part of my haikyuu x the office au, and i hope more people will check it out! <3
REINER BRAUN:
— listen, i love this man, but he’s a mess. he wants to impress your family so bad! it’s so bad that he’s so in his head that he can’t even focus on having a good time. it’s not until you have a little talk with him in private and insist he let loose and try to have fun that he evades his overthinking head.
— despite his mess of a brain, he’s a total catch in the eyes of your grandmother and aunties. they think he’s a total HOTTIE! they can’t believe you bagged him, but at the same time are so impressed. you can’t help but roll your eyes at such comments while reiner has a hard time believing he’s that attractive.
— even if he’s not as tall as bertholdt, he’s still so tall, but has a better time navigating his stature as compared to his much taller best friend. your little cousins are quite amazed by his build, and he basically puts all the men in your family to shame in terms of muscle. good for you, honestly.
— at dinnertime, he feels more at ease and not as nervous when it came to making a good impression. he already left a positive mark on thanksgiving, and that mark continued throughout the rest of the night. everyone sure had no problem making sure that big boy was fed and was thrilled how much he loved everything. all in all, a success.
BERTHOLDT HOOVER:
— bertholdt is such a shy man!! my god!! he’s worse than reiner in terms of nervousness! no wonder they make such a great pair, they’re both wrecks. but bertholdt is sweaty, beet red mess when he walks through the door, and he can only pray no one notices and you don’t scold him for it (which you never would, but he can’t help but think you’ll do it anyway).
— he’s immediately overwhelmed by everyone greeting him all at once, a million words overlapping on another, and you have to tell everybody to call down and not scare him off right off the bat. bertholdt wouldn’t know what he’d do without you, really.
— honestly, take a shot every time someone mentions how tall bertholdt is. you’d be dead from alcohol poisoning before dinnertime, so don’t even try it. but seriously, everyone is so in awe of his height, it’s insane. you’re sometimes tempted to joke he’s not done yet growing just to make everyone sweat a little, but you don’t want to make your man even more flustered than he already is.
— unfortunately, bertholdt is too ridden with anxiety to properly eat his dinner, even if the small bites he ate were absolutely delicious. luckily for both of you, you get to take leftover plates home! the next day, he devoured his leftovers and ended up eating your plate too, but you weren’t mad. at least he enjoyed your family’s cooking in a place where he felt comfortable; at home with you.
LEVI ACKERMAN:
— you almost didn’t want to bring levi to thanksgiving. not because you didn’t want him to meet your family, but because he seemed so iffy on the subject of thanksgiving in the past. but, when you decided to take a chance and ask him about it, he was—much to your surprise—far more than willing to come along with you and even suggested the two of you bring a dish for the occasion (secretly because it was the one thing he could trust to eat).
— the two of you arrive, and you swore levi’s resting serial killer face would be the ultimate death of the holiday. your mother almost jumped when she opened the door and met levi’s piercing gaze, but was thankfully put at ease when he politely handed her the casserole he made with a soft smile. he was even nice enough to give her reheating instructions too. what a king.
— levi shockingly has a soft spot for children. you didn’t know that about him until now when you saw him cradling your baby niece in his arms with ease while she napped peacefully. the sight almost brought you to tears, seriously.
— even if levi didn’t have much of a family growing up, he could find solace in yours, secretly in his mind hoping he could always have things be this way. you were happy to see him happy, even if he had his own quirky ways of showing it, and you were so glad to have taken the leap to invite him to thanksgiving this year.
ERWIN SMITH:
— YOUR HONOR. i’m about to get oddly passionate about this for some reason, but hear me OUT. erwin is literally THEE man you want to bring home to meet your family. so serious. he’s every parent’s dream son-in-law. a father can only hope their child brings home someone like him, and luckily, you did!
— he’s such a charmer, oh my god. he just exudes bde, i’m not sorry (this is crazy coming from me, who was never a huge fan of erwin). he instantly wins over your family. you can’t even be shocked because he does this with every single person he meets, even you, who was swooned upon first meeting.
— he’s good with all the kids, just showing how more perfect he truly is, if that’s even humanly possible. everyone can’t stop talking about how awesome your man is, and you actually are proud of yourself for that. it’s about time you bagged an absolute 10 out of 10.
— when all is said and done, nobody wants him to go, they want him to stay forever! but don’t worry, he’ll come around for christmas, new year’s, and every other holiday after that.
HANGE ZOE:
— ah, my precious hange. they have their quirks, but that’s what makes them so wonderful, and that’s also why you fell for them in the first place. you can only hope your family falls for hange just like you did.
— honestly, hange just lights up the room. their presence has an instant effect on everyone, and some would argue the holiday for better once you two walked in together.
— i imagine hange talks about their inventions to your parents, showing examples of their previous work. it’s all impressive, really. you’ve got a real smarty pants on your hands, and your parents sure are happy about it! they’re just glad you’re not with someone who’s boring.
— they’re a total child at heart, not in a bad way. hange will play with the little ones as if they’re a kid themselves. they’ll even give out piggyback rides but with a little twist. the twist? bouncing around whilst a child is on their shoulders. thankfully, no one throws up.
— during dinner, hange probably thinks of good thanksgiving themed inventions and politely asks to write their ideas down on their phone since there’s a strict no phone rule at the dinner table. thankfully, your family can make an exception… as long as they’re mentioned in hange’s success story.
© plutoccult / 310802. please do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my content in or outside of tumblr. reblogs are appreciated <3
#attack on titan#shingeki no kyojin#aot#snk#aot x reader#snk x reader#attack on titan x reader#shingeki no kyojin x reader#attack on titan headcanons#shingeki no kyojin headcanons#aot headcanons#snk headcanons#reiner braun x reader#reiner x reader#reiner braun#bertholdt hoover#bertholdt hoover x reader#bertholdt x reader#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman#levi x reader#erwin smith#erwin smith x reader#erwin x reader#hange zoe#hange zoe x reader#hange x reader#pluto writes 📝#310802
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all the stars | atwow
| sully!family x fem!sully!reader
summary: based on this request.
warnings: reading feeling insecure, crying, jake and neytiri being the best parents to you
word bank: skxawng- idiot. ite- daughter. sa’nok - mother. itetsyip - little daughter(endearing). mawey - calm.
a/n: hi my lovies !! this is my first ever avatar piece so i’m so very sorry if it isn’t entirely accurate. i also haven’t seen twow yet (but i’ve basically had the entire movie spoiled so😭) so, im always open for criticism and feedback. also this didn’t go in the direction i wanted it to but i still hope you all enjoy this one <3
not proofread
requests open
Copyright © 2023 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.
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growing up as a sully had its hardships. you were different from the other na’vi people because of who your father was. they saw you differently, you had an extra finger, and you were slightly shorter than your siblings and the people in your village.
but, it never stopped your family from loving you unconditionally. jake was your number one supporter, as his firstborn daughter he was highly protective of you but he gave you the freedom you deserved because he knew you could handle yourself and he always kept an eye out for you.
neytiri, your mother was strong, brave, and capable of anything she had to do. you took a lot after her, you were skilled when it came to hunting. she taught you everything you knew. she was so proud to be your mother, to have you as her daughter. you were the most beautiful thing she had done.
you were very close with your siblings. growing up, you were still young with lo’ak was born but with kiri and tuk you would always play with them, you were the big sister everyone dreamed of.
with neteyam, it was different. sure, he may be older but you were always a helping hand if he needed you. or, if he was having a hard time he always came to you. he took care of you as an older brother should, but sometimes he just needs a shoulder to lean on.
“y/n!” tuk cheered as you walked back to your home, you had gone out with kiri for a while to enjoy nature and help your sister find some items for her jewelry making. “tuk-tuk!” you beamed as she ran into your arms. “i made you something!” she handed you a piece of jewelry she had made, “oh my, ewya, this is gorgeous!” you grinned, “thank you” she watched as you put the piece on and she giggled. “so pretty!” tuk left your embrace, leading you back home where you were met with the rest of your family.
on one occasion, lo’ak, neteyam, and your father went out to hunt for a while but when they returned you knew the atmosphere was dull. mostly coming from lo’ak, you felt his sadness. “did he yell at you again?” you pulled lo’ak to the side he nodded, hanging his head low. “i’ll talk with him, okay?” you smiled, bringing your younger brother into a hug. “stay out of trouble, skxawng” the both of you laughed.
you were the daughter and sister they adored.
though, when you arrived at the metkayina clan things shifted. you weren’t as happy as you used to be, and it was hard adjusting to the different lifestyle. it didn’t help how the people saw you as a demon, often making comments on your appearance.
of course, you changed. you were slowly beginning to hate yourself.
“ma ite” your ears perked up, whipping your head around to find your mother who was approaching. “sa’nok” you answered, looking down at the sand. “what is wrong my child?” she questioned, coming by your side. it was late into the night, you weren’t able to sleep. you were tired of being alone with your mind so, you decided to get up and sit for a while in attempts to clear your head.
your family had moved to the oceanside in hopes of refuge. unlike the others, you felt alone. compared to the forest this was all so different, you missed playing in the trees, laying in the lush forest grass with your siblings. getting used to the sand and water was different, but oh was it beautiful.
the others noticed how you were different they’d poke fun at your height, your hands, your fingers, and your hair. it hurt, you’d stay up every night wondering if you were the problem.
were you that much of a disappointment to your family?
you shrugged, turning and facing the sea. “i don’t know, mother” you lied, fidgeting with your fingers. “just could not sleep” you felt her hand rest on your shoulder, of course, you knew that she knew something was wrong. it was your mother, she knew everything. “something is troubling you” you nodded, pursing your lips. “what is it, my child?” tears welled in your eyes, ears flattened as you looked at your lap. “i’m alien. everyone hates me.”
neytiri felt her heartbreak, seeing you like this and thinking people could hate you. how could anyone hate her special girl? she pulled you close to her, resting her head on yours as you quietly sobbed into her chest “oh..itetsyip” she cooed, brushing your hair behind your ear.
“what’s going on?” jake emerges from the hut after hearing a bit of commotion. you both raised your head turning back to find your father. his eyes scanned you, and seeing your puffy eyes he went into full dad mode. then, he looked at neytiri and they held eye contact for a moment.
you weren’t okay.
“what’s wrong, babygirl?” he asked, coming to your side. you felt a lump in your throat when he asked, all this time you had been bottling it up and now, you were about to explode. “i’m so tired” you cried, falling into his arms. jake held you tightly, neytiri rubbing your back gently, “shhh, mawey mawey.” your mother hushed your cries.
“i’m sorry if i’m a disappointment, father. i’m trying my hardest” you cried into his arms. you weren’t able to take the pain much longer. you began to hate yourself. “look at me.” he pulled you from his embrace, holding your face. “you are not a disappointment. i don’t want you to ever say that about yourself again, okay?”
as a father, you’d never want to hear your children say they were a disappointment. you were the greatest thing jake ever did. “yes sir” you nodded, wiping away your tears. “my daughter.” neytiri grabbed your attention, wiping away your tears. “ewya blessed me with the honor of being your mother.” she smiled sadly, “more than all of the stars in the sky, you are so loved. ma y/n” she pressed a kiss on the top of your head.
“let us go to bed now, it is late.” she stood up, reaching for your hands and jake followed suit.
#avatar x reader#jake sully x reader#neytiri x reader#lo’ak x reader#neteyam x reader#kiri x reader#tuktirey#avatar imagine#avatar the way of water#atwow fanfiction#sully family#na’vi reader#y/n#avatar family#neteyam x na'vi!reader#jake sully x daughter#lo’ak x sister!reader
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With Love From
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~800
Warnings: fluff
Request by anon: Hey can i request a Dean Winchester x wife reader that she spoiled and pampering him to much but she don’t cared and she love giving him love, attention, affection, and etc all things him always dreamed?. something cute and fluffy because him deserve all the love from the world.
Summary: You take Dean on a much-needed vacation and give him everything he wants and deserves.
Square Filled: driving in the impala (2022) for @spndeanbingo
Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3
x
“Got your pajamas?”
“Yes.”
“Toothbrush and toothpaste?”
“Yes.”
“What about your chargers? I put an extra one in your bag just in case.”
“What are you, my mom?” Dean jokes. “Yes, I have everything.”
“Okay, don’t come crying to me when you’ve forgotten something and ask to use my toothbrush. I won’t do it again.”
“That was one time.”
“One time too many. We’ve done a lot of things, Dean Winchester, but sharing a toothbrush is gonna be a no for me.”
“Yes, I have everything. Why are you bugging out? You’re never like this whenever we go on a hunt.”
Dean takes both yours and his bags to the library where Sam is. He has his laptop and plenty of books all around him. There is a case not far from here that he is reading up on since he is going to be the one to tackle this case.
“We’re not going on a hunt,” you reveal when he sets the bags on the table.
“What?”
“We’re not going on a hunt.”
“Sam’s been working like crazy about this case a few towns over.”
“Yeah because he’s going to be the one to take care of it. We’re not.”
“Sam, what is she talking about?” Dean asks.
“Dude, I am just as clueless as you,” he chuckles and closes his laptop. “All I know is that I’m doing this one solo.”
“If we’re not going on a hunt, where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“You know I hate surprises,” Dean practically whines.
“Well, you’re getting one today. No hunt. No monsters. Definitely alcohol. Does that sound like a great time?” you smile.
“Sounds like a Saturday to me.”
“Come on, we’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.” You see the look on Dean’s face and immediately shuts down what he is going to say next. “If Sam needs help, he can call Garth.”
“Yeah, go have fun. I got this,” Sam backs you up.
You and Dean pack up the Impala and say your goodbyes to Sam who barely waves you two off. Dean is always the driver unless otherwise preoccupied, so he gets behind the wheel even though he has no idea where he’s going. You’re going to be the navigator for this special trip, only telling him what turns to make right before he needs to do them.
“Shall I put on the special playlist?”
“Special playlist? What’s the occasion?”
“I love you. Is that enough?”
“More than enough,” he smiles.
His special playlist consists of songs he could listen to on repeat for hours. Sam doesn’t let him put the playlist on since Sam complains he needs to listen to more than just classic rock. He claims they all sound the same even though each has their own unique sound.
About halfway through the trip, you stopped to get food at Dean’s favorite diner. He often comes here while on hunts even if it’s hours out of the way. There’s something about the way they make their burgers that has his mouth watering every single time.
“Okay, tell me where we’re going,” Dean chuckles with his mouth full.
“I told you it’s a surprise,” you smile. “You’re going to love it.”
Dean has no choice but to trust you. Once you two get done eating, you get back on the road and tough out the last half of the trip. You took over driving for the last hour just so he wouldn’t be suspicious of where you two were going but as soon as Dean sees the town’s name, he gets so excited.
“Wait, we’re in Mt. Sterling?”
“Yeah.”
You drive to one of the best gun stores in America. They have such a high rating since people from all over the country come here just to buy guns. Dean has been wanting to come here for a long time, and you figure it’s time to bring him. Dean is practically bouncing in his seat when you park, and he jumps out of the car in excitement.
You watch him run into the store with a smile on your face, and you make sure the car is locked before following him inside. He is like a child loose in a candy store or a toy store. He is admiring all of the guns on display, holding them just to feel how they would fit in his hands.
“Pick any you want. I’ll get it for you.”
“Wait, really?”
“Yeah.”
“I love you so much,” he grins and kisses you.
Seeing him so happy brings you so much joy. He doesn’t get a lot of opportunities to be this happy. He doesn’t allow himself to be this happy most of the time, so taking time to give him this is very important. He channels his inner child and goes wild. He settled on another handgun that closely resembles the one he has now, but it has a silencer on the end of it which will make for easy hunting.
After he got all that excitement out, you two headed to the bar across the street to have a few rounds on you.
“How the hell did I ever get so lucky?” he smiles.
“I’m the lucky one, my love. You deserve all the love in the world.”
Dean leans in and kisses you, happy to be yours.
x
Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)
#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester fic#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester fanfic#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester fiction#dean winchester fan fiction#dean winchester fan fic#supernatural#supernatural fic#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural fanfic#supernatural fluff#spn#spn fic#spn fanfic#spn fanfiction#spn fluff
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It will never not be frustrating to me that amputees appear in fiction ALL. THE. TIME. and yet they're almost never acknowledged as such. The Cyberpunk genre is especially guilty of this: amputees and prosthetics becoming a normalised part of life are a defining part of the genre/aesthetic and yet no one even consults with any amputees about how we get represented there. Most writers in those genres don't even consider that giving your characters cybernetic arms and legs means they're an amputee.
CW: Ableism, dehumanisation
This makes it REALLY uncomfortable to engage with stories in the genre because another common aspect of cyberpunk is the idea of losing yourself and becoming something distinctly not-human anymore because you have too many cybernetic augmentations/implants. Shadowrun even has mechanics for this, which state if you get too many prosthetics, which is what cybernetics are 9 times out of 10, your character becomes a monster. These mechanics and discussions surrounding "how many robot bits make you not human anymore" are really, really uncomfortable when you remember this isn't something that's unique to a far-off future setting. Those people you're discussing the humanity of already exist. They're called amputees. If you reframe the question as "how many amputations can you have before you stop being a person" I hope you can see why an amputee like myself is not going to feel safe around you or in your fandoms.
And it's a shame, because I REALLY want to like Cyberpunk. I really, honestly do. I love the aesthetics, I love the idea of big corporations being the villains and the anti-capitalism at the heart of the genre, and I love the idea of prosthetics being not only destigmatised, but desirable. When written from a disability-inclusive lense, it honestly has the potential to be an incredibly uplifting and empowering genre. but as the genre stands right now, it's actively hostile to the very folks who are usually the stars of its stories: amputees, all because people just refuse to acknowledge us.
Cyberpunk isn't the only genre guilty of this, it's common all throughout sci-fi as a whole, but Cyberpunk is the only one where it starts becoming a serious issue due to its rampant dehumanisation of a real group of people. In other sci-fi settings, it's just kind of annoying and while it can be a form of erasure, it's not usually harmful, just...frustrating. Fantasy does it on occasion too, think pirates with a hook and a peg leg, but nowhere near as much.
If you, as an author or creator, use any of these words to describe a character or their tech in a sci-fi setting:
cybernetics/cybernetic enhancements
bionics
robot limbs
cyborgs
augmentations
You are probably writing an amputee. Please, at the very least, acknowledge it, and be mindful that those are real people who actually exist, not just a fantasy group you can speculate about.
edit:
I originally posted this article on my old Tumblr account and lot of people commented/reblogged to tell me that originally in cyberpunk, the "less human the more robot bits you have" only applied to people who opted for their limbs to be replaced by cybernetics, because it was seen as "renting out your body to corporations for money" but people who had to get cybernetics out of necessity weren't impacted. The thing is though, I really don't think that makes it better, for a few reasons. For one, where do you draw the line at "opting" to get a cybernetic prosthetic? This isn't a black and white thing, even in real life. Most amputations are done out of necessity, but there are situations where it's not the only option, just the best one. Talking from personal experience, I lost both my legs below the knee as a baby, that was a pretty clear cut case, I had a blood infection and gangrene and they had to act fast. But the infection caused lasting side effects and impacted my physical body's development and growth. By the time I got to my early 20's it was causing a lot of pain in my right leg, in my knee specifically, and when I got a bone infection in the end of that stump, I chose to have the whole thing amputated up to the knee. They only needed to take a few inches off the end of my stump, but I asked them to go higher, because of the ongoing issues in that knee, issues that would have been made worse by the shortening of the leg. I choose to remove the whole thing, knowing the joint was degrading and I probably would have lost it later in life anyway. Even if it was salvageable, it would mean much more surgery, and I've had enough of those. A boy I played wheelchair basketball with was born with a partially formed leg, it was half the size of his other leg and he wasn't able to use it al all, it was just dead weight, so he opted to get it amputated too for convenience and so he could use a prosthetic on that side. I worked with a girl who's hand didn't form properly in the womb, resulting in a normal palm, but tiny "finger nubs" (her words) with no bones inside. They weren't actively harming her usually, but she opted to get them and the top of her palm amputated after an incident at work where we were tying balloons and one of her nubs got stuck in the knot. She decided to get them amputated because it meant accidents like that would be less likely, and she could use a prosthetic more comfortably. All 3 of these are considered "optional" amputations, so would people like us be penalised in your setting? does it make sense that the technology in your setting can tell the difference, or that corporations would care about the how and why? Even stepping away from medical grey areas, if your character opts for a cybernetic arm because the corporations will financially reward her, and she's struggling to put food on the table without that help, is that really optional?
Don't get me wrong, I do think that idea could work but it would take a lot of work to do well, and most works I've seen don't do the work. Even if they did though, it doesn't change the fact that most modern uses of this trope don't mention that bit or actively ignore it. It doesn't matter in most cyberpunk works I've seen if the amputation was optional or out of necessity, they still are more prone to being seen as "less human" and in most of the sci-fi writing communities I've been part of, the authors are genuinely shocked when I ask them to remember "people with cybernetics are real people already, they're not some far-off-distant future fantasy group, they're just called amputees". Like it didn't even cross their minds. These are the people creating the works in this genre. Even if it wasn't the original intention of the genre, it's still an issue in the modern version of it.
Edit 2:
Elaborated a little more on why I don't think the "only people who choose it" argument works in the edit. Also, please stop telling me that old cyberpunk doesn't have this issue, I literally address that in the post lol.
#Writing Disability with Cy Cyborg#id in alt text#disability#disabled#disabilities#disabled community#disability representation#cyberpunk#scifi#disability in media#writing disability#writing#writer#amputee#amputees in media#writblr#writerblr#authors of tumblr#cybernetics#cyborgs#science fiction#sci fi#science fantasy
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unmasked. yan!childe
index / prev / next / beta reader @lupikekee
warnings: explicit nsfw
You break the surface of the cold waters face first. There’s still a tightness in your chest, but you find it’s just the blanket, all twisted up with your legs and tugging at you. You grumble, still trying to shake off the sticky cobwebs of sleep, and struggle out of bed.
Apart from the ticking of the clock, you realise that a silence has fallen and that you’re alone. A peek out the window reveals that you’ve made it to open sea, which means that everyone can now relax - an occasion for drinking to any Snezhnayan.
You leave your mask, knowing that the others would have done the same, and make your way onto the deck.
Nadia’s the first to greet you, grabbing onto your arms and whirling you into the ring of people grouped loosely around a fire burning in a barrel. “You’re up! We missed you!”
Judging by the way one of the women casts her an unimpressed glance, “we” more accurately means “I”. But you’re grateful for her induction into the celebrations otherwise.
She pulls you down to sit with her on an overturned, oversized bucket. She looks like a wild fae of the forest, her eyes alight from both drink and joy, and her cheeks flushed rosy.
“Your hair’s a mess,” you comment, helping her settle the unruly curls.
She giggles, kicking her feet like a child, and dive right back into whatever conversation they were having earlier.
You feel yourself fading comfortably into the background, smiling and laughing whenever appropriate. Someone passes you a shot of fire water. It goes down like, well, liquid fire, burning down your throat and stomach from the inside, warmth slowly spreading to every part of your body. Another one finds its way into your hand soon after, but this one you refrain from tossing back.
Your gaze wanders out over the deck. The sails flap every so often in a steady wind, the ship cutting through the calm waters like a hot knife through butter. At this pace, you’ll be reaching Liyue the next morning.
The faces around the fire are familiar and friendly, but only a handful of names come to mind. Surely the captain of the ship wouldn’t be excluded from the activities of his own crew…?
A chorus of cheers rises from the men facing me. “El capitan!” one of them cries in a horrible accent, raising his glass and tilting so far back the other men have to catch him. We all turn back in unison.
“Markus!” Ajax calls back, raising a fist in return. He’s lost the red cape, usually draped around his neck and over his back, and his red harbinger mask is also nowhere to be seen. Without it, you think he looks… younger. More normal. Less like a tyrant and more like a boy. “Sorry my business took so long.”
The ring shifts reverently, allowing their leader in amongst their midst. Tartaglia takes a seat on a barrel to your right, heaving a satisfied sigh. A glass is delivered into his hand immediately, and he inhales it just as you had. “Finally. I’ve been on my feet all day.”
The conversation resumes, still cheerful and light-hearted, but it’s hard to ignore the undercurrent that tows you all towards his presence. Drinking or not, a harbinger is still a harbinger, the closest person to the Tsaritsa you’ll ever get to see, someone who can order your execution at the flick of a hand. Some seem to be trying to take advantage of that. Others shy away.
You watch him closely, taking back your second shot. Funny enough, the expression he wears is closer to a mask than it was on the archery field, though he doesn’t have his mask around him now. He laughs and chats with his soldiers just the same, but you can tell that he feels the undercurrent too, like a black hole swallowing a galaxy.
Too much thinking. You pour yourself a third, then a fourth shot.
Now the edges of your vision begin to spark with a mystical light, and the warmth from the alcohol coils in your body like a serpent. The conversation thrums in your temples like a tribal drum, and the pendant of your necklace pricks at the pads of your fingers as you fiddle with it. It doesn’t help.
“I’m going to step away for a bit,” you murmur to Nadia.
She giggles, nodding enthusiastically. She’s had nearly twice as many drinks as you and is likely on the edge of hysteria, but you know someone’ll help her if she passes out.
The front of the ship feels like a world away from the chatter, the wind cutting through your coat and helping to take the edge off the heat inside you. The stars are quiet and calm, twinkling peacefully a million miles away, a soothing sight to your still-unsettled nerves.
You had no fear of the water, but enclosed spaces made you feel like you couldn’t breathe. The ocean felt like your friend. Your cabin… felt like the mouth of a lion, maybe. It was a curious fear, but you’d never been able to figure it out.
You’re toying with your necklace again. The string begins to chafe at the back of your neck, so you pull it up over your head.
It’s a crude thing, a sundial shell wrapped up in a twist of rusty metal and strung up on a piece of cotton rope, but beautiful too. Moonlight shows faintly through its translucent surface, making the shell glow blue.
He had brought it to your bedside as a good luck charm, the same ‘he’ who’d dove into the lake and hauled you out.
Ajax had been kind, and cheerful, and popular amongst the other children because there wasn’t a dare he wouldn’t do. You’d never gotten along particularly before the incident. But afterwards, when grandmothers muttered that the lake had taken your spirit if not your soul, and the other children refused to play with you, Ajax would still spend time sitting in windows and reading fairy tales with you.
“Here you are. I was looking for you.”
You lower the pendant. There’s no need to turn around to see who it is - his slow, measured strides across the deck are telling enough.
“I just needed to clear my head.” You lower your head to tie the necklace back on, avoiding his discerning gaze, his easy smile. “I hope my lord wasn’t too concerned about me.”
The corner of his lips quirks up. “Let me help.” His cool gloves brush against yours.
You hesitate, then lower your hands. He knots the string together deftly, then sighs and takes up a place next to you, leaning on the railing of the ship.
You glance back. Behind you, you can hear the festivities breaking up. Most are returning to their cabins, though a small knot of men remain, drunkenly carolling an old Snezhnayan lullaby to the stars.
“Are you afraid? That people might talk?”
“I might, if there was anything to talk about, my lord.” You allow yourself a small smile as he furrows his brows, evidently displeased.
“Since when did you call me ‘my lord’?”
“Since we were a part of the Fatui, and you became a harbinger.” You nod towards his belt. “Since you wielded a Vision, and I didn’t. We’re not part of the same world anymore.”
Ajax sighs, running a hand through his hair and turning his gaze out to sea. “Won’t you at least call me Childe?”
The drink emboldens you. “It’s a silly name. You could’ve chosen something better.”
The corners of his mouth raise, seemingly against his will. The moon casts the bridge of his nose in silver, turns the blue of his eyes into clear, unfrozen pools, illuminates the lovely flush spread across his cheeks from the fire water. This is Ajax, you think to yourself. The Ajax you knew.
You gradually become aware that he’s giving you a similar appraisal, lips slightly parted as if he wants to say something, and you know - whatever you choose to do now will forever alter the course of your life.
Ajax reaches out and pulls you towards him, and you choose to let it happen.
His sweetness envelops you first, a gentle scent entirely at odds with the rough calluses on his hands. He folds you into his embrace and you tilt your head back, accepting the shy kiss he ghosts across your lips.
“Are you afraid?” you tease softly. “That people might talk?���
His eyes glint dangerously. He kisses you again, but this time urgent, hard, adjusting his grip so he clasps both your wrists. A surprised sound escapes you, and Ajax takes the opportunity to have a taste of you, pressing you backwards into the railing.
He tastes like the sweet aftertaste of hard liquor and fresh spring water, breath shuddering with desire, a low groan rumbling in his chest. No, you think. Not the exact same Ajax you'd known.
You pull back. “Ajax,” you murmur.
There’s no turning back now.
“Come on.” He doesn’t let go of you, tucking you into his side and guiding you to his cabin, set apart from everyone else’s.
It’s warmly lit with a number of wax candles burning low in their holders, parchment and maps scattered across the small but functional desk. Best of all, there are multiple windows, and the moonlight throws a grid of light onto the floor.
Your observing is interrupted when Ajax kisses you again, this time allowing himself a purr of pleasure, kneading his fingers into your sides. He fumbles with the lock behind you, then leads you step by step to the bed, not once allowing you to pull away.
“Since when did you get strong?” you gasp, finally surfacing for air. He cages you in with all four limbs, and you finally understand what that glint is. Hunger. Desire. Desperation, even.
“Since I was a part of the Fatui.” A kiss, on the corner of your lips. “Since I became a harbinger.” On the jaw. “Since I received my Vision.” A trembling, reverent kiss on your pulse. “Since I left Morepesok, and I’ve been thinking of what I left behind since.”
He nudges aside the pendant he gave you, and this time the kiss comes with teeth.
You bite back a whine as his hands paw at your shirt, undoing the buttons with trembling fingers. He blows cool air over the mark, peeling your clothes aside.
“The good thing about the uniform,” he pants, pupils blown so wide his blue eyes look almost dark. “Is that it covers up a lot of skin.”
Before you can protest, he ducks his head, working inward from your shoulder to your collarbone. Each bite feels like an electrical shock. He kisses each bruise gently to soothe the pain, but you're still shaking by the end of it, chest heaving.
You're not sure when he got rid of your clothes, but as he leans back to take a look at his handiwork, your skin prickles under the intensity of his gaze.
“I'm glad you weren't my first,” he mutters, moving down to your chest. “Then I wouldn't know how to make you feel… this good.”
His mouth closes on a pert nipple, and a thumb strokes gently along your slit.
He groans into your soft flesh when he earns himself nothing short of a whimper of his name.
“Ajax,” you plea, your nails scraping against his back. It's too hot, too restrictive, and he rids himself of his clothes too.
He can feel your hole, already clenching and unclenching with want, leaking arousal onto his fingers. He releases your boob, inhaling your scent deeply.
It's sweet and salty and everything he's imagined your love to be. His dick jumps in his pants.
“Fuck,” he hisses, and slides one finger in.
The moan you let out has him painfully hard, but Childe doesn't want to hurt you. He curls his finger inside of you, massaging gently, then pushes in another.
You're trembling now, the pressure in your lower stomach mounting. The cool roughness of his glove against the hotness within you draws moan after moan from you.
“Patience, darling.” You squeeze around him, fast and desperate… and he removes his finger, leaving you teetering on the edge.
“Ajax,” you cry. Smiling, he bites into the softness of your stomach, and this time he catches your hips when they jerk up to collide with his chest.
“I imagined every one was you. I hoped I could fall in love with another,” he confides quietly. Your legs fold up your chest obediently. “But they were just… not enough. They just weren't you.”
“Is this a confession?” you manage to gasp. He's so large, larger than the few you've seen, his hot weight resting on your pussy. You can feel yourself throb, your slit weeping just for him.
“It's a declaration.”
His hands pin your wrists above your head, and he pushes past your entrance.
You make a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan. “Big,” you whimper.
He shushes you, leaning in for a kiss as he inches deeper, bit by bit. You squirm underneath him both in pleasure and pain.
“Tell me if it's too much.” His voice sounds strained. His veins scrape against every inch of your ribbed walls, pulsing and twitching as you swallow him whole. “Oh, baby, so tight, so warm… Baby, baby.” One hand clasps your chin. “Look at me. Don't look away.”
You whine assent. Your whole body alights with sparks, but you can feel him approaching somewhere dangerous.
His tip massages against a sensitive spot, your hips jump up of their own accord, and he slams into that sweet gummy area deep within you.
You throw your head back with a cry of his name, your hips shuddering, grinding you into him as you cum so hard you see stars.
“Shit,” he hisses, and starts thrusting into you.
You fit him so perfectly, it feels like your pussy was already moulded into the shape of his dick. Your walls flutter frantically around him, drawing him deeper, deeper, until he knows his tip is kissing your cervix because you moan with every thrust.
“C'mon baby, one more time, you can cum for me,” he mutters, beginning to lose himself in the obscene squelching of your cum all over him. “Inside, ah, gonna fill you up, gonna cum inside…”
He picks up the pace, and the pressure in your tummy begins to build again. Your back is arching, your hips shuddering, and still Ajax fucks you relentlessly.
“Look at me, baby, c’mon, cum for me, cum together, ngh, together, cumming, cumming, cumming-”
He moans loudly, and you swear you can see heart in his eyes, his hips still pistoning into you as hot, heavy ropes of cum spill into you where you never knew you were empty.
“One more time, yeah?” he pants.
— word count: 2506. thank you for reading!
#cloud writes#genshin impact#yandere genshin#yandere genshin impact#genshin#yandere childe#childe#genshin childe#childe tartaglia ajax#tartaglia#genshin tartaglia#yandere tartaglia#smut#childe smut#tartaglia smut#tartaglia x reader#childe x reader#genshin smut
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