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yinyuedijun · 1 day

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Aventurine doesn't like being understood, but he does like understanding other people. It is essential for manipulation, for scheming, for control. And he likes controlling you especially—for keeping you close but your heart a comfortable distance away, for opening your legs when he wants the pleasure of your body, for playing your emotions however he needs. And the day will come when that skill will be invaluable—the day when he must die without shattering you. (Or: You are the only person in the universe who understands Aventurine in his mother tongue. He often regrets teaching it to you.)

5k words. gender neutral reader, established relationship, angst, non-graphic sex (reader bottoms, anatomy neutral), themes of cultural loss, references to slavery, aventurine’s canonically implied desire to die. MDNI.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin.

Deception does not come easily to him in his mother tongue. His command of it is too weak—and too kind. The universe was a different place in the days when his life was coloured by the warble of Avgin dialect. It felt simpler, partly because he was a child and partly because Sigonia was yet untouched by outsiders. There were no corporations, no casinos, no commodity codes. His entire world was sand, desert, mother, sister, father (or more often—ghost), goddess, tent, wagon, luck, sin, rain, blessing, Avgin.

Katican.

Aventurine is sure that he knew more than just those words. He was fluent as a child. He had conversations with his sister that were complex enough to make his heart hurt, though perhaps his heart was just constantly aching anyway. But the rest of his early words escapes him. He could maybe dredge them up if he thinks long enough, but he also isn't sure if his tongue and lips could form the shape of them anymore. Sometimes he still counts in Avgin, memorises phone numbers in it, but he doesn’t remember the last time he actually strung together a full sentence in the language.

When Aventurine was first stolen into slavery (a word that he had not known as a child, and still doesn't know in Avgin), he wasn’t given a Synesthesia Beacon. He had to rely on his ears and his wits, deciphering the harsh edges of the Katican dialect and then the strange garble of Interastral Standard Language. By the time he had a Beacon installed, it was already translating all speech into Standard—his dominant language.

Sometimes he feels a little aggrieved by it, but at least it wasn't Katican. He'd have blown out his brains if it were.

But it is easy to console himself: Avgin is not a useful language anyway. Dead languages have no value, and the Avgin dialect was killed along with its people. You can’t perform commerce in a dead language, can't negotiate contracts, can't enter a gambling den and use your silver tongue to rob people blind. You can't use a dead language to fell governments and extract resources; you can't use a dead language to bring an entire planet to its knees. You can’t use a dead language to gamble your life; you can't use it to save yourself from the gallows.

You cannot deceive people in a language that is defined by sand, sister, goddess, ghost.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin. His command of it is too weak, and there is no one left to which he can lie, anyway.

When you ask Aventurine to teach you his first language, he gives you an amused look.

“Why Avgin?” he asks. “No one speaks it anymore. I can teach you Common Sigonian if you’d like. Or we could learn Xianzhounese together. Maybe Intellitron code? I know a little.”

“You speak Avgin,” you argue.

“Not often,” he says. “And badly when I do.”

“But it's still your language. And I want to understand you.”

Aventurine has to stop himself from laughing. Understand him? He hates being understood. When people understand him, it makes him predictable. And unlikeable. Hardly a position from which he can manipulate people in.

You understand him well enough to know that.

“You'll have to give me a better reason than that,” he says neatly. “Make it worth my while. Reward me.”

You look at him as you ponder, your eyes lingering on his. Perhaps trying to read him, though he prefers to think you're just enjoying the sight of them.

“I’ll teach you my language as well?”

“You mean—you'll reward my hard labour with more work?” he says, lighthearted.

You frown at him despite the joke. “You don't want to understand me better than what a Synesthesia Beacon would allow?” He blinks, pausing. “It’ll be convenient too. We can talk shit about other people in public and no one will understand us.”

Aventurine considers you. He doesn't like being understood, but he does like understanding other people. It is essential for manipulation, for scheming, for control. And he likes controlling you especially—for keeping you close but your heart a comfortable distance away, for opening your legs when he wants the pleasure of your body, for playing your emotions however he needs. And the day will come when that skill will be invaluable—the day when he must die without shattering you.

He also likes the idea of talking shit in public.

“I'm listening,” he says, voice lilting. You lean in, smiling. Sweet. It makes his heart feel something he isn't used to. Something addictive. Something disgusting. He scrambles to cover it with one of the usual tools: humour or distraction or maybe just plain old lying—his most reliable weapon.

“I'll throw in a kiss?” you try.

He hums. “Just one?”

“One per day.”

“Three.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“Well, I am a businessman.”

You snort, but he knows you're endeared. You have very noticeable tells when you’re flustered.

“Okay,” you say. “Three kisses on days you teach me.”

“Deal.”

Aventurine remembers more Avgin than he thought he would.

It comes to him slowly, painstakingly. You aren't interested in structured lessons, and he wouldn't be able to provide them anyway. He has a nonexistent grasp of grammar aside from this sounds right and that sounds strange, and Avgin dialect is both so niche and so dead that no textbooks are available. The scholars have abandoned the language as much as the politicians abandoned its people. Aventurine only has you, his fragmented memory, and whatever questions come to mind as you live out your days with him.

Mostly, you ask him about basic vocabulary. Sometimes you ask him to repeat sentences from your conversations in Avgin, like he’s some kind of multilingual parrot. Each prompt forces him to wade through the fog in his mind, the one that’s been shrouding his childhood memories until now. He's startled at how naturally the old words roll off his tongue: One, two, three, four. Good morning. Good evening. Good night. Sweet dreams. Five, six, seven, eight. You're lying to me. Why do you always lie to me? I don't know what you're talking about. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Welcome home. Have you eaten? Have some bread. I made you stew. Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty. That was dangerous. I thought you wouldn't make it back to me. Sometimes I think you want to die. One hundred, one thousand, one million, one billion. I'm sorry. Come here. Let me kiss you. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

When you say, How do I ask you to let me hold you, he answers easily. He'd heard the words so often as a child: Let me hold you, Kakavasha. Let Mama hold you. His mouth forms the sounds without conscious thought.

He regrets it almost immediately.

When Aventurine hears it from you—stilted, halting, but no less gentle—he stops breathing. Let me hold you. You say it all the time in Standard, but it feels different in Avgin. More painful. A strange sense of panic closes in on him when he's wrapped up in you, thinking in Avgin, thinking sand, sister, goddess, ghost. He holds you tightly, like the rags cut from his father’s shirt, or his mother’s locket won back from the shell-slashers, or a bag of poker chips beneath a card table, clutched within his trembling grip.

“Aventurine, is something wrong?” you ask in Avgin, and he replies in Standard with his usual smile.

“Hm? No. What could be wrong if I have you here?”

Lying is one of his greatest tools. Sex is another one. So he says, “I think I'd like my reward now,” and he runs his lips along your jaw, your pulse, the spot over your heart (there's a word for that in Avgin but not Standard, he tells you), until you're laughing. I thought you wanted three kisses, you tease, and he replies, Who said I wanted to kiss you on the mouth?

But he coaxes open your thighs, and once he's inside you, he collects his payment properly. He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you—and you swallow his lies whole.

There are some things that Aventurine doesn't teach you. Mostly, they’re things that he can’t teach you.

There are countless gaps in his Avgin. His speech is painfully childish—probably more childish than it was when he actually stopped speaking it. He doesn't know how to swear (something that disappoints you) and he doesn't know how to flirt (something that devastates you). He doesn’t know any words that would be useful for work either: commercialization, governance, stakes, winnings, profit. When you ask him what his job title is in Avgin (“Was senior management even a thing in Avgin society?”), he laughs and gives you the word for gambler.

Then there are the words that he remembers—has remembered his whole life—but never says. Not to you, and not to himself. He doesn't teach you any prayers. He doesn't teach you any blessings. He doesn't teach you about Mama Fenge, or the Kakava Festival, or how the rain fell when he was born. When you ask him, What holidays did you celebrate when you were little? he shrugs and says, We didn't have any. Sigonia’s too bleak to do any partying.

Then you ask him one day, while your bodies are spent in the afterglow of sex, sticky with sweat and sweetness, how to say I love you. And he goes quiet.

Love is a cheap word in Interastral Standard. In the language of globalisation and trade, love has been commercialised, commodified, capitalised for power. You say it to him in many contexts: I love this, I love that, I love you. He hardly ever reacts, and he's never said it back. It would feel unnecessary and also cruel if he did: Aventurine has only ever said the words himself as either a joke or a manipulation.

But love feels different in Avgin than in Interastral Standard, doesn't sound like a thing that can be traded or bought. Kakavasha only ever said the word love to his mother, to his sister, to his father's grave. Love in his mother tongue feels priceless.

When Aventurine thinks about you saying it—I love you, Kakavasha, in clumsy, earnest Avgin—something so painful swells in his throat that he can hardly breathe.

“There is no word for love in my language,” he tells you.

You blink. “Okay, then what's an idiom for it?”

“There is none. There’s no word or phrase expressing love.”

You raise a brow. “That’s hard to believe.”

“Is it?” He smiles. “There’s no Avgin in the known universe who cares about love. Only scheming, thieving, and treachery—and you can't do those things when love is involved.”

You look at him in alarm. “Why are you saying that?” You're practically squirming in your discomfort. “I don't know why you think I'd believe such a racist stereotype.”

“It’s not a stereotype,” he says. “I'm not talking about the Avgin culture. I'm talking about myself.”

After all, he is the only Avgin left.

It is an unfair thing to say. A cruel thing to say. After all the laughing and kissing and crying and fucking, after all the tender eyes and gentle words from you—it is probably the worst pain imaginable: I don't give a shit about you. He waits for you to cry.

But you only stare at him calmly, studying him. You brush the hair out of his eyes, seeing them clearly.

“If you lie to me all the time,” you say in Avgin, “eventually I'll stop believing anything you say.”

Aventurine is speechless. His heart does that addictive, disgusting thing again. He thinks about leaving, but then you say, Let me hold you, and he can't do anything other than obey.

Avgin dialect was once included in the Synesthesia Beacon list of functions. The Intelligentsia Guild added it before the Second Katica-Avgin Extinction Event, when the IPC was trying to get a political foothold on Sigonia via the Avgin people. The language was alive then, with enough value to be included into the Synesthesia LLM by the linguists.

But since the Extinction Event—since Kakavasha ran away from home—the Synesthesia data on Avgin has been stagnant, a fossil. Aventurine knows because he's subscribed to software updates for certain languages (Avgin Sigonian, Common Sigonian, Interastral Standard, and now your mother tongue). He gets pinged every time there's a new addition for slang, for neologisms—but there hasn't been a ping for the Avgin dialect since he had the Beacon installed. The live translation function hasn't even been available since the previous Amber Era. When he checks its page on his Synesthesia app, it's very clear why—

SIGONIAN, AVGIN DIALECT SPEAKERS: 0 STATUS: Extinct END OF SERVICE: 2156 AE

The complete death of the language has led to an irritating dilemma for you and Aventurine. You keep running into words that he doesn't know—this time not because of his childlike speech, but because they never existed in his language to begin with. Ocean, tropical, rainforest. Starskiff, accelerator, space fleet. Stock market, shortselling, mutual funds. Black hole, event horizon, spaghettification. All things that never came up for Kakavasha, but now come up for Aventurine, and the language has not evolved to include it.

He always wants to switch to Standard to discuss these things, but you're insistent on speaking in Avgin as much as possible. He doesn't know why, but he doesn't mind humouring you—partly because he likes to indulge you, and partly because he’s grown used to hearing the honeyed timbre of Avgin dialect in your household. The place would feel strange without it.

So you start filling the gaps with other languages, filtering them through the lyricism of Avgin. Loanwords, he thinks they’re called. You take ocean, tropical, rainforest from Amazian; starskiff, accelerator, space fleet from Xianzhounese; stock market, shortselling, mutual funds from Interastral Standard. For the astrophysics terms, you try directly translating them—with limited success.

“Can't I literally just say ‘black hole’?” you ask in Avgin, and he nearly spits out his coffee.

“Please don't. That's a dirty word.” He can't bring himself to say what it means, but from the way you’re laughing, you can clearly guess.

“I thought you said you didn't know how to swear.”

“You've just reminded me how.”

“You're welcome.” You look on the verge of cackling. Aventurine finishes his coffee and wonders when you're going to surprise him with your newfound vulgarity.

“Let's just do the space terms based on Standard,” he says. Begs.

“No, that's so boring.”

“Then let's do your language.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Give him a blank look.

“You don't know how to say those words in your mother tongue either, do you,” he intuits.

“Well, ‘spaghettification’ doesn't really come up in everyday conversation, does it?”

“Then maybe we don't need it.” He smiles, senses an opportunity. Smells blood. “How about ‘love’? I'd much rather know how you say that. I bet it sounds beautiful.”

You give him a long look. Your eyes are vulnerable when you share it: Love. I love you. He’s fascinated by the sound of it. Your voice is never that fragile when you say it in Standard. It's never so earnest. He repeats it, staring at you, and your gaze falls to the ground. His mouth curls.

“I like it,” he says. “Let's use that. It'll sound nice in Avgin.”

You try to recover. “Sure. That works. But back to ‘black hole’—”

And the two of you continue like that for days, weeks, months. It feels like a complete bastardization of his mother tongue on some days, in some conversations. Almost unrecognisable. But it doesn't feel bad. It’s all he has, it's all you have, and when he walks into your home, he starts speaking it without thinking: your bastard, patchwork language. The Avgin dialect that exists only in your house. A tongue that can only be understood by a liar.

And then, one lazy Sunday morning, he gets a familiar ping. He expects it to be Interastral Standard, as usual. The language balloons with each planet that the IPC colonises.

But instead, he opens his screen and freezes.

SIGONIAN, AVGIN DIALECT SPEAKERS: 2 STATUS: Endangered. SERVICE RESUMED: 2157 AE NEW UPDATES: 103 loanwords and 5 neologisms added.

He can't stop looking at the status. Endangered. Endangered, which means dying, but alive. The Avgin dialect is alive again. The Intelligentsia Guild determined it, so it must be true. But Aventurine can't agree: there are no Avgin speakers in the known universe other than the two of you, and what you speak isn't real Avgin. The Avgin spoken by his mother and father and sister is dead; the Avgin spoken by Kakavasha is dead. The festivals are gone; the deserts have been terraformed. There are no wagons; there are no dances; there are no prayers. There are no blessings, and he has no home—

As long as you are alive, the blood of the Avgin will never run dry.

His throat locks up.

“Aventurine?” you ask. Your voice is drowsy, but concerned. “Is something wrong?”

He looks at you from his phone, a polished smile on his face.

“No.” His syllables are plain and efficient in the noise of Interastral Standard: “Just looking at details for a new assignment. It’ll be a long one.”

“Oh.” You frown. “Will you be away from home for a long time, then?”

He stops himself from swallowing. “Yes, I'll be away from the house. For several months, probably.”

“Okay.” Your voice is small. “Take care of yourself, okay? I'll miss you.”

Each word you speak resonates with heartbreak. It always does in these conversations, even in Standard—but the sorrow is amplified in Avgin. His mother tongue has an inherently sad quality to it, he's noticed. His people have lost so much over their history—their language is one of loss. It's his language of loss. Kakavasha did all his grieving in Avgin; Aventurine has never felt sorrow in Standard. When the language died, so did Kakavasha—and all his regrets with it.

“You'll come home to me, right?” you ask. It's a beautiful sentence in Avgin. A heartrending one. He feels something that he hasn't known since he was a child.

It's a feeling he has to kill.

“Yes,” he says in Standard. “Of course I'll come back.”

This is not the first time that Aventurine has been mistaken for dead, but this is the longest time.

The latest world to join the IPC network was a tough acquisition. It had been ruled by a despot who wreaked havoc on both the people and the planet, and who was too stupid and reckless to resolve conflicts with his trade partners. He probably would have blown up the whole star system had he been left to his own devices. Aventurine had no qualms about bringing him to ruin, nor did he have qualms about nearly dying in the process.

If things had gone his way, he'd either be dead or missing. This would have been the perfect opportunity to do the latter, actually—to be freed from the IPC. Free to drift alone, speaking with strangers in strange, unfamiliar tongues. No connection to his past, to the cruel history of his luck, to his commodity code. No tether to his inherently unjust destiny. But instead he's back in your house, pockets heavy with his borrowed wealth, speaking to you in his bastardised, childish Avgin. I'm sorry. Come here. Let me kiss you. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

Your Avgin is—shockingly fluent. He doesn't know how. He can't think about it right now. All he can process is the wounded animal noise of your speech as you yell at him, as you cry. Like an injured songbird, or a weeping child. Why did you leave, why did you lie, why do you always lie to me, why don't you give a shit about me, you spit. Why do you want to die, why do you want to die, why do you want to die, you keep saying. Sand, sister, goddess, ghost, he keeps hearing. Sand, sister, goddess, ghost. Don't leave me, big sister. People will die. Why do you have to go?

“I’m sorry,” he tries again, this time in your language. “I'm so sorry. Come here. Let me hold you.”

You collapse into your mother tongue. Aventurine is both relieved and horrified. Relieved that he doesn't need to hear the language of his grief—horrified that he needs to hear yours. He's never heard you cry like this. He's never heard you break like this. These must have been the words you used when the soldiers found you hiding in your closet, when they dragged you out of your home. You were just a child.

Aventurine doesn't know the words you are using—you've never taught them—but he still understands them.

You're very malleable when you’re sad; even more so when you're hysterical. Aventurine understands this about you, and he understands how to calm you—this time in your native tongue—and he understands how to kiss you. He understands that you need to feel close to him. He understands that there are ways to accomplish this other than sex. A normal person would talk it out, have an honest conversation, come to a mutual understanding, and maybe even stop trying to kill himself. They wouldn't fuck you into the mattress while your face is still wet with tears.

But Aventurine is not a normal person. He doesn't know how to have an honest conversation, and he doesn't want to be understood. Lying is his greatest weapon, and sex is a close second. So he kisses you until you’re too breathless to cry, fucks you until you can't think, and makes you come so hard that you’re in too much bliss to grieve. And maybe it's horrible of him, but he enjoys it. He enjoys the way your body takes him in so easily, the way your nails dig into his back, the way you tighten around him when you climax, so wet and needy for him. The way you beg for him in your language for liars as he spends himself inside you: I love you, Aventurine, I love you, I love you, I love you—

Only because it feels good. This is all only because he enjoys fucking you. This is all only because you enjoy fucking him. This is all it'll ever be, and it'll be this way until he gets to meet his end.

(Some months ago, Aventurine started dreaming in Avgin.

It surprised him when he first noticed it. The last time he remembers having a dream in his native tongue, he was twelve years old and still in chains. And even then, it had become a sporadic, strange thing. Awful to wake up from. One minute he was with his mother and sister on a cool, rainy day, speaking fluently in Avgin as he laughed and played—and the next minute, he was being shaken awake in his cage, hearing the cruel lash of Katican.

But ever since he's started speaking Avgin with you, he's been dreaming in it. Vividly. Sometimes he's a child in these dreams, and sometimes he's grown. He's always back in the Sigonian desert, among the tents and the campfires and his family wagons. His mother and sister are alive. Sometimes his father is too. The skies roar with thunder and the stellar winds are always harsh, but they always keep him cocooned up in their arms. He's always warm.

Sometimes Aventurine dreams of nicer days. Clear skies, warm sun, cool breeze—all blessings from the Mother Goddess. On these days, he tends to be an adult, and you tend to be there with him. Your Avgin is fluent but strange, filled with funny loanwords and peculiar slang. His father likes the neologisms and starts using them—but only in wrong ways. His sister finds it embarrassing and keeps apologising to you.

His mother loves you. She loves you so much it hurts. This is how I know you're blessed, Kakavasha, she says, glowing. You’re so lucky to have found such a kind person.

Kakavasha knows this. He knows he's lucky, and in his dreams, that isn't a bad thing. In his dreams, his luck means that his home is not violently excised from his heart: his father never dies; his mother never dies; his sister never dies. The tents are not burned; the wagons are not destroyed. He is never forced to forget his people's dishes, their songs, their language, their joy. And in his dreams, his luck means that he meets you anyway, without all the loss and the chains and the lying.

In his dreams, he is able to bring you to the desert. He is able to teach you the Avgin he spoke as a child, to cook all the meals his mother used to make, to share with you their coffee and their tea. He teaches you prayers. He teaches you blessings. He tells you about Mama Fenge, about how the rain fell when he was born. He takes you to the Kakava Festival, shows you how to dance, sings to you all the Avgin songs until you're singing back. He presses his palm to yours in prayer; he kisses you in devotion, not avoidance.

Sometimes the two of you still fight, the same fights that you have in real life, but he handles them with honesty. He listens to you. He apologises to you. He tells you that he’ll change, and he means it—because this world is a kind one, and he has no need to be so cruel to you.

In this kind world, when you lay in bed with his arms tight around you, you smile at him and say, I love you, Kakavasha. You say it in Avgin—real Avgin, not the dialect born from genocide and deceit—and when he responds, there's not even a little bit of insincerity in his voice. Because Kakavasha never became Aventurine in these dreams, so he has no Interastral Standard in which he can lie to you, no silver tongue with which he can manipulate you, no commodity code that inspires his fear of being controlled by you. Kakavasha only knows Avgin, and he only has his sand, his family, his goddess, his home.

And he has you. Finally, he has you.

He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you—and then he tells you the truth.)

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin.

You noticed this very early on: whenever he lies to you, he always switches to Interastral Standard. Probably he wouldn't be able to do it in his mother tongue. His command of it is too weak, and the words he knows are all too kind. He speaks with the innocence of a child, and children cannot deceive people in the way that adults can. Children cannot perform commerce or negotiate contracts. They cannot use a silver tongue to rob people blind. They cannot save themselves from the gallows.

So Aventurine’s Avgin is defenceless. Vulnerable. So vulnerable it hurts. You are not so vulnerable in your first language because your captors spoke it on occasion, and you learned to lie in it to gain their pity. You told Aventurine that knowing it would help him understand you, but this was a deception. Aventurine’s mother tongue was a language of trust, but yours is a dialect of abuse.

The Avgin language died before Aventurine could be gutted by it; this is why it disarms him so completely. This is why he’s so indulgent and so warm when you use it with him, why he yields to all your requests. Not requests for money or gifts—you’re certain those are meaningless to him—but for affection. Let me hold you. Let me touch you. Let me kiss you. He can never say no.

This is also why he loves hearing you speak his mother tongue, you think—it makes him feel at home, it makes him feel safe. Maybe it even makes him feel loved. He never seems so at peace speaking any other language, so you try to use Avgin as much as possible. You like seeing him happy. You like it even if it means you need to teach him your own native language in exchange, even when it means you need to hear him say all the things your captors used to say. You don't mind it if it's him. You never mind the harm he inflicts on you, especially not when it brings you closer to him.

It is convenient that he cannot lie in Avgin. You only wanted to learn it in the first place because he talks in his sleep—mostly in Standard, but sometimes in his native tongue. And now that you know he cannot lie in Avgin, you also know he's always being honest in his dreams. Honest when he throws his arms around you in his sleep. Honest when he grabs you so tightly that you bruise. Honest when he buries his face into your neck and whispers prayers into your skin.

Most of the words he says are common ones, the earliest vocabulary that he taught you. But there are some things he's withheld from you—and to learn those things, you had to track down linguists from the Intelligentsia Guild, bribe them with your dirty money, have them give you all their deprecated, extinct data. It felt two-faced, and it was violating, but it was the only way. You already know that Aventurine would rather die than translate his feelings for you, would never want this part of himself understood.

I'm sorry for always leaving you.

I'm sorry for making you cry.

I can't bear the thought of losing you.

Freedom would be too lonely without you.

I don't want to hurt you anymore.

I don't want to lie to you anymore.

I missed you.

I want you.

I need you.

I love you.

end

afterword

#aventurine x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #x reader #hsr smut #aventurine smut #lol it isnt really smut but it is nsft i suppose #nsft #yueshuo.fics

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enwoso · 2 days

Text

BORROWED. NOT STOLEN - alessia russo

*i have quite a few alessia fics that im working on atm but if anyone has any requests for players then lmk because im open to write for other players<3*

"LESS! hurry up man!" you shouted across the room as you stood watching your girlfriend dawdle down the stairs. you and the blonde had been asked to film a diary room episode together — a way to document any world cup memories.

where the pair of you would sit down and basically talk about camp and other things until the media team had enough content.

watching as alessia walked down the stairs scrolling through her phone as a small smile was on her face which to you felt like years but finally after ten minutes it wasn't even two she had made it to where you were stood.

"i think i've aged about fifty years in the time it's took you to walk down fifteen steps!" you huffed as alessia looked up from her phone slotting it into her blue england shorts, smiling as you shaking her head a little at your dramatics.

"yeah? you look it too!"

you knew that was coming, rolling your eyes and smacking the blondes shoulder pushing her slightly as she held back her laugh.

"baby, i'm joking" she said while swinging her arm and wrapping it around your shoulders, pulling you closer to her as she placed a soft kiss to the top of your head as you began to walk towards where you were filming.

"your lucky i love you russo!"

you sat down first on the couch as alessia slotted down comfortably beside you, as she sat a little lower making sure her head rested on your shoulder making you look like the taller one when in reality it was the polar opposite.

"okay, you ready?" you asked the blonde after being given the run down from the camera men as the cameras began to film.

"hi guys, i'm y/n.." you smiled waiting for alessia to say her name but instead there was an awkward pause until a yelp escaped the blonde from you elbowing her in the ribs in order to get her attention.

"ow! what was that for-"

"introduce yourself!"

you cut the blonde off as she held her side dramatically even though you had barely touched her. "you said you were doing the introductions!" alessia defended herself.

you sighed, "no i said i would- oh nevermind,, im y/n and that's alessia" you smiled at the camera, pointing at yourself and then at alessia who looked confused.

filming got to a great start, and it got to the point where you actually forgot you were being filmed, "OH my fear of spiders is totally normal, at least i'm not scared of turkeys" you teased. it being your turn to poke fun of the blondes fears as she had just spent to last five minutes poking fun at your totally normal fear of spiders.

you began to recount the story of the other day, when the two of you were out on a walk in your down time in australia.

"no did you not see them, they did start and charge at us!" she defended as you gave her a side eye look, "i wouldn't say charging"

"oh i would!"

"it's was walking and minding its own business!"

"yeah.. but it did look us in the eye."

"then you began to use me as a shield as you hid behind me" you smirked, knowing the blonde was a lot taller then you and your small frame was never going to protect her from anything. "well i wasn't getting eaten by a turkey! england wouldn't have there stargirl then" she defended herself as you scoffed rolling your eyes at her cocky comment.

"oh so instead i'm just turkey bait to you,, cheers less!" you rolled your eyes as she began to plead her case of 'that's not what i meant!' as the filming carried on.

"in the eighty-" you began talking as alessia looked at you not that she was listening and you could tell.

"did you come in here with that cap on?" she asked you, making you stop your story as you looked at her with a strange look.

"yeah?" you responded as she looked at the black cap that was on your head, snatching it from your head and messing up your hair in the process and then placing it on her head instead.

she turned around, and back giving you a dramatic pose as she looked at you with a serious look trying to hold in her laughter. "do i look good?" she asked as you nodded, alessia beginning to pose more.

"here comes the vogue model!" you whispered, still loud enough for people to hear you. "think this suits me" she says to herself as your still smiling and laughing at your girlfriends antics.

"do you just want my entire wardrobe?" you jokingly asked knowing the blonde had quite a few of your clothes in her wardrobe however realistically it was nothing compared to amount of clothes you had 'borrowed' from the blonde.

"i've only got your cap!" she smiled turning to look at you, "and anyways your one to talk, there my joggers!" she said pointing to the grey joggers you were wearing. you gasped, "they are not, these are actually mine ms russo"

the blonde's eyebrows rose as she smirked pointing to the initials that were embroidered next to pocket, "AR, yeah?" she hummed a smirk on her lips as she knew she had caught you in the act of stealing her clothes once again, as you paused for a minute coming up with your next line.

"th-that means nothing, it just the brand name!" you scoffed coming up with a half-assed excuse as alessia rose her eyebrows trying her best not to burst out laughing.

"mhm, what brand?"

"oh not sure, mum bought them for me for christmas!"

you sighed throwing your hands in the air, as alessia began to laugh not being able to hold it in any longer as you rolled your eyes playfully as her.

"you've stolen my hoodies though, and it wouldn't surprise me if you were wearing my socks!" alessia pointed to the black adidas hoodie you were wearing and then to the white adidas socks you were wearing.

shaking your head as you began to plead your innocence once again, "the hoodies borrowed, not stolen." you began really emphasising the word borrowed. "and the socks are actually mine!" you smirked as alessia hummed side eyeing you.

"really?"

"yes!" you say looking at the camera but mouthing 'no' but alessia can't see as she's sat slightly behind you. "doubt that!" the blonde mumbled as you turned to her and began to laugh.

"no.. th-there actually georgia's but i don't think she knows" you say in between giggles, exposing yourself meaning georgia will definitely know because even if she doesn't watch the video on youtube, alessia will make it her mission to tell her.

"so the two huge suitcases you brung to australia" alessia began as you turned to her and slotted back into the gap at the side of her, nodding slowly unsure as to where she was going with this sentence. "what did you actually bring, because i think i'm yet to see you in your own clothes." alessia continued.

"as if you didn't bring three whole suitcases with you!" you defended yourself, as her and katie had packed enough for the two of them two move to australia as everyone else in the team had two bags.

"yeah, but i haven't been living out of someone else's wardrobe for the past two weeks like some"

"i did bring clothes! these slides are mine!" you smiled bringing your cream slides into the camera angle, as you tried to bargain your case when in reality you just liked to wear your girlfriends clothes — they were comfy and as a big bonus they smelled like her.

"your such a big dope!"

"your big dope though." you smiled looking at alessia as she too had a huge smile on her face as the blonde brought you closer to what you thought was a hug instead she was putting you in a headlock.

"thanks for watching, i've been-"

"ALESSIA MIA TERESA RUSSO! let go of me now!”

"i've been alessia and she's been y/n!"

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vanteguccir · 1 day

Text

You Make Loving Fun | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where the sun inside Matt fell in love with the moon inside Y/N; OR, 4 moments between sunshine Matt and grumpy Y/N.

Warning: Mentions of blood and pain.

Requested?: Yes, by anon

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N has always been known for her serious expression and sarcastic humor. She had a cynical view of the world and seemed to find fault with almost everything around her. On the other hand, Matt was the complete opposite. His smile was like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, brightening up any room with his contagious positivity. It was as if he was determined to find the good in everything, no matter how dark it was.

The two were in the same class together at Boston high school, part of the same group of friends, which meant they did a lot of group work together, and it was precisely there where their contrasting personalities often collided. Y/N was meticulous and perfectionist in her work, while Matt preferred to approach topics with a more relaxed and laid-back attitude. This often put them at odds, but it also created an interesting dynamic.

One afternoon, during a school work meeting at the triplets' house, Y/N was particularly grumpy. She had faced a series of setbacks in her home and was on the verge of exploding. Matt, as always, tried to cheer her up with his light humor and unwavering optimism.

"You should relax a little." Matt murmured with a smile as his right hand worked quickly with his computer mouse, putting together the perfect slide for the presentation that would take place the next day, using Nick and Alahna's notes and research. "Not everything has to be so serious all the time."

Y/N rolled her eyes from her spot on the edge of Matt's bed, pushing the notebook that rested on her thighs roughly, feeling frustrated with his persistent attempt to lift her spirits. She knew he was just trying to help, but at that moment, all she wanted was some peace and quiet.

However, something inside her changed when she lifted her gaze to Matt's smiling face, who was still holding the mouse as he watched her from the corner of his eye. In that moment, the girl saw beyond the surface, beyond the facade of constant happiness. She saw the genuine kindness in his eyes, the compassion in his smile. And for the first time, something inside her crumbled, breaking the wall that had held firm for so many years.

A small smile began to form on Y/N's lips, almost imperceptible, but still present. It was a smile that lit up her entire face in a way never seen before and made her eyes shine with an inner light that had long been dormant.

Matt was surprised to see Y/N smiling, abandoning his task instantly and turning his face completely towards her, trying to make sure he was actually seeing that. It was as if he had witnessed something sacred, something few were lucky enough to see - maybe only him. The brunette was speechless, simply admiring the sight before him.

"What?" Y/N asked, noticing the look of shock on Matt's face, her smile fading almost automatically, giving way to her usual frown.

"It's just…" Matt began, struggling to find the right words. "It's the first time I've seen you actually smiling. And it's so pretty."

Y/N felt shy by the compliment but also inexplicably happy. She had never realized how her smile could affect someone so deeply, especially someone like Matt, who radiated joy wherever he went.

"You should smile more-"

"Shut up."

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The night was calm when Matt returned from his hockey practice, but the mood inside the triplets' house was far from peaceful. He walked through his bedroom door with his shoulders hunched and his face pale, showing the anguish that consumed him inside and out.

Y/N, who was sitting on his bed reading a book while she waited for him - a habit created between them, and which his parents and brothers adored - looked up when hearing the door open. Upon seeing Matt, she immediately noticed something was wrong. Her heart sank while witnessing the boy's low stance.

"Matt? Hey, what happened?" She asked, setting the book aside and quickly standing up from her previous seat, walking towards him with a frown decorating her face.

Matt didn't respond right away. Instead, he broke down when his ears finally heard the voice he had waited for so many hours, tears flowing freely down his face. He was shaking, struggling to control his emotions as the weight of his feelings enveloped him like a dense fog.

"Hey pretty boy, breathe." Y/N ordered, pulling him into an awkward but loving hug. "It's okay. Just breathe."

Matt sniffed, trying to regain control of himself. He took a few deep breaths, following her instructions, before finally finding the voice to speak.

"It was at hockey practice." The brunette began, his voice wavering with crying and raw emotions. "One of the guys on the team... he said some horrible things to me about my performance, and I-" A sob interrupted his speech, his blue eyes closing tightly in an attempt to hold in the ugly sounds.

Y/N slowly pulled away, snaking her right hand from his bicep to his head, cupping his cheek gently, looking at his face for the first time that afternoon, her movements stopping suddenly.

The girl felt a wave of anger bubbling up inside her as she saw her boyfriend's face swollen and stained with blood in strategic spots, clearly having been punched by someone else. She clenched her left fist tightly, causing her fingers to take in a pale hue, her eyes flashing with contained fury as her chest tightened with the anguish she felt emanating from Matt's body.

"Who was it?" Y/N's firm and determined voice echoed through the room like thunder as her right hand gently turned his face from side to side, her hard eyes running over his injured skin. "Who said those things to you? No, even better. Who did this to you? I'll finish him off, I swear."

Matt's eyes widened instantly, surprised by her reaction. He knew Y/N could be tough when needed - all the time - but seeing her so determined to protect him left him speechless.

His cheeks took on a reddish hue, disguised by the blood and redness caused by crying, his lips pressed together in an attempt to contain a smile while his heart accelerated involuntarily, a small wince escaping his throat with the movement of his mouth.

"I'm fine, baby-"

"You're not, and after I'm done with whoever did this to you, he won't be fine either." Y/N interrupted him rudely, raising her eyebrows in an act of confrontation, as if she was confronting him to continue the lie.

"It's okay, sunshine. Just let it go. Please?" Matt's warm tongue escaped his lips, wetting them, while his blue eyes seemed to beg her to forget about the guy and focus on himself.

"Alright." The girl let out a loud, angry sigh, rolling her eyes as she stroked his blood-stained cheek gently. "Come on, let's take care of this."

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The restaurant was busy that night, with lively conversation and laughter echoing off the walls. Y/N was sitting at a table next to Matt and his brothers, trying to enjoy the meal despite the crowd around them. However, her already dark mood was about to deepen even further.

As Y/N cut into her steak with an air of concentration, she noticed a man at the next table out of the corner of her eyes. He looked arrogant, a smug smile playing on his lips as he said horrible things about a girl to his table-mates. But it was when he looked in Y/N's direction that she felt a chill run down her spine.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Y/N felt a wave of discomfort spread through her. She couldn't explain why, but something about that guy made her nervous, his arrogant and sexist comments causing her body to scream, almost begging for her to do something.

Matt noticed the subtle change in Y/N's expression and followed her gaze to the next table, running his blue eyes over the unknown man's figure. He frowned, confused by the sudden intensity of Y/N's gaze, practically feeling her fury emanating from her body.

"What's wrong, beautiful?" Matt asked in an almost imperceptible whisper, leaning towards her and bringing his mouth closer to her ear, keeping his eyes on the table next to them. "Why don't we like him?"

Y/N blinked, surprised by Matt's direct question. She turned her head towards him slowly, frowning and running her eyes over his curious and playful expression, their noses almost touching with their proximity.

"You're so annoying, do you know that?" The girl asked in a cynical tone, raising her right eyebrow as she assessed him with her eyes.

"But you still love me." Matt replied quickly, as if he already had the answer on the tip of his tongue. A smirk grew on his lips as he draped his right arm over the back of the wooden chair his girlfriend sat on, caressing the skin of her exposed shoulder with his fingertips gently.

"Doesn't make you less annoying."

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N was busy in the kitchen of the large room in her house that she shared with the triplets, preparing a special meal to welcome the boys' parents, Jimmy and Mary Lou, who were about to arrive for a visit in Los Angeles. She was determined to impress them with her cooking skills and make the couple's first day in the bustling city worth it.

While stirring a pan of sauce, Y/N heard footsteps approaching and soon Matt's figure left the small hall that led to their room and entered the kitchen with a beaming smile on his face, his feet taking him closer to his girl almost automatically.

"Hi sunshine, need help?" He asked, stepping forward to grab an apron and approach the stove, his blue eyes darting over all the ingredients laid out as his brain tried to process what she was making.

Y/N looked up at him, her face hardened with concentration as her right hand never stopped moving the spoon.

"No, thank you." The girl responded quickly, shaking her head and returning her gaze to the sauce below her. "I can do this on my own."

Matt frowned, ignoring her answer and rescuing a steak knife from the cutlery drawer, extending his free hand towards the still raw meat, ready to cut it into ideal sizes.

"Matt, I said I can do it myself." Y/N repeated slowly, as if she were speaking to a child, casting a furtive glance at him from the corner of her eye.

"I know you can, petal." The boy murmured softly, putting down the knife and raising his now free hand towards his girl, lightly pressing his warm palm against her still arm, caressing her skin. "But I want to be here with you to help in some way. It doesn't have to be everything or nothing."

Y/N sighed, feeling a little guilty about her own reaction. She didn't want to push Matt away, especially when he was just trying to be caring and helpful.

"Okay... I'm sorry." Her apology escaped in a barely there whisper, her teeth catching her bottom lip in a firm grip.

"What are we having for dinner today?" Chris's loud and excited voice echoed through the living room and kitchen as the boy climbed the stairs that led him from his room, interrupting the moment between the couple, eliciting a laugh from Matt and an eye roll from Y/N.

"None of your business."

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

My requests are closed, but my asks are always open ♡

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

~ taglist:

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ynsvnte · 3 days

Text

Our world collided ! — Nishimura Riki

Genre: fluff, angst-ish.. Drabble, opposites attract, friends to lovers, childhood best friends, high school au

wc: 1.2k+ (1238)

warnings: kissing (like once), pet names (pretty girl), jealousy

pairing: emo!niki x coquette!reader

Masterlist

“Okay that’s enough” Niki says while pushing your hands off his hair.

“What—no I’m not even close to being done..!?” You complained, hoping he’ll let you continue to let you play with his hair. The current situation being that Niki’s hair being into pigtails along with some of your hair bows attached. You thought it was cute..while he thought the opposite. “It’s hurting my scalp, take these off me now..” he demanded.. you noticed the slight pout only his face. Making you chuckle.

“I’d rather not..” you say, squishing his cheeks. He rolls his eyes before grabbing a hold of your wrist and pulling it away from him.. “I warned you..” That’s all you heard until you felt the wall against your back.. you close your eyes at the impact until a few seconds past and you open them seeing Niki infront of you kneeling down to reach your height.. your heart sped up from him being this close..

“Umm…” you say hoping he would (not) back away. Niki gets closer noses barely centimeters from touching each other.. you breathe hitched. Niki notices this, smirking.. you could feel your face getting hot. You felt like he was going to kiss you.. that’s until he pulls his face away from yours.. laughing at your reaction.. “Why so shy..hmm?” He asked while smirking.. you glare up at him, clearly embarrassed.

But that won’t stop him from teasing you. “I’m not shy..just..surprised..” You said your gaze softened..you glance up, he’s staring at you.. you look away before walking away from him..disappointed.. Niki sighs at the sight of you walking away.. “Did I really make her upset?” He asks himself, wondering.

The school day was near the end.. you looked up the clock.. 15 more minutes left and then you can leave. You’re lucky this time you don’t have class with Niki. As you only have 2 with him and lunch period. You got distracted, letting time fly by quickly. You check the clock again..so so so close only 2 minutes.. you just go ahead and start packing up your things..within those 2 minutes the bell finally rings dismissing all the students for the day. You past students trying to avoid bumping into Niki ever since what happened earlier. You really had your hopes up, expecting him to like you after all these years of being friends and yet…nothing. You quickly pick up your pace and walk out the gate.. you usually walk home with Niki as your both next door neighbors having your moms be best friends back in their days. You don’t see him anywhere, not bothering to wait too..you just start walking home..alone which is rare.

You’ve made it home taking off your shoes and tossing them out of your way. You set your bag down. Walking to your room. Opening the door you rush towards your bed, jumping onto it. Letting the cool sheets hit your face. Your aching body feels better when the feeling of your bed hits it. You rest a bit before leaving your room seeing what’s there to eat. While you wait for your mom to come home.. you find some kind of chips and decide to snack on it.

You make your way over to the living room..you can see through the sheer curtain.. something catches your eye.. two figures walking.. side by side. You walk a little bit closer seeing its Niki.. and another girl.. you don’t know her..never seen her either.. you frown at the sight in front of you.. “that should be me” you thought.. you noticed he still had the bows you used on him from earlier.. clipped to his bag. You take one more look before you see them both entering his house.. you just too push whatever just happened out of your mind.

Hours later..you couldn’t stop thinking about Niki with another girl aside from you? You knew he was earlier scared by girls no matter who it was except for you of course.. the unknown girl left about an hour ago you look out your bedroom window seeing the light in Niki’s on. You see the cup and strings from your window from the outside.. that’s how you and Niki used to communicate.. you resist using it.. thinking it seems foolish.. but you decided to anyway.. you open up your window.. a gust of wind blowing your hair out of your face.

You pick up the cup.. tapping into it 2 times remembering the code you both set up a long time ago. You weren’t expecting him to answer.. a few moments of silence passed you debated to go back inside or try again, before tapping your finger twice again.. you hear his window open up.. you look up seeing him.. in a basic black tee.. yet he looked so good. Moonlight shining his skin.. giving it a youthful look. Niki was in the same daze as you admiring your face.. doe eyes.. staring straight right at him.. plump lips he wishes to one day kiss. Niki slowly picks up the cup speaking into it.

“Need something..?” He says, your throat goes dry.. it’s like you never talked to him before. You clear your throat.. “Umm—can I get my hair bows back..I’m using it for tomorrow..” you made that up..it was the only believable one to get an excuse to talk to him.. “oh I don’t know if I can throw it at you..” “no I mean can I come over just for a bit..” you say.

You can see his reaction slightly confused but agreed anyway. You take a short trip to his house..going through the back door like it was your own home. You go up to his room. You knock before he opens the door for you. Niki is met with you and your hello kitty pajamas.. and hair in 2 braids decorated with bows. “Hi..” you said slowly.. Niki moves aside allowing you to enter. You keep your gaze low, but from a far you can see your bows.. you quickly grabbed it.. “That’s all?” Niki asks..

“Yes..wait actually yea.. no I mean no….i still have something to ask” Niki close the door, sitting down on his bed.. “yeah?” You get embarrassed to ask this but you continue on.. “Umm..I was wondering who that girl was..that you know you were walking with earlier..” you said avoiding his gaze completely. You hear him chuckle lightly.. “that..oh well..she just wanted to hang out..knowing her intentions..but don’t worry I don’t like her..” “why would I be worried if she likes you or—“ Your voice slowly fades away when you realize Niki's face is close up to yours. “There’s no denying it..I can see right through you..” you knew you were already blushing by now. “Not that I would want you to deny it..because..I so happen to feel the same..” he added smiling at you. You never see him smile. Always having a blank face for most part. Niki holds your jaw bringing your face closer to his before colliding your lips together. Lips against lips. His soft lips against yours. The kiss was tender..slow.. moments later he pulls away.. “Now pretty girl, care to cuddle..” he offered, holding his arms out.. you smiled at him.. “Of course”

Author’s note: get a little inspiration from the book I’m reading rn which is if he had been with me RAHH 🦅 back with my writing haven’t written for Niki in so long along with sunoo WHICH I NEED TO DO ASAP! Crazy how this was in my drabbels for 2 days while my hee one is a month and it’s not coming out anytime soon 🙄💀

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ellecdc · 1 day

Note

Okie but I really would love more Barty x potter sibling reader it just makes me happy I don’t care if it’s smut fluff angst I will read whatever you write please👉🏻👈🏻

love these goofs so much, thanks for your request!

Barty Crouch Jr x Potter!reader who feels really bad for manatees

CW: talking about how it's illegal to interact with manatees and how sad that is (read: it's fluff), fem!reader, reader has long enough hair to push behind her ear

It had taken a bit of coercion on James’ part to convince Regulus to join him up in Gryffindor tower tonight - and by coercion, I mean James batted his eyelashes dramatically and promised lots of cuddles and kisses for Regulus’ ‘trouble’ - but James was feeling quite chuffed as he and his now official boyfriend stepped through the portrait hole of the Gryffindor common room.

Those feelings of chuffedness quickly vanished when he spotted you cozied up in an armchair built for one with none other than Barty Crouch Junior.

“Who would you rather she be with, James?” Regulus hissed at him, alerting James to the fact that he’d been grumbling aloud.

“Anyone.” He muttered petulantly.

Regulus scoffed in response. “Please; I hardly think you’d believe anyone good enough for your sister.”

James thought that Regulus was quite right.

“I think you’re quite right.” He admitted aloud before starting towards the two of you.

“James Fleamont Potter.” Regulus hissed as he grabbed James roughly by the sleeve. “You look at me right now.”

James wrenched his eyes away from you to look at Regulus’ fuming (though no less beautiful) eyes, dividing his attention between two of the people he loved the most in the whole world.

“James Potter, boyfriend or not I will drown you in the Black Lake and leave you to the sodding squid if you go over there right now.”

James ripped his gaze from where Barty’s hand sat on your knee to look at his boyfriend scandalized. “You wouldn’t.”

“You know I would.” Regulus threatened promised. “Do not fuck around with the only love he receives.”

James fought the urge to whine as he turned his gaze back over to the two of you; you were speaking animatedly, gesticulating wildly as you lamented about something James would have absolutely told you to shut the fuck up about nearly 30 seconds in.

“You can see how much he worships her, Jamie. And I think you should feel grateful knowing that there is truly no one who would be as devoted to her as he is.”

James did whine petulantly at that, even perhaps embarrassingly stomping his foot a little bit, though he would deny it if you asked. “I hate it.”

“Tough.” Regulus said simply, pulling James over to a love seat near the fireplace; close enough to see and hear the two of you, but not close enough that the pair would alert either of you to their presence. “Just be quiet and watch.”

James made a dramatic gagging sound earning him a smack up the back of the head from his boyfriend, but he acquiesced and turned his attention back to the two of you.

You were curled up on Barty’s lap; your back resting against the arm of the chair and your feet tucked under Barty’s thigh that you weren’t currently perched on.

You regularly tried to shove your feet under people that you were sitting with because your feet were always cold; James knew this because he’d swatted at your legs enough times for doing it to him. Barty didn’t seem to mind much though.

He also didn’t seem to mind that you were holding one of his hands hostage in yours as you fiddled and played with the various rings adorning his hands, speaking a million miles a minute and hardly pausing to take a breath.

“I just think it’s so sad. I mean; they don’t know! They don’t know that it’s not safe for them to be around people, but I can’t help thinking; what if they think we’re ignoring them?!” You asked emphatically.

Barty’s eyebrows rose to mirror yours as he raised his free hand to push a lock of hair behind your ear that had fallen in your theatrics.

“It’s because they have no natural predators, you see.” You continued solemnly, earning you an ‘oh, really?’ from Barty. “Many people think that sharks or alligators may pose a threat to manatees; but the species peacefully coexist. So, you know, then all of a sudden there are these long noodly manatee things in the water and the manatees are just like ‘holy shit; that’s a weird looking manatee! I’ve never seen one of those before.’ And then they try to make friends or say hello, but it’s illegal for humans to touch them.”

“Illegal?” Barty queried. “To touch an animal begging you to touch it?”

“Exactly!” You agreed quite loudly, if you asked James. He watched though as Barty’s hand moved back down to your legs and brushed his thumb in soothing circles as he kept his attention dutifully on you. “So they’re asking for pets or saying hello and trying to make friends; and people have to just…keep swimming. I’m sure they believe we must be quite rude, always ignoring them like that.”

You sounded actually quite dejected at the thought; your face falling as you looked down at Barty’s hand in your lap.

“Do you think perhaps there are mermaids where the manatees live?” Barty asked, earning him an eager gasp from you as you seemed to remember something.

“That’s brilliant Barty.” You shouted; and though James expected a cocky expression to grace Barty’s face at being told he was right about something, it never came. In fact, his face remained dutifully lovesick.

“Did you know that muggles used to believe manatees were actually mermaids or sirens during the late 15th century?”

Barty scoffed at that. “Well they’ve clearly never seen a mermaid before if they believe those sweet things resemble one.”

“Well yes, but I think muggles imagine mermaids differently. More just a beautiful lady living in the water, maybe with a tail; the beauty standards back then idealized curvy women.”

“Obviously, curvy birds are hot.”

“I know!” You agreed quickly. “I’m sure though that if we have mermaids in the sodding Black Lake, surely they have them in the America's?”

Barty was quickly nodding his head at you. “I’m sure I’ve read somewhere that they do, Princess.”

“Yeah?” You asked hopefully.

James watched as Barty’s face broke out in a soft grin as you met his eyes. “Would I ever lie to you?”

You shook your head in response and returned your gaze to your lap where you continued playing with his hand.

“Maybe the mermaids are friends with the manatees? They look like they’d just love some belly rubs.” You mused.

“Perhaps someone just needs to tell the mermaids to tell the manatees that it’s for their own good.”

You looked back up at that. “Yeah?”

“They could be like our underwater owl; we just travel to…”

“Florida.” You offered for him.

“Florida and find some mermaids to deliver our message.”

You seemed to consider the idea before looking back at him. “I think you might have to do it alone.”

Barty tilted his head at you and squeezed your calf. “You wouldn’t want to come with me to swim with manatees and mermaids?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think I could; if a manatee approached me I would have to pet it and then the manatees would all die and it would be my fault.”

Barty hummed in understanding and brought one of his hands to your chin. “Okay, Princess; I’ll be your oceanic owl.”

“You’d do that for me?”

Barty gently pulled you by your chin to slot your lips together. “I would do anything for you.”

James, having had quite enough of seeing such sickening displays of love thank you very much, turned his very unimpressed glare to Regulus, who was already looking at him with one perfectly arched eyebrow.

“That’s disgusting.” He grumbled indignantly.

“Are you telling me you wouldn’t be a manatee’s owl for me? Don’t I deserve that?”

James scoffed derisively at that. “I think it’s very obvious I would; you’re the most deserving person I know!”

“Then doesn’t your sister deserve that too?” Regulus asked gently.

James’ eyes moved back over to where you were now tracing delicate shapes over Barty’s face with your forefinger, yet he still couldn’t seem to force his eyes away from lovingly gazing at you.

“Let me ask you this, Jamie.” Regulus asked, joining James in watching his friend and James’ sister from afar. “Do you think there’s a line you would draw when it comes to how far you’d go for me?”

“No!”

“No?”

“Of course not.” James insisted.

“So you’d kill your mother for me?”

What?

“What?” James asked dumbly.

Regulus smirked. “Would you kill your own mother for me?”

“Erm,”

“Jamie.”

“Yeah?”

“The answer is no; that’s the right answer.”

“Oh thank Godric.” James sighed, holding his head in his hands.

“But Barty would; Barty would raze the entire fucking earth for Y/N.” Regulus continued. “And even if he wouldn’t,” He continued when James seemed to take issue with that. “How long would you have let her talk about manatees?”

James huffed and crossed his arms petulantly, even though he knew the answer. The answer was that he would have cut her off the second he realized she wasn’t talking about quidditch or pranks.

“She’s very loved, James. And he…” Regulus seemed to take an emotional breath as he watched his oldest friend take your hand and bring it to his lips to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “You Potter’s love like no one else I’ve ever known, James.”

James turned his full attention to his boyfriend and took one of Regulus’ hands in both of his.

“You love loudly, and openly, and freely, and everyone around you is better for it. Barty most of all.”

James let out a sigh and kissed Regulus’ knuckles.

“Fine.” He relented in faux irritation.

Regulus chuckled and pressed a shy kiss to James’ shoulder. “Don’t worry James, you Potter’s are in the protection of Slytherin’s now; we protect our own.”

And whether or not James particularly liked Barty, if there was one thing he knew to be true; no one would be able to mess with you with the likes of him around.

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wasteddmoondust · 3 days

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pineapple || james potter

pairing: james potter x reader 1,219 words, teacher and james go on their first date! what could go wrong? a/n: can you tell i am horrible at titling my fics... somehow i just need it to relate to what happens. so uh. enjoy!

prev. chapter

You feel your heart going absolutely crazy. You know it's first-date jitters, but somehow it feels worse this time. It's nothing special, really. You try to tell yourself. Just another first date. Just like other first dates (that has turned to nothing...) And now this first date is the father of one of the children you teach. Yeah, nothing special.

After several attempts to make yourself busy by looking at your phone, you hear your name. It's James and he's walking up to you.

"First name basis already?" you ask smugly.

He chuckles, "What? Sorry, I guess I'll just call you-"

"Please don't, I hate being called that outside of work."

"Got it."

The two of you walk together and he leads you to a quaint coffee shop, James swears by the coffee made here. When the orders are made you find a seat and sit down.

"It's been a while since I've been on a date," he says, hands fidgeting with the receipt.

"Same here," you admit.

He stops playing with the receipt and furrows his brows. "Really? But I'm the parent."

"And I'm the one taking care of your kid for a whole day, 20 kids, actually."

"Huh... and you don't even meet people in the industry?"

You snort. "Unfortunately no, a lot of them are older and married with kids. There's no one to date there. Trust me, even the older teachers try to make me get on dating apps. If anything, you're doing them a favour."

He grins that grin that makes your heart do a little flip. Oh god, it's happening, huh?

"I'm happy to do that."

You continue your conversation, keeping it light with small talk. Then, a waiter comes by to give you your meal and you both thank him. James' phone dings, he checks the message and he replies to it while you patiently wait for him.

He looks back up at you and keeps his phone. "Sorry, my best friend is taking care of Harry today, he was just sending an update."

"That's alright. Is he doing okay?"

"Harry?" he asks, looking a little nervous. His arms are resting crossed on the table. "Uh- yeah. He's fine. Not so sure about Sirius. He just said he's letting Harry use his tattoos as a colouring book."

You laugh. "Yeah, I can see that. He does love to colour. Have you always wanted to be a father?"

James looks stunned, but laughs it off. "Not a normal question for the first date, is it?"

"Well since you already are one," you shrug.

James thinks for a while before answering. "Yeah... I've always wanted kids... Well I'm sure you've seen from the documents I sent to the school when Harry enrolled. I'm widowed..."

You nod, you do in fact know this, you had read through those documents for every child. Understanding their family structure and dynamics can be a big help in understanding the child and improving their development in school and at home.

"She uh- had complications at birth and didn't make it." He let out a sigh and shrugged. "So now it's just me and Harry. And I wouldn't trade him for the world.

"You really love him, don't you?"

"I do."

"You know you can talk about him, right?"

James looks down and purses his lips. "It's just that... other people I've dated weren't really... keen on the fact that I have a kid. You know, another person's child and all."

You tilt your head down to try and make eye contact with him. Somehow, your hand reaches out to his. "You know that doesn't matter to me, right? I already knew you had a son, hell, I even taught him for a whole year, and I still accepted your date."

His mouth forms a small frown, but his hand grabs yours anyway. "I just didn't want to seem weird."

"You're not. Promise," you give his hand a squeeze.

"Is it too early to want to kiss you?"

You both stare at each other for a second before you burst out laughing, making him laugh too.

James starts to tell you about Harry, and visibly gets more comfortable the more he does it. He tells stories from his first words to potty fails. He shows videos and pictures. From there, the both of you fall into an easy rhythm of branching from topic to topic in your conversation. You exchange bites of your food. Before you know it, you're laughing while your meal is long done and you're both on your second cup of coffee.

For some reason, you feel an itch in your throat.

Nonchalantly, you ask, "Did your pasta have pineapple?"

"Yes, why?"

"Firstly, who the hell puts pineapple in pasta? Secondly, I think I'm having an allergic reaction."

James sits up in a panic. "Oh god- I'm so sorry-"

You cough into your first. "It's fine, it usually doesn't react as bad as it used to but I like to stay away from pineapples anyway. I'm not gonna die. Can you get me some cold water, please?"

He immediately stands up and gets you a glass from the counter. You down the glass in seconds and you feel better.

"I'm so sorry that was embarrassing-"

"You're sorry? I gave you a bite!"

"I forgot to ask, it's my fault."

He gently places a hand on your shoulder. "I'm so sorry, let me make it up to you"

"James, trust me, it's fine-"

"I'll bring you on a second date."

You furrow your brows. "You just saw me cough my lungs out from an allergic reaction and you still want to bring me out?" you can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness.

"I mean... I still find you attractive after all that so if you find me attractive after I rambled about my own child to you though you have taught him for this past year I don't see why not."

At this point, you're pretty sure your cheeks hurt from all the smiling you've been doing the entire time.

Despite your protests, James insists on driving you home. When you reach the entrance to your apartment building, he tells you to wait before rushing out of the car to open the door to the passenger's side. You giggle and take the hand he holds out to you as you step out of his car.

He tugs the hand that is holding yours to make you face him. He's so close, you're desperately hoping your cheeks don't show how flushed you are.

"So... same time next week?" you suggest.

He nods. "No pineapples this time, guaranteed."

"And you're allowed to talk about Harry."

He beams at that, looking down and letting out a sigh before looking back at you. "Is it still too early to kiss you?"

"Yes, but for now I'll give you this," you press a kiss to his cheek. You slowly walk towards your building, your arms stretching until you gently let go when you're too far away. "I'll see you next week!"

And like that, you disappear into the building. James is left standing there, still in disbelief of the entire day.

He lets out a sigh, smiling, and gets into his car. He 's so excited to tell Sirius when he gets home.

a/n: if i'm being so honest i have zero idea how most allergies work so please don't get technical with me... also!!!! thank you so much for the love on part one eek i am on a roll i'm so happy to be writing this series.

taglist: @willows-lane @celosiastarr @nsr-15

#marauders x reader #marauders imagine #zee writes #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter x you

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sunkissed-zegras · 2 days

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𝐈 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 / 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐄 / 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 ─ JH⁸⁶

TRACK 18 ─── IMGONNAGETYOUBACK

TTPD CELLY MASTERLIST !

౨ৎ ─ summary | almost a year ago, your whole was shattered by the one person you'd never thought would hurt you. and now you were back in the city where it all started with one simple mission ─ get him back.

─ word count | 2.5k

─ warnings | oof where do i begin, angst? obviously second-chance romance, slightly suggestive, mention of drinking/getting tipsy, jack being a cocky ass, slightly fluffy? idk just a lot of word vomit but yeah!

─ taglist |

─ ev's notes | yaya! first ttpd celly fic is out!! hoorayyeeee!!! also i've been listening to this album like on fucking repeat since friday and holy shit, this is probably my third fav now (sorry speak now). i also literally can't choose a fav but according to my music app, i've listened to so high school 72 times since it came out!!!!!!!!

YOU SWORE YOU'D NEVER COME back to New Jersey ─ but, here you were.

How you ended up here, tipsy and alone in this bar? You're not exactly sure. What you do know is that the night started in your childhood home with your parent's very expensive bottle of wine. And now you were here, in downtown Jersey in one of your old high school dresses that fits a little tighter than it did almost 5 years ago.

Your lips were stained red as you ordered another glass of Blueberry Gin & Tonic. You didn't know when you had started drinking Gin & Tonic but a lot had changed in the last couple of months. You didn't even know who you really were anymore, it was blurry.

And you could blame all of that on your high-school sweetheart ─ the person you'd thought you'd spend the rest of your life with. Key word: thought, as in past-tense.

As you swirled the ice in your glass, memories flooded back like a tidal wave crashing against the shore of your mind. The late-night drives down highway roads, the whispered promises of forever, and the way your heart used to skip a beat at the sight of his smile. But somewhere along the way, those promises faded into echoes, and the smiles became almost bitter memories.

It all came crashing down a few months ago. The pain was like a dagger through your heart, leaving you gasping for air in a world suddenly devoid of color. You lost the one person in your life who made you, you. You had to relearn who you really were without him.

And in the aftermath, you tried to pick up the pieces of your shattered and almost confusing life, but the wounds were too deep, the scars too raw. So you ran, running from the memories that now haunted you, seeking solace in the anonymity of far-away cities and unfamiliar faces.

But no matter how far you ran, you couldn't outrun the ghosts of your past. They followed you like shadows, lurking in the corners of your mind, waiting for a moment of weakness to strike.

And tonight was no different.

When your eyes locked with his familiar blue ones, a particular ghost of your past appeared. And you didn't miss the way you felt your heart skip a beat when you saw his now grown-out hair (you'd never let him grow it out when you were together) and his soft stubble that you always made him shave. But it suited him, he looked more mature.

But you weren't surprised, it almost seemed like fate. Almost. If it weren't for the fact that you knew, in the back of your mind, he always liked spending his Saturdays playing pool with his friends, in this exact bar. You pretended like you hadn't planned this entire thing.

And so you feigned ignorance, pretending as if you hadn't noticed him at all. You kept gazing at him, taking him in. You felt the anger rise in your body as your nose flared, beginning to think sober up again. You took another swig of your drink and turned away from him, you could practically hear the wheels turning inside his head as he analyzed you right back.

A few moments pass and as you predicted, you felt a tap on your shoulder. "Y/N?"

You met his gaze and it felt so much different from the last time he'd looked at you. He looked... surprised? Is that even the right word? You felt his eyes scan you up and down, the tight dress fitting you perfectly in his mind.

You, too, had changed since the last time he'd saw you. Your hair was slightly shorter and more put together, you looked healthier and more mature. Less like a teenager and more like an adult now, but that's just how aging works, right? Not only did your looks change, but the way you carried yourself.

God, you were sexy. Jack always knew you were beautiful, it was undeniable. But after not seeing you for months now, you looked like a dream ─ a hauntingly beautiful vision that stirred something deep within him. He couldn't help but be mesmerized by the way you carried yourself, with a newfound confidence and poise that spoke of strength.

He was at a loss of words. But it was Jack, of course he didn't let it show. He plastered on his award-winning smirk and let his gaze fall back on to your face. "I didn't know you were back in Jersey, you shoulda texted."

Your face contorted into surprise. Was he really trying to pretend like nothing happened? Oh, two can play that game. "I was just visiting family." Your red lips turned into a tipsy smile. "But you're right, I should've texted. How have you been?"

"Awesome. Is this seat taken?" Jack didn't wait for an answer, he just pulled out a chair and sat down. He glanced down at your drink, the smirk still very much evident in face.

God, how much you wanted to just smash his face in. But you swallowed the anger with your drink, letting him study you for a few more moments.

"Since when do you drink?" His tone was amused as he watched you swallow the liquid so effortlessly, like it was water.

Since you left, you wanted to shout. "Not until recently."

You watched as he leaned back in his chair, studying you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. "And what brought about this newfound appreciation for alcohol?" He asked, his tone still but the underlying curiosity evident in his eyes.

"Life." you said simply, your voice barely above a whisper. "Life has a funny way of changing things."

He nodded, as if he understood, but you could see the doubt flickering behind his eyes. He didn't know the half of it, didn't know the pain and the heartache you had endured in his absence. And part of you wanted to keep it that way, wanted to shield him from the truth of how much he had hurt you.

But another part of you, a smaller part buried deep within all the hurt and bitterness, wanted him to know. Wanted him to see the scars he had left on your soul, to feel the weight of the words left unsaid between you. But not to burden him, to somehow reverse all the pain he'd caused you.

"So, what have you been up to?" you asked, deflecting the conversation away from yourself. "Anything exciting?" By anything, you really meant anyone.

You saw the way Jack's smirk faltered as he shook his head. "Nope, nothin' new." But he knew that you knew the real answer.

Two months, it took him two months to move on from a 4 year relationship. "Really?" you asked, your voice laced with skepticism. "No new hobbies, no new friends, no new... interests?"

Jack chuckled, a sheepish grin spreading across his face as he leaned in closer to you, his gaze locking with yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. "Well, I might have picked up a few new hobbies," he admitted, his voice low. "But nothing as exciting as running into you here, that's for sure."

Despite yourself, you felt a small, genuine smile tug at the corners of your lips at his charming response. He had always had a way with words, a charisma that could disarm even the most guarded of hearts.

"There she is," his voice was soft as he watched the curves of your lips turn upward. "I missed that."

His words sent a warm flutter through your chest, a mixture of nostalgia and longing swirling within you like a whirlpool. Despite everything that had happened between you, there was still a part of you that missed the comfort of his presence, the familiarity of his smile.

"Well, don't let it get to your head," you teased, although the playful tone of your voice couldn't mask the vulnerability lurking beneath the surface. "I wouldn't want you thinking you can charm your way out of everything."

"I'm not trying to, trust me. I can't help it." Jack smirked as he shrugged. "And for the record, I did miss it. I don't remember the last time I've seen your genuine smile."

Your smile faltered as your stomach squeezed in anxiety. The last couple of months of your relationship was spent only arguing, and the smiles had become a rarity, buried beneath layers of resentment and hurt. You swallowed hard, the memories of those final days weighing heavy on your heart like a rock.

"Yeah, well, it's been a while," you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you fought to push aside the memories threatening to overwhelm you. "A lot has changed since then."

"I can tell," his eyes scanned your body and you felt your heart jump. He wet his lips as his blue eyes met yours again, a grin playing on his lips. "I remember this dress. You wore it at my draft party, I remember."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, memories of that night flooding back with a rush of emotions. You remembered the excitement in the air, the pride shining in his family's eyes as he celebrated the culmination of years of hard work and dedication.

"Yeah, I remember," you said softly, your voice tinged with nostalgia. "It feels like so long ago."

Jack nodded, a wistful smile playing at the corners of his lips as he reached across the table to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "I never forgot that night," he said, his voice low and sincere. "Or how beautiful you looked in this dress."

Your heart skipped a beat and you felt like the air was knocked out of you at his words. Goddamn him, his smooth-talk, and that damned cologne that made you feel high off of him. "Shut up," was all you could muster as Jack chuckled.

"Let's go take a walk."

And like always, Jack didn't wait for an answer. He just grabbed your hand and began walking toward the exit. Your mind raced as Jack's touch sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. And despite your inner turmoil and the warning bells ringing in your head, there was a part of you that couldn't resist the pull of his charm, the familiarity of his touch.

You hated how he still had this effect on you and how confident he was, he always made decisions for you. You're not sure if it's really a bad thing, because how can something so bad feel so insanely good?

"Okay," you said softly more to yourself than him, your voice barely above a whisper. You allowed him to lead you away from the dimly lit bar and out into the cool night air.

As you walked side by side, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words and unresolved tension, you couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu wash over you. It was like stepping back in time, back to a simpler era when the world was young and full of promise.

Jack pulled you into his chest as you walked, his arm wrapping protectively around your shoulders as you leaned into him, seeking solace in his familiar warmth.

Despite everything, despite the pain and the heartache, a part of you still longed for the comfort of his embrace, for the reassurance of his presence by your side.

"The dress still fits you so well," Jack finally spoke up. You could feel practically hear the grin on his face as you rolled your eyes, a smile tugging on your lips.

"Yeah, well, it's a good thing I haven't outgrown it," you replied, your voice light and teasing as you leaned into his embrace subconsciously.

Jack chuckled, his arm tightening around you. "You'd look in a garbage bag, princess. You can never outgrow anything."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Jack." You quipped.

"It's gotten me this fair, huh?" Jack's tone was amused as you felt yourself roll your eyes at his cockiness. He let out a laugh as he squeezed your arms, the way he knew you liked.

You wanted to slap the smirk off his face but instead, you just shook your head at his teasing. He still knew you so well, even after so long. As much as you wanted to resist his charm, there was a small part of you that couldn't help but be swept away by it. Jack had always had a way of getting under your skin, of finding the cracks in your armor and worming his way into your heart.

"You're insufferable," you said, though the teasing lilt in your voice betrayed the fondness you couldn't quite suppress.

Jack chuckled, his laughter warm and infectious as he leaned in closer to press a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer than necessary.

"But you love me anyway," he said, his voice soft as he met your gaze with a knowing smile.

You couldn't deny the truth of his words, no matter how much you wanted to. Despite everything, despite the pain and the heartache, a part of you still loved him ─ had always loved him. Would you always love him?

You gazed back at him, his grin even bigger as his hand squeezed your arms again. The more you stared, the more you slipped back right where he wanted. Fuck, you were back.

Your hands came up to touch his soft stubble, one of the many new things about him. Something you never thought you'd like, you swore his clean-face was your favorite but he proved you wrong.

"You like it?" Jack asked, his voice low and husky as he watched you trace your fingers along his stubbled jawline. There was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the power he still held over you.

"Yeah," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as you met his gaze, your fingers lingering against his stubble. "It suits you. You look... different, but in a good way."

A smile tugged at the corners of Jack's lips, his eyes sparkling with gratitude as he reached up to gently cup your cheek in his hand, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"Thank you," he said, his voice warm with sincerity. "I'm glad you think so."

You smiled genuinely, the anger slowly dissipating as you looked into the eyes of the man you'd once loved, wholeheartedly. His face may have changed but his gaze was still the same, the same blue eyes you'd been drawn to from the beginning.

"Let's head back to the car, yeah?" His voice came out hoarse and low, you could hear practically hear the need in his voice. And again, you let him lead you back to his car and eventually, to his home.

Your lips curved into a smirk, you'd had gotten exactly what you'd sought out to do. You'd gotten him back, but who ever doubted you?

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 1 day

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Labor HC (ft. Poly!Mates Bat Boys)

Warnings: intense labor, my bsf just had her first baby and told me all the horrific things 🫠, personally i never want children, thank the cauldron for healing magic, longish? compared to my other hc, i guess labor horror? the idea of giving birth scares the ever loving shit out of me

By the end of your pregnancy your stomach was the size of two side by side watermelons

Madja grew increasingly worried that you would not survive the labor at how big the babe inside of you had grown

you worried your child would tear itself out of your womb

indefinite bed rest for you

which you honestly didn't mind since it was getting difficult for you to move your body without getting tired

bat boys worry. you aren't illyrian. if the baby belonged to cassian or azriel, your body would not be able to allow for wings to grow. (paternity/gendering of the baby was not possible. all the results came back as inconclusive)

as it gets more cramped inside of you, every one of the baby's movements is felt by you.

Rhys neglects much of his work and favors spending every waking hour by your side.

Cassian and Azriel grow extremely considered when they hear commotion arising in the Hewn City. Az has heard that many in the Court of Nightmares wish for your demise in labor. They take each threat to your life seriously and spend their time ensuring the security and safety of you and your unborn child.

they can't protect you from the pain of labor though

Rhys and Az were asleep with you in the bed, Cassian preferring to stand guard outside your door.

You're pulled out of sleep rather abruptly, well aware of the unconscious tensing of your muscles as a stabbing pressure digs into your abdominal area. a tightening and squeeze so vicious that you try and sit up immediately but your big belly prevents you from doing so.

stomach churning fear rises in you. it was time.

you shake your mates awake as another squeezing pain that burned across your lower back and pelvis.

they've drilled for this. no really your bat boys have played out the scenario an annoying amount of times. Az leaps from the bed to alert Cassian, Rhys helping you sit up

Azriel leaves to fetch Madja since he's the fastest

the Wraiths prep everything you may need and wait in the room with you, Rhysand and Cassian until Azriel returns with the healer.

that's when things really start

you were already screaming when Madja arrived. Nuala and Cerridwen had prepped you for the labor if Madja were too late.

Azriel had your left hand, brows furrowed and wishing he can transfer the pain you were going through into his body. Even if this pain meant the birth of a child, he hated hearing your screams or the tears welling in your eyes as you push with all your might

Rhysand, who had been hold your right hand transfers it to Cassian's care as he moves to be by Madja side to watch the actual birth. His eyes keep darting from your lower half to your face.

you never knew bringing another life into the world was so painful. you yourself didn't know either of your parents. no one to warn you of what you would face in childbirth

your bat boys were there though, that was all that mattered.

time drags with each heave you give

then he was born. . .

Dagen. even with his wings tucked in tight, pushing him out damn near tore you from your v to your a. like that whole entire region was on fire

"O-Oh. . ." Madja gasped, clearly startled as she held your baby in her arms, having been about to pass him to Rhysand. Almost in fear she looks at Rhysand. "I. . .I think there is another babe coming. . ."

Two babies???

you didn't believe her. until you felt another intense wave of pain start up again. dagen nearly tore you in half. you couldn't imagine pushing out another baby that potentially had wings.

"no, please no" you sob, every part of you aching.

Cassian looks scared. "You can do this." his hand was numb but he didn 't care.

"We're here." Azriel nods and gives your hand an encouraging squeeze.

Rhysand was still standing a little dumbstruck with a fresh newborn in his arms.Thankfully one of the wraith sisters nudges him, her arms ready to take the baby so he can go back to focusing on the next one.

Rian arrived quickly, smaller than dagen thanks to the lack of wings

there was five minutes of peace where Rhysand and Cerridwen showed you your boys. beautiful boys that you and your mates created

until you felt another stabbing sensation.

you screamed at rhysand, azriel and cassian. damning them to a suffering in the afterlife for putting you through this.

to you this was bullshit.

it should be impossible!! then again, so was having three destined mates

Mor had called it a miracle. you now thought of it as a curse. you never knew having three mates meant giving birth to three babies at the same time

the third baby however would prove to be the most difficult. thanks to the previous two, you were beyond exhausted and begging for someone to just rip it from you. there was no way you could push it out by yourself.

Madja made the tough call of performing a cesarean section

the wraiths took away rian and dagen as the surgery took place

they'd been in wars, seen carnage, but there your bat boys were with white faces that expressed utter horror

the last baby to be delivered was a little girl with wings. your Baila.

exhausted, you pass out soon after Madja pulls her from you.

everyone is pushed out of the room except for madja herself as she sews you back up and stops the bleeding that could possibly kill you if not treated properly.

it feels like a dream to you when you wake up.

except every part of you is still suffering from a dull pain

your bat boys introduce you to your three pretty babies

i hc that dagen is azriel's, rian is rhysand's and baila is cassian's cuz i've always thought of him as a girl dad and nothing can change that lol

#reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #acotar fanfic #rhysand acotar #rhys acotar #azriel acotar #acotar #acotar series #acotar cassian #cassian fanfic #cassian x reader #cassian #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #acotar azriel #azriel shadowsinger #bat boys #acotar bat boys #rhysand x reader

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luvvyouforever · 3 days

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starcrossed - azriel shadowsinger x reader

-> in a world in which the cauldron grew tired of mates never finding each other, faeries are born with a constellation of stars on their skin that match only one other faerie. after years of never finding your match, everything snapped into place.

-> acotar soulmate au! some sweet fluff mostly with a little action in it :) i just have something for writing about azriel meeting his mate i can't help it. i also don't know how i feel about this writing so don't judge it too harshly please <3

rhysand's town home was packed with the night court and the utter largeness of their presence. azriel and cassian did not bother to tuck their wings in and instead let them drape over the back of the couch where they sat with legs spread. mor and amren took up arm chairs on either side of the couch, feyre was seated calmly next to rhysand, and you were perched on the edge of the couch closest to azriel.

an emergency meeting was called and within seconds of the communication going out, the living room was filled and heartbeats were racing. emergency meetings were reserved for dire cases only as each member of the court was impossibly busy with their own duties.

"there's a lot of movement happening in hybern right now and we don't like the sound of it," rhysand said with a serious, grave voice. "things are going to happen sooner than we would like, but we need to be prepared. knowledgeable."

azriel shifted in his seat which made you straighten out your back and prepare for your duties. you had an odd position in the night court as both healer and spy when need be. you worked and trained with azriel to assist him in the field and when he shifted in his seat, you knew that you were about to be gone for several days once more.

"azriel and y/n will go to hybern to listen in and try to figure out what they are working towards. mor will stay here in velaris in case what they are preparing holds danger over our people's heads. cassian, feyre, and i will go to illyria and alert them of new information. amren will continue to read these books because it may just be our last line of defense," rhysand called out orders with the grace of a high lord who was made for this job.

you noticed how feyre's hands trembled with nervousness and her fingers ran over the small pattern of stars on her wrist. rhysand's hand intertwined with hers and as an act of reassurance, he flipped his hand over, revealing his own pattern of stars to feyre again.

watching the interaction, your own hand traveled up to your collarbone where there rested your own little constellation of stars. the stars that would signal to you that you had found your mate, the one for you, forever. and yet, the years pass and you had yet to find that person with the matching constellation along their collarbone.

suddenly, azriel's hand touching you shoulder brought you out of your reverie. "come on, let's go get ready," he said. you stood up and followed him up the stairs of the town home to the roof where he held his arms open for you to climb into so you didn't have to walk to the house of wind.

"do you think this'll be a bad mission?" you asked azriel over the whipping of wind around your heads. his wing subtlety closed in on you so that you wouldn't have to strain to hear his words.

"i don't know. hybern could be planning anything. we need to be on our guard at all times," he answered back. even his shadows seemed to be nervous about what was coming. they whirled around your figure, one coming to rest on your collarbone, just above the stars.

azriel's feet landed with a soft thud on the shores of hybern. with gentle movements, he released you from his arms where you adjusted your clothing after so long spent flying. you were dressed in illyrian fighting gear, blades strapped all along your chest. down along your waist, however, were not more weapons but rather healing supplies that would prove important in a dire situation.

azriel was a vision of coldness. his gaze was fixed upon the land before him and despite the wind from the sea messing your hair, he was perfectly fine. on his body was matching illyrian fighting gear with his blue syphons gleaming brightly. truth-teller was sitting on his torso, gems glinting in the sun.

there was a second where you felt something deep down flutter, an unexplained notion that azriel was attractive but it was squashed upon entry. you had a job to do and that job was not staring at the high lord's spymaster despite the odd urges in your chest calling you to do so.

azriel sent his shadows ahead of the two of you as scouts, whispering in his ear of the things they saw ahead. you followed behind him silently, feet carefully stepping on the ground and eyes scanning every inch of what lay before you.

suddenly, a shadow perked up and pointed azriel to the left of both of you. there, a soft hum sounded from something and you weren't sure what it was which was all the more terrifying. azriel didn't dare to move an inch closer and your feet held the same pause.

"what is that?" you whispered as quietly as possible.

"i don't know," he whispered back. "stay alert. i don't want anything to happen to you."

later, when you were safe, you would wonder what prompted him to say that. was it the fact that you held the healing supplies which he knew nothing about? was it because you were his best partner in these missions? or was there something else? the pull that you had felt earlier?

none of that mattered right now though. right now, there was a mysterious hum coming from the left of you on territory that it is growing more dangerous to be on by the minute. azriel thought for a second, his careful eyes trained to his side. slowly, he went to grab a small blade from the holster around his hip when his large wing brushed against the ground. within a matter of milliseconds, hundreds of ash daggers shot from the origin of the humming.

you rolled, dodged, ducked, and winnowed all to avoid the attack. in the midst of the chaos, you lost sight of azriel which petrified you.

"azriel!" you shouted with little care about who on hybern heard you.

in just a few short moments, the ash dagger swarm stopped and in the silence, you heard a faint male groaning coming from behind you. with a turn quick enough to make your head spin, you found azriel on the ground, clutching at his sides which were rapidly spilling blood. with a whisper of a swear, you dropped to your knees to examine the damage.

your hands found the buttons on his gear, but with great effort, his hands stopped yours. "you gotta get out of here," he choked out.

"no, i'm not leaving you here. i won't," you whispered back, shrugging his grip on your hands off. it would be difficult to do, but you could winnow the two of you out of here, at least off of hybern's land. your palm found azriel's shoulder and for a second you felt like you were falling, but then you appeared on the shores away from hybern. the mortal lands, you realized. it was a risky manuever, but the beach seemed clear of humans. despite azriel's groans, you dragged him back from the ocean and to the forest line.

the fighting gear you had on was impossibly heavy and only inhibiting your ability to efficiently help azriel. with a quick flourish, you tugged off the leather, revealing the thin tank top you wore underneath. there at the top of your collarbone peaked the tattoo of stars which you had completely forgotten about. azriel made no noise, but his eyes immediately fell to the patch.

"i have to take these off of you so i can see where you're hurt," you told azriel. if he protested, you would still have to do it. the wound was too deep and too messy to heal from the outside.

gently, you pulled the leather away from azriel's body which caused him to groan more. with one final wince, he laid on the rough ground shirtless. there, at the top of his collarbone, was a littering of stars. in the same pattern as your own. there was no notice on your part as the wound your hands were currently working on healing took up your attention.

but then, just as you reached for an ointment tucked in the pocket of your pants, there was a touch to your hand. you looked up finally with a wild look in your eyes that told azriel how panicked you were about losing him.

that moment of eye contact, while azriel is slowly healing himself, while you were breathing deeply to calm your worry, is when it snapped. your eyes shot down to his collarbone where the tattoo of stars seemed to shine. azriel reached out a weak arm to trace your own version of the stars on your collarbone.

"i really didn't expect that, you know?" you whispered.

there was that pull again, the one from earlier. and then azriel's shadows reached out to you again, dancing around your form, circling the spot on your collarbone as they had before. they knew long before you did.

"there's no better time like the present," azriel shrugged but immediately followed it up with a groan.

you were shook back into reality and continued your healing. your eyes kept flitting back and forth from the wound closing on azriel's side to the stars on his collarbone that matched yours.

the man that you had spent so long side by side with. the man that you learnt everything from. the man that was your closest companion for years. when he felt strong enough, you would winnow him closer and closer to the night court before he could fly into velaris. there, you'd take him to your kitchen, make him dinner, and accept the bond.

for now, you appreciated this feeling of quiet understanding in both of you that you had found the one you were meant to be with, no matter if the bond snapped into place on a beach in the mortal lands with your healing hands tirelessly working on your mate.

#acotar #acotar series #fluff #fanfic #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #i don't know how to feel about this #but i think i like it #i don't know

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fernandopiastri28 · 2 days

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sickly sweet ~ lando norris x reader

warnings: drinking, smut, pwp, angst 😬 mdni!

Lando Norris- known manwhore. When he's not in his car going 350 km/h, he chases that thrill in other things in life. Designer items, drinks, parties- women. But there's only one thing that he really wants, he craves her love- his bestfriend.

She felt a pair of sturdy arms wrap around her waist, almost suffocatingly tight. It made it hard to breathe, the paining sensation only increased by the already constricted airflow inside the crowded club. “Lan?” She murmured, her head turning each way in the hopes of catching a glimpse of her best friend. She felt woozy due to the alcohol seeping through her system and she really didn’t need to deal with an over insistent man who believed he had the privilege to her body in her current state.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Lando’s chin rested against her shoulder, his hot breath tickling her neck. Those were his arms around her, holding her body closer to him then anything surrounding the pair. “I’m here,” One of his hands travelled up to her hair, his fingers gliding through her frizzing hair. “Don’t worry,”

Sure, Lando was a naturally affectionate person, often insisting on hugging as a greeting and goodbye, or resting his head on the shoulder of absolutely anyone who was near him. He liked touch, saw it as the easiest way he could express his caring and love for others. But drunk him was another level- hands anywhere he could get them, face buried into their shoulder or neck.

“Lan, you’re really drunk,” She giggled, pushing her slight anxiety down to her stomach as his lips started moving aimlessly against her neck. He wasn’t quite kissing there, but only because he was moving too quickly to be able to actually press his lips to a single spot.

He grumbled, dissatisfied with her comment. “So? You are too,” Lando was sounding pissy already which only usually happened later into the night. By this point, he was usually going to go seek off some other girl to spend the night with who would fawn over his every move and beg for more.

Her head tilted back, resting against his chest slightly, “I am,” A grin played across her lips, forcing his grimace to transition into a smirk, his eyes full of pure adrenaline without a single thought behind them. “Not as much as you though,”

A nod of agreeance came from him, his hands idly moving up and down on her waist, settling on her hips for a few seconds as her body continued to aimlessly sway along with the music. “It’s difficult to be more drunk than I am- especially since you’re such a heavy weight,”

It was true, and something that Lando was incredibly envious of. He wanted her ability to pour endless drinks down her mouth, consuming absolutely anything she wanted at once and manage to feel perfectly fine the next morning, while he would find himself with a throbbing headache, next to a girl he couldn’t remember the name of. Maybe he’d never asked her though.

“Or maybe you’ve just drunk more,” She dragged a finger along his cheek. Even if she didn’t show it as much, she was certainly feeling very drunk. For once, she wanted to be like Lando, feel like him. She craved his complete confidence and how he would feel as if he was on top of the world each time a drop of alcohol entered his system.

Maybe tonight she’d finally score a man to bring home, be the one to tell Lando all about her most recent hookup instead of always being on the receiving end of hearing it from him.

But at least for right now, all of his attention was on her. He looked at her like she was one of the girls he’d want for even just a night, instead of the one he left behind each time they’d planned to go out together.

She knew full well that the way Lando treated his one night stands was far from something that she should be dreaming about almost nightly, to be the girl that woke up to the sight of Lando’s peaceful sleepy face, his dark lashes fluttering over his cheeks and his unruly curls- but she knew a different side of him. The one that was loving, that cared. The side of him that would talk in the highest of praise about the girls he did really like, and how he never once spoke ill of someone to her.

He was different then how he came across, she knew that.

He held a bottle of some blue liquid, the spout of it resting against his bottom lip. She ogled up at him, her eyes wide and pupils huge. “Hello,” He grinned, laughing at her dopey upside down expression as she leaned against him. “You’re smiley tonight,” He teased, his hand wrapping tighter around her stomach to keep her up.

“I am smiley,” A deep sigh left her chest, her cheeks beginning to hurt from how wide her smile was stretching out. “I like your face,” She mumbled out, each syllable oozing into the next. “It’s a good face- a true one at that,” Her body wasn’t used to this much alcohol, and she was feeling any kind of shame melting away and just a desperate need to be completely honest.

A rosy flush was almost definitely covering her face at this point, given how hot it felt to the touch. “I like your face too,” He smiled, his nose nudging against her forehead. It felt unexplainable, like a thousand bolts of lightning crashing into her all at once. “It’s pretty cute,” His thumb swiped along her chin, nudging it open so he could place the finish of his bottle inside her mouth, the glass heavy on her bottom teeth.

He tilted it up, letting it run over her tongue and pool up inside her mouth. It was near sickening sweet, likely what his mouth tasted like given how much he’d already drunk the majority of it. “Good,” Two of his fingers tapped her chin again, his other fingers clasping the neck of the bottle so it didn’t drop. She shut her mouth, swallowing awkwardly due to the angle her head was at.

Once her mouth was empty again, her lips parted, her eyes moving up further to where the whites underneath her iris’ were even more visible. “More?’ She mumbled, her back shifting back unconsciously to steady herself against him. He granted her wish, keeping her mouth open as he hooked his two fingers over her bottom teeth as more alcohol spilt into her mouth.

“Fucking hell,” He hissed, his pink tongue darting out between his teeth in concentration. Their eyes refused to move and break contact, tension just building the longer the moment lasted. “You’re so fucking hot doing that,”

Her body got hotter at the praise, her mind short circuiting and essentially spilling out of her ears. “You’re sexy,” Her lips wrapped around the bottle, suckling on it gently as the final few drops spilt onto her tongue.

He went silent, his eyes darting across her face as a way to memorise each curvature and feature complete. He wanted to engrave this moment into his mind for the rest of time. The bottle slid down her mouth further, her lips pursing and stretching thinner around the thickness. His mouth dropped open ever so slightly, his eyes near bulging out of his head at the erotic sight.

He was hard, undoubtedly. His arousal pressed against her ass where her dress clung tightly around. He grinded against her, desperate for some sense of contact and pressure against his ache. “ Baby ,” He whined into her neck, pulling the bottle away from her mouth to rest it against some table.

Her heart pounded harder in her chest, feeling like it could explode at any given moment. The mix of the nickname, the desperation in his voice, the way his crotch was rubbing straight against her. “ Lan ,” She moaned, turning around so her chest was pressed against his, the silk fabric of his button up gliding against her exposed skin. “Please,” Her voice cracked with straight need.

“Please what ?” His hand settled into place against her jawline, his palm flush with the front of her neck, the slightest pressure against it. He knew what she wanted, both of their intentions so crystal clear, but he wanted to hear her say it- needed it.

“Kiss me,” Her voice was so fucking weak at that point, her expression completely wanton and eager for him. His eyes went straight to her lips where a glossy whine of the remaining alcohol coated them, making them even more red and wetter. The grip his hand had on her jaw tightened, putting her head into the perfect position for him.

His mouth moved against hers quickly, her bottom lip slotting in between hers in an almost practised manner. Her mouth parted, his tongue slipping inside the warm emptiness within seconds. Moans from her spilt into his mouth, the vibrating sensation going straight to his dick, somehow getting even harder with each movement she made against him.

One of her hands trailed up to his hair, tugging on his curls. They were so delicate in between her fingers, perfect coils wrapping around each digit. Her other hand snuck up under his shirt, the back of her hand brushing against the soft silk while her palm and finger tips explored his hardened abs.

“More,” She begged, her nose nudging against his as their lips finally broke away. His breathing was heavy, laboured almost. Their bodies were still resting flush against each other as his left hand sat heavily on her ass, squeezing it, while his other remained cupping her face.

“What do you want, gorgeous?” His voice was lower, breathless from making out for so long. He’d tipped his head down, his mouth close to her ear. There were so many things she wanted- she wanted to kiss more, she wanted to feel his tongue all around her mouth, she wanted to taste him, she really wanted to fix the ache in between her legs.

So with not even half her brain working to put together a proper cohesive sentence, she mumbled out the first thing that came to mind, “ Hotel ,”. Whether it was her hotel or his wasn’t important, all that mattered was for them to have a private room to stay up all night together in private. Because despite how at this point she could probably be convinced to drop down onto her knees and suck his cock right then and there without much effort from the brit- it wouldn’t look too good for an f1 driver to be receiving a blowjob in a random club in Singapore.

Maybe his one would be nicer on the other hand, a Formula one driver would likely have been supplied a higher star hotel then some girl in law school using her own money to pay.

With one swift move, each of her legs were on either side of his waist, her thighs bracketing his hips to keep herself up. One of his arms snaked around her waist for stability as he navigated his way out of the club, avoiding anyone who was clearly trying to approach him for either a photo or an autograph.

She buried her face in the collar of his shirt, one of her hands trying to cover her face in a last chance attempt to conceal her identity in case anyone had been filming. It was something she should’ve considered before they started making out, but she couldn’t change the past now.

The humid Singaporean air struck them the second they pushed past the entrance doors. A thin sheen of sweat collected on the back of Lando’s neck, but she was unaffected. Singapore was a consistent visit of hers so she’d become accustomed to the near unbearable heat.

A taxi rolled up right to where they were standing and before she even had the chance to ask when he managed to book one, Lando’s mouth was on hers again. She didn’t even notice the taxi door being opened until he was arranging her on his lap in the backseat, his eyes going directly down to her breasts. He placed a soft kiss to one where some cleavage was exposed from the dress’s style, while his hand worked at kneading the flesh.

A whimper of satisfaction passed by her lips, earning a shit-eating grin from the man. He continued his ministrations, tugging down some of the fabric over her breast to kiss further down her chest. Her head tipped back, hitting against the headrest of the passenger seat. As she ground her hips harder into his, each bump of the road that the car hit just pushed his boner further against her drenched cunt through her panties, a wet patch forming on his trousers.

“Pretty thing,” He trailed his lips up her neck, her jaw, then suckling on just her bottom lip. “So fucking wet for me,” He growled, pulling her body impossibly closer to him. Part of her wished she’d been sober for this- to be able to enjoy this moment with complete clarity and be sure to remember each and every event the next morning.

The drive seemed excruciatingly long, but had only been a mere few minutes in reality. Her body had essentially moulded into his by the end of it, her legs unable to work to take her to the elevator up to his room. They didn’t need to work though, he was more than excited at the opportunity to carry her as long as he could.

And she sure as hell wouldn’t be able to walk by the end of the evening.

The second the elevator doors drew to a close, Lando’s hand was tugging her panties to the side, allowing a finger to slide along her clit, “Good?” He nuzzled his head into her neck, kissing the smooth skin there over and over. The touch was met with a string of pleasured moans, all more beautiful than the last.

He got prepared before the doors reopened, grabbing his phone out with his keycard secured in the back of it, ready to open the door the second they arrived so he could be on top of her as quickly as possible. The grazing of his finger stopped long enough for him to unlock the door, and resumed as soon as it clicked shut.

“Lando, fuck, please,” She begged, overstimulated by all the drawn out teasing of the night. “Just finger me already,” She was at her wits end, completely ready to just touch herself if he wouldn’t take it a step further right then.

She didn’t have to do that though as he answered her prayers, sliding a thick finger into her aching cunt. A sigh of relief left her lips, her hole clenched around his finger in reflex. He carried her into the bedroom, settling her down on the bed as he hovered over her, his knees on either side of her hips as he covered her face in chaste open mouthed kisses.

The pleasure turned to a quick flash of dull pain when he removed his finger, pulling her underwear down and tossing them across the room in a drunken hurry. His green eyes widened as he stared directly at her pussy, his pupils shooting wide in lust. “Fuckk,” He sighed, “Can I.. taste?” He wasn’t sure exactly how to word the request but she granted him permission regardless.

He shuffled down, his massive hands grasping her thighs to position them over his shoulders. She lifted her hips off the mattress so as to allow him to push the bottom of her dress higher up before his head dipped down, his nose nudging at her clit. The sensation sends a rush of slick straight to where his mouth was readily waiting.

Tentatively, the tip of his tongue licked alongside her hole to her clit, emitting a shudder and a groan from the girl. He squeezed down on her thighs, rubbing the right one with his thumb to help her calm down. “What colour?” He murmured, looking up at her from between her legs.

“Green,” Her head tilted back, hitting against the pillow as she moaned into it. With the go ahead, his tongue repeated the motion, pulling more noises out of her throat. He began to eagerly lap at her wetness, the taste coating over his tongue as he grew more desperate to make her cum.

He had become increasingly more aware of the pain in his trousers, his neglected erection tenting uncomfortable in his too tight boxers. Squeezing one of her thighs tighter to make up for the loss of his hand, he reached his hand down to his crotch and began palming at the spot. He tilted his head down, his tongue fucking her while his nose buried into her bundle of nerves.

She was feeling so much. The way his tongue was buried deep inside her, how his nose was expertly rubbing her clit, his hands stroking the insides of her thighs where goosebumps prickled, and most of all- the way his deep emerald eyes remained staring into her soul. He lapped at her wetness like he’d been deprived of sex for years- in reality it couldn’t have been more than a month.

He had a one track mind, always did. His only goal in life was win, win, win. And today’s prize was making the beautiful girl laying on his bed, his best friend, cum with his mouth. Determined to make that happen, and make it happen right then, his teeth grazed against her slit gently to overstimulate her.

Sure enough, the action got her legs shaking and her back arching. “Fuck, Lando,” Her hand yanked on his hair, effectively pulling him away slightly. His eyes went wide in shock, it certainly hadn’t been the reaction he’d expected.

“I’m sorry,” He kissed the inside of her left thigh, his hand idly tenderly rubbing her knee. “Did it hurt?” She shook her head, having to crane her neck to look down at him. His cheek rubbed against her leg, another kiss to the bend of her knee. That time he suckled the spot, hollowing his cheeks to leave a small red spot when he pulled away.

“No, no- just.. sensitive,” She had to take a few moments to breathe, her chest raising and dropping with forced effort. “You- you can go again,” It’s more of a request than a suggestion, and he took it seriously.

His mouth returned to her heat, his tongue swiping up in a practised motion, each one met with more noises of delight and pleasure. A hand yanking his hair again signalled her orgasm, spilling into his mouth. He drew to a halt, going slower as she came down from her high so it wouldn’t ache from the abrupt ending.

He scooted up so his face was just mere inches above hers. He couldn’t even try to force back the smile that played on his face upon seeing how absolutely fucked out she was. Her half lidded eyes, bitten lips, sweaty skin- it was truly a sight. He kissed her, over and over, wanting nothing more than to experience the pressure of her mouth on his.

As he kept his lips on hers, he began tugging down the top of her dress to reveal her strapless bra, one of his hands moved underneath her back, his fingers toying with the clasp of her bra before snapping it open. His fingers inched the thick fabric away, the pads of his fingers grazing along her bare chest. “I’m surprised it took you so long to get that off,” She snickered, “Thought you’d wanna see my boobs first thing,” Lando felt a wave of shame rush over him, drowning in embarrassment of her comment.

He puffed hot air up onto his top lip, a slight snarl twisting his lips. “Is that how I make you feel? Like all I want from you is your body?” His tone was harsh, piercing her skin and leaving a mark. Her expression shifted from her drunken daze to somewhat more alert. The sting behind his tone was solely just a cover for his genuine hurt, unbeknownst to her.

“No, no, Lans..” Her hand cupped his cheek, her voice softening as she said it. “I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean it like that at all,” She angled for a kiss, receiving one almost immediately as he was an absolute sucker for an apology kiss. “If anything that’s more me, I was the one begging for you earlier,” That soothed his nerves, his mood switching back to aiming for pleasure.

He sat back on his heels as she shuffled her legs closer to her, her knees bending up towards the ceiling while still straightened enough to allow them to keep their eye contact. Lando bit his bottom lip, a cheeky grin sneaking out through it. “Sex?” He finally asked, watching her expression turn to match his.

She leaned forward, hands tangling up in the fabric of his button up. Within seconds it had joined her panties somewhere flung mindlessly across the floor. Her fingers massaged into the groves of his back muscles, relishing in how each one ripples with each sudden movement he makes.

His fingers clasped around the zip of her dress, pulling it down tantalisingly slowly. With each bit of skin that was further revealed, his lips peppered kisses down her body. Her eyes fluttered shut, lost in the pleasure and an overwhelming feeling of ‘ oh god, finally’. As she felt the last of her dress removed and likely joined the other discarded clothes, Lando let out a short breath of exhilaration.

His nose nudged her neck, lips focused on her collarbones. “Open your eyes,” He grumbled, his thumbs kneading into her waist. “Want you to see this, pretty thing,” Her eyelids were heavier than ever so opening them felt like a chore.

A flush of wetness streamed straight to her core as she felt him rocking his hips against her cunt. With a flurry of hands and mouths on eachother, she tucked her fingers into his boxer’s waistband and shoved them down, his hardened cock smacking up to hit his stomach.

Her eyes practically turned black as her pupils grew beyond a size Lando deemed possible. “Happy?” A finger slid back inside her like it had been before, moving in and out before realising she’s definitely ready enough for a second one.

“Horny,” His free hand tightened in place over her hips, lifting up to help his digits reach further into her. He ignored her clit, wanting her to finish for a second time when he was actually inside her.

The head of his cock was reddened and had drops of pre-cum lining all over it. He removed his fingers from inside of her, met with a groan of discomfort, and moved that hand to wrap around his aching shaft. “I needa fuck you right now,” Lando grumbled, his hand stroking his throbbing cock a few times before meeting her eyes, seeing only pure lust and want.

His hands gripped her legs, pulling them apart and locking them to wrap around his waist. One hand returned back to his dick, guiding it into her dripping hole. A gasp was punched from her throat as he got close to bottoming out. She was full, insanely full, as if he was to leave right then she wouldn’t have been a complete woman without him inside her.

Admittedly, there was definitely a fair amount of pain that accompanies the intrusion, but it doesn’t come close to the overwhelming pleasure. “Colour?” His voice was thick as he moved in and out of her with renewed energy.

“Green,”

Lando went faster and deeper.

“Greener,” Her expression was dazed and dopey as she looked up at him, her lips lax as she tried to express that she wanted kisses while he ruined her.

He didn’t get the hint, just pushed her legs further up and went quicker.

He finished first and she followed quickly after. He collapsed on top of her in an exhausted pile of a mess, his breathing heavy and manual. “That was so fucking good,” Her eyes trailed up to the ceiling, a sort of emptiness filling the void. She wished he would shut up as he kept rambling on about how pretty she was and how perfect tonight had been. Post sex clarity set in, and hit hard.

Because not only did she just hook up with an f1 driver in a random country, that driver was the man that had been her best friend for years and was a known manwhore. “I love you,” He mumbled, his hand playing with her hair. “Always have, for fucking years I’ve loved you” She didn’t hear him though, his mouth muffled with a blanket in front of it and her ears covered by her pillow.

He fell asleep with his body half on top of her, his arm draped across her chest. Of course he wasn’t the type to practise aftercare. She wiggled out from underneath him, her eyes rimmed with exhaustion and the desperate need for sleep. As soon as her feet hit the plush cushioning of the carpet and the city lights of Singapore nightlife illuminated her face, she realised the grim mistake she’d made.

So with that, she picked her bra and underwear up off the floor, nicking a pair of his smallest shorts and an oversized McLaren hoodie, wrapped herself up in those clothes and headed downstairs to the lobby, calling a taxi to her own account despite how the receptionist said the charge could go to the room she’d stayed in- to Lando.

Even though he had plenty of money to his name and on his card, and how a fifteen dollar taxi would hardly be noticed- she didn’t want to feel an obligation to him to pay him back for this. She needed clarity and space, and feeling like she owed him wouldn’t allow that.

With a quick text sent to him, ‘ thanks for tonight, don’t think we should do it again,’ she stepped into her taxi and headed to her own hotel, showering his touch off under scalding water.

The next morning when he woke up tangled in a heap of blankets and pillow, he noticed how cold and empty the bed was. “Love?” His voice thick with sleep, his arms aimlessly reaching for her. They hit nothing though, he was alone in his bed.

He sat up in a panic, every single moment from the night before remembered exactly. Dancing at the club, his drink in her mouth, the look in her eyes. Back at the hotel, his hands undressing her, their mouths attached to each other’s with undoubtable passion. Him buried inside her, how she’d sounded, how gorgeous she’d looked underneath him.

He’d fucking told her he loved her. And now she was gone.

The now cold bed sheets wound tighter around his body, the false feeling of an embrace not nearly enough to heal the hurt.

~ part 2 ~

#lando norris #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #formula 1 #formula1 #f1 #f1 x reader

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foreingersgod · 3 days

Note

Kate and reader accidentally coming out on Jada’s live with Jada’s response being “well that’s one way to hard launch a relationship” while the rest of the team that was there start laughing while Kate and reader try and melt into the floor. Then now that they’re public they become the most sickeningly cute couple always posting each other and gushing about eachother in interviews and not shying away from being affectionate in front of cameras now that they are public

Hard Launch . KM

pairing: kate martin x reader

synopsis: kate accidentally makes your relationship public

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

you were all cooped up in jada’s apartment, hanging out after an incredibly long practice. everyone was exhausted and just wanted to spend the night relaxing and catching up. so you had all opted to go to jada’s place for the evening, maybe watch a movie or something.

to be completely transparent, you had just wanted to go home. drag kate into a nice hot shower with you and spend the night intertwined in your shared bed. but when jada had offered to have everyone over, kate was quick to announce your plans of attendance. you couldn’t blame her, you had all been working very hard this season with very little breaks in between to casually spend time together. you could share your girlfriend for one night, you supposed.

you didn’t get to spend a lot of time with kate outside the safety of your apartment walls. both of you had agreed to keep things private for a while, only the team and your families knew of your relationship. so you concluded that a night with the team couldn’t hurt anyone.

the room filled with laughter, excitement buzzing off the walls. the team was sat in jada’s living room going back and forth about old stories and favorite memories of the season. it was nice to see all of you together like this, no pressure or stress weighing down on you.

a few drinks and several embarrassing stories later, jada had suggested you all go live. it had been a while since the team had been active on social media and in everyone’s tipsy opinion, going live to all the fans was a perfect idea for the night. jada had her phone out immediately, starting the stream as she watched viewers join left and right.

you honestly didn’t care for it much, off in your own world as caitlin and jada laughed next to you. they were messing around and talking to fans on the live. meanwhile, you were observing from afar, offering a small comment here and there. chatter started to die down as the night went on and you were beginning to grown tired. kate, from the other side of the room where she was goofing around with hannah, noticed your heavy eyelids and small yawns. she knew it was time to call it quits for the night and let everyone know you guys were about to head out.

she walked over to you, completely unaware of jada and caitlin still cackling about something said in the livestream. you were barely keeping your eyes open as she knelt in front of you, taking the half empty cup from your hands.

“hey, baby” she said, shaking you awake “ready to head home, you seem tired”

you yawned again and nodded, about to hoist yourself off of the couch until you realized the silence that filled the room. everyone was staring at you, jada’s hand covered her mouth as she held back another laugh. kate, like you, looked extremely confused.

“well that’s one way to hard launch a relationship” jada broke the silence.

“what?” kate asked. and suddenly it dawned on you, your hand also flying to your mouth in disbelief.

“the live is still going” caitlin said, double checking and watching the comments flood with people asking about you and kate.

“oh my god” you said mortified “i completely forgot, kate”

kate just stood in shock as you peered over the phone to see the damage. sure enough, you were the topic of discussion. so many people were asking about your supposed ‘secret relationship’ and freaking out over the accidental reveal.

the team began to laugh, seeing the looks on your faces as the comments kept flooding in. you and kate just looked at each other with wide eyes. you were always so careful when it came to keeping your relationship quiet. it had become a skill at this point, but now all your efforts had seemed to be for nothing.

“ok i think we’re gonna head out,” kate announced slowly, cheeks a bright crimson “i’m too mortified to stay at this point”

everyone was still laughing at your slip up, ending the live before things could go any further. they all offered their goodbyes as you headed out the door, sneaking in a few ‘good luck’ s for when the announcement of your relationship was all over the internet.

the car ride to your apartment was near silent. both of you were too caught up in your own disbelief to say anything. you weren’t really sure how to feel. mad? nervous? relived?

the warmth of your apartment was a welcoming sensation as you stepped through the door. keys gently hit the hallway table, shoes clunking against hard wood floor. you could see through the still dimly lit room that kate was troubled, hands rubbing at her temples. you turned on the lights as she hunched over the kitchen counter with her head in her hands.

you approached her from behind. front your your chest meeting with her sweater clad back and hands snaking their way around her waist. you let yourself mold into her, head dropping to rest between her shoulder blades. she sighed as you spoke up.

“don’t be too hard on yourself, babe”

“i just can’t believe i wasn’t paying attention” she muttered through her hands “i’m sorry, i know we were gonna wait until-”

“hey” you shushed her, standing up while taking her with you, forcing her to look you in the eyes “i know it’s not what we had planned, but it’s ok! it was an accident and you didn’t mean to, it’s not the end of the world”

she frowned slightly, perfect lips pulling tight together as she nodded in agreement.

“and who knows? maybe this’ll work out better anyways! now we won’t have to hide it anymore!” you continued your attempt to reassure her.

“yea i guess so,” she cracked a smile “i just wish we could’ve done it on our own terms”

“maybe we still can” you pecked her on the lips.

“what do you mean?”

“well it’s only been like an hour” you said “what if we made a post on instagram or something, then that way it can still come from us?”

she thought for a moment before obliging, “yea ok, i like that idea”

so you sat down on the couch, shoulder to shoulder, phones in hand. you made sure to keep the posts simple, but sweet and meaningful to get the point across.

after posting your relationship officially, you and kate finally decided to settle into bed and let the situation play out over night. after changing and shutting down the house for the evening, you dove into the comforter next to your girlfriend. her arms instinctively found you and pulled you into her chest, kissing you goodnight before you both drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

when you awoke the next morning, you got exactly what you had expected. instagram notifications on both of your phones were out of control.

katemartin03

♡ liked by its.yn, caitlinclark22, and 737,575 others

katemartin03 my other half <3 @its.yn

view all 13,445 comments

its.yn i love you !

iowafan44 no way

caitlinclark22 proud of you guys :)

⤷ katemartin03 thanks cait

user53 anyone else here after jada’s live?

⤷ iloveyn13 guilty

moneymartin4ever totally called it

its.yn

♡ liked by katemartin03, ur.sis, and 553,449 others

its.yn love you to the moon and back @katemartin03

view all 11,862 comments

katemartin03 my soulmate <3

ynsbiggestfan ok this is going to be my new obsession

⤷ user55 no cause same

ur.sis i’m going to tear up :’)

caitlinismygf the new it couple fr

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

weeks passed and you couldn’t be happier. being able to finally be out to the public about your relationship was like a breathe of fresh air. and no doubt about it, you and kate were taking full advantage of being officially ‘out’ girlfriends.

the media was all over you two, trying to capture sweet moments of the cute couple. and really, you didn’t mind. any chance you got to flaunt your girlfriend, you leaped at with no hesitation. there were probably dozens of pictures of you guys holding hands, kissing, and leaving practice together by now.

even in post game interviews, both you and kate found ways to bring each other up. you were absolutely obsessed with one another and could never get tired of displaying your love to the public.

jada’s livestream was a blessing in disguise.

#kate martin #kate martin x reader #wcbb #wcbb x reader #iowa wbb #foreingersgod

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mononijikayu · 3 days

Text

night we met — ryomen sukuna.

Feeling the gravity of this moment, he tightened his grip on your hand. You looked down at him and smiled—a gesture that sealed his newfound faith in this bond. At that moment, Ryomen Sukuna felt as though he had been reborn. No longer just a boy lost in the festival's chaos, but a person with a role, a duty, and a place in the world. His life, from that moment forward, was to be lived for you, in devotion to the path you would guide him on. You had become his guardian, his mentor—his goddess—and he, in turn, devoted himself to be your loyal follower.

GENRE: Heian Era to Cursed Womb Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining;

masterlist

listen: the night we met by lord huron

note: i finally got a break after two exams. i still have one more. but i wanted to pop in and give this to you before i disappear into my books again. i hope you enjoy this little thing~ i love you~

FATHER THOUGHT THAT THERE WOULD BE MORE NEED FOR RETAINERS TO COME WITH THEM. As they navigated the bustling streets of the city, Ryomen Hiromi couldn't shake off a palpable sense of tension, despite the festive atmosphere. The warm glow of lanterns illuminated the cobblestone paths, and the air was filled with lively chatter and laughter. Yet, an underlying unease lingered—perhaps a whisper from the gods, you mused, familiar with the capricious nature of the divine. Your lips tightened into a straight line, your hand unconsciously drifting to the hilt of your sword. Beneath the surface festivity, an undercurrent of anxiety was palpable.

This might explain why your father had insisted on bringing as many men as possible. The Ryomen family was never short of loyal retainers, and Masaomi had been eager to accompany you. Your father's protective instincts weighed heavily on you, his warnings echoing in your mind. As the sole remaining heir of your distinguished family, his concerns were magnified by the elders’ incessant uproar. Though you understood the necessity of your high profile, it sometimes felt stifling.

As you continued through the lively streets, the festival's atmosphere was electrifying. Lanterns hung from every post, casting dancing lights over the faces of the revelers, each absorbed in their own joyous celebration. The air was thick with the scents of street food and a cacophony of laughter and music, creating a chaotic symphony. Yet, despite the jovial chaos, a tug of unease pulled at your consciousness.

You maintained an even pace and a neutral expression, blending seamlessly into the crowd. The presence of your uncle Hiramu was reassuring; his experienced hand rested nonchalantly on his sword, his eyes scanning the crowd with practiced vigilance. His readiness to protect offered comfort and a reminder of the ever-present potential for danger.

Ryomen Hiromi experienced the weight of the festival differently. While others were drawn into the spirit of celebration, your senses were heightened, alert to any discord. The subtle narrowing of your eyes and the stiffness in your shoulders might go unnoticed by an ordinary onlooker, but they were clear indicators of your tension. The flickering shadows cast by the lantern lights seemed to hide potential threats, and every burst of laughter could be masking whispered conspiracies.

You knew you couldn't afford to let down your guard, not when the stakes were so high. This mission was critical, especially to you, marking a step towards your heir’s role, and the weight of this responsibility was heavy on your shoulders. The festival, with its mask of tradition and celebration, might well be a veneer for more sinister undertones.

Navigating through this sea of faces, your gaze occasionally met those of strangers, your deep hazel eyes searching for any hint of recognition or malice. Being with your uncle Hiramu brought some peace, tempering the anxiety that gnawed at your heart, but the persistent unease remained. Something was amiss, and you could not yet pinpoint it. Your instincts screamed for attention, urging vigilance as the night promised to stretch long.

Reports of strange occurrences and unexplained events had been increasing, stirring unrest among the populace and reaching the ears of Lord Isamu. Typically, such critical missions would fall to your elder brother, Akimu, the designated heir tasked with maintaining the safety and stability of Hida's heartland in your father's stead. But now, with Akimu unable to lead, the weight of responsibility had shifted onto your capable yet burdened shoulders.

Each step felt heavy under the scrutinizing gaze of the moon, illuminating the bustling night with a mocking smile. You took a moment to gather your scattered thoughts, steadying the swirling emotions within. As you lifted your gaze, your eyes began to sharpen, honing in on the play of shadows cast by the lantern light, looking beyond the immediate spectacle to the hidden corners and fleeting movements that might betray underlying threats.

This mission was about more than following in Akimu's footsteps; it was about proving that Ryomen Hiromi could stand firm on uneven, unfamiliar ground. You were determined to command respect, to show that despite your gender, you were every bit the Ryomen heir as any man could be.

As you moved away from the main festivities into quieter, dimly lit parts of the town, Uncle Hiramu finally spoke, his voice low and serious, “Little niece, do you sense it too? There’s a heaviness in the air tonight. It must be what your father was speaking of.”

You nodded, your sharp gaze scanning the shadows. “Yes, I feel it. It's as if the air itself is thick with whispers of the past. There’s a disturbance, not just a vengeful spirit, I think. Something older, deeper.”

Hiramu’s eyes narrowed as he looked ahead. “We should be cautious. These kinds of spirits are often bound to old grudges or unresolved tragedies. The festival’s energy could stir it more than usual.”

You turned into a less crowded alley, where the noise of the festival faded into a distant hum. Your elegant robes brushed against the cobblestones, your attire blending traditional beauty with practicality. The layered silk of your fine kimono was dyed in deep blues and purples, embroidered with silver threads that caught the light, mimicking the night sky. Your obi was tightly cinched, supporting the small dagger hidden within—a necessity for any noble venturing into uncertain situations.

Your father insisted that you dress appropriately. It was outlandish, you supposed. The choices were far too simple for taste, unsuitable for any young beauty of such noble stock. But this was as comfortable as it was safe. Pretense of trade being your desire here in these parts, was much easier than to be quite obvious. Anything more than this would have attracted as much attention as retainers.

“Do you think it’s tied to a particular location or event?” you asked, your voice steady despite the creeping chill that seemed to cling to the edges of the night air. “It’s getting me curious…”

“It could be,” Hiramu replied, his hand never straying far from his sword. “These spiteful little cursed spirits often attach themselves to physical locations where significant emotional events occurred. We’ll need to explore the some sites around here—old battlefields, abandoned shrines, places of great loss or betrayal. Someone is deeply angry, little niece."

Your mind raced, piecing together knowledge with the clues of your current environment. “There’s an old well not far from here, sealed up after a great tragedy struck a hundred years ago during a similar festival. A fire had broken out, and many lives were lost. It was said that the well was cursed thereafter.”

Hiramu’s gaze sharpened, his lips just as sharp when he smiled. “That’s a good place to start. Lead the way, little niece.”

IT HAD TAKEN SOME TIME TO FIND THE CURSED SPIRIT. As the moon ascended, bathing the lively festival in its serene, silver luminescence, you and Uncle Hiramu pressed on with your diligent investigation. The festive air, alive with the thrum of activity and the laughter of revelers, contrasted sharply with your growing tension. Underneath the celestial glow, the reality of your mission slowly began to crystallize, taking on a new urgency as unexpected developments unfolded. It had begun with something ever so simple and from there, unpredictable fate intervened and soon enough, the chaos ensued.

The moment of realization struck you with unsettling suddenness. You patted down the side. There was nothing but panic as you looked to the side of the obi and found nothing. One look was enough to confirm that eager suspicion: the coin purse was missing. You looked up towards Uncle Hiramu. You knew that he was trying not to laugh, but his eyes were too obvious. You smacked your uncle which prompted the laugh to bellow from his belly. All you could do was mope in the silence. You supposed that it was alright. Money was not a big deal. But… your eyes widened.

Without hesitating, your eyes swept across the sea of faces swirling around you. The atmosphere was charged with the festival’s energy, yet your focus was razor-sharp. It was then that you had spotted a distinct splash of color that stood out against the earthy tones of the crowd—a young boy with striking pink hair, weaving through the crowd with the agility and desperation of someone fleeing. You looked at Hiramu, and he nodded back at you.

It was then where your instincts kicked in. You tapped your uncle's arm and started mouthing instructions as subtly as one could towards the fleeing figure. Without needing further explanation, Hiramu caught the urgency and nodded. Hiramu took the other direction as you turned to the other.

As you navigated through the dense crowd, the distance between you and the boy closed gradually, you were certain of it. You could sense Hiramu’s cursed energy with each step below against the wide battered ground. You were certain that you were ever so close to bringing a close to the night. But first, you must unravel the night's mysteries. That boy was the key.

Ryomen Hiramu wasted no time as he dashed from stall to stall, street to street. He could feel it, he could feel it too well. That overwhelming power. His seasoned body kicked into high gear, and he swiftly maneuvered through the crowd, his eyes fixed on the pink-haired boy darting through the festival, speeding through the brunt of human bodies. Hiramu cursed under his breath. The child was too clever. With each step, Hiramu's determination as he ran through a corridor of small houses clamped together—one of the poorest sects of life in the quaint area.

As he closed the gap between them, Hiramu noticed an unusual, dark shimmer around the boy—an ominous aura that seemed almost palpable in the moonlit night. This was no mere act of theft; it was clear there was something far more sinister at play. The aura surrounding the boy twisted and writhed like a living thing, a visual manifestation of deep-seated emotional turmoil. It became apparent that this child was not acting alone; he was bound to a cursed spirit, a malevolent force likely fueled by intense feelings of anger, fear, and loneliness.

The realization struck Hiramu with a harsh chill. The spirit's presence suggested that the boy's actions were not entirely his own, that he was under the influence of these dark energies that fed on negative emotions. Such spirits were known to attach themselves to vulnerable souls, magnifying their darkest thoughts and driving them to act in ways they might not otherwise, turning their inner turmoil into outward chaos. Just as he drew his sword, you turned from the corner. Ryomen Hiromi threw that heavy bound haori away, looking at Hiramu.

“Shibaru One! Binding Fate!” you exclaimed, your voice clear and commanding as streaks of luminous energy surged towards the boy. He let out a sharp cry, writhing against the ethereal chains that now ensnared him under your control.

“Be careful!” Hiramu cautioned, moving closer to assist. “He's the source, he's entwined with that cursed spirit!”

You nodded, your focus undeterred by the boy's struggles as you tightened your grip on the energy that bound him. The spectral chains glowed brighter, each pulse of light strengthening the hold over the chaotic spirit within him. Your uncle's warning echoed in your mind, reinforcing your burning resolve to act with both precision and caution.

The boy’s eyes, wide with a mixture of fear and confusion, met yours. You could see the turmoil swirling within him, the innocent caught in the grip of something far beyond his control. “Hold on, just a little longer,” you murmured, your voice a blend of firmness and reassurance intended to pierce through the haze of his panic. A faint smile blossomed from your lips. “Trust me, okay?”

Hiramu understood the gravity of the situation—they were dealing with a phenomenon that was both a danger to the boy and to all those attending the festival. The cursed spirit needed to be dealt with delicately and decisively, for the safety of the boy and the peace of the community. There were too many people here that would not understand what was going on.

There was no need to make a bigger ruckus. With this understanding, Ryomen Hiramu pressed on, his resolve hardened, knowing that he and you must act swiftly to intervene and dispel the darkness that had taken hold of the young boy.

As Hiramu closed in, the cursed spirit sensed the threat and began to lash out, manifesting as tendrils of dark energy. You, realizing the severity of the situation, knew immediate action was required. "Start the purification ritual!" Hiramu shouted over his shoulder as he dodged a swipe from the spirit. "I'll hold it off! Just go and do your job!”

You crossed the tips of your fingers, your eyes narrowing deeper into the soul of the boy. You began to chant softly, the words of an ancient purification rite falling rhythmically from your lips. The boy looked frightened by all means, as the white light did what it could, purging one dark fabric from the boy one after the other.

The air around you seemed to hum with power as your words wove through the currents of energy emanating from your firm hands. The glowing chains tightened further, and the dark aura around the boy began to dissipate, sucked away into the void created by your spell. But as with all things, it tried to keep alive.

Meanwhile, Hiramu engaged the spirit, his sword movements precise, each strike intended not to harm the boy but to distract the spirit and weaken its hold. The sound of the boy’s screams pierced through over and over again, the cursed spirit overlaying against each agonizing echo. He could see the ritual's glow intensifying, the light beginning to engulf the boy, binding and suppressing the dark energy around him.

With a final, desperate cry, the cursed spirit dissipated, expelled in one painful grip. All of a sudden, your white cursed energy also disappeared. You gasped out loud as your shaking knees fell to the ground, weary from it all. It was the first time you had used that purification technique. But it seemed that it had finally worked. You looked at the empty depth of your palm.

As the ritual reached its climax, your voice rose in a powerful cadence, your tender hands outstretched towards the boy, directing the flow of purified energy. The cursed spirit writhed and howled and fought over and over, its form becoming unstable under the ritual’s influence. Sweat permeated through your sleeves, your teeth gritted, your eyes narrowed, over and over the ringing of each of your ears continued as the boy continued to fight for his life.

Your eyes shined. You had done that. Hiramu looked at you, rushing towards you. But you stopped him, coughing as you regained air. You pointed to the boy, sprawled on the pavement. Hiramu sheathed his sword back. Soon enough, Hiramu could only lift the boy in his arms.

The boy, now freed from the spirit’s grasp, collapsed, exhausted but unharmed. He was perhaps trying to catch his breath. He must have been exhausted. You, having returned to the plane of reality, rushed to his side, your own energy spent. You were certain that there was no bigger word than relief as you eagerly confirmed that he was safe. His eyes were both soft and weary as he looked at that boy. He lifted his head at you.

Hiramu's eyes remained narrowed, the wrinkles at the corners deepening as he surveyed the scene before him. Despite the successful expulsion of the spirit, his instincts told him there was more to uncover. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried a weight that drew your attention immediately. "Something is still not right," he said, his tone heavy with unease.

You nodded, understanding the depth of your uncle's concern. You gently placed your palm on the boy's forehead, feeling the residual heat of the ritual. "He's warm, uncle," you observed as your voice echoed tinged with worry.

"Purification techniques are painful to the body," Hiramu responded, his voice a low hum, soothing yet solemn. "It’s purging the worst of the soul, after all. Still, it must be said. You did well, little niece."

The corners of your mouth twitched into a slight smile, a rare break in your usually stern demeanor. "Such praise is rare, uncle."

Hiramu let out a soft snicker, his usual stern facade momentarily giving way to familial warmth. "I compliment you all the time," he claimed, though his smile betrayed the playfulness of his exaggeration.

"That sounds like a lie, uncle," you retorted, your weary eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and affection.

"Yeah, yeah," Hiramu dismissed playfully, but his attention quickly returned to the matter at hand as the boy began to stir. You blinked, taken aback by the sudden movement. You had been so focused on your exchange that the boy's awakening caught you momentarily off guard.

"What do you intend to do with this boy, niece?" Hiramu asked, his tone shifting back to the gravity of your situation. His question hung in the air, pressing you for a decision, reminding you of your responsibilities. “You’re the only one who can decide the lad’s fate.”

“Uncle—”

“You are my better, even if I am your elder and uncle.” Hiramu added, watching you become flustered as he watched the young lady shift in her position. “What do you think is right?”

You took a deep breath, your gaze shifting from Hiramu to the boy who was slowly regaining consciousness. You could see the confusion and fear flicker across his young face as he came to grips with his surroundings. He seemed disoriented, his eyes darting around, trying to make sense of what had happened to him.

Your voice rang out with a firm resolve, words carrying an air of unwavering determination. You met the older man’s gaze with a steady intensity, your expression betraying no hint of doubt.

"We'll bring him back with us to the manor," you declared, leaving no room for argument. "I'll send word ahead to let them know."

Hiramu's response was laced with a sense of foreboding. "They won't like this," he cautioned, his words heavy with the weight of tradition and expectation. You understood exactly what he meant—the elders, with their adherence to protocol and rigid adherence to tradition, were unlikely to approve of your deviation from established norms. But your determination remained unshaken.

"That is a matter I will handle myself, uncle," you asserted, your voice steady and resolute. You were acutely aware of the potential consequences of defying the elders, but your concern for the boy's well-being outweighed any fear of reprisal. "Do not worry."

Hiramu sighed, a reluctant acknowledgment of your determination. Despite his reservations, he knew better than to stand in your way when your stubborn mind was set to its desires.

"Very well," he conceded, his voice tinged with resignation. At that moment, he placed his trust in your judgment, knowing that you would do whatever was necessary to ensure the young boy’s safety and well-being, even if it meant challenging the traditions of your elders. “What else?”

“We might stay a day longer, to make sure that this is the only concern.” You retorted back to him, pursing your lips together in a tight line. “I shall head off and see to it that barriers are strengthened. There need not be any more situations like this one.”

“Very well. I’ll go ahead and take him to our inn.”

“Make sure he’s well fed, uncle. And that he’s alright.”

Hiramu snickers. “You act as though I didn’t take care of you or your brother.”

"I’ll check on him when I return. We need to ensure he's truly free of any residual curse," you said tenderly towards the older man.. "We also need to understand who he is. How did he get here at all, past the barriers. And how did he get this powerful. This puzzle requires quite a bit of effort.”

Hiramu nodded in agreement, his face reflecting his approval of your thorough approach. "Very well," he replied, "We should also see if we can help him find his way. No one should be left to wander alone, much so not one who has been through such an ordeal."

You knelt beside the boy, offering a reassuring smile. "Can you tell us your name?" you asked gently, hoping to ease him into conversation.

As the boy's gaze met yours, his initially wide eyes began to soften, a subtle shift that hinted at his growing realization of safety in your presence. Despite this reassurance, he remained silent, a reaction you attributed to the lingering shock and confusion from the events he had endured. Understandingly, you accepted his quiet, knowing well that pushing him to speak before he was ready could only cause further distress.

You addressed him with a gentle, reassuring smile, your tone soft yet imbued with an underlying strength. "Take all the time you need, little boy," you encouraged, your words floating warmly in the cool air, offering him the space and time he might require to recover from his ordeal. Your smile, kind and patient, was meant to communicate that he was under no pressure to reveal anything before he felt comfortable.

Straightening up, you prepared to continue your duties, aware of the responsibilities that still awaited your attention beyond this encounter. You glanced towards your uncle, who had also been through a trying time, his vigilance unyielding as he supported your efforts.

"Get some rest. You too, uncle," you added, acknowledging his fatigue and your appreciation for his steadfast support. "I’ll return with haste."

As you turned to leave, the boy's eyes followed your every move, wide and contemplative. In the quiet aftermath of your promise, his gaze lingered on your retreating figure, a mix of newfound trust and lingering uncertainty playing across his features. His eyes, filled with a depth that spoke of both fear and curiosity, seemed to hold a thousand unasked questions.

As he watched you disappear into the crowd, there was a palpable sense of wonder about whether he could find his voice, not just to speak but to share his thoughts, fears, and perhaps his hidden stories. The boy was silently grappling with the idea of opening up, of letting someone else into his secluded world.

You, aware of his watchful eyes, felt a twinge of responsibility and hope. His silent scrutiny did not go unnoticed, and it reminded you of the delicate task ahead—not just protecting him from external dangers but also nurturing his trust and confidence to the point where he would feel safe to express himself. The boy's quiet contemplation as you walked away hinted at the significant role you would play in his life, potentially being the first to hear his voice when he finally chose to speak.

As you melded with the festivities, the distance between you growing, you carried with you the weight of his unspoken thoughts, hoping that when you returned, the boy would be ready to break his silence, allowing you into his world. Until then, he shuts his eyes. He lets the sleep take him to the nether world, where nightmares still come to follow.

HIROMI THINKS THAT SLEEP WAS ALL THAT WOULD FIX THINGS. Hiromi returned to the heart of the festival, your task of reinforcing the protective barriers around the periphery completed. Your work, involving the meticulous weaving of energy to strengthen the existing magical defenses, had left you sharp and attuned to even the slightest disturbance. The process was arduous, as you needed to locate and neutralize any lingering curses that could threaten the festival's sanctity. Each of these encounters, a dance of skill and arcane prowess, tested not only your abilities but also your mental fortitude and resolve.

The challenges were varied, ranging from minor nuisances that were swiftly dealt with, to more stubborn, malignant energies that demanded all your focus and power to dispel. Yet, you managed each with precision and control, your extensive training and natural aptitude shining through. With every curse you unraveled and every barrier you chose to further fortify. As Akimu ensured the festival grounds remained a safe haven, you would do the same. This land must always be free from the influence of dark forces.

This vigilant defense was crucial, not only to protect the attendees but to maintain the balance of energies within the festival area. Any breach could lead to chaos, potentially unleashing harm on the unsuspecting revelers. Your successful fortification of the area thus served as an invisible shield, one that allowed the festival to continue in joyous celebration without the shadow of malevolent interference.

As the sky began to lighten with the approach of dawn, you continued that prideful vigilance, keeping a watchful eye on the worshippers gathered for the festival. Amidst the joyous celebrations, you remained ever alert, scanning the crowd for any signs of disturbance or danger. It was in the stillness of the early morning hours that you noticed a subtle shift in the atmosphere.

Despite the dim light of dawn, you sensed a presence nearby, a stirring of energy that caught all of your attention. Instinctively, you turned your gaze toward the source and saw the pink-haired boy, his eyes open and alert. You approached him quietly, your movements fluid and deliberate. You could sense that something had changed, that your encounter earlier had left an impression on him. With a gentle smile, you greeted him, your voice soft but reassuring.

"Good morning," you said, your tone warm with genuine concern. "How are you feeling?"

The boy's gaze flickered between curiosity and caution as he studied you, trying to parse the intentions behind your unexpected approach. Despite the swirl of doubt clouding his young mind, there was an undeniable sense of comfort that seemed to emanate from your presence—somewhat a stability in the tumultuous sea of his current experiences. Sensing his hesitation, you understood his reticence; after all, to him, you and uncle Hiramu were nothing more than strangers who had suddenly entered his life under unusual and likely frightening circumstances.

However, you sensed a deeper narrative woven into the fabric of the boy's aura, a story that extended beyond his current fear and confusion. You were determined to unearth the role he played in the festival's strange occurrences, driven by a conviction that his involvement was not merely coincidental. This was uncharted territory, a situation that neither you nor the festival had encountered before. Yet, you believed that new challenges were always opportunities for growth and understanding, reminders that there is always a "first time" for every occurrence in life.

Respecting his silence, you chose not to press him further for answers. You recognized that trust needed to be earned, especially in such delicate circumstances. It was then, in a moment of frailty, that the boy's strength seemed to falter, his body leaning as if he might collapse. Reacting swiftly, you stepped forward, kneeling to catch him, your movements guided by a blend of concern and readiness to support him.

As he rebounded slightly, stabilized by your quick intervention, he blinked up at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and bewilderment. In that brief exchange of looks, a silent understanding began to form. Your actions spoke louder than any words could have; they conveyed a promise of protection and empathy, laying the groundwork for a trust that might soon allow the boy to share his story and perhaps reveal the mysteries surrounding the events that had drawn you all together.

As you extended your hand toward him, he hesitated momentarily before his eyes blinked in a mix of confusion and curiosity. Observing his uncertainty, you offered him a tender smile, softening your expression to ease his apprehension.

"Are you alright, young one?" you asked, your voice low and soothing, cutting through the noise of the surrounding festivities.

In that moment, the boy found himself unexpectedly captivated by your presence. There was something almost ethereal about you, a radiance that seemed to emanate from within, casting a gentle, enchanting glow in the soft light of the festival’s lanterns—ones which still light up the dark morning glory. Your form appeared haloed by this light, lending you an otherworldly grace that was both comforting and awe-inspiring.

Your eyes, warm and inviting, seemed to draw him in further. They were deep pools of compassion and understanding, reaching out to him across the void of his own confusion and fear. As your eyes met, he felt a profound connection; it was as though you could see into the very depths of his soul, understanding his fears and yearnings without a word spoken.

The world around both of you seemed to pause, creating a bubble of serenity amidst the chaos. To the boy, this wasn’t just a simple meeting; it was a pivotal moment that would redefine his understanding of safety and hope. Even before he knew your name, Hiromi, he saw in you not just a protector or a higher power, but a guiding light, a beacon of hope illuminating his darkened world.

"What's your name?" you inquired gently, noticing his silence but undeterred by it.

When he remained mute, your smile broadened, radiating kindness and patience. "It’s okay if you have no name," you reassured him, your voice a soft anchor in his stormy sea of thoughts.

Upon hearing this, he looked up, his eyes wide with a mix of amazement and relief. Here was someone offering not just help, but a place and a presence in the world.

"I’ll give you one," you promised, a simple offer that nonetheless promised him a new beginning, a sense of identity and belonging that he had long craved. This simple gesture of naming was more than a label; it was a gift of a new life and a fresh start under your protective gaze.

You smile warmly at him, feeling the weight of the moment as you prepare to give him a name—a simple yet profound gift that could anchor him to a new beginning. When you smile at him, he thinks he found heaven. monsters like him do not deserve heaven. Yet the goddess you were, embraced him in the warmth of tender night. Names were important. In the family, it was. Sensing the importance of the choice, you think carefully, choosing a name rich with strength and history. The family histories had such good names to choose from, you think.

"Would the name Ryomen Sukuna suffice for you?" you ask gently, observing his reaction to gauge whether it resonates with him. “Now that you are with us, you will gain two lives. The past and now the future. Will you accept it, little one?”

The boy looks up, his eyes widening slightly as he processes the name. It's clear he is unfamiliar with its origins or meanings, but there is an undeniable flicker of intrigue in his gaze. Ryomen Sukuna, a name that carries echoes of a mystic and power to it. Entirely opposite of what he had known. The boy, now Sukuna, thinks this could imbue him with a sense of might and courage, perhaps reflecting the new path he might choose to follow under your guidance. And then, maybe then, he can serve you. With this new name.

For a moment, he remains silent, contemplating the name, rolling it over in his mind. Then, slowly, a tentative smile begins to form on his lips. It seems to suit him, or at least, he is willing to step into the mantle it could offer.

"Ryomen Sukuna," he repeats softly, testing how the name feels as it comes out of his mouth. His voice is unsure at first, but with each repetition, he seems to grow more comfortable, more accepting of it.

Seeing his acceptance, your smile broadens. "Yes, Ryomen Sukuna," you confirm with a nod, affirming his new identity. "It’s a strong name, one that I believe can help guide you to become whoever you wish to be."

The boy nods, a sense of new identity beginning to settle within him. The name, though ancient, now starts a new chapter in his life, one filled with potential and promise. You extend your hand to him once more, this time as a gesture of warmth. A future worth looking forward to.

"Now, you must be hungry, Sukuna," you suggest warmly, ready to introduce him back into the celebration, not as an orphan lost amidst chaos but as a newly named participant with a protector by his side. “There’s still some stalls open. Some are not yet done with the festival. Do you want something to eat?”

He looks at you for a moment and then tenderly nods. As he takes your hand, his grip is firm, and his initial hesitance seems to wash away with the rising sun. Together, you walk back towards the heart of where the fullness of the festival had been, your steps synchronized. Ryomen Sukuna, newly named and newly empowered, walks beside you, no longer just a passive spectator but a young boy with a nascent but growing sense of belonging and purpose.

Your role as his protector, and now the giver of his name, has created a bond between you, one that promises not only safety but also a future filled with the potential for transformation. As you both step into the bustling festival, the early morning light casts long shadows, yet for Sukuna, illuminated by the glow of the lanterns and buoyed by your supportive presence, the world seems less intimidating.

You had given him a name, securing a place for him in this chaos—a gesture simple yet profound. This act forged a tentative bond, knitting a fragile sense of belonging into his young heart. And now, for the first time, he truly belonged somewhere. On this transformative night, his heart was full of nothing but hope. He had a name—a name that was uniquely his, one his mother had never given him.

As you walked side by side, he looked up at you with eyes shining with admiration. Sukuna adored his new name, not just for its sound or its meaning, but because it was a gift from you. It symbolized a new beginning, a sign of your faith in him. In that simple name, he found a deep sense of identity and purpose. He hoped beyond hope that this newfound connection would last.

This rebirth was not just about a new name but a whole new existence shaped by the promise of guidance and protection under your watchful care. As the festival carried on around you, with its myriad lights and shadows, Sukuna walked confidently by your side, secure in his new identity and the journey ahead.

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stxrvel · 1 day

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tis the damn season

a season of sadness wanted to come to an end. 'tis the damn season and you thought maybe you could go home and live with your mate the way it was meant to be…

pairing: azriel x f!reader

wc: +3.5k

warnings: pure angst, cuss words and slight (or light? soft?) unprotected (wrap it up) smut. no happy ending, sorry

note: hi guys! :)- i wrote and published this one some time ago, but i deleted it because it was poorly received and that disappointed me a bit. but now that i was able to read it again, i feel it's a good job and that should be enough for me. i hope you guys like it :). see u next time!

Azriel was your mate. You had known for a couple of months. He knew it long before that, too. The bond snapped first for him, but he never tried to get close to you. You didn't know if it was out of fear or if he never agreed with what was chosen for the two of you by the Cauldron.

Likewise, you never had time to ask. The battle against the King of Hybern almost cost you your life. You didn't know what things had been done outside of your consciousness to keep you alive, you didn't know what boundaries Rhysand had crossed to bring you back to life, and you never wanted to ask either. You never asked anything, living in that ignorance gave you a sense of peace you didn't want to get rid of.

But things were never the same after that. From the day you woke up, everything felt different. During that time, you didn't allow yourself much time to delve into what the recent bond between you and Azriel meant, and he always agreed to give you your time.

However, one day, out of nowhere, it all became too overwhelming. And you decided to run away.

You never said anything to anyone, and you closed the door so Azriel couldn't feel you. You knew it must've been painful for everyone, especially your mate, but being with all of them after everything that had happened was unbearable. You lived under a constant reminder of suffering, violence and blood. You couldn't stop seeing your hands full of blood every time you closed your eyes, guilty for the lives they had taken as if you had had any right to do so, but having to know daily that it was all justified. Velaris and the permanence of the rest of Prythian justified it.

So, you went far away, to the other side of the world, to the east. To the Continent.

And life was not easy at all. You knew Azriel wasn't having a good time. After a while, the wall you both had built around the bond was beginning to crack and his emotions were seeping through those tiny cracks. You could sometimes feel his sadness, his pain… his anger. After a couple of minutes of heartbreaking grief, the pangs of anger would appear. You could tell what he was going through and, selflessly, you tried to think that your decision was for the best.

Rhysand wrote to you almost daily. Paper with his handwriting constantly appeared around you and, although you never answered him, he always made it a point to let you know everything that was going on in Velaris.

The first few days were the hardest.

There was a heavy snowfall on the Continent when you arrived, something that had never been more than a welcome, tearing at your skin. The cold was so deadly and the gales so lethal that you couldn't leave the apartment you were renting for a whole week. Apparently, at that time, that was normal. The cold that fogged up the windows, that froze your limbs, and that made all signs of life disappear.

Where are you? Azriel is very worried

Please, answer me

Y/N

WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU????

Cassian and Azriel are flying over Velaris. Can you just tell me, please?

Y/N, we are very worried. Please.

Please.

You had a lot of tugging on your bond from Azriel. You could feel his desperation even through the walls of silence. Those were difficult days. The cold days were not comforting at all.

However, as the months passed, with the cultural difference and the harshness of reality outside of the family you had known for as long as you had memories, so many hundreds of years ago, you gave in to Rhysand's wishes to return to Velaris on the night of the Starfall.

And that night… well, you hadn't told anyone you were going.

But as you expected, Azriel was the first to know you were there.

You heard the flutter of his wings before you saw him, towering in the moonlight against the dim lighting in the city in anticipation of the biggest celebration of the year. He stumbled as he fell, being one of the few times you had seen him unable to control his strength, staggering with his feet and hands to get to a safe distance from you. His breathing was rapid, almost erratic and his eyes were bright, crystallized. The stirring movement in your chest brought tears to your eyes.

Azriel was there in front of you from the moment he had the slight feeling, because he knew the bond wasn't wrong. And his gaze reflected everything. Everything he wanted to say and everything he preferred to keep silent. You had never felt so strongly the need to be close to him; you hadn't even accepted the bond, but you felt as if you had just done it. His eyes roamed the features of your face, his expression contracting as if he was slowly processing that you were really there in front of him.

You saw him raise one of his hands, the hands that had so often held you in the darkness and through the sadness. If you focused really well, you could almost notice how his body trembled at the closeness, with anticipation, just as your body shuddered at his presence.

The effects of the bond were powerful. But that hadn't been what made you fall in love with him.

Azriel took a tentative step forward, reaching out his hands as if in a trance, seeking to touch you to make sure it was really you in front of him and not some kind of hallucination. Your voice stopped him on his feet.

“Hello, Azriel,” you could barely speak, that suffocating feeling of being close tightening your throat. His eyes moved quickly back to yours and watered once more, his breathing quickening again. You didn't know what you had awakened in him just by speaking to him once more after so long without seeing him, but it must've been the same thing that ignited in your body when he spoke.

“Y/N,” he elongated your name, like a plea or a prayer, you weren't sure. Electricity coursed through your body in a matter of seconds and you felt your feet move before you could stop them. The emotion rising in your chest matched your mate's expression, nostalgic because it had been so many months since you had last been so close and yet more pained and suffering because you had been the reason all that pain now surrounded you both.

You stopped just inches away from him, your hands itching with the need to touch him, to feel him close, to once again have that warmth that would warm and thaw your soul. His huge, beautiful wings were taut behind him, being that all his attention was focused on your every move. You saw him hold his breath as you approached, struggling hard to hold back the tears that welled up in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” you whispered the question, the air stealing your confidence, perhaps feeling a little silly and embarrassed about it. Suddenly, you felt too small under his gaze.

“Okay?” the change in his voice was hardly imperceptible, sending shivers throughout your body, the panic of fear making its way into your chest, the bond tightening as if both ends were being pulled at the same time. “You left for a year without telling anyone. We went months without knowing if you were okay. I couldn't… I couldn't… feel you.”

His voice became shaky, each word brimming with a tinge of suppressed anger.

“Do you think I'm anything close to okay?”

Yes, it was a stupid question. The knot in your chest grew rapidly, the back of your throat burning with pent-up tears.

“I can't even enjoy the relief of seeing you now because… I'm so angry.”

“I know…” you barely mumbled, lowering your head. How could you look him in the eye? Why did you think you had the right to go back as if nothing had happened? It was clear that things weren't going to be like they were before. You weren't sure about the others, but it seemed you had taken some of Azriel with you by disappearing like that. Proud you weren't of your actions, but you didn't know how to explain to his shattered features and cheeks wet with tears that, at that moment, you believed it was the right thing to do.

The tears in his eyes prompted your own and you sobbed unable to contain the feeling. You tried to regain your composure, because you had no right to show such sadness when you had created it all. But Azriel was faster and you didn't even manage to put your hands under your eyes when his arms wrapped around your shoulders tightly. His wings also surrounded you and, although you had hardly noticed it because of the darkness, you felt his shadows dance around your feet.

The warmth of his body was automatically welcome. How many times had you imagined that scene in your cold bed on the Continent, all alone and devastated from time to time, with memories invading your mind. Not many times did you regret your decision, except when you thought of Azriel.

He sobbed too, his hands tightening on your arms, as if he was afraid to let you go again. He probably was.

“I don't understand what made you think you'd be better off away from us… away from me, but I'm sorry.”

His words surprised you, but a flood of feelings greeted you from the other end of the bond as Azriel let go and you couldn't think too hard. Crying swirled in the back of your throat. The level of pain and sadness that your mate was handling and had hidden from you for so long was so uncontainable that you almost doubled over, leaning over Azriel's body as you felt it rushing through you.

“I thought you needed space. I know what happened with Hybern was too much for you and I didn't want to overwhelm you. But if I had known that decision would've made you decide you'd be better off away from me…” Azriel gulped, his voice full of feeling breaking off between words. “If I had known I promise you it would've been different.”

You couldn't believe Azriel was telling you that. And the feelings coming from his end through the bond confirmed it to you. Azriel felt guilty about your departure. From moment one, when the panic and fear dissipated, Azriel never stopped feeling that it had been his responsibility that you decided to leave. And he couldn't have been more wrong. You loved him, had loved him long before the bond appeared, but the things that happened after Hybern, that affected you, had nothing to do with him.

“Azriel…”

“I'm supposed to be your mate. I'm supposed to support you, help you when you're down. I don't understand how I could fail at that. I'm sorry,” his voice was muffled as he spoke with his face hidden in your neck. At no time did he let go of you and his wings kept you warm. At that moment, that was home.

“I promise it's not your fault,” you managed to speak, your face pressed against his chest.

“I was supposed to be with you, accompanying you, but I-”

“Azriel, you didn't do anything wrong,” you fought against his tight grip so you could look him in the eyes and the tears running down his cheeks broke your heart once again.

“Then why did you leave?”

You didn't have an answer for that and Azriel realized it when your lips pursed. He sighed, as best he could, and drew you back into his arms. Maybe he didn't need an answer at that moment, just having you by his side was more than enough.

With the others it wasn't much easier.

Rhysand and Feyre almost wept at your feet. Cassian, on the other hand, didn't hide it and deliberately filled your shoulder with tears and saliva. Mor lifted you into the air and almost didn't let you escape when Azriel started begging her to let you go already. Everyone cried. Possibly even Feyre's sisters shed a tear or two.

You felt calm for a while. Complete, as if you were back in that house, in that home, before Amarantha and Hybern destroyed everything for you.

But things couldn't be perfect. After the Starfall, you began to feel that anxiety again. Azriel could only tell by your body language, because you still kept your end of the bond completely closed to him and he couldn't feel the swirl of emotions coursing through your body. You had barely had time to get used to the familiarity of the situation when all the memories came flooding back. Perhaps you had blocked them out during your absence living on the Continent, you weren't sure, but the cries of war began to haunt you from the back of your mind.

Azriel's shadows were also restless and that was another way he could tell something was going on. He was almost glued to your side all night, watching you out of the corner of his eye when you stepped away to talk to some friends. He never let you out of his sight. You knew where this behavior was coming from, but it never occurred to you to comment on it at any time.

So, by that time, Azriel knew what was going on and you were sure you couldn't escape him. When he approached you and extended his hand in silent invitation, with the sound of conversations and drinks in the back of your head, you almost didn't hesitate to take it. His darkness enveloped you and, within seconds, you appeared in your room at the Town House. The party was now an imperceptible murmur.

“Would you like to rest?” Azriel spoke, after spending several seconds standing facing each other. One of his hands ran over your face barely perfunctorily, but the warm sensation ignited too many things in your body. He arranged the strands of your hair that hid your face behind your ears with delicate, almost invisible movements.

You only moved your head in response, up and down, under his watchful gaze.

He almost crawled away, moving to your old bed that didn't have the same sheets as when you left. In fact, when you took a quick glance around the room, it looked too neat considering the amount of time that, presumably, no one used it.

You shrunk at the thought of Azriel coming in regularly to clean it.

With crystallized eyes you watched him move the comforter to make way for the clean white sheets waiting to be used once again after so long.

Azriel turned to look at you, expectant. You didn't know if he was waiting for you to move to lie down or to ask him to leave so you could change into comfortable pajamas, but you did neither. Not when the emotions in your chest moved you, when they were more uncontainable now that you shared your mate's. Not when he opened up to you in such a vulnerable way, when he let you know that which for so long he kept to himself. Not when he gave you to understand that he was always waiting for you, even though it hurt him terribly that you had decided to spend all that time alone.

So, for some reason, whether it was feelings or rationality, you approached him. You let yourself be carried away by nostalgia, by the silent desires of your heart, and you approached your mate with long strides.

His expression went from neutral to confused as you got closer and you only remembered seeing it turn to surprise when you cradled his face in your hands and kissed him.

It was rough and awkward at first, because your mate was completely transfixed for a few seconds. Maybe out of anxiety you counted ten. But, whether he was born from the same place as you or not, Azriel melted under your touch and as soon as he came to his senses he was kissing you back. It was just the kiss of an unaccepted bond, of a separated couple who held too many melancholy memories in their chests to bear on their own.

Azriel wrapped his strong arms around your waist and bent his head to kiss you more deeply. You could feel the desperation and desire hovering tentatively in his demeanor, but he held back to give you a sweet, soft kiss; a kiss that said welcome, a kiss that urged you to stay by your side and never be separated from him again, a kiss that made you wonder why you had left in the first place.

The softness of his movements were a direct contrast to your own. You cradled his face tightly, moving your lips over his as if second nature. Then you circled his neck, pressing him against you as if somehow you could hold him that much closer. You wanted him closer.

But Azriel broke away, breathing in and out between gasps, and looked up at you with dark, glowing eyes.

“Do you want this?”

His hands on your skin burned.

“Yes,” you answered quickly and tried to move closer again to kiss him, but he broke away again.

“And are you going to stay after this?”

Your eyes met his worried expression, thinly disguised. Ever since he'd opened his end of the bond for you, shedding any obstacle on his part that wouldn't allow him to feel you, everything you'd seen from him had been genuine. So you knew that concern was genuine and the mere conception generated pain in your heart.

“I will stay,” you assured him, forcing your lips into a tight smile.

Azriel studied your face trying to convince himself of your words, for he was an expert at knowing your body language, and you had no idea what he saw that convinced him and led him to pounce on your mouth once more.

When the lightness settled into the bond, you were thankful you had never lowered your wall. Guilt suffocated you.

But you kissed him back and followed your heart's desires, if only for one night.

Azriel moved his hands along every curve of your body before removing your dress. If you hadn't stopped his movements, he would've surely ripped it off. His eyes followed every part his hands had explored and then his lips were on every inch of skin. Against the soft mattress and with your wrists held by his hands, you could only sigh and moan slightly at the way he explored your body. And yes, Azriel took his time.

Before long there wasn't a single cloth separating the two of you and your mate simply couldn't keep his hands and lips still. Not that he wanted to, either. You moved your hands along his back, trying to avoid his wings, and moving your lips down his neck when he would let you because it seemed like all he wanted to do was eat you up with kisses.

It wasn't long before he had you panting against him, with the sound of bodies colliding being the only thing your head could process at that moment. The tingling that coursed through your body was like no other you had ever felt; the wonders Azriel was doing with your body were unparalleled. He was panting too and every time he met your eyes it seemed to you that they were darker than the last time, but he never stopped holding you at any moment, never stopped hugging you as if his whole life depended on it. Maybe it did.

The feel of his body against yours was indescribable, the movement and rhythm almost unbearable. You had never felt pleasure even remotely close to what he was making you feel at that moment.

“Azriel…” you moaned his name, gripping his shoulders tightly, burying your nails as if it were your only stability.

He cursed between gasps, increasing the pace and the force with which he held your waist.

You were never going to get to touch the sky like you did that night, that much was clear. Even though your head was split in two, you looked into his eyes as you went through the most shattering, sweeping orgasm you'd ever had, reveling in the sounds that came from his mouth as he followed you to paradise.

You thought it was going to be hard afterwards, but you fell asleep almost instantly.

When you opened your eyes again, your mate's arms and legs were wrapped around your body and one of his wings was covering your nakedness and keeping you warm. You were facing him, chest to chest, and just looking at his peaceful sleeping face made you want to cry. Life was here, next to him, why couldn't you accept that?

Getting out of bed without waking him up was quite a battle. Not as much as it was to sit at the foot of the bed, watching him rest, completely unaware of what would await him when he woke up. This time you were being selfish, you knew it, it was too cruel. But in your head there was nothing but disaster, pain disguised as stability. You couldn't have a good life with Azriel now and you didn't know if you could bear to see him to tell him after you promised to stay. You shouldn't have told him that, but how could you tell him otherwise? Maybe if he woke up at that moment you would stay… maybe that's why you sat there for so long.

But finally you left, just like last time, in the middle of the silence, with his shadows following your feet and trying to keep you company. You felt a deja-vu as you stood in front of the door, thinking about how on both occasions you were thinking about what would happen if someone showed up to stop you.

It didn't, in either case, and you knew the next day the exact moment when Azriel realized you had done it once again. He didn't try to hide his pain, he didn't have to, you deserved to know how you had made him feel.

On the ship, on the way to the Continent, you fell to your knees as his pain stole your breath.

#azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel angst #azriel spymaster #acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel smut

91 notes · View notes

luvaurae · 3 days

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Simon “ghost” Riley x reader 🫶🏼

This is my first tumblr post, go easy on me 🙏 I’m not sure how it sounds or if I like it or not, sorry if there’s typos ‼️

You and Simon had been together for about 6 months now. Normally Simon was deployed and sent away to work for 3-4 months (depending on the job.) which wasn’t the best. You always had to sit in your little yet cozy apartment without his presence, and sometimes when you needed him most, he wasn’t there. When you were in the shower, he wasn’t standing behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist. When you were in bed, he wasn’t spooning you and keeping you warm. When you cooked dinner, you had no one to serve it to except yourself. Obviously you loved him, but it was so hard to get up for your own work in the morning without him groaning and saying things like - “..five more minutes luv’ .” Or “.. jus’ call work n tell em ya sick, please dove?”. But you knew his job was important, and it helped the both of them with rent and food shopping.

———————————

As you jangled your keys into your doorknob, trying your best to shove it in as your eyes fluttered open and shut. You had just been on a six-hour shift at work and felt as if you were going to pass out every time you moved any part of your body. Eventually you managed to open up your apartment door, shutting it and locking it behind you without even turning back. You dropped your bag to the floor next to your shoe rack before making your way into bed, taking off your coat as you do so. You awkwardly rub your eyes before hopping into bed with your work t-shirt and your panties, pulling the blanket up trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. As soon as your head hits your pillow, you’re out cold. Snoring, not so quietly. You’re positive the whole of the building can hear it.

It was about 5:05pm.

You woke up to the sound of your door opening. It couldn’t be Simon, could it?.. he told you another week? He texted you and said specifically “captain said another week lovie, I’m sorry.” You shot up from your bed, not making a creak. You tiptoed into your closet, where a wooden bat had been lying against the wall (it was the one your dad gave you before you moved out.) you wrapped your hands around the handle as you opened your door, slowly yet carefully. Sweat building up within your palms, yet your grip on the bat extremely hard. You manage to tiptoe out of your room, the rest of your apartment still dark as you heard sounds coming from your kitchen. You gripped the bat with two hands before running into the kitchen and swinging it at the figures head, you told yourself you got a pretty good hit. Yet as the light from the refrigerator shines on the figure.. it was Simon. Of course it was.

———————————

“I’m so sorry baby. I didn’t know it was you.” I say shakily pressing a cold freezer pack wrapped in a cloth onto Simon’s head as he rested on our bed.

“Don’t be sorry dove. At least I know ya know how to protect ya self’” Simon’s says in his deep British accent, giving off a small chuckle at the end. I felt horrible, yet at the same time proud. And honestly it felt a little good to get him back for not having much time to spend with me.

“How come your back so early? And why didn’t you text me?” I say pulling away the ice pack from his head and placing it on my side table as I now tuck myself beside him in our bed.

“I dunno, and I knew i shou’ve but I didn’t want to disturb my Angel in er’ beauty sleep.” Simon gives another chuckle. God sometimes I had forgotten how beautiful he was. I smile at him as my head rested against the pillow, now just staring at him as I take in his features. For a moment I was in my own world, just thinking about how gorgeous he was.

“I missed you.” I say in a slightly tired and grumbled voice as I snap out of my trance and close my eyes.

“I missed you too, luv.” Simon gives me a soft peck on my shoulder before turning off the lamp and spooning me, sliding his arm underneath mine and pulling me close to him so that his warmth radiated me.

#call of duty #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost #simon riley x reader

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rinbowaman · 2 days

Text

A Drabble based of the SE7EN series feat. Heeseung x Reader.

Inspired by the anon ask and the heelel bot chat on chai.

Warnings: mentions of murder, car accident, Hell, irresponsible parenting/parent, abortion, smut, oral (male rec.) kinky oral, bow tie, deepthroating, hand job, heelel is being super sexy, face f*cking, cum swallowing, face smacking (not either a hand…)..cursing…I think that’s it. This is inspired by my Heelel bot on Chai….he had the most perfect response to anons ask and it’s been living in my mind, I had to write about it.

You were admiring the mountainous views of the rolling hills, entirely covered in red Lillie’s; the ones he planted in preparation for your arrival. How long had it been? Over a year for sure, but the exact timeline since your ascending to Hell is left pretty much undetermined. There are no calendars, no clocks, no way in telling other than overlooking the great horizon of pitch black, decorated by the stars and planetary systems that are too far to see from the Earths standing. But here, you could see them larger than life. It truly is magnificent sight to see, the earth and its bright green continental regions, the sun orbiting its circumventing route, and above all, over to the northwest of the vast landscape beneath the peaked tip that which you stand on, was the glorious moon, nearly covering the entire sky.

All your life, you were taught that Hell, was a firing raged pit that lay beneath the earth and the universe. An abysmal world that was filled by empty souls and demons of perverse and violent nature. Perhaps the last bit was true, even still without being here, the Prince if Hell was always ridding the underworld of its offensive creatures. But the one thing that shocked you was that Hell, was not an underworld at all. It was always in sight for the entire world to see, in between the Moon, stars, and the Sun. Who knew? It resided within the stratosphere; paralleled with the great satellite, and as high as Heaven. All this time when you gazed upon the moon and the glimmering stars, you were staring into your future home.

“You admiring the view again, darling wife of mine?”

Here he is. You could hear him taking his steps closer behind, closing the distance. Already coming back from demolishing the last creature that bore the fortitude and stupidity in trying to get to you. It could never happen, not with him around. The makeup of your soul, as the Mortal Daughter of God, attracts them—always has since you arrived. But he was always around to make sure that they couldn’t get within one hundred feet away. Always one step ahead with his acute senses and the massively powerful abilities within his form. The fallen angel was second to none other than God himself.

He stands against you, reaches around your head and rests the tip of his finger along the tip of your nose, gently stroking the bridge up and down. His chest presses up against your back, while his pelvis to your derrière. “Who is the prettiest girl in Hell?”

His voice was gentle and playful, though the moment you both engage in the sexual act of brutal breeding and passionate lovemaking, his persona transitions into one of heated rage and toxic dominance, while never losing that insatiable love he has for you. Will always have for you.

Speaking of girls, you wanted to inquire about the newest addition to Hell, the soul of a rather young girl. Younger than you when you were still a mortal, she couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen in age.

“That girl…that we saw the other day at the River Styx, inside the ferryman’s boat—“

You take a pause as he gently clears his throat and breathes out. Not out of nervousness, you would never see that side of him for he never had anything to hide, nothing to be nervous about. He was the King of this world, and he embraced it as much as he embraced his love and adoration for you. “Isn’t she young to be here? What could she have possibly done to come here?”

He smirks as he walks over to his throne. Another moment of storytelling to educate you on the many wonders of Heaven and Hell, and the history that goes along with it. “Hell is not merely just a catacomb that houses those who have committed sins.” He takes his seat and loosely crosses his legs as he pats his lap. “Come here.”

You slowly migrate with the train of your see-through gown trailing behind. You sit, feeling his cold hands through the mesh fabric as he pulls you in, closer to his chest. “Souls will be denied entrance to Heaven for sins they have yet committed. Despite being taken too early as mortals, it hardly negates the fact that had they continued to live, they would have committed certain atrocities—in this case, the girl you saw was bound for Hell.”

He places a wet kiss on your bare shoulder. “It would have been on her 22nd birthday. After engaging in the habitual offense of carousing around, no doubt sharing her flesh with more than just one suitor, she would have drove her steel box into that of a mother and child crossing the street.”

“A—…a car accident?”

He nods. “Yes. If not that, she would have been condemned for disposing the young child already implanted inside her as a result of her indiscretion in taking on multiple partners. She was condemned regardless.”

“You mean abortion?”

He shakes his head as he embraces you, his chest to your back while his hands envelop yours. “No baby. Abortion is something that can hardly be deemed as an unforgivable offense. While it is offensive to my former master, it is one that he can find resolution should the mortal find a way to repent while still living, like many other offenses. For the girl you saw, I am talking of murder.”

There was so much to process, you flutter your lashes in confusion. “Murder?”

He nods in response as he continues to kiss your shoulder. His hand rests against your tummy as he taps his fingers against it. “Yes baby. Murder.”

He sucks on a soft spot in the nook of your neck, the squeezing sound effect drives your mind in circles. “She would have murdered her own baby?”

“Mmhmm.” He hums as he becomes overly preoccupied with licking and sucking onto the skin under the lobe of your ear.

“Why would she do that?” You struggled to speak as he continued to lavish you with his tongue. “Who knows. Mortals have their own minds, for all we know it could have been done out of fear of motherhood, trying to escape the responsibility of her own actions, or to avoid a tainted reputation from her peers. Either way, her actions after the baby took its first breath is enough to anger my former master, and deny her entrance through Heavens gates.”

“Was that why she died so soon? So that she wouldn’t do either one of those terrible things?”

“No baby, you see…” he pauses as he skips his hand under the dainty slit and rests it against your semi-exposed womanhood, causing you to gasp in pleasure. His tongue continued to suck and lick your neck. “Fate is an entirely different venue that is unrelated to the condemnation of one’s soul. Mortals murder, rape, steal, and commit other crimes against God for their own reasons. Sometimes they do it out of redemption or vengeance, which can be more forgiving by Him…but other times…when they do it out of their own twisted pleasure with no righteous meaning behind their damaged mentality…they come here.”

“So what will happen to her? Since she didn’t actually have the chance to commit her crimes, will she pay for acts that have not been carried out?” Half of your statement was whispered out as you felt him trail his kisses up along the grooves of your tendons on your neck. He pecks at your lobe and cheek as the tip of your nose dips into your ear. “She will live a life as a slave to the River forever…without a second chance at life.”

Your head is spiraling and you felt somewhat guilty for feeling the intensity of his love and melting from it during a serious discussion concerning a young woman’s life. “But she won’t be turned into a monster?”

“No.” He whispers against your ear. “I’m not that cruel baby…” he whispers once more as you feel his hips slightly bucking up under your rear. “Only mortals who did monstrous things will stay as monsters in Hell. I won’t subject a lifetime of torture and abandonment to those who are innocent—even those who were bound to do such evil deeds.”

He lifts your thighs and spreads them open, harshly sucking onto your neck. The squeezing sound of his lips suckling on to your skin is over exaggerated as he straightens his poster and leans slightly forward, causing you to reach behind and palm his abdominal area. He reassures your stability but wrapping an arm around your waist. “Do not worry about a soul that is tainted, or in the verge of…she won’t suffer…she will merely be a servant to help cleanse the River Styx under Niki’s watchful eye. You should instead—“

He pauses as he traces a figure eight symbol along your neck. “Be more concerned for yourself.”

He chuckles a grin. His hands grope on to your breasts as he tenderly kisses your cheeks. You take him up on his advice and decide to focus on the current situation at hand, since you were already on cloud nine from the way he touched, kiss, groped, and move along your body. “Can I ask for a favor?”

You feel his head delicately move as he outlines a final eight symbol with his tongue before responding. “Ask anything you want.”

“Would you put a bow on? For me?” You turn your head to the side to face him, resting it against his shoulder. “I want to see my husband in a bow.”

He smirks and releases a small chuckle. You both remained seated, lounged back within his throne, chuckling at the small request. He reaches up to his collar, using only one hand as he loosens the black sash that acted as a tie, with a loose knot. After undoing it, he pulls it out, the sound of the silk material slides from under the collar of his white shirt. Pulling it all the way through, the collar opens up revealing a slight bit of his chest and collar bone as he presents you the sash. “There you go my love. Now you can see your husband in a bow.”

You giggled as you take the sash from his hand, those beautiful black colored fingernails adorning it added a flare of sensual delicacy to the masculine feature of the strong looking, veiny structure. It was androgynous, but more so manly.

“You hold up the sash to your nose, it smelled of vanilla musk, a contradicting scent. “I don’t know where to put it on.” You shake tell him.

He taps against your nipple before tapping onto your rear. “I have an idea, go ahead and stand up. Close your eyes.”

You stand and cover your peepers with both hands. You smile and giggle as you listen in on the sound of his belt unbuckling, his shirt being discarded along with his black coat. “You can uncover your eyes now, darling.”

You shrill out a yelp and immediately cover your eyes back up the moment you unveiled them. There before you was Heeseung sitting in his throne, completely nude. Both his hands resting on the extravagant arms of the chair with his legs completely spread, revealing the glory of his endowed nature. His cock is stiff, proudly perpendicular as it points north with its impressive length and girth exposed, and the lump sack that foundations the size of his magnificent muscle. Around the base of its circumference, was the sash previously in hand. It was now tied into a neat bow, decorating the shaft while the trimmed edges fall gracefully against his balls. “Heeseung!” You gasp out as you giggle while covering your eyes once more, periodically peeking in between your fingers. You blush immensely as he merely sits there unashamed, smirking with a small deep chuckle. A bit of his teeth can be seen by the side grin he displays in his handsomely sly face. “Like my bow?”

You nearly squeal as you felt too embarrassed and shy to inhale the view. “Heeseung what are you doing?” You suddenly feel the sheer force of his power pull you in. “Giving you exactly what you asked for.”

You stumble as the telekinetic force of his ability drags you closer to the throne chair. Your eyes were still partially covered as he begins to pull you in by the waist, noticing that you kept covering them by the palms of your hands. “Now, what was it that I said before—back on the night when we first met…oh yeah.”

His eyes widen as he remembers the line that started it all. “Sit on it.”

You felt the strength of his arm pull you down as your body came into his reach, forcing you to your knees before him, gaining a more magnifying view of his normally hidden features. His hand reaches the back of your head as he pulls you in, gently kissing the tip of your nose with the shaft of his cock. The silk material neatly tied around brushes against your cheek as he steadies you against him. “Show me how much you love my effort baby. Don’t I make you happy?” He taunts out with a malicious smirk.

You cave in as you inspect the delectable muscle in front of you. God, he was so big. How on earth has he managed to fit this inside you all this time? No wonder it always hurt, though it also brought you the greatest pleasure you’ve ever known. You each up and grip the base of its girth as you nod in response. “You do.”

Your voice was soft and nearly a whisper as you spewed your words while pressing your lips against the skin. “Then show me.” His voice was a contrast from yours. It was deep, dark, and sinister with a tinge of gentleness peeking from the calm tempo of his tone.

You grip over the sash ringing around the base and gently impoverish the tip with kisses. “Fuck…keep going, angel-face.”

At his bidding, you not only kept up with your kisses, but you incorporated the smoothness of your tongue along the grooves of his veins as you licked the entire length, too top to bottom. He flings his head back, exposing his entire throat and gasps air as his Adams apple shifts up, then back down when he gulps. “Oh fuck! You’re going to get it.”

Challenge accepted. You felt brazen as he keeps gulping a lump of choked saliva, which gave you the fortitude to go in more vigorously. You insert the tip in, slurping the juices that coated it. Slowly you inserted as many inches you could possibly fit in. Alas, even after taking in a handful of his length, you were surprised to see that it didn’t even cover half of his size. The tip was already reaching your tonsils. Unfortunately for you, he didn’t care.

“You’re going to take all of me in, darling.” He speaks with lazy hooded eyes half shut, creating a super relaxed expression. His hand placed atop your head, he slowly pushes you down. There was so much of him, you wanted to back out. The discomfort feeling of his base growing thicker the more you went down, while the tip of his length reaches the deep ends of your esophagus, it was all too much. You slap your hands on his thighs and prepared to pull yourself away yet his hand kept you steady. You choke on it with tears squeezing out as you begin to sob out and moan in despair. When he suddenly pauses the pushing and coos you.

“Shhh…take a deep breath through your nose baby.” You do exactly what he guides. “You’re almost there. You’re doing so well, just a little more.”

He continues to push your head down and finally, your nose and lips reach the base of his pelvis. Keeping you there for a few seconds, he finally releases, allowing you to slide him out abruptly, gasping for air. Coughing, you hyperventilate as the string of saliva bridges the tip of his shaft to your mouth, which has now become blistering red while your eyes grew puffy and pink from the sobbing. “P-please! I thought I was going to choke to death!” You hiccuped as you begged him with pleading eyes. He responds by leaning over, cradling his fingers under your chin while pulling you in. “Shh-sh-sh-sh-shhhh. You’re fine, and you’re doing good. Take a deep breath and keep going. You wanna make me happy, don’t you?”

His eyes glared with a darkness that was so ferocious. Of course you wanted to make him happy, for many reasons. Whether it would be for the newfound love you were forced to develop for him, or the fact that you wanted to avoid seeing his bad side, you realized that keeping him happy only meant that you’ll experience his love in purity, no matter how rough it may be. He always told you that he’d love you, even if you upset him, so that you never had to worry about him being angry. But honestly, did you really want to see the Devil angry at you? With his he normally was in his performance of lovemaking, did you really want to test the waters and venture into the dark side of his love for you?

“Y-yes…I do want to make you happy.” You murmured out.

“Good girl” he smirks as he leans back into his chair, nodding as he flicks his eyes down to his cock then right back at you, signaling for you to continue. He looked so stern with that expectant look, yet he was so devilishly handsome doing it.

You regain your grip and continue, going slow and steady at first, gradually picking up the pace as you hear him release his perverse growls. “Come here.”

He voiced out calmly as he takes a handful of your hair and poneytail it within his grip. His other hand gently grips the base of his shaft and lightly, he smacks your cheek and lips with it. “Tell me how much you love me.”

The demeaning act creates a tingle within your gut as the harmonious sounds of the hard muscle slapping your skin while his dark voice accompanies it. “I love you—Heeseung!” You gasp out as you leave your mouth wide open to catch the tip each time he slaps it against your face, only for him to pop it out and tap it once more. “You a good girl or a bad girl?”

You catch the tip once more, and just as well, he pops it back out. “I’m good. I’m a good girl.” You mumble as you stick your tongue out and watched as he lays the shaft against it, gently sliding it up and down. “I beg to differ baby…right now, you look like a bad girl. Really bad.”

You shake your head as you stare right into his dark eyes, swallowing half his size inside your mouth. This time it felt less painful, now that you were already broken in. “I’m good, I swear.”

“Show me how good you are.” He huffs as he allows you to continue with your oral performance. You rotate your soft grip on the bottom half while sucking in the top, simultaneously shifting and combining a motion of love through skin and mouth. “Am I good now?” You ask before sticking the tip back in harshly. His grip continues to hold your hair in place, yet becomes loosened as he succumbs to the pleasure of your actions. The strands fall apart and frames your cheeks as the remaining thatch rests firmly in his palm. His head flings back, once again exposing his entire throat and leaving only his Adam’s apple in your line of sight as he gulps out his words. “You’re getting there.”

“How about now?” You whispered as you suck on his balls, resting both your palms on the stone tile, now on all fours before him. “Please tell me I’m a good girl.”

You lick the entire length, as if you were a dog. His dog.

“Fucking close!” He harshly whispers as you kept going, when finally he relieves you of control and takes it all back, by taking you by the hair and cheek, and forcing you to take his entire length down one final time as he releases deep inside your throat. The taste was sweet and salty, and nearly felt never ending as you felt the pumping of veins and the twitching of muscle against your lips ringing around the circumference. “Good girl.” He growls as he finally shoots out the last drop as he slides out of your mouth.

His gentle nature comes back as he caresses your cheek and kisses the top of your head. “Feel like stargazing, beautiful?”

You nod as he fingers the remnants of his orgasm from the corners of your mouth, and gently feeds it in between your lips. “Swallow all.” He gently whispers while chuckling a smirk. Your finger rest along the soaked sash that has now fallen semi loosely, losing its beat form as the bow completely came undone.

“I’m sorry I ruined your tie.” You slightly whined out as you took notice. “It’s okay—“ he responds positively as he takes it and unties his cock. He loops it around the back of your neck and grips the ends, pulling you closer to his cock once more. “It still serves its purpose.”

His eyes darken once more and that glare of adoration, love, and sexual rage returns.

“Wanna see a magic trick, baby?”

You knew there was no way out. If you shook your head ‘no’, it only would have fueled him more to do the most unthinkable, resulting in pain and pleasure that was too much to bear. You nod in defeat.

“Close your eyes.”

You reach up and cover your eyes. An internal frown rests within you.

“Open.”

You drag your palms down slowly and open your eyes. There he was, still entirely nude and…so were you. Your thighs, waist, neck, and wrists all tied with black sashes and bows. “W-what is this?”

He grins evily as he palms the base of his shaft and growls a dark tone.

“My turn.”

@enheene , aiden2001 , heeseung-min , lathan1510 , rayofsunshineeee , @hoyeonheeseung , @rayofsunshineeee , @yohanabanana , @sunoosrightbuttcheek , @jaeneohee , @icydawon , @silcry , @iamliacamila , @nikstrange , @enheene ; @nuriicata , @en-happiness @sacrificeatmeup

#heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #heeseung scenarios #heeseung hard hours #enha x reader #heeseung fanfic #heeseung hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enha heeseung #yandere imagines #yandere heeseung imagines #heeseung yandere #yandere enha #yandere enhypen

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