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jaylver · 7 days

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THE FIVE YEAR DEAL — P.JS

synopsis: having to deal with a four year long situationship was hard enough in the first place, but when your favourite situationship texted you on a random night after a year of no contact, it was a much harder scenario than imagined. what happens when he brings up that old pact you made about getting married in 5 years and you start rekindling a relationship that was lost?

pairings: non-idol!jay x afab!reader

genre: ex-situationship to friends to lovers, second chance romance, angst, romance, pining

warning(s): profanities, drinking and partying, slight violence

wc: 6.5k

a/n: after a month of not posting, here's a very very belated jay fic that was meant to be for his birthday (scream). please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx

Park Jong Seong was your roman empire. There, you actually said it.

He was a thought that constantly hovered in your mind from time to time. Whether he was a ghost that lingered to haunt you or a sweet thought that remained, you couldn't tell. All you knew was that he had changed your life for the better and the worst.

A lesson you'd often tell others is to never get yourself involved in a situationship, worse if it's with your best friend. Unfortunately, you were speaking from experience which involved Jay, your ex situationship slash best friend. Look how you and him eventually turned out.

An almost four year long situationship with Jay that took an absolute toll on you had ended the year before. You agreed on no contact with him after, trying to create a peaceful life without him out of your life, yet it was entirely impossible when you shared mutual friends that reminded you of your good times with him even though he wasn't around.

You hate to admit it, but losing a person who was your best friend cut deep into your gut and heart combined. It was, at least, for the better. That was something your friends told you that you gradually recited in your head. It wasn't very effective, however. You still thought about him, quite often actually. But you supposed that was the haunting and painful part of having a relationship with someone that was almost a lover but never became one.

It was the same exact night you were thinking about him when a text appeared on the homescreen of your phone. You stared at the notification for God knows how long, debating if your lack of sleep was finally catching up to you. The contact name was unmistakable, there it was, Jay's text. Jay, your Jay?

The strength you had trying to act casual, but in reality, you were dying internally. The hold that man has on you was unimaginable.

jjong: you up?

you: ?

jjong: did you delete my number?

If only he knew, he would've probably laughed. You never deleted his number, nor did you even change his contact name. His name constantly stuck out in the list of contacts, just like the memories of him in your head.

you: no, i didn't. what i meant was why are you texting me at 2 am?

jjong: i thought of something, something we said four years ago

you: okay …?

jjong: you said if we're both still single in five years, we should get married

you: you took that seriously?

jjong: should i not have?

you: dumbass, i was tipsy

jjong: you didn't say that when i brought it up after you were sober

you: it's stupid

jjong: it's not. come on, y/n, can we please start afresh? i miss you.

He missed you?

jjong: i'm serious. can we please meet up?

you: you swear you're not going to pull something?

jjong: no?? the most i'll do is pull out an engagement ring but who knows

you: cut the crap, jay

jjong: don't act like that didn't make you giggle even the slightest

jjong: meet me downtown. the usual place we go to :)

How could he act so nonchalant when bringing up the past? The usual place that you haven't been to after cutting contact with him was something he still recalled, but to you, it was a place you avoided up until now.

It was hard to sleep when your mind was filled with thoughts of him, except this time, instead of missing him, you dreaded him and the part where you're going to meet him for the first time in a year. What was he going to say?

The wish you wished upon the lone star that night was for Jay to finally set his feelings and emotions clear. But whether it will come true or not, the truth will soon befall on you.

The day you planned to meet Jay was a cloudy one. It was likely a foreshadow, but you chose to ignore the overthinking you constantly did.

You were the first one there in the cafe, specifically sitting at that table by the corner which you and Jay usually hogged. Being there early due to mostly the anxiety, you got to calm your nerves down and prepare yourself to face Jay.

It shouldn't be hard to meet someone you already knew, but why did it feel that way? The unspoken feelings and those that were left hanging, unaddressed, was what haunted the both of you. You supposed this meet up with him would hopefully change that the slightest bit. All you hoped for was that he didn't become a stranger to you.

You failed to realise his approaching figure as you were sitting with your back facing the entrance, it was your usual spot anyway. Not to mention, his footsteps were quiet as ever, a thing about him that was unchanging.

"Y/N," you heard his voice before meeting his eyes, watching as he slipped onto the chair opposite of you, the warm aura of his never failing to provide a sense of comfort for you. "Hey,"

The change of his hair colour grabbed your attention first. The silvery colour that the light bounced on suited him well. He always wanted to experiment with his hair, and you didn't expect him to really do it. Other than that, he had the same features, same smile, same warm colour tone eyes and skin. All in all, he was the Jay you knew, the one you loved.

"Jay," you spoke his name as if it was a foreign taste on your tongue. His irises flashed an unreadable spark at the sound of his name coming out of your mouth. You fell into silence, not knowing how to start the conversation whereas he seemed rather speechless instead.

He shook himself out of it, a slight frown etched onto his lips. "Thanks for making time to see me. I know … you probably didn't want to, so I'm glad you came," his tone contradicted the way his texts sounded, the initial confidence was currently wavering.

"It's no problem," you shook your head softly, a secret hope you had kept shouting in your mind where he would fix everything.

"I didn't want to leave us at that, Y/N," his sudden confession surprised you, but it left your heart beating in both anticipation and anxiety. "The way we left things, it wasn't right. I wasn't right for doing the things I did,"

You knew what he was talking about, or at least the obvious one out of the bunch. That night at his place where you were tipsy and he was holding you in his arms, you accidentally let out the secret you've been holding in: you loved him. As expected, it obviously strained the relationship as he insisted on it being nothing serious. You were stupid for thinking he would've reciprocated it, but all he did was leave you stranded on the empty space of heartbreak alone.

"I'm sorry. I was an asshole, and I was an idiot for not realising how much you meant to me until you weren't there next to me. You carved a hole in my life and my heart was moulded for you," his gaze fell to the table, an audible draw of breath from him.

Jay glanced up to lock his eyes with yours again, the twitch of his hand that was holding itself back from reaching over to you. "I'm not a religious man, Y/N, but every night I prayed for God to lead me back to you," he swallowed thickly, "I know I fucked up, that's why we stopped … everything. I deserved it, but I really want to fix everything,"

You opened your mouth to speak just to close it after a passing second. He said exactly what you wished for him to say, but why was it so hard grasping everything before you? Was it the shock?

"I missed you, Jay," it was the truth, an angering truth that you held onto for ages. "I really did. I think about you a lot and the mistakes we made. I wish we could go back to the way we were. You're my best friend," you knew that word wasn't just what it was, it held something more than that. "And I just want you back,"

The softening of his gaze only exposed the vulnerability on your face. "Can we start again?" He said quietly, seemingly testing the waters. "As friends, and we'll go slow,"

"I'd like that," you nodded, never leaving his gaze. You didn't say it, neither did he, but you weren't putting away the chances of something more than just friends, an unspoken hope that you kept. Maybe this time, everything would turn out right.

Before you parted ways with Jay and left for home, you shared a simple conversation in front of the cafe. Just like old times, the conversation flowed naturally as if time didn't separated the two of you in the first place.

"Can I hug you?"

For the first time in many months, you felt the warmth and touch of Jay's that you missed. It was familiar, comforting, a band aid that covered the crack on your heart. This was the first step to heal that broken heart of yours. Closure. It was for the better.

The rest of your day was only filled with thoughts of him, till the point where it had you lying in bed, awake and turning, wondering about the fate of you and him. A second chance was about to make or break everything.

The next time you saw Jay again was at a party his frat brother held.

Ever since that day at the cafe, you didn't stop texting Jay. You realised at one point that you had fallen back into your old self once more. Giggling at his messages, anticipating his notifications, calling him at odd hours. All of which didn't go unnoticed by you, and you wondered if you should be horrified or nonchalant. Given that you and him were on better, speaking terms now, you brushed it off as nothing.

"Well, isn't it my favourite girl," Jay had his arms wide open the moment he approached you, that smile of his glowing from a distance away.

You smiled back, you always did anyway, letting him embrace you into his arms. "You smell like beer," you scrunch your nose up in distaste, pushing yourself off of him, but your arms around his shoulders remain.

"But I'm sober," he casted a wink at you, ignoring your eye roll as he took your arm from your shoulder and slid his fingers into your hand. "Come on, the guys are over there,"

To think about explaining this to the rest of your friends was going to be interesting to say the least. They already knew from your continuous text screaming for bloody help, but for them to witness it in person? You couldn't help but wish to cower into a corner out of embarrassment.

Heeseung was the first to raise a discreet eyebrow at you when you approached, hands intertwined with Jay, the same guy you swore you cut contacts with. That's a lie, apparently. Jake and Sunghoon seemed impassive, but you could tell from their several exchanges of glances, they thought the same as Heeseung did. However, both you and Jay were their friends, and no matter how messy it was, they were just the people stuck in between.

Jay eventually excused himself from the conversation to get more drinks for himself. You had a feeling he was about to be drunk by the end of the night no matter how he denied that. You knew his patterns through and through. Once he was out of ear shot, the boys turned to stare at you accusingly.

"Did you guys kiss?" Jake was the first to be blunt. The other two were eager to know the truth as well.

You practically jumped in your seat, as if a bullet had shot through your chest. In that way, his zero filtered question had that effect. "What? No! We agreed on being just friends,"

"For now," Heeseung chimed in.

"What?"

"You were literally holding hands with him,"

"It's platonic,"

"Considering your past with him, I think that's the last thing you can claim as platonic when it comes to Jay," Heeseung quipped back, making a valid point that you chose to ignore.

"Whatever. We're currently friends and we're not rushing into anything. We don't want to ruin it," you rubbed your arm uneasily, the thought of your past recurring saddened you.

"Then when are you going to actually get together?" Sunghoon asked, sounding rather exasperated as though he's the one in your position. At one point, you wished you could trade places.

"Ask him that," you leaned your head onto Jake's shoulder for emotional support, the question from Sunghoon was a second bullet to your heart. You had been the one sending signals from the start, but when it came to Jay reciprocating it, it was rather bleak.

"You're still hung over him? It never … went away?" Heeseung leaned his body closer, increasingly immersed into the conversation deeper.

"How could it go away when I've always been in love with him?"

The words stuck to you throughout the night. The truth and reality of you loving a man that threw everything away was a burden you carried. The egging thought of wondering if Jay even reciprocated the feelings after a year crept into your head. He didn't reach out to reconnect for nothing, did he?

Just as you've guessed, Jay was truly drunk out of his mind by the time the party was ending. Your friends were trying their best to haul Jay into his apartment while you trailed behind, wishing you were more of help than this. Jay was eventually dumped onto his bed, slurring out random sentences that made zero sense to you.

"Do you need me to drop you back? I didn't drink," Heeseung turned to you first once all of you stepped out of Jay's room.

"I'll be fine. I didn't drink much, so I think I can drive myself back. I also want to stay a while more to make sure he's fine," you took a glance back at the open bedroom door, seeing Jay still awake and turning uncomfortably.

"Will you be okay? I mean, you just started talking again, I don't want you to be uncomfortable," Heeseung placed an assuring hand on your shoulder, concern filled eyes boring into yours. You hadn't even thought about this before, the emotions you had whenever with Jay.

You smiled at your friend. "It's Jay. I will never feel that way about him,"

Heeseung reciprocated your smile, seemingly more relieved. "I know."

Your friends soon left, the loud sounds of their drunken chatters faded into the night, leaving you in a deafening silence. A deep intake of breath was what helped you regain your confidence back to finally step into Jay's room, facing a dazed looking Jay who was sitting on the edge of his bed. He seemed a tad bit more sober from the multiple cups of water he had drunk.

"Are you alright?" You took a few steps forward, holding onto the doorframe.

He glanced up, the dim light provided by his desk lamp illuminated his face, the sharpness of his features contrasted the tears he had swimming in his eyes. It was unmistakable, but it weighed you down onto the ground, not knowing if you should be taking another step.

"Jay?" You called out cautiously, swallowing thickly. A quiet sob broke the short silence which followed, the glistening tears made their way down his cheeks. It was your first time seeing him as vulnerable as this.

You got to his side, knelt on the ground, trying to search for his gaze which persisted to run away from yours. He tried hiding his face behind his hands, but you were quick to stop him, holding onto them tightly. It was then he was forced to finally meet your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you heard his weak voice utter out, his hand that you held onto gripped yours. "I'm sorry," he whispered tearfully.

It was your first time witnessing him this broken, crying nonstop and leaving his emotions out on display. For the first time in ages, you couldn't properly read him like you've always done. Was it your fault for making him feel this way? Was there nothing but pain in this so-called relationship you and him shared?

"I miss you," it was a confession, a painful sounding confession that he's held onto for a long time, the look in his eyes told you he meant it, but there was something else that he had: grief. "I'm sorry,"

You didn't know how long it was that you stared at him for, the thoughts in your mind had been long gone, the shell of your body remained. His words and the emotions behind them were heavier than you anticipated, it hit you hard and rough. You sighed, lowering your head for a second. "You should get some sleep, Jay. It's late and you're buzzed. I'll talk to you in the morning,"

Jay was silent. You could tell there was a hint of disappointment from him that you wished you weren't the cause of it. You got up to your feet, staring at the top of his head as he fought to avoid your eyes. So be it. As you turned to leave, you felt a hand around your wrist, pulling you to a stop.

"Will you stay?"

You've heard this one too many times. Yet, you were always a victim to it. Unlike most times, you knew this was different, letting your heart guide you to him instead of your head. It might've been foolish, but you were willing to be a fool that was persistently in love just for him.

"I'll stay."

That night, you barely slept as he laid in your lap, sound asleep. Your fingers traced the sharpness of his features, smoothing over the softness of them. You wondered to yourself whether reconnecting was a good idea in the first place if this odd feeling of yours kept cutting deep into your heart every time you're with Jay.

You would never wish to leave him once more, but did he feel the same as you do? Or will he be the first to let you go again?

Maybe, just this once, you'd have to be the first to let go, even if it's a small step, it was something better than nothing.

With one last apologetic look at Jay, you closed his bedroom door and left his home with a heavier heart than usual. By the time morning comes, you hoped both yours and his memories from the night before would be a fever dream. Something so intimate and vulnerable, how were you to forget quickly? Even as you drifted off to sleep in your bed, you could still remember the tears on Jay's face, it being the last thing you remember before waking up to your doorbell ringing.

It was as if your thoughts had manifested Jay to show up at your doorstep. He wasn't a figment of your imagination, but actual flesh and bones. No matter how you rubbed your eyes trying to get yourself to be more awake, he wasn't disappearing away from view. He was real.

"Can we talk?"

Those three words immediately brought dread for you. Jay's face was impassive, but it was evident that he was tired, restless. You nodded, moving away to let him in. It was easy for you to let him in, whether it was your home or your heart, you've always kept a space for him.

"What is it that you wanted to talk about?" You stepped closer to him, seeing as he hadn't taken a seat and feeling something odd shift in the air.

"Us, Y/N, us," Jay breathed out, strained and hoarse, as if saying that word had pained him deeply. "I don't like this, I hate it. The 'us' that we are now,"

"What?"

"We can't keep continuing on like this. We can't keep pretending everything's fine when it's not,"

It was too early for this, too early for you to be feeling burning internal rage. "Are you kidding? So what are you going to do? Leave me alone again? Go no contact with me again just because you don't want to face me again?"

"No!" Jay took a step closer to you, eyes blazing with equal fiery as yours. "I'm not ending things again, never. I can't lose you this time," his voice wavered, his hand reaching for yours and you let him hold your hand. Was that your first mistake? "I'm in love with you,"

You wished those words hadn't left his lips. For ages, you thought him confessing his true feelings would've fixed things, fixed you and him both, but at that moment, you realised it wasn't that easy, the cracks on your heart remained.

"I know when you look at me, you see everything that went wrong, but when I look at you, I see the person I'm in love with," every word pierced your heart deeper, the desperation in his voice was clear, a saddening tragedy was imminent.

"You don't get to do this," you whispered, backing away from him and freeing your hand from his hold. The hurt that flashed across his eyes didn't go unnoticed by you. "You don't get to tell me you're in love with me out of nowhere after we stop talking. It's not fair,"

"Am I … too late?" His voice was quiet, in the midst of the hurt was a pinch of hope.

"You're not," you didn't want to lie, you knew your feelings were the same and unchanged, but you just weren't ready to cave in and accept his feelings that fast. It wasn't fair. "Time. That's what we need to start afresh,"

Jay nodded, jaw clenched, face stoic. There was no denying that he was hurt, he didn't hide it anyway. "I'll make it right. I'll fix us."

Was it possible to mend everything?

Attending a party to get drunk was probably the worst idea you had in a while.

The thoughts of you and Jay haunted you like a sickening plague, the conversation you had with him was constantly eating you up from the inside. You were pushing him away, you knew so, you were becoming like him in some ways. How ironic it was.

That was why the moment Julie invited you to her boyfriend's house party, you knew you had to have some type of getaway, though it wasn't the most ideal. The only problem you didn't appreciate her not telling you earlier was the person you wanted to avoid most was standing with the rest of your friends in a corner playing pool.

"Look, I didn't know they were coming," Julie defended herself, leaning her body close to your side. "What's up with you and Jay anyway?"

"It's complicated,"

Julie sighed, shaking her head. "Of course it is, but how blind and dumb could you both be?"

"Hey!"

"It's obvious you like him and he likes you, why can't you guys just—I don't know—get together?"

"It's not that easy, I wish it was. I think we're both hurt, or I'm the coward this time. We … talked, he finally said he loves me, but I can't accept it just yet,"

"Why not?"

"I gave my heart to him, Julie. For years I willingly gave my heart to a man that constantly blocked me from his heart, which was why we ended things. Only then he realised his true feelings and right now he's asking for my heart back. I just don't think it's fair," your eyes dropped to the carpeted ground, gripping onto your plastic cup tightly.

"Then would you rather regret it?"

"Huh?"

"Would you regret after pushing him away and never becoming something you've always wished to be? Constantly think about the what-ifs? I know I'm not in the right to say anything since I'm not you, but the only thing I wish to say is to go with your heart," she placed a hand on your shoulder. "If your heart yearns for him, it'll always stay that way."

Why couldn't you stop your heart from yearning for Jay? It was as if Julie had read you like a book, even in those times where you and him stopped contacting one another, you never once forgot about him. It was true, your heart was yearning for him.

Meeting new people that were introduced by Julie and her boyfriend momentarily took your mind off Jay. Their friends were people you probably wouldn't meet again, so you didn't mind when you were left alone with one of them.

"You come by here often?" Juyeon, one of the guys, was by your side like a leech instead of being a good company. His presence was screaming red blaring signals to you.

"Not much," you chuckled awkwardly, wondering when Julie would return with the rest of her friends.

"Can I take you out some time?" Wow, he sure knew how to cut to the chase.

"What?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to come by to my place after this?"

Oh, this was your sign to run, wasn't it? "I—well, I have someone to meet—"

"Come on, give me a chance—" he grabbed onto your hand right before you could successfully leave, this was when you remind yourself never to get involved with frat boys.

"Sorry—" you didn't have the chance to finish your sentence when your hand was forcefully ripped away from his hold, another familiar feeling of someone's hand on yours instead. You turned just in time to see Jay standing beside you, visibly fuming.

"Leave her alone, man," he placed himself in front of you, shielding you away from Juyeon.

"Look, I'm just trying to invite her over. You know what, she's nothing special anyway—" the sound of Jay's fist clashing into Jueyon's jaw stopped him from continuing on. You were too shocked to comprehend everything happening before you, even as Jay lunged onto the man, you could do nothing but stare.

"Jay!" The shouts of his name clicked in your mind, breaking you out of your shell-shocked state. Every one of your friends rushed to get Jay off of Juyeon who ended up scrambling away, leaving a crowd of onlookers.

He was hesitant to turn around and look at you, you could tell so from his stiff shoulders, but you stayed hoping to see his face. You reached your hand out shakily to touch his shoulder, yet, before you could actually do so, he turned around, eyes avoiding to meet yours.

"Jay—"

There he went brushing past you, not a single word spoken from him. The slamming of the front door snapped you out of the hurtful daze you were in to follow him out of the house. He was standing on the pavement, unmoving. You approached him carefully, scared and paranoid of executing a wrong move.

"Jay," you walked to stand before him, feeling a tinge of hurt when he took a step back away from you. "Jay," you repeated his name, this time with a bit more desperation. "Why did you do that?" There was no answer, only a sullen silence which blurred into the night.

You shifted your attention to his fist, the forming of a bruise and some cracked skin decorated the fist he used to punch Juyeon. Your hand absentmindedly reached for his. "You're hurt," you were about to touch his hand when he pulled away, avoiding your hold, a look of hurt flashed across your features, but you tried to hide it.

"I can't let him talk to you like that," he whispered, looking anywhere but you. You wished to grab his shoulder and forcefully make him look at you.

"Jay, it's okay,"

"It's not!" He snapped, finally having the nerves to meet your eyes. His change of tone shocked you, your feet took a step back unknowingly. "It's not okay. Not when I feel like I'm going insane thinking you're going to get yourself in danger,"

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't," Jay heaved a breath in, voice shaking slightly. "I should be the one to say sorry for acting this way. I'm sorry,"

"Jay—"

"I'll see you around. Get home safe." You couldn't even reach him and he was already gone, leaving into the night. There was a twisting feeling in your heart that was unbearable. Was this the end of it all?

You felt even worse walking back into the house when the rest of your friends asked you about Jay and his whereabouts. It was awkward staying there after what went down, so you ended up going back home too, throwing yourself in bed to forget everything that had happened.

Jay, the fight, Juyeon, you wished those three things never happened that night. You wished you and Jay never happened at all.

"You're just going to leave it at that?"

A bottle of alcohol late at night with the company of your friends without Jay was what you needed after a rollercoaster of a events. The amount of shots you've taken wasn't enough to blur the image of Jay's tear stained cheek or the hurt in his eyes when he told you he loved you, not even the time he avoided your touch. You wondered if love was meant to be this painful. If it was, why were you so adamant on it?

"I … don't know," you set the glass down, chewing the insides of your cheek. "It'll be too cliche and stupid to say it's complicated, right? I think I'm just hurting him. I still love him, but I can't let myself to do so. It's weird, him reconnecting after a year and suddenly telling me he's in love with me out of the blue. What does all that mean?"

Sunghoon let out a hiss from the shot he took in one go, then turned to you. "Jay might be a dumbass for realising his faults and feelings a little too late, but there's one thing I'm sure about him, and that is how much he cares for you and loves you. I remember after you guys cut contact, he had trouble sleeping for months. He said the thought of you leaving haunted him,"

"I know it's unfair to you how he's only realised his true feelings now," Heeseung interjected, pouring another round into your glass. "But I think you're just hurting yourself more by pushing him away, just like how he did to you. You love him, don't you? Don't repeat the same mistakes, you've wasted a whole year together, don't waste a lifetime regretting what could've been."

Two stubborn people walking in constant circles, that was you and Jay. Too scared to face your feelings, hurting not only the other but also yourself.

Being absolutely emotional and pissed drunk only resulted in you crying your eyes out, which made your friends worried out of their minds till the point where they had to call the person who would know how to comfort you. However, they failed to realise in time that the same person was the cause of your tears.

"Where is she?" You heard his voice from a mile away, it was something you'd never forget. The others were slowly leaving your apartment after hoisting you to your bedroom. The process of which involved you sobbing and your drunk friends trying not to drop you.

The thudding sound of footsteps filled the silence in your home. It stopped right at the doorstep to your bedroom, the hesitation was evident when he entered after several beats. You laid on your side, facing away from him. His approaching figure made your heart race, you felt the bed dip beneath you upon him taking a seat next to you.

"You're awake, aren't you?"

You glanced up at him, the dimness of your room casted a shadow across his face, but he was still the most beautiful person you've seen. You slowly sat up, trying to move your body a distance away from him to make everything less surreal. The silence in the room was overwhelming, neither of you knew what to say first.

"Do you hate me?"

"What?"

"I was the first to let go this time," you chuckled dryly, doing everything but meeting his eyes, maybe you were the coward all along.

Jay let out a breath of disbelief, shaking his head. "How could I ever hate you?" It was a question, it was his truth, his dying truth that he held onto with all his heart. He glanced down, staring at his hands, the bruises from the hard punches thrown were healing. "I shouldn't have lashed out on you that night. It wasn't right for me to do so,"

In the midst of your hazy mind, your brain functioned well enough to recollect the memories he mentioned. Oh, that night, that incident. "It's alright, I know you didn't mean it, you were trying to look out for me, I get it," you averted your gaze, letting yourself smile a little to lessen the tension. "I think I was just scared,"

"Of what?"

"Of you leaving again,"

Jay's gaze softened in the darkness, his hand reaching out to hold yours and it was one of those times that you let him do so knowing how your heart felt like exploding. "I'm never leaving, nor do I hate you. I hate myself for pushing you away, for realising everything too late, for hurting you," he took a deep, yet shaky breath, "If anything, I love you,"

The drowsiness you were experiencing somehow disappeared in a blink of an eye, your mind blank, all you could hear in the back of your mind was those three words which Jay uttered. The air around you and him had shifted, the angry tension dissipated.

You felt his hold on your hand tightening, just the same as your heart tightening at the sight of Jay's heartbroken smile. "I love you," it was a confession, something ever so freeing to finally be able to say to him knowing your true feelings were reciprocated. "I'm sorry for running away,"

Jay moved closer, his face now barely a few inches away. Everything was a blur, how his other hand travelled to cup your cheeks, his breath practically fanning your lips. "I should be the one to say sorry," those were his last words before pressing his lips on yours.

It wasn't your first time kissing him, but something about the kiss was unlike the times you've experienced. Despite all those playful, lighthearted kisses you shared with Jay, you knew this was different. Jay was pouring his endless unspoken apologies and devotion, a mix of relief, sadness, longing were hidden behind it.

Even as you pulled away, you could feel the palpable longing between you and him. It was as if years of silent desperation, confusion and pining had melted into one, finally being addressed at that moment. Neither of you spoke a single word, just holding each other close, admiring one another. It was intimate, something you couldn't recreate with someone else.

"I will never leave you," he whispered, his thumb stroking your cheek reassuringly. "You're a piece of me and my heart, you make me whole. I would be a fool to ever let you go again,"

You stared at him as if he was your entire universe, the effect of his every word carved a space into your heart. Eyes closing momentarily, you let yourself melt into his touch, smiling softly. "I trust you."

That was all Jay needed to hear before a small smile spread across his face. You could hear it in silence, see the look on his face and that spark he has in his brown irises, you knew what it was, he was in love.

That night, he stayed with you until morning came. You held onto one another tightly, as though scared that it was the last day to be together. Little words were exchanged, but you were content by him holding you close.

For the first time in a while, you were able to fall asleep with no lingering thoughts, and for the first time ever, he was yours, and you were his.

Telling your friends you and Jay were finally together was a rollercoaster of emotions that you'd never forget.

It has been months since you and your best friend officially got together. The reactions from people around you were nothing but relief and support after knowing how much hell you two went through. For once, you actually believed in the 'forever' that was promised.

You didn't question the sound of keys unlocking your front door. It has become a habit for Jay to stop by your place every evening, almost just like before and it felt as if everything was falling back into place. Every visit of his came with something he prepared to surprise you, which was why his cheeky grin gave it away.

He pressed a kiss on the top of your head before joining you on the sofa, the playful smile of his never once left. "I have a surprise,"

"Chocolate cake?"

"Okay, something not edible,"

"What is it?" You couldn't help smiling too, nudging your boyfriend in an attempt to get him to reveal his so-called surprise.

"Close your eyes,"

"Are you serious?"

"I'm serious. Come on, close them!" He was giggling, egging you on to go along with whatever he has up his sleeves. "Now, give me your hand," You complied. Not long after, you felt something cold and small making contact with the skin of your palm. "Open your eyes,"

You were first met with Jay's anticipating gaze, then you looked down, seeing a ring sitting on the palm of your hand. "A ring?" You were surprised, picking it up to look at it closely. It was beautiful, simple yet so intricate in detail, as if it was customised for you.

"Don't worry, it's not an engagement ring, it's a promise ring. I know we did make a five year deal, but we're still taking it slow," he picked the ring from your hold and gently took your hand, slotting the ring into your ring finger. "Maybe in another five years time, I'll actually get to fulfil our pact and replace this with an engagement ring,"

This was the closest you've felt your heart exploding. Heat rushed to your face, heart beating nonstop, you were suddenly the person who's first developed a crush for Jay all over again. "Since when did you become so cheesy," you scoffed, a small smile rested on your lips.

"Only for you, duh," it wasn't a lie whatsoever, Jay never hid himself when it came to you. "Let's call some takeout and stay in,"

"Are you staying over tonight?"

"Only if your bed is open to let me in," he made himself comfortable next to you, throwing his arms around you to pull you closer to his side.

"You know it always is."

Jay didn't say anything, but his smile was enough of a response. No matter if it's your bed, house or heart, you've always reserved a spot specially for him. He made up a part of you just the same as you were with him. He was your home and safe space. You were glad you made that stupid pact on one drunken night that led him back to you.

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wri0thesley · 7 months

Text

legally binding - neuvillette x reader (8.4k)

monsieur neuvillette will ensure that he finds your brother not guilty at trial. for a price.

cw: not sfw, minors dni. DARK CONTENT. extremely dubious consent/non-consent. clothed neuvillette, naked reader. cunnilingus, threats of caning, blackmail, fingering, piv sex, coming inside. neuvillette refers to reader as "little one". reader is afab and is described using language such as 'breasts' and 'cunt'.

“If the terms of our arrangement are not agreeable to you,” the honorary Iudex says to you, his gloved hands steepled before him as he sits calmly behind his desk, “you do, of course, have the right to say ‘no’ at any time. I shan’t hold it against you. It merely means that the particulars of our little entente need not be fulfilled on my end, either.”

You press your lips together as frustration and anger war within you. You would like to explode at him; you would like to pull the books lining his office walls down and use them as projectiles to hit him straight in his infuriatingly calm and peaceful face.

That he has the nerve to keep talking to you like this - his voice perfectly even, almost calm, his tone soothing and bordering on paternal (like you’re a little child who he’s telling the ways of the world to), when his proffered ‘agreement’ is so heinous . . .

“You’re utterly abhorrent,” you seethe to him, but the Iudex does not react to being called such a thing - merely tilts his head to one side.

“So you’ve said,” he agrees mildly. “But it does not change your position, does it?”

He is right in that. You stand there awkwardly for one moment more, debating if this is really the hill you are willing to die on; if you are indeed ready to trade away your dignity for the price of your brother’s freedom.

He seems to take pity on your floundering.

“You agreed to this,” he reminds you, his tone unerringly gentle and patient. “But it does not mean you have to go through with it. I will keep the terms of our pact, my dear, as long as you uphold your own - but I will not hold it against you if you decide you are not . . . brave enough to follow through.”

You wince despite yourself at the deliberate emphasis of the word. You know that this is not bravery; you know, too, that what Monsieur Neuvillette is asking you to do is nothing short of corruption of the highest order.

And too you know that the only person ranked higher than him you could conceivably go to is Lady Furina herself.

“I’m sure that a guilty verdict for your brother would not be so bad,” Monsieur Neuvillette continues, and despite the mild tone he uses he must know that he is hitting you exactly where it hurts. “Incarceration is not the be-all and end-all, nowadays - why, many enjoy the Fortress so much they choose not to leave even once their sentence has been finished--”

“Don’t,” you squeak out, and Neuvillette stops speaking. You take a slow breath to steady yourself, and when your voice comes out this time it sounds far more certain than before. You’re proud of yourself, even, for the way that it quavers for only an instant at the end of your next sentence. “I’ll follow through on our agreement.”

“Lovely,” Neuvillette lowers his chin so that it rests atop of the steeple of his gloved fingertips. “I’m glad that you understand the position we’re both in. Well, then, shall we begin?”

You give him a jerky little nod, and he smiles at you like an Archon receiving a prayer of benediction. You stand there awkwardly for a moment more, before Neuvillette lets out a soft chuckle.

“Oh, you poor thing,” he murmurs, more to himself than you. “You really haven’t done any of this before, have you? Let me make it easier for you. Why don’t you disrobe and show me what you have on under your clothing, hmm?”

You take a slow, calming breath. This is not so bad; you had known you would have to take off your clothes for this bargain. You suppose, if you had been a different kind of person, you might even have felt a thrill at the thought that it would be Monsieur Neuvillette who would be the first man to see you bared - but instead, there is just a cold thumping terror as you work at the buttons and catches of your outfit.

You are dressed smartly but not prettily. You have never had much time for the fripperies that many Fontaine citizens prefer to indulge in - and especially for your meetings as a desperate petitioner with the Iudex, you had thought sombre was the way to go. This has carried through even to your undergarments - the chemise you wear is plain, without even a trimming of lace. Your brassiere is equally simple, as are the plain cotton bloomers that hide your most intimate place from his inquisitive eyes.

You swallow as your thumb and forefingers fasten about the hem of your chemise - and then, thinking it better to rip off the bandage from the wound rather than pussyfoot about it, you pull it off and drop it in an unruly pile with the rest of your outer clothes by the Iudex’s desk.

He sits there in silence for a moment that seems to stretch out for an hour.

“Not much for decoration, hmm?” He asks, after what seems like forever. You shift there awkwardly from foot to foot. You have never been looked at before like this by a man - and though you do not want him to find you attractive, the idea that he’s disappointed in what’s before him is equally horrible. He chuckles softly beneath your breath at the expression that must flit across your face. “Ah, please don’t mistake me as unappreciative. There is very little as lovely as simplicity, I find.” Your cheeks heat. “On that note - I think we ought to lose this layer too. Let me see you as nature intended, my dear.”

You had thought that once the first layer of your clothing had been stripped, it would get easier, but you find now that it is much the opposite. Your hands tremble as you reach behind you for the clasp of your brassiere. It is cool in his office, but a bead of sweat rolls down the nape of your neck and sets your palm sticky and wet, and it takes you three attempts to unclip.

You have never been shy before - you had certainly not been shy when you had barrelled up to the Iudex in public and demanded an audience with him, much to the distaste of all around him - but this is enough to make you feel awkward.

The fabric falls away from the swell of your chest, and Monsieur Neuvillette makes a pleased little noise almost like a purr in the back of his throat.

“Ah,” he says. “Very nice. The underwear too, if you please.”

Your nipples stiffen in the cool air of his office, the buds puckering and hardening under the twin problems of the temperature and Neuvillette’s stare. It is even harder to convince yourself to hook your thumbs into your underwear, but eventually your body agrees to your demands and you find yourself rolling the plain cotton down past your thighs and your knees and down to your ankles--

You fuss for a moment, putting them with the rest of your clothes, if only to delay the inevitable for a moment longer - that time when you will have to stand and display yourself in your full nakedness for the Iudex. But there is only so long you can conceivably push his patience, and sooner than you like you straighten your spine and try and jut your chin out and pretend that there isn’t a wash of humiliation drowning you as you wait for his next pronouncement.

You’re surprised when he stands, leaving his cane leaning against his desk, and strides towards you with purpose writ clear in his eyes. Surprised enough that a soft, startled noise falls from your mouth as he reaches for you, and suddenly his gloved hands are palming the weight of your breasts. He lets out a slow, measured breath as his fingertips dig into the soft flesh there. You squeak again as his thumbs brush over the hard nubs of your nipples, and this time he laughs.

“Don’t be so surprised,” he murmurs. “Our agreement involved touching, did it not?”

“I-it involved more than touching,” you whisper, as poisonously as you can manage - but his thumbs are still slowly swirling about your nipples and the sensation of it is making you feel dizzy, little electric shocks of surprise zapping through your synapses.

“Mm,” Neuvillette agrees. “But I am not so much of a villain that I would simply have my way with you without ensuring you were properly prepared, my dear.”

You don’t know if this is worse, actually. If he had chosen the latter option, perhaps it would have been easier to close your eyes and grit your teeth and pretend to be somewhere else. But the way he is looking at you, the way he is touching you . . . those things make it far more difficult to separate what is going on from yourself.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Neuvillette says to you - and you almost protest, until you remember the terms of the agreement once more.

(“You will give yourself to me intimately,” Neuvillette had said. “I will have my fill of your body, and in return I will find your brother not guilty in court. Is this agreeable to you, little one?”

You had wanted to scream and shout and spit. It was certainly not agreeable to you; Neuvillette was a corrupt pervert, taking advantage of his position. How many other desperate petitioners had done this for him?

“Oh,” Neuvillette had said, when you’d been unable to stop yourself biting out the last thing. “None at all. I’ve never been quite so intrigued by any of them or wanted to have any of them bent over my desk quite so much. I suppose that makes you special - and isn’t that nice?”)

You feel at his mercy like this, bare in his office, when he hasn’t so much as taken off his gloves - and indeed, the cool silk of those gloves against your heated cheek as he pulls you up into a kiss reminds you of who exactly has the power. He sighs softly into your mouth, teeth nipping at your lower lip. They’re sharp, and you gasp in surprise and win a low growl from Neuvillette himself. His kiss is wet and messy, and he seems almost disappointed when he pulls back from you with his eyes half-lidded.

“Mm,” he says, “How many others have kissed you like that, little one?”

You press your lips together in a show of defiance, and he chuckles.

“As I thought,” he murmurs, lowering his head again - this time, the kiss he gives you is pressed to the top of your cheekbone. Slowly, carefully, peppered down your jawline. “Ah, don’t worry - you did perfectly well.”

You let out a noise of wordless disbelief and embarrassment that he could tell, which is quickly cut off when he tugs at your earlobe with his teeth instead. It is his canines that are sharp; you give a hot intake of breath at the scratch of them on your sensitive lobe that in turn makes him shudder.

You hate the shivery feeling of pleasure that the bite sends zipping down your spine; a heat that settles firmly between your thighs, that mixes with the pounding of your heart.

“Give in,” Neuvillette says softly. “You have no choice if you want me to uphold my word; you may as well enjoy it. I have no wish to be cruel to you, little one. If you like it too, so much the better.”

“I--I won’t--”

Your voice is reedy; it wobbles and shakes in the air. Both you and Neuvillette know that it is a stubborn and hopeless task, when his kisses and his tugging at your nipples and his soft nipping bites against your most vulnerable parts have already made a slick drip between your thighs you do not want to admit to.

“A pity.” Neuvillette pulls back, and your body misses him - you find yourself making a soft noise of displeasure as his weight moves from in front of you and beside you, before he goes to stand beside his desk and takes his cane back into his hands, leaning on it almost casually. “Come here, little one. Bend over my desk.”

You flounder there, unsure now if you really are willing to go through with things the way that you had agreed to. Your throat feels dry. Disrobing had all been very well, letting him touch your chest had all been very well, but . . .

He taps his cane gently on the ground and makes a soft chiding noise with his tongue.

“Come now, little one,” he murmurs, his voice perfectly agreeable. “It’s not so large a thing, is it? For the price of your brother’s reputation?”

You shake your head and take a slow, nervous step towards his desk - a large, terrifying presence in the room. How many people has he held the fates of in his hand as he sat here in the Palais Mermonia and read their files?

The reminder that you are indeed in the Palais Mermonia - that only down a hallway is a whole group of gestionnaires utterly unknowing of what their honourable Iudex is doing with the young citizen he has an appointment with - makes your heart beat faster, nervousness rise up in your throat like a tidal wave. One foot in front of the other.

You wish the walk to his desk was shorter at the same time as you wish that you would never make it to the end.

It is not to be. Your bare hip bumps against the desk’s edge and you let out a slow, steadying breath.

“That’s it,” Neuvillette says agreeably, and his cane taps on the ground as he comes to stand behind you. “Brace yourself on the table now; palms down. I’m not going to hurt you. Bend over and show me what I shall have the pleasure of conquering, hmm?”

You burn with humiliation as you do exactly what he asks; place your hot palms down directly upon the table and bend at the waist. Neuvillette sighs as if he’s terribly pleased with what he’s seeing. You start as you feel a gentle nudge against your bare ankle, and you realise that he’s touching you with his cane.

“Spread these apart a bit further,” he murmurs, and you comply despite the way you feel utterly debased by the treatment. “Ah. Very nice. Lovely, in fact.”

If you have one thing to be grateful for, it is that he does not mention what you both know; you are wet. The way he had touched and palmed at your chest, the kisses . . . you can feel the beads of slick on your inner thighs, the dampness of the folds of your cunt. The position he has put you in means, too, that you can feel the cool air on your exposed clit - the little button swollen and standing to attention.

Neuvillette’s gloved hand gently comes to rest upon the back of your thigh. Slowly, slowly, he maps a path over your bared skin; the round curve of your ass where it’s presented to him, down and--

A hiccup of surprise escapes you and you almost rock back into him, but manage to stop yourself at the last moment, as those silken gloved fingers brush feather-light over the soft mound of your cunt. He does not press down yet; merely lets himself get accustomed to the shape of you. Your hips cant forward against your will as his fingertip brushes against the sensitive bud of your clit, a whimpering gasp falling from your lips.

You have never been touched by anyone before - and the fact it is Monsieur Neuvillette doing it, under these circumstances--

You squeeze your eyes closed, willing yourself not to cry. You are grateful at least that he cannot see you; in fact, he seems rather preoccupied now, those long silken fingers spreading the plump lips of your labia further apart so that he can see your entrance.

“My,” he says, a smile apparent in his voice. “We’re going to have to do rather a lot of preparation, aren’t we? Sweet little thing, you look tight as a vice.”

“I don’t . . .” You don’t understand quite what he means by preparation, but the soft rustle of his clothing still sets your teeth on edge. You’d known that he would disrobe too, of course you had, but it somehow all seems to be happening so quickly--

A strangled gasp escapes you.

The rustling was not him disrobing. Instead, he has knelt down - and his mouth is hot when he presses it to the sensitive places on the backs of your knees, his tongue wet as he trails it up the back of your thighs.

“Th-this isn’t what we agreed!” You say, panicked, as his mouth inches ever closer to the place between your thighs. Despite the heat of his tongue, the puffs of breath that escape him with his dry little laugh are cool.

“Isn’t it, little one?” He murmurs, in between the wet kisses; you keen softly as he digs teeth into sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, fangs sending confused shockwaves of both pain and pleasure directly to your sex. “Let me see . . . Did I not use the terms ‘have my fill’? Why, little one - whyever did you think that would begin and end with my cock?”

It’s too intimate. You have to be too present for it all, and the tears that have been threatening to spill out do so at the same time as his tongue oh-so-gently prods against your folds in interest. If Neuvillette notices that you’re crying, he doesn’t say anything - and you are grateful for that, as he presses his mouth fully against your cunt with a horrifically wanton wet noise and you realise that you are crying in no small part because his mouth against your heated core feels good.

He merely mouths against you for a moment, his tongue delicate as it travels across your folds and drinks in your wetness. You shudder as he finds your clit, and his tongue flicks against it playfully. Despite what he had said about not having done this to any other desperate citizens, the way he works his mouth against you belies that he has at least some experience--

You know absolutely nothing about the Iudex’s private life, much like the rest of Fontaine.

He pulls back from you to murmur against your thigh.

“You’re so wet, little one. It’s very charming. I think I shall use my mouth on you until you are glad to have the desk to keep you standing. It would be a hard-hearted creature indeed who would not want to feel you come on his face, under his tongue--”

You whimper out some kind of horribly embarrassing noise, as he returns hungrily to his former task; he licks at you and suckles at you like a man starved, and your body reacts with hot little shivers and shudders and jolts of pleasure. You make an attempt to curtail the pleasure - try to tell your body that it ought not to be enjoying this - but pure animal instinct wins out, and you are bent double over the desk whimpering helplessly, tilting your ass up to give him more room, and grinding your cunt into Neuvillette’s face despite all of it.

Neuvillette does not seem to mind at all. He groans into you instead, using the flat of his tongue to stroke as much of your cunt as possible, to work through your folds and suckle on your clit until your entire body feels aflame with strange new feelings. Every so often, he teases his tongue over your entrance, the tip circling the ring of muscle - but he does not push into it yet.

His grip on your thighs is iron-tight. You don’t know when he let go of his cane, but both hands dig into the soft pudge of your inner thighs now, keeping you spread for him despite how the twists of pleasure make you want to squeeze your thighs together.

You don’t know how you’re still breathing, as Neuvillette’s tongue continues to lay claim to you. You can feel your inner muscles clenching around nothing; slick accumulating around your entrance, just begging for something to be inside of you (though, in truth, you’ve never had anything more than your own finger and even then had felt hot and unsure of it). He growls, tongue flicking out against your clit in a rhythmic drumming that makes you whine.

“O-oh,” you manage, through the lump in your throat. “Archons--”

He gives your inner thigh a warning pinch, just enough to make you stutter, as he pulls his soaking wet mouth away from you and murmurs;

“No, little one. No archons here. Remember who it is, who's here with you.”

You are almost tempted to throw his own words back into his face; to tell him that you’d made no such bargain that you had to acknowledge that he was there. That, according to the legalities of the agreement you’d both made, you only had to let him use your body - not your voice, not your head, not your heart. But the lack of his mouth on you now feels like a peculiar kind of torture. You want him to stop. You want him to carry on. The whimper falls out of your mouth to a groaning purr of satisfaction from Neuvillette himself;

“M-monsieur--”

“That’s better.”

His mouth is back on you, hungrily working his tongue between your folds. Hungrily suckling and stroking and working you over until you feel hot and boneless, trembling on the edge of something - your entire body is a taut string, pulled to the point of snapping. Your cunt is wet and messy with drool and fluid and slick, sliding down your thighs - you cannot see Monsieur Neuvillette, but you’d wager that his cheeks are wet and shiny with the same, if only due to the utter eagerness he was still displaying.

It’s too much.

With a whine and pitiful jerk of your hips, you feel yourself slide down into some dark abyss; the thread that’s been threatening to snap finally does exactly as it was always going to do, and a wash of shameful pleasure crashes over you like a stormy sea. Neuvillette lets out a pleased groan as you feel yourself let another gush of arousal out, hungrily drinking you in with lewd, wet noises that have your face as hot as any Natlan springs.

He carries on using his tongue on you; licking, sucking, lapping like a man parched for water - just to the point where your over-sensitive body begins to complain that you are still too raw for such hunger, and then he pulls his mouth off of you. You stay there, bent double over his table, wheezing softly as you hear him dust off his clothes and the click of his reclaimed cane as he comes around to the other side of the desk so that he can look you in the eye.

He really hasn’t disrobed at all.

It’s a callback to the power imbalance between you both; a reminder that, no matter what, you are entirely at Neuvillette’s mercy. You are glad, at least, that he has a reputation for being honourable in his agreements - you have only the very vaguest flutter of a fear that giving him your body will be for naught and he will go back on his word. Everybody knows that the Chief Justice values that same standard he is entitled to embody.

“You were crying,” he says, leaning forward and cupping his hand about your cheek, a thumb sliding over the apple of your cheek. “It suits you. I’ve never quite understood this human urge not to cry - you look terribly pretty with those diamonds on your cheeks.”

He leans in closer and closer, closing his eyes - and you go stock-still as he kisses the tears from your cheeks and pulls back, licking his lips as if he is savouring the taste of something special.

“I-is that all?” You ask, a hopeful tone to your voice - but Neuvillette simply smiles at you kindly, as if you’re silly for even asking.

“Of course not, little one,” he murmurs. “That was merely a precursor to the main event, to ensure you’re . . . sufficiently ready. As I have already said; I am no villain, and I have no desire to hurt you physically. I want to ensure your body is primed to accept me, for the sake of both of our pleasure. And it was pleasurable, wasn’t it?”

You press your lips together, hot shame rising up your neck.

“No need to get shy,” he says to you, that soft, kind smile not leaving his face. “By the way you were grinding against my face, and how prettily you came for me . . . Mm, I’d wager you enjoyed it very much. But it’s alright if you are not ready to admit it; your body doesn’t lie, sweet one, and I know it will accept my fingers and my cock far more readily than you’d like it to.”

. . . You had enjoyed it. You had felt that pleasure that he was so willing to give to you, and the thought that you were actually deriving some enjoyment from this thing that was supposed to merely be about procuring assistance for your brother . . . You don’t quite know how to feel, as Neuvillette presses a paternal kiss to your forehead and you hear the slow click of his footsteps as he returns to the other side of the desk, where your nakedness and your readiness for him are far more pronounced.

“You really are quite lovely, you know,” he murmurs, letting his gloved fingers slide down the arch of your back, from the nape of your neck and down your spine. “Ordinarily, I’m not too fond of ostentation - but ah, you . . . You could benefit from a little more ornamentation.”

A palm, cupping your ass - giving it a slow, considering squeeze, almost too hard to be painful but not quite.

“This, for example,” he murmurs, “would be lovely with some discipline. Imagine; how pretty you would be with welts from my cane.”

“Monsieur Neuvillette--!” It comes out in a panicked little gasp, but Neuvillette merely chuckles.

“Now, now, little one - settle down. As sweet as it would be - I am still aware of the legal terms of our arrangement. I won’t force you to give me any extra - and whilst caning you would be terribly satisfying for me . . . it doesn’t count as satiating my desire in that legal sense that is so important to us both.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding. Somewhere inside of you, your heart pounds at the thought of letting him do as he wishes with you - but you squash it down, holding to the comforting lie that you are getting absolutely nothing out of the arrangement you had made with Neuvillette.

His hand curves over your ass and slips between your thighs.

“A-aren’t you even going to take your gloves off?” You seethe at him, through clenched teeth, as a fingertip slides between the plump lips of your sex once more, to find the wet mess that he had left there earlier.

“I fear it would be most unprofessional of me to undress in my office,” he says, and you hear the smile in his voice. “Forgive me, little one. I think I will stay as entirely clothed as I am able.”

His tone does not broker any argument, and you bite your tongue as he - slowly, maddeningly slowly - slides his finger through the valley of your cunt, approaching your clit with a near-torturous pace. Your breath stutters in your chest as his silk-gloved finger finally brushes over the delicate nub, and he increases his pressure from feather-light to something firmer as he begins to make slow, small circles on the pleasure point.

Your hips don’t know whether to shy away from the certainty of his manipulations or to lean into them, so you do the only thing you can think of and let loose a soft whine into the charged air of his office.

After he has played with your swollen clit for a few more agonising moments, his fingers drag back through the soaking wet valley to toy with your entrance. You feel yourself flex as he comes near, as if your cunt is begging him to finally put something inside of you - and though he gives a soft chuckle, he does not tease you any further.

“I’m going to put a finger inside of you now,” he murmurs - again, you are not sure if it would be worse if he had not told you. With this knowledge, you have just enough time to catch your breath before he slides his finger into you with one quick movement.

It punches the air out of you. If you had not been bent over the desk already, you’re sure you would have lost your footing - but as it is, Neuvillette goes about opening you up with a kind of determined certainty. The finger inside of you gives a few lone pumps, working your tight insides open - you are wet and pliable enough that it does not hurt near as much as you had thought it would.

“Good,” Neuvillette murmurs, “Are you ready for me to add another?”

Again, you want to whimper and scream and bite - but as he continues to pump his finger in and out of you, you realise with that same shame that the feeling of him inside of you is good and could only be improved if he filled you more thoroughly.

“Yes, please,” you whisper, your throat dry - and you are rewarded with another low murmur of praise, and the feel of a finger joining the first at your entrance. You take another steady breath, but you do not need to; two fingers fit inside of you with only the barest modicum of resistance, your body silky wet and tight and welcoming. The silk of his gloves rubs against your inner walls curiously, making you feel utterly dizzy with sensation.

There is a purpose to this that there hadn’t seemed to be when he was using his mouth on you. When he was using his mouth, though he had said it was in order to make the final result easier on you both, you had gotten the distinct impression he had rather enjoyed the process - the sucking, the wet noises, the lewd sound of his tongue against your soaking cunt. But here, Neuvillette crooks his fingers inside of you and pumps them in and out and scissors them slightly in a way that leaves no doubt that he is ensuring you will be able to take something even bigger and wider than his fingers when we have done.

He still does it all with a trademark thoroughness; he rests his other hand on the small of your back to keep you still as those digits plunge in and out of you. You dread to think how soaked through with your slick his gloves will be when he is done--

But he does not use his fingers upon you to completion.

You feel it building up inside of you with the way he curls them just so, rubbing against a spongy spot inside of you that makes your thighs tremble - but he doesn’t follow through on the promise that begins to build, dizzying, between your legs.

He pulls out his fingers with a slick pop and a wet clicking noise, giving your cunt a gentle pat on his way out.

“There, my dear,” he says. “It will still be a tight fit, of course . . . but I should cause you no undue pain. And, if I may be so bold, little one - I’m absolutely certain you’ll feel exquisite.”

This time, there is no question that the rustling noise you hear behind you is him partly undressing; that the soft pop is the sound of buttons being freed from the confines of his placket. He lets out a pleased sigh - you assume at the feel of his hand on his own cock.

“I’ve been longing to touch you,” he murmurs, as he slots himself between your hips. “I had to prepare you, naturally - oh, but little one, I’ve been hard since the moment you walked all trembling and righteous into my office.”

“D-do you say that to all of the poor hopeful people who come into your office hoping you’ll grant them justice, Monsieur?” You manage, and he chuckles. His hips fit neatly in between your own spread thighs, and you feel the heavy, silky, hot weight of something as it slaps against the meat of your inner thigh and leaves a sticky wet trail upon the skin there. His cock. His pre-come, on you--

“As I’ve said before, little one,” he murmurs, and he readjusts himself and you hiss yourself as his cock presses softly against the pudge of your outer lips. He doesn’t move it yet; merely lets it rest there, letting you get used to the size of him and the knowledge that he is going to put it inside you. “I have never been so intrigued by any of them to want to. But you . . . ah, this human quality of resilience! You’re utterly darling. There’s even still fire in you now, when I have you naked and at my mercy. Tell me, little one . . . what would you do if I went back on our agreement now and still fucked you?”

You half rear up, and the way your body moves has his cock nudging at your clit, against you - you find yourself half-enveloping the thick shaft of his cock with your labia. It makes you breathless that it doesn’t even come close to disappearing inside you; indeed, the stretch of it reminds you of just how big he is.

“You wouldn’t!” You say, a tone of petulant fury edging your words - Neuvillette makes a hum of agreement even as his gloved hands travel up, over the curve of your hips and then your waist, until he is cupping the weight of your breasts in them and your nipples are once more trapped between the silken pinch of of his thumbs.

“You’re right,” he says, calmly. “I value justice too much for that - but oh, you’re quite something when you’re full of moral fury, aren’t you? Justice . . . a funny thing, isn’t it? One might say that having you right here, in my office, naked and hot and wet and exactly where I want you is a just reward for my years of service, wouldn’t they?”

You don’t respond, and he chuckles; nips a bite into the sensitive part of your throat where the curve of shoulder and neck meet that sends another electric zip down your spine.

“I’m going to put it inside of you now,” he says, still as calm as a placid lake. “And then I’m going to fuck you, little one. Are you quite ready?”

He tilts his hips forward as an urge for you to do the same; to lower yourself back down over the desk. You hiss as his cock slips and slides between the folds of your cunt, but it is nothing compared to how it feels when he pulls back and the wet head of his cock nudges almost impatiently against your entrance. He does not let go of where he is still pinching and rolling at the buds of your nipples, sending light-headed little thrills right down to between your legs - your sex clenching at the emptiness, missing his fingers.

“As ready as I think I’ll be, Monsieur,” you manage, hoping the title comes out as barbed as you want it to - but then he is pressing inside of you, his cock opening you up, and you bump against the table and go utterly blank of thought at the sensation of being claimed.

It feels like all of the air inside of you deflates as Neuvillette pushes himself into you. He had been correct on one count - he had prepared you well enough that there is only a light sting, the feeling that is to be expected when something large fits itself into a tight hole. You wheeze over his desk, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, as he seems to keep pushing and pushing and pushing--

You don’t think you’ll possibly take all of him, and then he stops and you feel his pelvis pressing against your ass, and you realise he is fully inside of you now.

“There,” even Neuvillette sounds a touch breathless. “Didn’t you do well, little one? Are you ready for me to begin moving?”

His only answer from you is a huff, as he pinches your nipples again and you feel yourself clench around the cock buried inside of you. He laughs softly, and with a wet drag you feel him pull out of you - and then drive back inside again with a wet pap, the sound indecently loud in the quiet office. Neuvillette had already established when he had made it clear he expected you to fulfil this arrangement in his work chambers that the walls were thick enough no gestionnaires would come running no matter what, but you still have a vision of it happening.

Some poor underpaid Palais Mermonia worker, coming in to ask the Honourable Chief Justice some question or another, only to find him bent over a shivering whining citizen, naked on his desk. The thought of someone seeing you, at such a powerful man’s mercy--

You clench around Neuvillette again, whining softly into the polished wood of the desk, your body wanting to welcome his cock inside and keep it for yourself. It feels so good - you can barely stand knowing how right and full and warm you feel, how you know that if Neuvillette stopped fucking you that you would have no choice but to beg him to carry on and let you come.

“Good,” he murmurs, as he finds himself a rhythm that makes you quake. Every drag of his hips sets your body aflame, every twitch of his cock makes you huff and whimper. You’re moaning, you realise, as if you are somewhere very far away. “There now, little one - doesn’t that feel good?”

You don’t reply, but you do not need to. The sound of him fucking in and out of you - the wet sticky slap of his cock as his hips bounce against your spread thighs, the obscene feeling of your own arousal drooling out of you, and the noises that keep escaping your mouth unbidden all do that for you. Your body does not even try to push him out; merely pull him in tighter.

He stops pinching your nipple with one hand, dragging it back down the curve of your body to curl around your thigh, sneaking between you and the wooden drawers of his desk - and you keen a high-pitched little noise as instead of your nipple, he roughly pinches at your clit instead.

The sensation of that silken fabric, sodden already with your slick, and the mean little pinch pushes you over a precipice that you didn’t realise you’d been hovering on. You cry out this time, a moan that you feel certain that everyone in the whole building must hear - but that doesn’t matter, as you spasm helplessly on Neuvillette’s cock and you give him your second orgasm of the night.

He fucks you through it, even as you feel your cunt flex and flutter around him. You feel dizzy, panting, whining - but Neuvillette’s thrusts have more purpose now, and a low groan that sounds almost inhuman comes out of him as you weakly try and push your body back at him to hurry it along.

“I’ll come when I’m ready,” he practically growls, and you whine as his teeth fasten into the meat of your shoulder so that he is utterly bent over you - the rasp of his silken clothes against you, fine fabrics and adornments. The satiny brush of his hair over your heated skin. “And you will take every drop, little one - as you agreed to do--”

You nod helplessly, and he groans - and then his cock is twitching inside of you wildly, and he’s biting at you again and huffing and groaning and the plunge of his hips seems to hit deeper inside of you with every thrust.

You had never imagined the Chief Justice like this in all of your life, but there is something animal to him now; some latent kind of primal instinct you had never realised that the kind, fatherly Monsieur Neuvillette possessed. You know now he is not as kind as you had once supposed, but it is still something else entirely to see him and feel him fuck you like a man possessed.

He snaps, his hips wildly gyrating into you, slapping against your ass so hard you fear you will bruise - and then you feel his cock jump and he comes inside of you, thick ropes of his release shooting directly into your insides and coating you, viscous and full of him.

He gives another almost animalistic growl against your skin, letting his cock judder and shoot out a few final spurts of his own seed - and then, there is a brief moment of quiet. You can hear yourself and your own shuddering breaths, your heart pounding in your ears - and then, the slick, wet noise of him pulling out of you. He catches hold of his own breath, and when he speaks again his voice is smooth and kind as ever as if nothing more has transpired here than a meeting of minds.

“Marvellous, little one. You did so terribly well. Of course,” Neuvillette murmurs against your ear, his breath a cool brush against your heated skin. There’s the faintest scent of saltwater in it; you shiver despite yourself. “You do realise that the final decision does not lie with me, do you not?”

“Wh-what do you mean?” You’re too breathless to speak, still - laid out across Monsieur Neuvillette’s desk, on display like the most wanton of creatures. You can still feel his come rolling down your thighs, spilling out of you with every pant of your breath - you were so utterly filled and claimed by him that you fancy you can feel his come inside of you even now, in thick ropes and dripping pearls.

“Well,” Neuvillette moves away, and you turn your head, cheek cold on the desk, to watch as he re-fastens the placket of his trousers, the tails of his coat swishing about him. You remain utterly debased; your clothes still in a haphazard pile to the side of his desk. You do not yet think your trembling legs could even hold you up, and you have no choice but to let Neuvillette continue to drink in the sight of you akimbo over his office furniture. “Surely you understand it is the Oratrice who will make the final decision, my dear?”

Your heart beats double time in your chest. Your breath comes out in a panicked little gasp, and you rear up before you’re quite ready for it, staggering towards him to clutch at his lapels.

“But it always sides with you,” you say to him, hating that your voice rises in pitch pathetically. “You’re always in agreement--”

“Yes,” Neuvillette agrees with a low hum, and you hate him as one of his thumbs gently comes up to caress your cheek like a lover. “It will be greatly novel for Lady Furina to witness the disagreement, I’m sure. Still - the Oratrice does have the final word, as it always has.”

“But you promised!” You don’t care about dignity now, as you feel the hot splash of tears across your cheeks. Neuvillette takes in a shuddering breath, far too reminiscent of the noise he’d made when he’d pressed himself inside of you. His thumb slides under a tear now, to catch it upon the pad; you watch in mute agonies as he lifts it to his mouth and his tongue flicks out to taste you.

“Really, my dear,” Neuvillette says, with a sigh of satisfaction. “I thought you were better educated than this; you were so very charmingly certain when you first came to see me after accosting me in public. All of those carefully laid out little plans and charts as to why your criminal brother couldn’t possibly have committed the felony that everybody knows he did--”

“But you agreed!” You’re desperate now. He hums again, and one of his arms settles around your waist, keeping you pinned against him. “You said you would find him not guilty! You said he’d be freed!”

“I said one of those things,” he corrects you - and then he sees that you’re very much hovering on the edge of hysteria, and he sighs. “You poor little creature. When I asked you if you were certain and that you’d thought everything through properly . . . you hadn’t really, had you?”

“I . . . I thought . . .” You sniffle desperately, trying to grasp onto the threads of your righteous anger as the cool sting of foresight settles over you once more. Monsieur Neuvillette is correct; he promised that he would find your brother not guilty, and you had taken it for granted that the ruling of the mighty Iudex would be enough to see your brother free.

Not a word about the Oratrice had passed his lips.

You’re shaking. It is only Monsieur Neuvillette’s arm around your waist that stops you from falling to the ground. You fear if that grounding limb left, you would drop to your knees and hug at his legs and rub your sobbing face against his knee and beg. The fact that you had . . . that you’d given yourself to him, and he must have known that he could not truly give what you were asking for . . .

“And what then?” You whisper, your throat dry. Neuvillette makes a considering noise in the back of his throat; a throaty hum. A hand gently scoops your chin up to force you to look him in the eyes.

Neuvillette’s eyes are blue-grey-violet, boring down into you. There is something ancient and terrifying that lies behind them, but as they look into your own they seem to almost flash possessive.

“I happen to know the administrator of the Fortress of Meropide,” he says, after a long moment. “Of course, I’m sure you understand that it is not the most . . . welcoming of places. Your brother’s confinement will lack creature comforts. But . . . it doesn’t have to be quite so dreary.”

Against your will, hope rises like a soft flame in your chest.

“You would do that?” You ask the Iudex. “Make sure that he’s . . . that it’s not so bad?”

“You misunderstand,” Neuvillette tells you, with a small smile. “I have fulfilled my end of our agreement now. I will find your brother not guilty. Legally, there’s nothing else that you need of me.”

“I could tell someone--” You start to say, but Neuvillette only lets out a soft little huff of laughter.

“Poor thing,” he says, “do you truly believe that anybody would take your word - the sibling of some no-good criminal, desperate to save him - over mine? You must understand that I have, as Iudex, a long history of doing only the best for Fontaine.” He lets go of your waist, and you are thankful that you manage to keep your balance even as he turns and sweeps away towards his desk. “I am also aware that I’m the subject of some . . . romantic fantasy, in the hearts of the ever-theatrical people of our homeland.” He seats himself in the great chair behind his desk, and looks back up at you with that damnable smile playing around his lips - small enough you could not call it mocking, soft enough you could argue it was an attempt at sympathy. “Why would I give that up, just to tumble some know-nothing worth-nothing young upstart in my office?”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times in speechless anger, before that cool foresight settles over you once more.

Because he’s right.

Why would he? Why would anyone believe you?

“. . . How can I ask for your aid again?” You manage to grit out, through clenched teeth.

“You could fill out a form from the Palais Mermonia,” he says, rifling through the paperwork on his desk as if you have already left the room. “Talk to one of the gestionnaires about aid for those incarcerated, once your brother has officially been sentenced. The working time for a response is currently . . .” He tilts his head to the side again, as if thinking. “Ah, yes. Only a year and six months. I’m sure nothing untoward could befall your poor brother in that time--”

“Monsieur,” you step towards him imploringly. “Please--”

You remember your nakedness only when Neuvillette looks up from his desk and lets his eyes critically sweep you again. Your nipples, stiff and sore from his pinching fingers. Your thighs, wet with his release and your own slick. The bite marks from his fangs that litter your bared skin.

His eyes narrow; the face of a man taking in something that already belongs to him. A dragon considering his latest addition to the hoard.

You realise exactly what he is going to ask you for, in return for his continued aid, before he opens his mouth.

“Well,” he says, with a small smile upon his generous mouth. It is a mouth many would describe as kind; at this moment in time, you cannot think of it as anything other than dangerous. “You did such a good job of convincing me to aid you today . . . why, we could make these little meetings more regular, don’t you think?”

You swallow thickly.

The Fortress of Meropide. Under the sea, with no sunlight, for who knows how long. Who knows where he would sleep, or what he would eat, or what other comforts would be denied to him in his imprisonment?

“Yes, Monsieur,” you whisper, your throat bone dry.

“Excellent,” he smiles at you in clear dismissal. You feel . . . used. Cheated. Hollow. Utterly owned and laid claim to and conquered, your spirit deadened inside as you look at the corrupt official you had once held in such high regard. “Next week, then. Wear something prettier, please. I’m partial to blue. Now - you don’t mind, do you? I have cases to review.”

#writing #dark content cw #dub con cw #not sfw text #blackmail for ts #genshin impact posting

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belphegorey · 17 days

Text

⌜power, asmodeus⌟ his long wait had only caused him to need more ships ⎯⎯ asmodeus x afab!reader tropes ⎯⎯ vaginal sex, masturbation [asmo], unprotected sex, biting, slight nipple play, praise, pact marks, simp asmo who is poly, i haven't slept so errors im assuming

The Avatar of Lust was many things; beautiful, seductive, caring… but he was not desperate. The very word was an insult to his very character. Desperate. He was not greed, he was certainly not envy — Asmodeus was pure lust.

Others with his need may resign to the fate of need, but not him. Never him. Asmodeus could have anyone throughout the entire Devildom should he choose, all it would take was a smile and wave of his fingers. They were the ones desperate for him. Never the other way around.

Until you. Pesky, gorgeous, witty you. Someone with patience high enough to tolerate Mammon, someone with care enough to forgive Belphegor… someone completely unattainable. Since he had met you, Asmodeus knew that you were someone he wanted. Another person that he could entertain himself with whenever the feeling hit (a constant emotion) and someone he could enjoy spa days with.

But — nothing! He was granted nothing. Your joined spa days always ended with your declining if a shared bath. The shared meals never involved you licking his fingers of sweet dessert. The days wandering together through RAD didn’t include misadventures of exploring one another in abandoned rooms.

Had it been anyone else, Asmodeus would have won. He would have awarded himself the pleasure of his victory. But not with you. You rejected his every advancement, danced with his flirting and ignored the growing need he felt with every passing day. His head was heavy. What was he to do? He craved you, the taste of your sweet skin below him as he gorged on the sin you allured.

None of the others he sought out satiated the carnal need. The succubi he would tempt never held the same shine in their eyes that you had. The moans of each demon he fucked were not the exact right pitch.

Asmodeus was desperate. He had long since given up on attempting to replace you. It only made him need you more. He laid alone in his canopy bed, curtains pulled taught in bows and the lights dim. The air was sickly hot on his body, he felt the sweat glisten down his naked skin.

The fire of his lust burned hot within him. All day, the longest day he could recall, Asmodeus had tasted the delicious taste that was your need. Leftover remnants from your nightly adventures with… not him. All his brothers had found you, had taken you, had gorged themselves on your love. It would not bother him, it should not be, but the agony he felt was overwhelming.

Weeks. He had survived weeks of being deprived of sex. And the only thing he was gifted were the crumbs of his brothers that radiated in your form. Why did they get to feel you first? They could never treat you correctly. Asmodeus was the ultimate personification of lust. No one could topple his throne.

Yet, even if he had just been given an invitation to watch, he would have agreed with complete eagerness. An invitation to join in would have been a glorious dream. And still there was nothing! Not even a footnote for dear Asmodeus.

He licked his lips. Even the crumbs of your lust were a delicacy. Still, he could smell your arousal through the home, even when his bedroom had never been granted the proper treatment, he could feel it around him.

Downstairs, most likely in your own bedroom, but not alone. Asmodeus could recall the previous week when he had stayed in your bed with you for the night. Just sleeping. Yet, tonight it was… Lucifer… in your chambers with you. The musky scent that was the eldest’s lust wafted around with your lingering desire.

Asmodeus closed his eyes and moaned as he cascades his hand down his stomach. He allowed himself the fantasy. You and he, tangled together in your cute little bed, watched by the envious Lucifer.

No. No, he needed you alone. He had been tortured enough, he could show off your pleasure in repeating days. Your scent was growing, the scent that was once turning weak shone bright. Asmodeus bit his lip and ran a finger along the slit of his erection. How mortifying. Self-gratification was not something he did. Why masturbate when he could instead have sex?

It would do. The weakness in his veins from his sudden abstinence could not continue. The beads of sweat gathered on his forehead as Asmodeus bucked into the grip of his hand. Desperation. Envy. Need. It was as though he was Leviathan, but even he had been able to taste you.

He fantasised you on top of him. Thighs around his hips, bare cunt pressed to his erection and leaking with the desire he could smell. You would be so worried, just as you had been all day about his state of wellness (the missed skin care routine had been an obvious sign, he assumed) and you would treat him with such care. Your hands, nice and cold, along his face and caressing him while he leaned in to the touch.

Even though Asmodeus would feign a worse state of weakness, you would allow him. You would sigh and giggle at his flirting and whimper at the twitching of his erection against you. “Just your touch is healing me, my love,” before a false cough that would make you pout. Your sweet kiss would follow, something he had only felt once before.

He still fondly dreamed of the kiss, even though the moment was bittersweet. A goodbye. He had been so scared he would never see you again. The months that followed, with you missing from the Devildom, were torturous. More torturous than knowing you were with his brothers not him.

Asmodeus rubbed the head of his cock with a whimper. Oh, how he craved you. The darling flower that tantalised his garden. The one who he was unable to charm. The beauty to compliment his own. His erection twitched in his palm, slick precum slipping between.

You would look even more magnificent with the very cum glistening on your face. Others could not smell the desire as well as he, the would need the visual reminder. It was not that you were his alone, but it was best they had knowledge of your favourite demon to fuck. The one you loved most. Him.

Perhaps he was greedy for you. Asmodeus felt himself shiver in excitement just at the idea of getting to say you were his. Both if you would be shared, but, just like the previous week, it was only you who would share his bed at nights.

You were moving. Upstairs now, far closer to his bedroom. He could smell you better now. The intricacies, no longer clouded by the musk of Lucifer, was overwhelming his senses. His body gyrated just at the taste in his tongue. So unfiltered, raw, carnal. Unlike anything else he had tried. The strength… you must have completely drenched the underwear you wore. Better yet, there was nothing and all the need was slipping down your thighs.

He was sure that even his brothers would be able to feel the sin along your aura. It was that magnificently strong. He moaned into his hazy room, you were such a powerful sorcerer and yet you were still so soft with the world. Your gentle hands could lock him in place with a single wave, your lips could command him with ease, and yet you preferred to do neither. Such calmness to control the ocean of power.

You walked up to his room, he could sense your feet pause before his door. Was it… him you finally wanted to see? Asmodeus nearly lost control just at the idea. Pearly white droplets spilled into his stomach, only a few to glitter his skin like stars in the sky. Still you hadn’t moved — it was torture on his mind.

Did you want to tell him off for letting himself weaken?

Did you want to punish him for being so selfish?

Did you want to take care of him?

Did you finally wanted to touch him like he needed to touch you?

Asmodeus fisted the duvet beneath his sticky skin, using the closed grip of his hand on his cock as a fleshlight. He hadn’t the strength to collect his actual toys from the collection across his room. Already, he felt the beginning sparks of rejuvenation across his chest. Your sweet desire was the key. His blood was boiling and his inferno raged on.

“Asmo?” Just the sound of your voice had him groaning. No one could mimic it. Not even the best of shapeshifting demons could. You slipped into his room without hesitation, closing the door behind you.

A sweet gazelle entering the den of a lion. Asmodeus was almost scared for you, but the undeniable pleasure that came from you just being near him triumphed. He grew giddy, blessing his face with a sweet smile despite how his hips continued to gyrate.

“My love,” his voice was raspy, Asmodeus frowned due to it. There was none of his usual lilt, the airy joy he spoke with. He was sure that even his talent in seductive speech craft would suffer, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

He couldn’t stop himself from continuing. Even as you walked closer and your face illuminated in the sun candlelight around him. The sparkle in your eyes made his heart burn and his spine shiver. Each moment you gazed down at him, Asmodeus felt the tingle of his love burn down his skin. The sounds were so beautiful. Each wet thrust of his cock into his fist, now gazed upon by your beauty, glee flourished within him.

You weren’t questioning him. It was not the first time you’d walked in on one of them masturbating. He could still remember the adorable blush on Leviathan’s cheeks the morning after you had interrupted him. But he was not so shy. Asmodeus would never be embarrassed by something as beautiful as sex — as lust.

“Can I…” a cute pause entered your speech as you admired him once more. He felt so proud, so loved, it was as though your sweet worship was being played before his throne. He let his eyes fall shut under your eyes, blissfully moaning as he followed the pleasure within him.

When your soft, cool, hand cupped his cheek, Asmodeus only whimpered louder. He knew, he knew, that you would be the glorious treatment to his burning need. There was a dip in the bed, his body leaned to follow, but Asmodeus did not question you. Never. Whatever you desired, he would happily provide.

He heard the sweet stammer in your tone, it made his heart melt in delight. Such sweet sin drifted from your pores and onto his lips. “… No, let me help.” Confidence. How beautiful. You straddled him, thighs pushing against his plush mattress and your wrist halting his hand. Asmodeus opened his eyes, almost in disbelief just so he could take in the glory above him.

The sight would never be matched. It must be how those lower felt when gazing upon him. The candles around you both made an angelic glow. The cascade of your hair was the shadow of the lust between you. The sparkle in your eyes… they were stars he watched each night. “You want to help me, darling?”

You had listened to him — right atop his aching erection was the slick paradise he had wished for, completely free of underwear. The short nightgown you wore was nice and thin, your nipples were hard against the material. No wonder even Lucifer had fallen to your charm. There would be no one strong enough to survive. “I know you need it, love,” the words were mere whispers in the thick air between you. Your back arched straight as you rubbed yourself against him. Sweet wetness coated his dick, teasing him as he grew closer. “We both do.”

Asmodeus felt his eyes roll back. How long had it been since he lost control over grinding? It had never been his favourite act to play, not when there was so many he could use to entertain everyone. Yet, the will in your words and the delicious taste of your lust was convincing him of more. “I’ve needed you for a very long time.”

“As have I,” you lifted your crotch from his for only a moment, the healing hand positioning his dick for him. Such determination clouded your eyes, thick lust burning in glorious pink. The pact mark along your chest, above the heart he had longed for, matched in colour. It’s hue glowed through your gown and cast your face in beauty.

To know you wanted him. It nearly felt impossible. So many times had he offered you more, even grew close to begging, and you gave him nothing. A giggle, a light shove of his shoulder — at most a kiss on his cheek. Nothing to show him that his desire was returned. “My angel -“

“Silence, Asmodeus,” slowly he felt you take his tip. The Celestial Realm had no pleasure quite like yours. He was always happy for sex, always enjoyed it, but he was not prepared for this. It was different yet so familiar. His senses burned in the lust shared between you. “Let me take care of us both.”

He placed his hands on your body, groping at every nip of skin he could. His mouth was open, pleasure rocking his heart in the ocean of need. Weeks without sex had caused complete weakness in his body, and yet it was entirely worth it.

Asmodeus would even do it again if it meant getting to have you all over again.

Your hips dropped and met his, a short moan blessing his ears. All he could feel was the tingle of glory all around him. Overwhelming in how snug you were, how wet and eager you were. He watched your head fall back, the glow of his candles now brighter behind your beautiful shadow.

“All I’ve been thinking about is you, Asmo,” his hands slipped up your torso. Even with that tug in his gut threatening his long pent-up release, Asmodeus took his time to dance his fingers along your skin. The sparkle of sweat beaded on your skin just as it did his own. A memento if the union you shared. When he found your breasts, he was no worse than Mammon in his greed. “You have no idea just how hard it’s been denying you.”

Asmodeus sat up, the tingle in his spine burned in a powerful roar. He felt stronger than he had in days. Weeks, even. His hair bounced along his forehead, baby hairs sticking just barely to him. The power of lust was powerful. Far more powerful than people gave him credit for. Lust was raw. It was pure passion. Passion that Asmodeus wanted to shower you in for a millennia.

His lips found your nipples over the thin gown. Your sweet gasp was everything, the burning pink beneath only glowing brighter. You bounced on him, snug and warm as you taunted him further. Asmodeus retaliated with a roll of his thumb over your other nipple, grazing his teeth on the skin. He could feel the wings crack through his back, only slowly as his power refilled.

“My demon,” your voice was a high lilt of pleasure as you rode him. Asmodeus moved with each bounce to push himself deeper. Each clench and whimper made his ego fly. The sweetest of giggles played between you, and he couldn’t stop from joining in. Though his shared giggle was muted against your breast, he could feel the way your heart sped. Such a similar effect you had on him. The honorary angel to his wicked demon.

You moved like a succubus as you pushed him back down against the bed. His lips fell from your breast and dismay had him frown. Only for the sweet taste of your lips to slot against his. Slightly chapped, as delicious as the sin you created, and so perfectly you that Asmodeus moaned against you.

He helped you bounce your hips, squeezing the swell of your ass that had taunted him for far too long. Every outfit you wore, each one he chose for you, never showcased it enough. You broke away to gasp at his hands, but Asmodeus chased your lips back to his own.

So long. He had dreamed of your kiss for months. Years at this point. It was just as good as your cunt around him. It felt like power even flowed through the tangle of your sweet kiss. “Allow me the honour,” he whispered, hands making your hips move faster.

Each movement was almost sloppy in its speed, though that was were the beauty came from. Sex was a work of art, and you were the finest painter he had found. The sweet symphony of your shared noises would haunt Asmodeus every moment he was gifted the opportunity to see you. The glow of the candles around you was a visage he could never forget. You — he could never forget.

The press of your chest against his felt fantastic, your nipples almost rolling with each jump of your body. He could feel it, you were almost at the top of your peak. Asmodeus was almost fanatical as he moved you both. The chase was never his favourite part, but yet again he was questioning it all.

Your body was just perfect on top of him. The squeeze of your cunt, the breathy way you moaned, and the warm gaze you watched him with… perfect. His thumb circled your clit, admiring how your body danced for him in response. Your lip wobbled as you pressed kisses to his collarbone, pleas whispered against him.

And when it happened, Asmodeus felt rejuvenated in power and life. Your squeal was pitched high and almost silent from how you rubbed against his neck. Your body shuddered in his hands, warm cum slipping down his shaft. He let himself fall in tandem. His wings broke through the skin of his back as his cum spilled inside of you. Your name fell from his lips as he moaned in ecstasy, holding you closer than he had before.

also ⎯⎯ what happened between lucifer and you is that he walked in on you masturbating you dirty bitch [affectionate I love u mwah] and then said go check on asmo before running away also also ⎯⎯ i can’t remember if it’s canon or not but i do have this headcanon that asmo lowkey works similar to an incubus where he can deprive power from sex. it won’t kill him without but he is stronger when having sex/orgasmed

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elaemae · 3 months

Text

The premium version of human is here to wreak house, mfs.

[Twst x ObeyMe!AFAB!reader]

CHP. 7

Again, I thank y'all for the reblogs, likes and comments guys, it really helps me :)

CW: Blue pronouns or address for MC every time they get mistaken for a guy. Also, I'm a potty mouth so MC is too.

Inhale..

Exhale....

Inhale......

Exhale.......

Inhale.........

Ex-fucking-hale.......

You're about to have a stroke right now.

You should've just went back to the goddamn infirmary instead of checking in on these obnoxious, bitch-less, probably father-less, motherfuckers.

It's just cleaning windows!! How the hell can you mess up like this?! Why the fuck did the cafeteria chandelier get involved??

GODDAMNIT!! WHY IS YUU INVOLVED AS WELL?! AHHHH—!

*One eternity of screaming like a banshee later*

After sending those damn kids and cat away to get some sort of magical stone in some godforsaken mine, you wrangled with the headmaster for at least two hours to prevent him from writing up the expulsion papers of Yuu and that Blue-haired kid who was mostly innocent about the ordeal.

(Meanwhile, encouraging him to kick that Ace kid and the damn cat off the school. You ain't about to let audacity run free rn, mostly because you feel yourself start genuinely tweaking as you almost got possessed by the urge to sucker punch someone's soul out of their body.)

[Satan perked up, there it was again.

That distinctive spark of wrath that he can feel through your pact with him is both concerning and comforting.

On one hand, the anger he feels means that you're alive. And seeing that what he's feeling through the pact is mostly annoyance, then that must mean that nothing marginally bad or traumatizing had happened to you yet.

You're actually more pissed off in a 'someone-had-the-audacity-to-eat-my-snacks' kind of way more than anything else, meaning that you're safe for now.

But on the other hand, he doesn't know how long that temporary safety will last.

There's also the fact this is the fourth time he'd felt that spark of 'I-wanna-punt-someone-into-the-fuckin-sun' kind of anger from you, which is worrying because it hasn't even been 48 hours since you were kidnapped by some mf.

He shook his head, calling upon a subordinate (read: Devoted fan) to collect more and more books to learn what type of teleportation and sleeping magic was used in your kidnapping.

With the massive search party spanning all three realms that they'd called upon, they will find you sooner or later.

And once they do...

Well... You'll need to get used to being with someone at all hours of the day.]

*Passive-aggresively reminding Crowley that he can't kick out an innocent kid for something they didn't directly do as they had no way of stopping the events that transpired.*

["You don't want the word to get out that you let an innocent teen roam around in a foreign world with absolutely nothing to their name and nobody to protect them, right?"

"That is true, but I still can't just let this go unpunis–"

"Especially when it's the school's faulty equipment that took them so far away from all of their loved ones and belongings, right?"]

Needless to say, Yuu ended up being "fired" in the end, quite an unfortunate result because they will need to freeload off of you until the end of your stay in this world. (Poor them, they got fired before they knew that they had a job in the first place.)

Oh well, it's better than being kicked out from practically their only way back home right now...

Hays... That cruel crow..

Anygays, it's time to snoop around and hopefully make some connections to the residents of this school.

This is a well-known college, right? So there should be influential people here somewhere...

Hehe.. It's time you bring out your gaslight, gatekeep, gold-digging skills so that you can girlboss your way into stability inside this foreign world.

• • • • • •

Suddenly, more than a dozen individuals felt a strong shiver run up their spines.

Haha... Well that's ominous!

• • • • • •

Ortho deadpanned at his brother.

It seems that almost burning down their dorm room last night isn't enough to deter him from making his [Mr. L/n x reader] fanfiction complete with mandatory fan art for every single chapter.

Haaa....

But at least his brother isn't 'fanboying' about another fictional character again...

Hm... Now that he thinks about it..

Maybe his brother will be more inclined to make friends if it's Mr. L/n!

And thus begins Ortho's journey of being an unknowing wingman as he tries to get his introverted brother to make friends.

• • • • • •

You narrowed your eyes as you looked at the small gift on top of your temporary bed in the infirmary.

Dats suspicious....

Dats weird......

You turn your necklace into a staff and start poking the box, trying to see if it'll suddenly turn into a horrific eldritch monster and jump you. (Won't be the first time that happened.)

• • • • •

"It is done, ××× ×× ××××××" (This is too easy to guess😑)

• • • • •

Diavolo sighed for the tenth time that hour, lamenting how trying to focus on his paperwork is a really hard task when MC gets thrown into the situation.

'Maybe a small break will help clear my head?'

He might as well just go out for a walk in the garden to get some fresh... air...

Oh? what is this?

His eyes scanned the dark envelope he'd seen wedged under the 'To burn' stack of paperwork in his desk.

This envelope wasn't here yesterday...

After confirming that the piece of paper wasn't cursed or charmed, he opened it with apprehension.

...!

This..!

• • • • •

Barbatos appeared in the office, tense as he'd heard his lord call out his name with haste.

Reading the letter shoved in front of his face by the serious Diavolo, Barbatos made a mental note to get the dungeon chambers ready.

They've got themselves a lead.

← Pr.6 | Chapter List | Chp. 1.1 →

Just tell me if y'all wanna get added in the permanent taglist, even if I already tagged y'all here.

That's just so I'll know if you wanna get tagged in all the upcoming chapters of this fanfic.

@caprinaesprout

@iameliseposts

@leviathans-tail-scales

@twst-om-lover

@a-traveling-void-human

Reblog or I'll take your ankles😈 (Pls like and reblog, it really gives me motivation🥺)

Also, the next chap is the start of Arc 1: Satan but short.

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crowborn666-nsfw · 9 months

Text

To Bite Or Be Bitten

(Bite kink is back baby)

Beelzebub x Reader

Tags: biting/marking, AFAB anatomy, oral(reader receiving),

~~~~~~

You opened the fridge, dressed in a loose tank top and sleep shorts. Shivering a little from the chill, you could quickly scanned the fridge’s contents for a decent midnight snack.

You gasped as a towering figure suddenly brushed against your back, looming over your shoulder as you rifled through the fridge. You calmed from your small fright though, recognizing Beelzebub’s demon form and hungry gaze.

“Oh Beel… here, lemme grab you something.” You stuck your head back into the fridge, unaware of Beelzebub’s wandering gaze towards the patch of skin that revealed itself when your shirt slipped.

Before you could reach in for a leftover box of Devil Chocolate Cake from Madame Screams, Beelzebub grabbed your arm in a gentle yet firm grip.

He pulled you out of the fridge, mumbling something about “not hungry for food” and shut it, the chill disappearing from the kitchen.

“Beel?”

“Can I have you instead?”

You blinked, dumbfounded. Sometimes you forgot how blunt Beelzebub could be.

You took in the blush on his cheeks, the glow of lust and hunger in his gaze, the way his eyes flicked over your form.

You couldn’t help but smile.

“Sure, I don’t see why not.”

Beelzebub was on you in an instant, wings chittering behind him as he kissed you, hands resting on your waist. Your hands dug into his hair, standing on your tiptoes to meet him. Beelzebub scooped you up, setting you on the counter and caging you in.

His lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, a gentle nip left behind.

“You can bite me if you want.” You offered, craning your head back as Beelzebub moved down your throat. He hummed, sucking a mark onto the side of your neck before biting down with care.

You bit your lip to keep quiet, leaning back to give room for Beelzebub to bite his way down to your chest. He left purple and red marks all over your skin, and you took note he left them in easily hideable places.

You glanced to his horns, your face just inches from them. With a mischievous smile, you leaned forward and bit down on one.

“Hey!” Beelzebub chided you gently, a grin forming on his face from your giggle. “Are you trying to eat me too?”

“Maybe~ Only if you promise to do the same.”

He moved then, lips capturing yours once again as he pulled you closer.

You felt the pact mark between you two tingle as you moved from his lips to his neck, biting down with a smile. Beelzebub let out an appreciative groan, his hands moving to your thighs and tracing shapes into the inner part of them.

You pulled back after a while, admiring your work. Your marks were much lighter than the ones you received, but you were content nonetheless.

Beelzebub kissed down your form, only tugging down your shorts after receiving your nod. He didn’t waste any time in pleasuring you, his warm tongue pressing flat to your folds.

You did your best to bite down your noises, face flushing as you met Beelzebub’s violet gaze.

“F-Feel’s good, Beel.” You murmured, covering your mouth with your palm to stifle your moan. Beelzebub nodded, tongue pressing into you as a thumb found your clit.

You moaned and gasped and whimpered as Beelzebub’s tongue darted in and out of you, collecting each drop of your juices.

With your free hand, you grabbed Beelzebub by a horn, tugging him impossibly closer as his rhythm began to tighten the knot in your stomach.

“Ju-Just like that, Beel! Oh, oh, keep doing that, ‘M close!”

In response, Beelzebub pressed closer, keeping his rhythm as his eyes flicked up to your face, watching it closely as your brows knitted in pleasure.

Your back arched and your thighs quivered as your orgasm hit you like a freight train, both hands coming to cover your mouth, hoping you were quiet enough in the night to not wake anyone.

You could distantly feel Beelzebub licking up every last drop of your release, clutching your thighs tightly.

Beelzebub stood and held you as you came down from your high, your head falling forward into his chest as your hands clutched his clothing.

He helped you onto your feet, tugging your clothes back into place for you before scooping you up.

“Thank you, (Y/n). That was just what I needed.”

“Thank you Beel.” You mumbled, wrapping your arms around his neck and snuggling in. “Let’s head to bed, yeah?”

Beelzebub chuckled down at you, carrying you out of the kitchen and down the hall.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me smut #obey me x reader #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel x reader #obey me beelzebub smut #obey me beel smut

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dlscenarios · 4 months

Text

Diavolo x afab!Reader SMUT | Obey Me

MDNI

Cw: AFAB Reader, Office Sex, Unprotected Sex, MINIMAL Plot, Dia calls Reader "Princess", Handjob (AFAB Receiving), Oral Sex (AFAB Receiving), Hittin' it from behind, Creampie

Barbatos guided you to the prince's office. Diavolo had texted you to come over and quickly ordered Barbatos to fetch you after you agreed. You fidgeted with your fingers as the demon escorted you; you were silently praying that he didn't know the dirty things his master texted you mere moments ago.

You and Diavolo had started seeing each other a few months into the transfer program. The brothers were none the wiser, not even Lucifer knew. However, Barbatos was a big mystery. You hid the secret well, but has Diavolo? Would Barbatos even tell you if he knew?

Barbatos stopped in front of the large door to Diavolo's office. He knocked. "My lord, Y/N is here."

Barbatos opened the door just enough to let you in and swiftly closed it behind you. Diavolo sat at his desk with a grin.

"Come here, princess." He spoke, pushing his chair away from his desk. As you approached, his hand pat his thigh, signaling for you to sit on his lap. You straddled him and slinked your arms around him. His golden eyes studied you. Every time you spent these moments together, he became even more enamored by you. He never thought the transfer program would lead to the prince finding such an enchanting human.

His large hands rested at your hips as you ran your fingers through his hair. You giggled after noticing his loving gaze.

"What's with that look?"

His hand gently squeezed you. "You're so beautiful." He brought you closer to kiss your cheek. "I don't deserve you~"

He began to kiss your neck, nuzzling into you as you replied with your hand on the back of his head. "Don't say that. If anything, I don't deserve you. You're literally royalty."

He left your neck to cup your cheek. "My status has nothing to do with this. I'm not the one who made pacts with the seven strongest rulers in the Devildom. I'm not the one who has natural charm. You've managed to become friends with the strangest of people. You have a gift, my dear."

He guided you down into a kiss. You melted into him as one of his hands moved up your back, holding you close. Your hand tugged at his red hair as you deepened the kiss. Diavolo groaned, his own hand trailing down to rest on your ass. You parted from his lips to nip at his neck. Your hands trickled down his chest while his larger ones went under your shirt, blisteringly hot palms became stagnant on your back.

You rose from his neck and hungrily kissed him again. Before long, Diavolo's grip on you tightened, picking you up with ease. He stood and gently placed you on your back onto the desk in front of him. This time, he ended the kiss, slowly pushing your shirt higher to expose your bra. He cupped your breast as he trailed kisses down from your cheek, your neck, to your stomach. He slid your bottoms down to kiss your thigh, his hand cupping your clothed pussy. He slowly teased you as his glittering eyes met your face, enjoying the tiny sounds you made and the pleading look on your face.

His fingers hooked the band of your underwear and pulled them down. Diavolo grabbed you by the hips to pull you closer to him. He placed a soft kiss to your clit, studying your expression before kitten-licking the nub. Your leg draped over his shoulder as his tongue slowly dived into you. You always tasted so sweet - so enticing - to him. He will never get enough.

He sucked at your arousal like he was in love with you. Maybe he was, you didn't know. He was always so gentle with your body, but it never failed to leave both of you satisfied and willing for more.

With a final, sticky kiss to your clit, Diavolo stood to tower over you. He kissed your upper lips again, thumb rubbing your cheek softly. He rested forehead against yours with a smile.

"Always such a good human for me~" He cooed. You returned his grin and tugged at his shirt.

"Please take me, Dia." You whispered.

"Anything for you, darling." He pecked your forehead before getting off of you, undoing his belt. His gaze momentarily shifted to you. "I want you ass up, princess."

You hastily slid into position while he freed his erection. Your feet were planted on the ground as Diavolo eased into you. He was huge, that was a given, but he always did everything he could to make sure he never hurt you. He moaned out a low "fuck" after he was fully in. If your R.A.D. profile didn't say otherwise, the prince would have sworn that you were an angel. You always felt like heaven.

Diavolo's larger hand covered your splayed out one on the desk. His fingers curled in between yours to hold your hand before he began to shallowly thrust into you. Your skin smacked together as he gradually quickened his pace. The tip of his cock hit deep inside you as you moaned, tightening around him.

He never let go of your hand, his free one resting on your stomach as he fucked you. Your legs were beginning to feel weak. It was becoming hard to stay standing as your other hand tightly gripped the desk, nails digging into the wood. The hand on your stomach slid down to play with your clit. You moaned loudly, trying to keep your legs from giving out. Your upper body felt heavy as you put your full weight onto the desk.

"Dia...Babe!" You cried out before you felt a burning pleasure wash through you in waves. You whined as Diavolo's hand moved from your clit to your hips. You slowly came down from your orgasm as he thrusted a few more times, finally spilling into you with a husky groan.

The two of you panted as you both stilled. The hand that was gripping the desk came up to rest beside your head. Diavolo finally let go of your other one to carefully pull out of you, staying close by in case your legs gave out.

He bounced back quicker than you, pulling out a few tissues from a desk drawer. He silently cleaned your bodies while you regained your strength. Diavolo was fixing his clothing when you finally hauled yourself off of the desk, holding onto the edge to stabilize yourself. The demon prince smirked and gently pecked your head.

The pretty little exchange student was all his.

#obey me: one master to rule them all #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me diavolo smut #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo x mc #obey me diavolo #diavolo x reader #om! diavolo #obey me lord diavolo #diavolo x mc #shall we date diavolo

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crumbledcastle28 · 1 year

Text

Javier Peña: Call Me Javi

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Excerpt: “His hands found their way to your waist as he walked you further and further backward, obviously having your apartment memorized like the back of his hand, and lifted you against the wall. You let a whine escape into his mouth, his facial hair burning so good against you as you did, and he pulled away with a groan that sounded like he was near pain.

“Tell me Y/N,” he whispered, breathing as hard as he did after raids, “tell me if I need to stop, because I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Your brows creased together in slight confusion, but you whispered, “I will.”

He kissed you again, before sinking to his knees.”

Warnings: SMUTTT, slightly insecure reader, mentions of smoking, Javier is cocky (what’s new), oral female receiving, idiots in love.

1.4k

A/N: I needed some Javi in my life. I hope you enjoy :)

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, reblog, or ask, it would be much appreciated <3

Pedro Masterlist

(gif credit to owner I owe you big time this gif absolutely ends me)

The rubber from his tires came into your apartment’s parking lot so hot they ignited not one spark, but a dozen, lighting up the dark Colombian sky. You could feel your legs beginning to quiver and shake, knowing who was behind that wheel.

“Right now?” he had whispered over the phone.

“Right now, Javier” you whispered back, “now or never.”

That wasn’t even ten minutes ago.

Javier Peña had been your acquaintance for two years, your coworker for one, and your friend for six months. The process had been slow, due to both of your unique issues and the fact that you were after the best drug lord that had ever lived, but you had gotten there eventually. He understood your humor--even the pieces of it dripping in a dark ink--and that was where your own spark began. The teasing began, then the bickering, then the long smokes outside after a day with more casualties than fingers on your hands where neither of you had to say anything.

He had always been good at that, saying everything yet nothing at all. It was exactly what you needed in those moment, the silence of the unsaid pact between you: keep each other sane. Keep each other distracted.

There was only one more step you had to take, one more figurative box to check to let Javier truly distract you from the bucket of shit day you had. You could see it in his eyes during those long smoking nights, the proposal for it, but he always read your eyes right back: Not yet.

It didn’t take very long or “not yet” to turn into “right now.”

Your heart crawled further and further up your throat when you heard his boots hit your carpeted floor, moving just fast enough to be subtle but fast enough for you to smirk, and you cracked your door open a sliver.

He looked how he always looked, handsome with a drizzle of rugged. Your kryptonite.

You took a deep breath before opening the door, reminding yourself that this is just Javier. The Javier who drinks black coffee, only black coffee, blushes at compliments, has a soft spot for cats, adores reality tv, and would never, ever hurt you.

You opened the door all the way when he made his way in front of it. His eyes were blown wide, the proposal from all those weeks ago present in his eyes, as well as...apprehension. Like he genuinely thought this would never happen, you would never say yes, and if he traced one valley of your skin, he would wake up.

You smiled, enjoying this look on him, and nodded.

He smiled too, and kissed you dizzy.

He walked you back into the apartment, gently, and helped you close the door. His tongue teased yours as he locked it behind his back, and you both pulled away to smile. It weakened more than just your limbs.

His hands found their way to your waist as he walked you further and further backward, obviously having your apartment memorized like the back of his hand, and lifted you against the wall. You let a whine escape into his mouth, his facial hair burning so good against you as you did, and he pulled away with a groan that sounded like he was near pain.

“Tell me Y/N,” he whispered, breathing as hard as he did after raids, “tell me if I need to stop, because I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Your brows creased together in slight confusion, but you whispered, “I will.”

He kissed you again, before sinking to his knees.

Suddenly, you realized everything he meant, all of it, and an exhale of fear escaped from you before you could stop it.

His honey-dipped vanilla eyes met your own instantly, mouth formed into an o, and his hands removed themselves from your jeans.

“No, it’s okay,” you whispered, bringing his hands back to your thighs. “I--I’ve never had that before, that’s all. Just scared me.”

You had seen Javier angry before, but this wasn’t that. You’d seen him sad before, sad for you even, but this look wasn’t that either. It was...disappointment. That was it. Disappointment. Disappointment and resentment.

“You haven’t?” he whispered, massaging your thighs.

You shook your head. “No. I’ve asked for it, but--”

“And so you will have it,” he said, and practically ripped your jeans in two. Your underwear came down with it, and you were suddenly bare. The A/C hit you, igniting chills down your freshly-shaved legs, as well as the sweat from your kiss freezing its heat against your skin, and you were tempted to cover yourself completely.

But Javier was looking at you in a way you had never seen before.

He was kneeling there, examining your body like an artist to his sculpture, as if he...as if he might...

You wouldn’t go there. Not yet.

“Y/N,” he groaned against the skin of your shin, kissing all the way up to your pulsing core, “I think I’m dreaming.”

And then he dove in.

You had experienced pleasure before--quick fucks, your own hand, maybe even making love--but one lick of Javier’s tongue, one scrape of his moustache against your soft skin, one grip of his hands against your ass, and sparks brighter than the ones from his tire clogged your vision.

You were in heaven, or maybe hell, whichever one had an eternity of this.

“Javi,” you whimpered as he mapped you out like the expert he was. Tunnels of fire shot up your thighs to your lower back causing it to arch, only pressing his mouth against you harder. Your right hand gripped his hair while your left gripped his leather jacket, your mouth could not keep itself shut, and tears burned your eyes as he licked and sucked and kissed right there--

“Javi, don’t you--don’t you dare stop.”

He pulled away from the obscene noises his mouth was making against you and said, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He ate you out for what had to have been hours and seconds. It felt endless yet not enough. Never enough. He finally worked his fingers up to you, entering you like butter, and another pathetic whine came from what had to have been you. You couldn’t even recognize yourself.

“Javi please--” you wheezed, your fire burning you alive, “I’m right there.”

“I feel it baby, I feel you,” he whispered against you, licking his lips. “Just a bit longer.”

He ate and ate and ate. You were there, then you weren’t, you were screaming, then silent, on the brink of release, then almost numb. He was etching his sculpture effortlessly, hitting you exactly where he wanted you to curve.

You never wanted anything else that wasn’t him, that wasn’t this, him on the floor, your spine against the wall, his face between your legs.

Finally, your fire caught enough for you to grip his hair the way you had discovered he liked, and he kept going. You were there, right on the edge, your fire coiling inside you--

“Come on hermosa, come on,” he whispered against you, mouth dripping with you, “let me feel it, give it to me.”

And you did, so good it hurt.

Your back curved against the wall and sweat dripped down your shirt as he wiped you clean, licking from your chins up to your clit, fully wiping you down. With your heartbeat finally slowing you could hear more of the noises he was making.

He was nearly as pathetic as you.

Finally, you pulled his face up from between your legs and pressed his forehead to yours. His breath was a mix of nicotine and you, and his moustache was nearly damp. His cheeks were reddened as well as his neck, and his eyes...

...you had never seen them more black.

You felt your way around his body, the two of you once again falling into the rhythm of saying everything and nothing, and your fingers traced their way to his bulge completely soaked.

He didn’t—

You looked up at him, shock surely present on your face, and he immediately kissed you harder than he had all night. His mouth was wet and tired, but still giving you everything you wanted. Ever the hard worker.

He pulled way to kiss your hairline and whispered, “Call me Javi from now on. I like it.”

And with that, he was backing out of your apartment, away from you, a bead of you still dripping down his chin as he closed the door.

Tag list: (I apologize if your tag is not working/not present. If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

@leahkenobi @lovesbiggerthanpride @paintlavillered @xocalliexo @c4psicles-blog @joelsflannel @thesmutslut @untitledarea @aninnai

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña headcanon #javier peña smut #javier peña oneshot #javi #narcos #netflix #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #tlou #pedro pascal x you

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aikatoru · 5 months

Text

Unnoticed

Buddha x AFAB reader

Content: Fluff, mutual pining, romance, kissing, clueless reader.

Word Count: 1041 words

Dividers are by: @/saradika

Summary:

He was Buddha and you were just you. He’d never noticed you, at least that was what you thought.

(This is a repost from my old blog @/fuyuaika)

This is extremely selfship coded!!🙈🙈🙈

You hated his carefree attitude, you hated his confidence, You hated that a mere human like him could become a God.

You hated his smirks, you hated his obsession with candy and you especially hated it when he talked to the pretty Valkyrie girl instead of you…

…so maybe you don’t actually hate the guy.

The worse part was…he didn’t know you exist, you were just a third tier level God and he was one of the first tier. You were pretty much just a bystander during the whole Gods vs Humans ordeal, I mean you had tried to speak up and say your piece but with the majority of the Gods screaming bloody murder at the humans, you were pretty much drowned out. The best you could do was just stay out of the way and not get involved with the destruction of humanity.

Due to your subpar looks and powers you knew you’d hardly stand out much less get the attention of The Buddha. He was way out of your league and so attractive. A man like that was way out of your reach and you knew that you wouldn’t get a chance with him, the most you did get was a few stolen looks and maybe one eye contact with a quick breakaway. You’ve never even spoken to the man before, always just admiring from a far.

So imagine your surprise when you were just walking around the back stage of the arena and you heard your name being called by his voice, “Y/N, You’re Y/N right?”

Still trying to process that he had spoken to you, you stuttered a response, “Y-yes.”

He smirked at you with a lollipop in his mouth, “A little birdie told me that you have a crush on me.”

Your cheeks turn red and you might as well just melt to the floor right there, “W-what?! Who told you that?!”

He smirked even harder, “No one, I just had a good feeling and you just confirmed it.”

You gawked at the man and couldn’t take more of the embarrassment, “Please excuse me”

He laughed, “Woah woah wait wait! I didn’t come to embarrass you, I just needed to know that you felt the same way”

“T-the sa-same way??” You were beyond flustered and red, so red. Did he just admitted to liking you back? But it couldn’t be, why would he like you back? While your mind was trying to wrap itself around the fact, you asked, “But why would you…feel the same way?”

Buddha’s smirk slipped off his face and he looked at you with genuine disbelief, “You’re joking right?”

“No I’m not, I mean I’m just a third tier level God with hardly anyone who knows my name and well, you’re The Buddha.”

“Y/N you may be a third tier level God but trust me when I say that, every male God at one point here had a thing for you.”

“Wait, you can’t be serious…nobody knows I exist. Everyone hardly talks to me except for the formal greetings.”

He laughed, “Y/N, they greeted you formally because that’s the only way they know how to talk to you. You’re so pretty that it literally hurts, all the male Gods made a pact that no one would ever make a move on you, to be fair. Even Zeus tried to go against the pact but you turn him down, it was his biggest embarrassment…Poseidon and Hades won’t ever live it down…”

“Woah woah…I turned down Zeus?? When?? He never even asked me out.”

“He doesn’t talk about it and he’d kill anyone for mentioning it but I think he asked you once if you’d accompany him to an Olympus God gathering?”

You vaguely recall a couple hundred years ago when Zeus had mysteriously appeared by your side and offered you to join in on a feast the Olympus Gods had hosted, but you thought it was out of politeness, after all you were not a Greek God.

“That was asking me out? I thought he was just being polite.”

“Damn you’re clueless. I even heard that one time Shiva tried to get you into his chambers so he could make you one of his wives. But you yet again turn him down. That’s why everybody calls you the Ice cold Goddess and they swore that nobody could win your affection.”

“Wait? What?! Shiva?! Wife?!” You were gawking so hard.

“Careful you’d capture flies with your mouth open like that, if there were any here.”

“No! No way! You’re lying, I mean look at me!” You flail your arms around.

“Y/N, Hades tried kidnapping you once but then Zeus forbade all the Gods from approaching you and so Hades didn’t go through with it.”

You were shocked, “What but, I don’t even look as pretty as Aphrodite, my hair’s not blonde and my boobs aren’t that big.”

“You’re right, you don’t look as pretty as her… you’re much more beautiful. There’s so much more to beauty then being blonde and having big boobs. And I don’t know what it is about you and I’m pretty sure all the other Gods wonder this too but you have a sense of regality and purity towards you. You’re kind and you’re sweet and innocent and that is something that is very hard to find. And I came here because the girl I like, likes me back and I’m here to ask you…to be mine,” He spoke with a confidence that could bury your soul, leaning in towards you.

You moved back, “But what about Zeus? And doesn’t this goes again your whole philosophy about not succumbing to worldly desires?”

“I just found out that the prettiest girl in all of Heaven and Earth likes me back, you think I care about any of that? No one in the Heavens and the Earth can tell me what to do, not Zeus and not even me.”

“But what would our Society think? You know you’re supposed to be a role model for enlightenment…”

He raised your chin so that you’d meet his gaze, “To hell with society.” And he kissed you.

And that was how Buddha made you his. Imagine the uproar it caused all the other Gods.

#aikatoru blog #aika writes 🤍#buddha x reader #buddha x you #ror x reader #ror x you #ror fluff #record of ragnarok #ror buddha x reader #ror buddha x you #buddha fluff

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idksmtms · 4 months

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You Are Not One of Us (Poseidon x Norse Goddess!reader) - Part 1

Full Request

AN: OMGGGG my first request! And it’s an absolute banger too??? I feel like a queen, I truly do.

I know the original request was more about Marvel-based Norse mythology but I’m not a Marvel fan so I went with original Norse mythology! Hope that’s ok!

-Also yes, this is a place where we pretend the Hades-Persephone myth isn’t as messed up as it actually is and is a sweet love story instead, fuck off-

-I know Hestia is supposed to be a virgin goddess and never marry but like… I’m thinking of a cute hearth goddess and how she could love Hephaestus and I want that for them-

Final PS. that corner pic of Toby Stephens doesn't fit the rest of the aesthetic, I know, but I saw it while searching and it had me quivering so I had to add it.

Summary: Zeus and Odin have brought peace to the worlds of the gods. With peace comes love. But all is NOT fair in love and war.

Word count: 6,187

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap (even tho they both thousands of years old), god racism?? Idk they act like “foreigner gods” is a bad thing, lusting, liking the fact that he looks older (is this a warning???), (please let me know if I missed any)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not claim to own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

It was the dawn of a new era when Kronos was thrown to Tartarus. His evil had touched more than just the world of the Greek gods, sending ripples through the very world of mythology itself. Though the worlds of the Norse and the Grecians were thousands of miles away, their gods had often met on the battlefields. A multitude of stories, now lost to time, told of the wars of snow and sand, told of the loves made and broken between viking idols and spartan gods. But upon the ‘death’ of Kronos, the new king of the gods found himself in a forgiving mood. Odin too, having given up so much for wisdom, realised the best way forward was to have peace in all aspects under his control, once and for all.

The two gods met deep in a forest exactly halfway between what is now Greece and Norway, a forest that eventually became the town of Vlasim in the Czech Republic. No one other than the two kings knows what was said in order for the peace pact to be made, but they left with promises of order, friendship, and an invitation for the Asgardians to visit the stronghold that is Mount Olympus.

When Zeus returned with this news, they all rejoiced and began ensuring Mount Olympus looked better than it ever had before. After all, they still needed to outshine these other supposed “gods”. Hera took charge of ensuring the entire place glowed, already beginning to argue with Demeter on how the flowers would look best. Aphrodite was already picking out her best dresses and sprucing up her hair, Artemis and Apollo hopping off to go hunting for some creature that would show their true prowess to the Asgardians (secretly hoping they would make it back in time). Dionysus was left in charge of the entertainment, though he was quickly focused only on providing wine for the entire table, and Hephaestus and Hestia found comfort in quiet corners of the room, watching all the chaos unfold. Hades had been unbothered, promising he would show up with Persephone when the Asgardians arrived and nothing more before disappearing in a puff of smoke back to the underworld and no doubt the loving arms of his wife. Poseidon was… well he didn’t know how he felt. If he was honest, he was beginning to feel old. Life as a god wasn’t all it was cut out to be, and it had been dragging a bit recently. His millennia of existence were beginning to catch up to him and he wasn’t sure how to jumpstart his enjoyment again. He had even taken to wearing an older form recently, a man still in his prime, but one with the wisdom of a thousand years subtly showing itself in the lines around his eyes and mouth. A man still corded in muscle but with the stockiness, width, and strength of one who had had one hundred lifetimes to hone it. This seemed like exactly the kind of thing he needed to reintroduce excitement to his life. Though Zeus had not included him in the peace talks, he was happy to be part of the governing that came after, to help maintain the peace between the gods. For once he felt he could happily commend his brother for a job well done.

And he was excited to meet these new gods, apprehensive too of course, but… excited. It would be a good opportunity to measure themselves up to the others in their world, to truly decide if they were as invincible as they believed they were. Poseidon believed it was important for the gods to have a wake-up call every now and again to their fragility, and he was sure this would be one of them.

Across the world, in the realm of Asgard and the halls of Valhalla, ale was poured and songs were sung as the gods rejoiced. Odin sat on his throne high above the others as some danced, some fought, some feasted, and some passed out from too much of everything too soon. Odin watched over them all with one of his rare smiles, a hand resting atop the one Frigg had placed on the arm of his throne. Even Loki, occasional friend, occasional enemy, had joined for this celebration. He was proud of what he had achieved, of the worthy sacrifices he had made, to not only bring him eternal wisdom, but to bring peace between two races of gods. Odin turned to Frigg, leaning down to kiss her cheek. She blushed, turning to him and pressing one on his cheek in return.

“Everything is well?” She asked, caressing his cheek just under the eye he had given up.

“Perfect,” he sighed, then looked back out to the dancefloor where his children now pranced jokingly.

Thor laughed heartily as he began to chug from his mug, froth spilling over the sides of his cheeks as his friends clapped and cheered. Loki even smiled, though he was more caught up in trying to continue his conversation with the little goddess sandwiched between her brother and him. Odin’s youngest child, the newest addition to Asgard, giggled at her brother’s antics and the clever commentary the god of mischief whispered in her ear. She was still young by the standards of the gods, having only seen a thousand sun cycles, and she was treated as such, cherished by all who looked upon the daughter of Odin, the goddess of love, so loved in fact, that Odin had chosen to bestow his own title of god of war onto her. The goddess of love, and war, Y/n Odinsdottir.

You were excited for this trip to Mount Olympus. You had been aware of the Greek gods since your birth but you had not had the opportunity of meeting them in battle. Being only a thousand years old meant you had been coddled for five hundred of them, and though you had been given the title of goddess of war, you still felt you had to earn it. Balancing the powers of love and war was a struggle you were still learning. You had spent the last five hundred years trying to choose the right warriors to bestow your blessing upon, the right vikings to give the power of love (the second being especially difficult as you had only felt familial love thus far). This would be an opportunity to learn from these other gods, to not only enjoy a new era of peace but to build on your own skills.

Odin, Frigg, and Thor enjoyed your excitement, watching with smiles as you pranced about in different dresses wondering which would be the best to wear, brushing out your hair and carefully pinning the dark blue tresses into an updo. Though you often changed the way you looked (shapeshifting came with the job of being a love goddess for all mythologies it seemed), you never changed the blue hair. You had quickly grown fond of it, and the natural movement of hair in that colour reminded you of waves on the ocean, a particular favourite spot of yours. Even past the blue hair, you often wore blue dresses in varying shades, simply because you had come to love the ocean, and thus the colour blue. The other gods often remarked that love was not black nor white, rather it was blue.

On the eve of the grand meeting of the gods, you had sat beside Loki in a stone alcove high above the feast hall of Valhalla, watching the slain heroes rejoice for another evening. Though it was in Loki’s nature to be a trickster, you had come to enjoy his company and often seeked him out when you were bored or nervous. He knew the history of the gods almost as well as Odin, and you enjoyed the way he told his stories with exaggerated voices and dancing movements. You loved learning about all that had happened before you, all the battles the gods had fought, the relationships they had made, long before you were even a thought in Odin’s head. On a night like this, when you had too much energy to just while away the hours, you found Loki and begged him to tell you a story. You were still young, and possibly your power as a love goddess had an influence too, but he found he could never quite say no to you.

“Alright, little goddess, settle in, for tonight I tell you a story of love and perilous heartbreak, a story that involves lovers who should never have met, lovers who had no business being together, and who fate punished for it,” Loki began, eyes sparkling as he gazed deep into your own. You shivered and nodded, excitement and just a hint of fear tickling your spine. You sat back against the stone wall and brought your knees to your chest, resting your chin on top of them and waiting for Loki to begin again.

“So many years ago that neither you nor I were even a thought in the dust, one of the aesir fell in love with a goddess of another land. Though their names and abilities are lost now, we know that the aesir was one of our strongest, almost indestructible. The goddess was special in her own right, among her own people, and these two great clans warred for many centuries. Years and years were spent slaughtering each other’s families, using human battles as their own, bleeding each other dry until there was barely anything left to call them gods.

During one such battle, this aesir had broken through the front lines of the opponents, but was stopped dead in his tracks when he laid eyes upon a beautiful goddess helping to heal what she could. He was enamoured by her, so enamoured that for the first time in any battle he was nicked by an arrow.” Loki paused, seeing the way your eyes widened and began to get teary, and he smiled gently. “Do not worry little goddess, it was only a small cut, and he was able to heal, but the true wound was in his heart. He wanted to find this goddess, to be near her, to love her, and yet every day he had to fight her people, without fail.

One day, he decided to stay back while the others fought, and he snuck over to the other side to try and find his goddess. He disguised himself as a butterfly and fluttered around their camp looking for her. Again, when he found her he was struck dumb by her beauty, and instantly changed into his true form in front of her. She was terrified, and she almost began to yell for help, but he begged her not to. He promised her his life, his very essence as a god, if only she would give him a chance to show her how much he had come to love her. Of course she was apprehensive at first, he was the enemy after all, but she allowed him this.

The aesir took his knife, cut his palm, and dripped his blood onto the ground. With the first drop, he created a new flower and named it Linnea, for her. With the second, he created a flurry of butterflies that would follow after her wherever she would go, do whatever she wished of them. And with the third, he created a thin gold thread. He took one end of the thread and tied it around his wrist before offering the other to her. He said that if she took it, he would bind himself to her, soul to soul. That if she loved him back, they may be separated, but the gold thread would tie them together forever and wherever they may be, they could always follow it back to one another. The goddess, won over by his utter devotion, accepted his offering and promised to love him back until the end of her days.

Each night they separated to their own camps, connected only by the gold thread, and each day while the battles and the war raged on, they would sneak away to far off places to be together and live in a happiness their people couldn’t seem to find. But all was not well for the lovers, for the Norns had spun their threads and knew that the price of their love was one no god could ever pay. And so, one day when the lovers snuck off, a god from this other clan who had been promised this goddess’s hand in marriage decided to follow. He saw this ultimate betrayal and sounded the alarm. Both lovers were dragged back to their camps in shackles, the aesir and the other gods unsure of how to punish them.

The eldest of the aesir knew what must be done. The lovers could never be together, it was simply impossible, and he spoke with the leader of this other clan in a moment of truce. They were both in agreement, and the elder was sent off to complete this task. He ventured to Yggdrasil and found Urðr, Verðandi, and Skuld. He had Verðandi remove any memory or thought of the goddess from the aesir’s mind. He had Urðr remove any trace of the goddess from the aesir’s fate. And he had Skuld remove any future with the goddess.

When this was done, the elder returned to the camp and found the god to see if the Norns had worked true. He had no memory of the goddess, and seemed returned as he was to the aesir. On the other side, the same had happened to the goddess with her own fates, any trace of the god removed from her thoughts, memories, fate and future. Everyone thought all was well and normalcy had returned, but both god and goddess felt the eternal tug of a gold thread wrapped around their wrist that no one but them could see. Both attempted to follow it but it seemed to never have an end. They would stand in front of each other, and look straight through the other, never able to see one another again. Forever they were cursed to wonder why they were pulled toward something they could not see, something they would never be able to find.” Loki finished with a sigh, looking at you as you sat curled up against the wall opposite him. You were frowning, tears collected at the corners of your eyes and lip trembling.

“I didn’t like that story,” you mumbled, shaking your head and wiping at your eyes. “What was so wrong with them loving each other?”

“Little goddess, we are terrified of the things we don’t understand. We don’t understand love, we don’t understand why it evades us but not those we hate. We don’t understand why it makes us love those we do not want to love.” Loki began to stand, brushing off his legs and shirt with a shrug.

“Then… then none of you understand me. You are all terrified of me. I am the goddess of love, am I not?” You asked, looking up at him with fearful eyes. But Loki just smiled and patted your head.

“You help us understand love, little goddess. That is why we need you, because without you, we would all be even more lost. Imagine that,” he smirked and chuckled, then walked away, mumbling something about readying for the journey to Olympus.

When the Norse gods began to arrive on Olympus, the Vanir entering first, the gathered horde of Greek gods and goddesses and spirits began to mumble and talk among themselves as they judged the foreigners that now walked among them. The Grecians felt their dressing was superior, their peplos were so white that they would burn the eyes of a human. The gold edging was pure and shined as if it was freshly polished and not thread. The purple cloaks they all donned would bankrupt every village in the human world just to get enough dye to make it look that bright. They were… amused? Intrigued? Maybe even disgusted by the fashion of their guests. They all wore varying shades of red. They had either thin linen garments with animal furs draped across their shoulders and arms, or donned thick tunics of sheepskin and wool pants with leather belts decorated with axes and swords. Both groups were… apprehensive to mingle.

Zeus and Hera sat on their thrones and looked down on their guests, nodding greetings as they watched for Odin and Frigg. Poseidon and Hades sat on their own thrones to the side of their brother. Hades was turned to the side and conversing solely with Persephone who stood just behind his throne, leaning onto it and smiling down at her husband. Poseidon just sat back and watched the gods enter the grand hall, resting his chin on his hand and trying not to yawn with boredom.

The entrance of Odin and Frigg could not be missed. As they crossed the bridge into Mount Olympus, they were surrounded by the Aesir. Odin held Frigg’s hand, both dressed in traditional Viking fashion. Frigg wore a modest woollen strap dress in a shade of red so deep it looked like she had bathed in blood. Her grey eyes were smudged with black on the lids and her hair was braided on both sides and tied back, resting on a black fur stole draped over her shoulders. Odin was dressed completely in black, from his eyepatch to his tunic and sheepskin pants. But his cloak was of the pure white fur of a bear, the edges dragging on the ground behind him.

Thor followed behind his father, dressed as a common viking, but with Mjolnir dangling from his wrist, shiny and almost glowing. Baldr walked beside him, a simple white tunic and black pants comprising his outfit. But it was his hair that was the talk of the audience, so pale and white that it seemed to glow itself. He was a handsome creature, youthful and majestic, with a muscular body and a gentle smile. The muses began to giggle as they watched him walk past.

It was after Thor and Baldr had separated to stand beside their father and mother, that little gasps and whispers began to pervade the air. Behind them had walked Odin’s youngest child, wearing a dress of blue that draped over your body like water. It looked like it had been made of the thinnest netting all gathered and crushed together then draped over your body in the fashion of the Greeks. The fabric was so light near the top that it looked like the very froth of a wave, and darkened as it flared out behind you, the hem almost as black as the deepest trenches of the sea. Like your mother and father, you had draped a fur over your shoulders, hoping to appease your people. You had wanted to blend in with the Greeks, had wanted them to feel respected (you were entering their home after all) but you still wanted to look like a viking.

The Aesir walked forward as Zeus stood from his throne, followed slowly by his brothers and Hera. He smiled at the approaching group, waiting until they were just in front of the thrones before speaking.

“Welcome, all, to Mount Olympus,” his voice boomed, and a small flutter of claps sounded from around the crowd. “Thank you for joining us, and for ensuring peace between our peoples for the rest of our eternity,” he smiled, and Odin bowed his head in thanks, letting go of Frigg’s hand to hold both of his own in front of himself. “Please, converse, rest, enjoy the sights of Olympus and partake in the refreshments,” Zeus gestured his arms to the tables of ambrosia that stretched so far that even the gods lost sight of their ends. With that, he sat back on his throne, and waited for Odin and Frigg to approach.

Hades took the opportunity to grab Persephone’s hand and try to slink off but the goddess just chided him and forced him to sit back in his throne as she went to see her mother. Hel chose this moment to approach him and the two began a stilted conversation about their individual worlds of death. Hephaestus and Hestia, who had taken up to joining together in situations of unfamiliarity, sat together in the corner, whispering among themselves. Apollo found company in Bragi, though both instantly began speaking in verse to try and prove who was the better poet.

Artemis, Ares, and Athena had crowded Thor and Tyr and were all in different positions of trying to look dangerous, unamused, and intrigued at the same time. Aphrodite had pounced on Baldr, but found competition in the muses who had already made their way to surround him, and soon found herself flirting with Freyr. Hermes and Loki too had found delightful conversation with one another, full of ideas of thievery and trickery.

And Poseidon was… enamoured. Since the moment he had laid eyes on you he had not taken them away. He had slowly sat back down in his chair, worried that if he stayed standing his knees may give out. You made a god weak. You were beautiful, ethereal, magical, beyond anything even the gods could think to conjure. And your dress… oh that dress, had you chosen it for him? Had you arrived with a mind to capture his very essence? Because it started with that dress. You looked the very soul of water, the very thing that made a world impossible without it. Your hair, your luscious hair, so blue that it reminded him of his palace, of the places deepest in the sea where he felt truly at peace. And the small smile on your face as you meandered between the different groups of gods conversing, slightly shy of your place, but not unhappy. It was the smile of a fresh pearl, one that shined under even the dimmest of lights.

Poseidon watched you walk about, not entering any conversation but not shying away from listening to the others speak. Your pretty face never once dipped into a frown, and he felt like he would never truly catch his breath if he could see you in his line of vision. It took every bit of his godly power to force his eyes away, and he was both angered and thankful when some god (who seemed to be the only one who looked as old as he probably was) walked up to his throne and began conversing about fish.

You were so happy that Njord had listened to your little prompt to go speak to the god of the seas, because it meant he finally pulled his eyes away from you, and you could begin to watch him in return. He had been the first of the thrones you had looked at, and the only one you truly cared about now. His eyes were such a dark blue that they reminded you of the ocean, of your favourite place in the ocean in fact, and they seemed so… knowing, as if one look at another told him everything he needed to know about them. His form was majestic, stoic and strong, with broad shoulders and thick arms that made you desire something you had never desired before. You wanted him to hold you. You wanted him to wrap those arms around you, to run your fingers over those arms. Were you bewitched? Were you cursed? Even his hair made you feel desire, those beautiful locks of hair that resembled celestial bronze, neat yet still unrestrained with a particularly unruly strand falling onto his forehead. You wanted to run your fingers through that hair, to feel if it was truly as soft as you imagined, to press your nose into it and inhale the slightly salty scent that surely clung to him, that you had come to love as much as the sight of the ocean itself. You wanted to feel his beard on your cheeks, under your palms, to know if the white hairs that threaded through it were any coarser than the others, to know what it felt like to have a man’s face in the palms of your hands. Your entire being felt as if it was on fire, and the more you stared at him, at the slight signs of age that showed themselves in the lines by his eyes and mouth, the more you felt it burn inside you.

Someone cleared their throat to your right and you gasped, whirling on them as a blush branded itself on your cheeks, as if your body wanted to betray your thoughts. You smiled, hoping to cover up whatever embarrassment may have shown on your face, and gazed at the god before you. He was about your height, if not a little taller, with a grin that reminded you of Loki’s. His hair was black and combed back smoothly in a rather regal fashion. His eyes were black too, you noticed, so black that you couldn’t differentiate the pupil from the iris. You smiled brightly at him, bowing your head in greeting when you noticed the little wings that protruded from his shoes.

“My goodness! Your shoes!” You exclaimed, gasping and pointing at them with a delighted little laugh.

“Yes,” he laughed along, “they help me travel quickly when I am tired, though they do often have a mind of their own,” he joked, and you laughed loudly. He had a sweet voice, one that would sound happy even when he was sad. “I am Hermes, son of Zeus, what is your name?” His eyes were sparkling and you found you enjoyed it.

“I am Y/n of the Aesir, goddess of love and war,” you introduced yourself, holding out your hand to him. Hermes held it as if it were a precious gift and pressed his lips to your knuckles. You had never felt so regal.

“Ah, yes, Odin’s youngest, I have heard of your prowess on the battlefield.” Hermes was surely a charmer, you thought, and you smiled brightly, a tinge of pink to your cheeks.

“You flatter me, I am still unproven as a goddess of war, though I suppose I do plan a strategy well,” you smiled cheekily, shrugging nonchalantly and holding your hands behind your back as you swayed girlishly.

If there was one thing you were proud of, it was your ability to fight. It was the reason your father had given you this title, your cunning ability to break down your opponents in all sorts of ways, to plan out a fight before it had even begun. Simply put, you were good at it, you could defeat Tyr with ease now, and even Thor had become no challenge. While you still struggled with the love side of your godly abilities and duties, you could always rely on your fighting.

“What about you, Hermes? What are you the god of?” You asked, tilting your head in question.

“Many things, trade, luck, travel, and thieves,” he answered breezily, though his smile betrayed his pride. “I am the herald of our pantheon, the messenger of the gods.”

“Well you are very important then, for where would we be without our messengers?” You told him sweetly, and all he could do was nod. His chest filled with warmth and he knew he had to be careful or the affection that now bubbled inside of him would erupt from his mouth.

“You are wise as you are sweet,” he simply replied, and you just smiled brightly before turning to face the group and stepping slightly closer to his side.

“You remind me of Loki, though he is not a brother, I see him as such,” you told him, and a small pang hit him in the stomach. You had already passed him off as a brother it seemed. But Hermes just shook his head to himself and smiled at you again, leading you toward a display of flowers just to the side that was one of Demeter’s favoured experimental projects. He was tenacious, if nothing else, and he would eventually get you to enjoy his company as something more.

Poseidon had ended up enjoying his conversation with Njord (who was surprisingly intelligent and rather engaging when conversing about fish) but when the god had left him he instantly began to look around for you. Any good mood was squashed when he saw you walking off arm in arm with Hermes, and a thunderous look settled across his face. Somewhere on earth a storm began to brew. Luckily, you didn’t walk far, and he was able to watch over you from his throne, though his mood had already soured, and continued to sour the longer you stayed attached to Hermes’ arm.

Hades, who had finally rid himself of Hel’s company, Hestia and Hephaestus from their corner, and even Dionysus from his seat at the ambrosia table with a jug of wine bigger than his head watched Poseidon. He was acting rather odd, and they could all now see why. His eyes had not left the girl-goddess since she had arrived, and he was miserably failing if he was attempting to be subtle. They had noticed the goddess watching him in return, the pink tint on her cheeks and the sparkle in her eye, and a teasing giggle seemed to build in all those watching. How poignant for Poseidon to fall for the goddess dressed like the sea. Hades stood from his throne and made his way to his brother, sitting on the arm of his throne and smirking at him.

“I will admit, brother, that she is beautiful,” he told Poseidon quietly. The god of the sea snapped his head to his brother, and scowled.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” he answered simply, but Hades just laughed, patting Poseidon on the shoulder.

“Oh brother, you truly do not understand the art of subtlety, do you?” Hades raised an eyebrow and Poseidon stared at him bewildered. “You have watched that one since she arrived and done nothing but that. And goodness, the way you watch her! Have you never seen a woman?” Poseidon shrugged his brother’s hand off of his shoulders and had the decency to look slightly sheepish. He had assumed no one would notice. Hades noted the slight shame in his brother’s expression and sighed, smiling gently.

“Do not worry, I will tell no one, though I may not have anything to tell as she does seem to be enjoying Hermes’ company,” he added teasingly, and Poseidon growled at his brother’s back.

He was distracted by a commotion that had arisen near where Hermes and the goddess had stood. Now a group had gathered around them, fluttering with whispers, and he was too curious not to know what was going on. He walked swiftly from the throne, standing just behind some of the minor gods in the group and peering over their heads.

“So you are a goddess of war, your brother has said?” Ares asked, hands on his hips as he stared down at you. You smiled up at him, nodding your head.

“The goddess of war and love,” you told him. Athena and Aphrodite, both stood just behind Ares with their arms crossed over their chests scoffed.

“A goddess of war and love? Must not be good at either,” Aphrodite murmured, voice snarky and loud enough to be heard by everyone. Athena smirked, hiding a chuckle behind her hand. You frowned at this, looking toward the two goddesses, but Ares just moved so you would be forced to continue staring at him.

“She is a guest, do not be rude,” Hermes spat, but Ares and Aphrodite just waved their hands in twin moves of dismissal.

“I am the god of war, she is the goddess of love, we have the right to ask questions of a guest who resembles us so closely,” Ares smirked at Hermes, but he was quick to return his gaze to you. His eyes were like fire, hungry and angry, ready to burn whatever he looked at.

“So, what exactly do you do? Do you make enemies fall in love and end wars?” Aphrodite snarked, tilting her head and staring at you like you were just something annoying that had flown into her path.

Poseidon wanted to intervene. He was desperate to come to your defence, to have the waters flood Olympus and drown each of them until they were nothing but salt in the sea. But before he could step forward to your aid, he saw the subtle changes in you. He saw the way your eyes hardened, any trace of the happiness and gentleness with which you had treated everyone thus far disappearing. He saw your back straighten just a tad more, your shoulders pushing back and your balance shifting just slightly forward onto the balls of your feet. You clenched your teeth together for a moment before relaxing your jaw and looking up at Ares.

“Would you like to fight me?” You asked simply, folding your hands in front of you. Ares began to laugh, a deep guffawing laugh that had him bending backward and puffing it into the sky. Aphrodite tittered, pressing her fingers to her mouth and turning to the side as her laugh tinkled into the air. Even Athena smirked, though she didn’t say anything nor laugh, just a widening of her lips and a slight disbelief at your stupidity in her eyes. “Is there a problem?”

“You have just asked to fight a REAL god of war, child, what am I to do other than laugh?” He replied, throwing his arms out and gazing at the crowd.

“Careful, brother,” Hermes spat, but you just placed a hand on his arm, stoic expression not changing.

“You could fight me,” you answered simply, beginning to tie your hair back. “Unless you do not believe in yourself, REAL god of war?”

Ares snarled, baring his teeth at you before stepping back and throwing off his purple sash. It would only be a hindrance to his fighting ability. You smiled, broad and bright, and a longsword appeared in your hand. A glorious weapon, with a handle of white bone carved from a broken fang of Fenrir. The blade was black like onyx, but fashioned from the strongest metal the dwarves could find and forge in Nidavellir. It was your favourite. You spun it in your hand lazily, inspecting it for a moment before turning to look back at Ares. Your eyes flashed blue, so quickly that if anyone had blinked they would have missed it. Then, with a smile so gentle you seemed you could never hurt a fly, you attacked.

It took you no more than five minutes to have Ares on the floor, your sword pointed at his throat. You were swift like wind, clanging your sword against his before twisting around him and kicking the back of his knee and then the other to flip him over as he fell. Not a hair out of place, you smiled down at him, pressing the point just a little into the skin of his throat before pulling it away completely and sending it back to Asgard. Ares stared up at you with eyes so wide you thought they would pop out of his head. He was winded, puffing on the floor as he tried to figure out where he was, what had just happened.

“How did you…” Hermes stared at you, mouth wide open.

“I told you! I’m good at strategy. He is cocky, and he underestimated me. He believed I was being cocky, and thought that when I saw him with his sword I would be apprehensive. He did not expect a swift beginning attack, nor did he believe I would risk trying to go for an obvious place like the back of the knees. To know your opponent is to be able to defeat them. Simple.” You smiled at Hermes, shrugging and turning away from the crowd to venture around the flower display and find one you hadn’t seen yet.

Ares sat up, Aphrodite gulped, and Athena turned away, walking off. The entire group began to whisper about what they had just witnessed, the story spreading to all the gods and spirits quicker than a wildfire. They slowly dispersed, leaving Ares on the floor with Aphrodite gently patting his shoulder in a sad attempt at comfort (which he shoved off as he stood and stormed away).

Poseidon watched all this and waited until he had walked back to his throne to let himself smile. He leaned back and replayed the fight in his mind, chuckling at the way you had stomped on the back of Ares’ knee with your delicate shoes. Oh he was absolutely enthralled by this goddess, and he didn’t even know your name yet…

Taglist: @josxkl1m

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mirisss · 5 months

Text

Friends Don't

Yoon Jongwoo x afab! reader

Wordcount ≈ 1.1k

Warnings: slight jealousy, eating ice cream, I think that’s it.

Thank you for the request! I’m a sucker for anything Jongwoo so I couldn’t resist writing this! I did change it a little bit though, but I hope you still like it.

Inspired by “Friends Don’t” by Maddie & Tae

Please reblog!

Jongwoo’s POV

There was barely any traffic out, yet I kept going slower and slower. Wishing that every light would be red, all so I could have just one more minute with (Y/n). She was singing along to the radio as I drove, her voice was loud and a bit off-pitch, yet to me, it sounded like an angel. (Y/n) was smiling as she sang and danced around in the car, my heart was beating so loud I thought it would burst out of my chest. I thought she’d be tired after spending the entire day with me and our friends, but (Y/n) seemed to have more energy than ever.

“Oh WOO! Can we stop and buy ice cream? Please,” The way her eyes sparkled and the warmth of her hand on my arm made it impossible to say no, not that I would have. “Of course,” Being in love with your best friend isn’t easy, especially when your best friend isn’t in love with you. I would do anything for her. She was the sun in my sky. (Y/n) is like a warm blanket on a cold winter day. I parked the car outside the store, (Y/n) was out of the car and running to the store before I even got my seatbelt off.

“Ya, wait for me,” “Hurry up, Woo!” I jogged to catch up with her, a wide smile on my lips. As I got inside the store, I quickly found (Y/n) standing by the ice cream contemplating what to get. I snuck up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, giving her a back hug. We often did coupley acts like this, but we’re just friends. To me, these moments were everything. I kept thinking of them for days after they happened, dreaming of how it would be to call (Y/n) my girlfriend. However, to her, I’m just her best friend who likes hugs. “I don’t know whether I want (flavor a) or (flavor b),” “How about we get one of each and share them?” “Would you be fine with that?” “Of course, I like both of those flavors,” “But, (flavor c) is your favorite,” (Y/n) looked up at me with an adorable, and very kissable, pout. “I’m not feeling (flavor c) today, (flavor a) and (flavor b) sound much better,” “You’re the best Jongwoo!” A beautiful smile stretched across her lips as she picked up one of each flavor before she skipped over to the counter. I joined her after getting some other snacks, knowing this was far from the end of our night together.

After I paid for everything, much to (Y/n)’s dismay, we returned to the car. (Y/n) ripped open one of the ice creams to begin eating it, I opened the other one but before I could take a bite/lick it/whatever, (Y/n) took it and gave me the one she had already tasted. I chuckled at the act, all too used to it. We sat in silence, sharing the ice cream, for a few minutes until (Y/n) squealed. “Woo, did I tell you about the guy I’m going on a date with tomorrow?” My heart sank at the thought, that someone else could be dating her. I answered, lowly, not really wanting to hear about it, “Uhm, no, I don’t think so,” “Okay, so his name is Zhang Hao, and he’s really cute and funny,” (Y/n) continued telling me everything she knew about this guy, I had to admit, he sounded a lot better than other guys she’s dated, but he wasn’t me.

The more she spoke about this guy, the more jealous I felt, I wanted to tell (Y/n) how much I loved her. But I can’t. “I just wish he treats as good as you do, Jongwoo,” I couldn’t hold myself back anymore, I leaned in, put a hand on one of her cheeks, I closed my eyes, and kissed her. She didn’t push me back, she didn’t resist it, but neither did she kiss me back. After a few seconds, I removed my hand from her cheek and leaned back, afraid to open my eyes. What if I just ruined everything? When I opened my eyes, (Y/n) was looking back at me, her cheeks red with a deep blush, a shocked look in her eyes.

“What?” I took a deep breath, “I love you, (Y/n). I am IN love with you,” “You’re in love with me?” “I have been for years,” (Y/n) blinked slowly as she looked down, I recognized this action, it’s what she always did when she was nervous. Her right hand came to play with the bracelet I gave her on her birthday last year, on her left wrist. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I’ll just drive you home,” (Y/n) didn’t answer, I started the car and began driving, now in complete silence. Good job, Yoon Jongwoo, you just lost your best friend. I parked the car outside of her apartment. “Are we okay?” I asked, hoping that (Y/n) would talk with me. “Jongwoo, look at me,” I immediately looked up, meeting the eyes that I loved. For a few moments, we just sat there, looking into each other’s eyes. (Y/n) seemed to be searching for something in my gaze.

I admired her eyes, the way they sparkled in the night lights. Her skin that is soft and warm. The arch of her nose, everything that is wonderful with her. All of a sudden, I felt warm and soft lips pressed against my own. I had my eyes open, shocked, but after two seconds, I closed my eyes and kissed (Y/n) back. We kissed each other multiple times, just kissing for minutes. After those minutes, I had to break away from this, I had to know what it meant.

“You’re kissing me back, what, uhm, what does that mean?” “I love you too, Jongwoo. Friends don’t call each other in the middle of the night, couldn’t even tell you why, or just to say hi. I love you, Yoon Jongwoo, you’re everything I want,” I broke out into a smile, happiness and relief filling my body, “I love you too, (L/n) (Y/n),” I leaned in and gave her another kiss, this one a bit shorter and sweeter as we both smiled into it.

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mvskedxrtist · 5 months

Text

I-I'm your Good Demon!

Wᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: PwP, Mommy Kink, Brat Taming, Humiliation Kink, Praise, Degration, Overstimulation, Thigh Riding

Nᴏᴛᴇ: First post of the year!! We've made it to 2024 and I promise this year will be full of smut and much more fandoms. So I think to celebrate the new year, let's go with a big bang!

AFAB!Reader x Mammon - I-I'm your Good Demon!

Now, was Mammon regretting his words from earlier? A bit but he couldn't really think much. But what happened for that to be his thought process? Well let's see:

You had been dating Mammon after he helped you get a pact with Leviathan, appreciating all the help and him even stepping in to protect you when his younger brother tried to attack you. And in return of that, you gave him love and attention that he always wanted.

He was always a good boy, while yes being greedy and spending his money, he made time for you and would always try to be the best that he can for your praise. Well most of the time he was like this. In some situations like now, Mammon was an absolute brat. Always acting like he was bigger than you and try to fool people that he's the one in charge in the relationship when the both of you know, it's you.

And that's what he was doing the entire day at RAD. Of course at RAD, Mammon doesn't want those lower demons to be teasing him about how weak he is to be falling for a human an he kept talking on and on about how he's not. "The human is weak, I have no idea what you idiots are talking about. I only stick with her because she begs me to do so." Now, of course at the same time, you we're walking with Beelzebub when you noticed your boyfriend and heard his words. You were pissed, of course you were! What did he mean that you beg him to stick with you.

"Ahem." You fake coughed and glared at the other demons and Mammon. When the Avatar of Greed heard your voice and turned around, he knew he was fucked when they were home.

It was late at night when Mammon had gotten a text from you, telling you to come into your room. He was a bit excited but also confused. Did he get away scot free from his words? He didn't know. You left him by himself once you went back to the House of Lamentation. You were sticking in your room and if you did went out, you didn't speak to him. That entire afternoon, Mammon was getting annoyed from being annoyed and tried to get your attention but nothing. So he left you alone, until now.

The demon had walked towards your room and opened the door when his eyes widened from seeing you naked and laying on your bed waiting for him. "H-human!! What in Diavolo are you doing!? What if it wasn't me who opened the door and saw your body?" He screamed a bit but closed the door and locked it so no one could come in. "Oh I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to be so delicate about being naked in my own room." You told him with a neutral tone and rolled your eyes before pinning him onto the bed, ripping his clothes off him except his boxers and sitting on top of his thigh.

"So, I beg for you to always follow me, huh?" You asked him with a sinister smirk while his purple eyes looked at you in shock and worry. "I-I didn't mean it like that, babe. You know how I am with my reputation." "Yeah I know... That doesn't mean you get away with that~ so right now you're going to stay put and watch. No touching me at all. And if I do feel a touch.. Then it's punishment time~" You gave him a sinister smirk as you slowly started to grind on his thigh, moaning softly while Mammon watched you in all of your glory.

Mammon was excited to see what he might get as a prize since he wouldn't touch you but in his own thoughts, he didn't seem to realize only five minutes after you had told him and started grinding on him did he press his leg against you more. He had snapped out of his thoughts when he felt you kissing his neck. "Finally, baby.." You whispered in his ear and he looked down to see his leg touching you, nervous for his punishment. "S-sorry Mommy.."

You adored what he called you. Mommy. He had done it unintentionally when you lost your first time together and it just stuck in private. "...I don't think you are slut~" You told him and smirked while sliding yourself down on his cock, moans coming from the both of you.

Mammon just watched you ride his cock endlessly, whimpers and whines coming from the Avatar of Greed. You were kissing his neck while riding him, feeling him stretch you out while he already looked like a fucked out slut.

You slapped his chest which made him moan even louder, his dazed eyes focusing on you once again while you bounced up and down his cock, grunts coming from you. "Keep your eyes on me brat~ I'm letting this get off easily for you~" You whispered in his ear while he whimpered and started throbbing inside of you. "I-I'm sorry Mommy! I'll try to be a good boy~" "I know you will baby~" You kept riding his cock harder for the next half hour until Mammon tapped your thigh and started begging.

"M-mommy~ c-can I please cum?~ I promise I'll be a good demon!" "Aww.. You're begging.. Just like you told those demons that I did~ honestly you're such a slut for thinking that you got away from this situation~ you wouldn't want people seeing you like this, now would you?" When you looked down at him and saw him blushing furiously while looking down at his sides, you got your answer right away.

"You fucking would!! You're such a damn brat and a hypocrite! You'd get off on those lower demons watching you get fucked by a human like me huh? Maybe I should just fuck you in front of them next time you say something like that~" You smirked and slapped his chest as he moaned and whimpered. "You want to be a slut so badly for me~ cum." You whispered in his ear and Mammon took it as a go ahead and stopped thrusting to cum inside of you.

"T-thank you Mommy~" He whispered softly and smiled at you while you smiled and started riding him once again. Mammon looked surprised and started moaning louder, covering his face a bit in embarrassment from his own whorish moans. "I-I thought we were done!~" He whined and knew he wasn't allowed to touch you so he just kept watching you ride his cock so easily.

"No we aren't~ why would my good demon be finished so quickly? Unless you aren't my good demon?" "N-no I am! The great Mammon is always your good demon!" "Then take it, baby boy~"

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misc-obeyme · 7 months

Note

heyyy!!!! It's for the Kinktober list \o/

Solomon and breeding kink please babes ❤️

Drink water, sleep 8 hours and eat three healthy meals a day!!! Luvoo

Hey there, anon!

Okay I already had a prompt for Solomon for Kinktober when I got this ask, but I was like listen. Is it really a CC event if I don't get more requests for Solomon than any other character? So now I feel like it's just tradition.

Also I can't believe I didn't include Solomon's pact marks in the other kinktober post I wrote for him! I didn't even realize until I'd posted it and then I was like how is it that I didn't mention them at all?? I'm so into it, it's ridiculous and yet... anyway, this gave me the chance to include them so I feel that makes up for it a little bit. One of these days I'm gonna write a smut fic that's like... about those marks 'cause they just do something to me.

Anyway, I did afab reader so hopefully that's okay! I also feel the need to thank you for telling me to drink water and so on. Those are all things I almost never do lol. Sometimes I eat three meals a day, but are they healthy?? No. They aren't. Right, sorry for the ramblings lol.

Thank you for submitting a prompt!

KINKTOBER 2023

AFAB!MC x Solomon

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: breeding, penetration (reader receiving)

You were on the sofa in Cocytus Hall in the middle of a heavy make out session with Solomon when you pulled away. Solomon let out a breath at the loss of your lips, but he didn't say anything. You met his eyes, saw the desire in them and the question.

You reached down deliberately to put your hand on his erection. Solomon closed his eyes and tensed, trying not to react to the feeling of it.

"We haven't even been doing this that long and you're already hard," you said quietly.

Solomon took hold of your wrist and pulled your hand up. He leaned in, his lips against your ear. "I'm sorry, MC. I guess I'm just that eager to breed you."

A thrill ran down your spine and you shuddered in his arms. Your reaction caused him to laugh softly against your skin.

"Ah, I knew it," he said. "That's what you want, isn't it?"

You flushed, but you couldn't exactly disagree. "So what if it is?"

Solomon laughed again. "You're so cute, MC," he said. "But you don't have to hold back. If that's what you want, all you have to do is say it."

You huffed. You tried to look away from him, but the close proximity made it difficult. You considered refusing to say anything else, but your own arousal was creeping in now and you didn't think you would actually be able to resist him.

You switched tactics, turning into him. You pulled your wrist from his hand and tugged on his belt buckle. You pressed your lips to his neck and said, "I want you to breed me, Solomon."

Solomon pulled you up off the sofa, his hands already moving beneath the fabric of your clothes. He removed your shirt, kissing along your collarbones as you finally unbuckled his belt. Your pants went next, soon followed by his cloak and shirt, too.

You paused now that Solomon's bare chest was before you. You looked into his eyes for a moment. He waited to see what you would do.

You ran your fingertips over his pact marks. He stayed still as you did so, patiently watching you. It wasn't as though you hadn't seen them before, but most of the time it was easy to forget they were there, hidden beneath his clothes.

Solomon allowed you to be mesmerized by them for a few moments before he turned you around and pulled you against him. Your back nestled against his chest. He still had his pants on, but they were open enough to let his cock free and you could feel it pressed against you. Solomon's lips trailed down your neck, his fingertips trailing beneath the waistband of your underwear.

You felt your body heat up and found yourself filled with impatience. If you let him, Solomon would continue to tease you for some time before finally giving you what you wanted. So you decided to take matters into your own hands.

You removed your underwear yourself, adding it to the pile of clothes on the floor. Then you put your knees on the sofa, bracing yourself against the back of it.

You arched your back and said, "Hurry up, I can't wait anymore."

Solomon made a groaning sound behind you, but you couldn't see him anymore. It was only moments before you felt him behind you. He kissed down your spine while reaching around to stimulate your clit with his fingers. You pushed against them, letting out a small moan as you sought more of that feeling.

"Solomon, please," you begged.

As you had hoped, that was enough to make him finally push his cock inside you. You were wet and ready, taking it in easily and moaning at the way it felt.

Solomon didn't hold back now. He had one hand on your hip and one hand on your clit as he pounded into you. The angle allowed for deep penetration and you felt your body unraveling with each thrust. The sparks of pleasure ran through your veins, the tension building in your legs and your back, your muscles tightening.

The hand on your hip moved up to rest on your back as Solomon leaned forward further. "You're so ready for me," he said, his voice heavy and shaking with his own impending orgasm. "I'm going to fill you up."

You cried out incoherently as you came, his words sending you right over the edge. Solomon seemed to anticipate this, both hands moving to hold your hips steady as you clenched around him.

Just as he promised, you could feel his hot cum filling you up as he came, your name spilling sweetly from his lips.

From then on, you found it was a simple matter to get Solomon to breed you. As he had said himself, all you had to do was say it.

flufftober | kinktober | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

taglist: @anxious-chick @t0tallycoolname @libidinous-weeb

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me smut #obey me kinktober #obey me solomon #om solomon #solomon obey me #obey me solomon smut #om solomon smut #obey me solomon x reader #om solomon x reader #solomon obey me x reader #misc kinktober 2023 #misc writes #misc naughty times

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arvandus · 9 months

Text

Of Love and Pacts - Barbatos x AFAB!Reader

CW: NSFW, minors DNI. DO NOT FOLLOW ME IF YOU ARE A MINOR OR DON'T HAVE AN AGE IN YOUR BIO.

Demon form Barbatos, established relationship; use of fandom headcanon of pacts as tattoo marks on Reader; hickeys, very light, mild blood (scratching), P in V, light oral & petting (f receiving), jealousy, no nicknames/petnames, use of “Y/N” (it was necessary, you’ll see why), soft/emotional.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Barbatos’s fingers were feather soft, barely brushing your naked skin as he traced along your arm up and down, dipping into the crook of your elbow and down to your sensitive wrist. Your body responded with goosebumps, the flesh tightening, answering the silent call of his gentle administrations.

His sheets were soft satin, colored dark teal like his hair. It made you feel cradled by him, despite his fingers being the only part of him touching you. The room was still warm from your recent lovemaking, so only the sheet was left, covering you from the waist down.

You hummed contentedly against his touch as his fingers shifted from aimless strokes, to following the patterns of the pacts tattooed across your skin. As he brushed over each one, you could feel the silence grow, feel it begin to gather weight within the space.

Something was bothering him.

As if on cue, Barbatos spoke.

“Why have you never asked to form a pact with me?” he asked quietly. His tone was polite, controlled, and in that instant, you knew that he was guarding his dissatisfaction.

His tone concerned you, and you rolled over to your back to face him. You stared into his green eyes, and he couldn’t hide his hurt fast enough behind his neutral gaze.

“I thought you didn’t like pacts,” you replied. “After what happened with Solomon, I... well, it didn’t feel right to ask.”

He held your gaze for a moment, before returning his fingers to trace along your chest, your ribs, your stomach. He was quiet, his gaze pensive as his eyes trailed over the pact mark along your shoulder.

You watched him, taking in the beauty of his demon form and all the little extra signs of body language it provided. The shudder of the skeletal wings on his head, the annoyed twitching of his dual-tipped serpentine tail as it flicked back and forth behind him. But you didn’t need those to know what he was feeling.

“I’m sorry,” you said gently. “I didn’t know it would bother you. I thought it was what you wanted.”

Barbatos glanced at you, before returning his gaze to the pact marks that he traced. His fingers traced the one along your hip, his fingers gently pushing down the bed sheet that covered you so that he could see all of it, reach all of it. Your body shuddered instinctually at his touch, once again reawakening for him. He noticed of course, and the corner of his mouth quirked up slightly.

“What happened with Solomon was between me and him.” Barbatos returned his gaze to you, his hand gliding along your thigh to pull it over his own as his leg nestled between yours. “You are not Solomon.”

Your pulse became heavier, your heart pounding hard against your ribs. “I’m not,” you agreed. You reached your hand up and ran your fingers gently through the long bangs on the side of his face that hung down to tickle your cheek. “I’d never hurt you.”

He smiled gently. “I know that,” he replied. “And yet, here you lay beneath me, covered in the marks of seven men, and not a single one of them mine.”

Barbatos lowered his lips over the pact mark on your shoulder and bit into it, the pain making you gasp. But then his lips closed over his teeth, and he sucked, pulling at your sensitive flesh with his tongue. Pain flowered into arousal. But his mouth left you as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a dull ache on your skin and between your legs.

You knew for a fact that he had marked you, the hickey dark and bruising. A wave of familiar heat flooded down to your clit, and you grinded yourself against his thigh.

He didn’t acknowledge your desperate action, his eyes instead focused intently on his handiwork on your shoulder. It was Lucifer’s pact, the mark of Pride. It always seemed a fitting place for it; the eldest brother always carried the heaviest weight of the family upon himself, all due to his inability to share responsibilities in order to guard his ego.

Now it was tainted, stained with Barbatos’s touch.

Barbatos kissed his love mark tenderly, before continuing a trail of soft kisses and licks down the length of your arm, his hand holding your wrist to allow him easier access. His lips made his way to your palm where he placed a final gentle kiss into the sensitive nerves. Then he turned your palm over to nip at the mark on the back of your hand. It was Mammon’s pact mark this time, the mark of Greed.

He repeated the action he’d done before, ignoring the needy roll of your hips and the whine of your voice as he sucked at your skin, drawing forth your blood to just beneath the surface, where it washed out the details of the pact mark’s center. He stared at that one too after he’d finished, his thumb rubbing over it as if he could smudge it off of your skin.

Then his eyes were moving, searching for the next. They settled on the mark detailed intricately on your hip, the mark of Envy.

“If I could rid you of each and every one of them, I would,” he muttered. His nail dragged over the surface, the pressure stinging as it cut into your skin. You hissed air in through your teeth, but once again his mouth was over the wound he’d caused, his tongue lapping at the small line of blood.

You rolled against him again, but this time his hand pushed down firmly on your hip and held you still.

The next mark, the mark of Gluttony, was on your stomach, framing your belly button like an intricate henna tattoo. It kept the center of the mark from him, but it didn’t stop him from sinking his teeth into your skin just below it and sucking. His chest was pressed against your aching core, your wetness sticking to his skin. Your clit sang its praises, your cunt gathering wetness, as his body pressed against your pubic bone.

“Barbatos...” you whined, your fingers clutching the bedsheets. “Please...”

He paused in his task, and looked at you with narrowed eyes, pupils expanded with desire and beneath that, a dark, carnivorous possessiveness. “Please what?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as your body sang like music notes on glass. Any sharper, any louder, and you’d shatter, explode into a thousand pieces beneath Barbatos’s touch.

“Please... don’t stop,” you whispered. “Mark all of them.”

Barbatos’s breath caught in his throat. Whatever he had expected you to say, he hadn’t expected it to be that.

He came up to hover over you and captured your mouth in a fiery kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips to demand your acceptance of him. You opened instantly, your arms wrapped tight around his neck as you tried with all your might to press every inch of yourself against him.

He was gone as quickly as he’d came, returning once again to the space between your legs. You had thought he’d continue on to the mark adorning your thigh, but he stopped to plant a gentle kiss against your clit, followed by a slow draw of his tongue from your wet entrance to your sensitive nub. You gasped, the heat of his mouth calling every nerve into attention for him, your cunt throbbing and aching. He growled low, and drew his tongue along your slit again, the wet muscle pushing deeper into your hole before sweeping up to capture your clit gently in his teeth. He gave it a small suck, and your hips began to buck against him, desperate for more.

But he didn’t linger. He moved away from your aching, wet core as it clenched around nothing, your body desperately calling for him to return.

His steely resolve never ceased to impress you. You could tell by how rock hard he was that he wanted nothing more than to plunge himself into your depths. But this task was far more important to him, and he was determined to see it through to its completion.

He settled himself over your thigh, his fingers tracing the mark of Lust. It was his least favorite mark, far too close to the intimate parts of you for his comfort. His bites and sucks were harder this time, and you tensed against it, pleasure shifting into pain.

Barbatos wasn’t one to hurt you. Not truly, at least. He enjoyed torturing you, making you beg for him. But true harm, true fear, was not something he ever wanted to see in you when you looked at him.

So, to ease the harshness of his mouth, his fingers stroked you gently, dipping between your folds to soothe and pleasure. His fingers withdrew to allow his thumb to find its home and draw small circles, applying enough pressure for you to focus on pleasure instead of pain. You writhed beneath him, your breaths becoming quick and labored as your hips began to stutter against his hand, but Barbatos never let you cum, keeping his touch just gentle enough to keep you from falling over the edge.

When he finally lifted from your thigh, the mark of Lust was blacked out with multiple hickeys.

Barbatos sat up, situating his legs on either side of yours, straddling your thighs. He grabbed your bicep. “Roll over,” he ordered as he pulled you.

You listened, rolling to your stomach, your head propped on your forearms.

Goosebumps scattered your skin as you felt his hair tickle the middle of your back, followed soon by his lips, barely brushing. He trailed his mouth down the curve of your body, following the valley of your spine. You thought he’d stop there to address the large pact mark in the middle of it, but he continued on, following the rise and fall of the hill of your ass, and down your thigh until he finally reached the sixth pact on the back of your calf, Wrath. He lifted your ankle slightly as he set to work, placing his own mark over it.

You waited in silence as he worked, your mind falling into a calm serenity. The heavy invisible anger that had been present in the room earlier was gradually lifting with each bite and dark imprint he left on you. But you knew there was more to be said, a quiet anticipation that hung between the two of you like an invisible veil. You were together, your hearts visible to each other, but still somehow separate.

His hands trailed back up your body, his lips ghosting up, up, up until they once again found the middle of your back where the last mark burned. It was Belphegor’s mark of Sloth, and Barbatos paused as he stared down at it, his fingers tracing its edges.

“It’s not just about the marks,” he finally confessed quietly. “It’s about what they mean. It’s about not being able to be with you. Not being able to protect you.”

Your eyes began to burn, the swell of emotion within you clawing for a way out. Barbatos must have sensed the change in you. He gently planted a kiss between your shoulder blades along your spine, followed by another on the smooth plane of your shoulder.

“I want to be able to protect you,” he said against your skin. “I want you to be able to call on me if you ever need me. Why should they be able to protect you when I can’t?”

The tears finally slipped from your lashes to absorb into the pillow as he lowered himself back down to the pact mark and began to finish what he had started. He sucked and bit, as his hands caressed your sides, his fingers squeezing your flesh and releasing.

“I wanted to...” you finally whispered. “I wanted to make a pact with you from the very beginning. From the moment I knew I loved you.”

You could hear the intake of breath behind you and his grip on you tightened, his nails digging into your skin. You rolled to your back again so you could face him, to let him see the truth in your eyes.

You cupped his face in your hands as he hovered over you, watching, listening.

“I’ve always wanted it,” you continued. “But I didn’t think you did. And it wasn’t just about Solomon. I knew that a pact with me would impact your loyalty to Diavolo. I didn’t want to do that to you. I didn’t want to ever put you in a position where you felt torn between me and duty.”

Barbatos’s gaze softened, the wings crowning his head shuddering softly before tucking gently in relaxation. His tail ceased its movement, instead laying gently and twining around your leg. His hand covered yours as you continued to cup his cheek.

“The pact will always take precedence,” Barbatos replied. “Not even Diavolo would be able to question it. And, he wouldn’t anyway. He has always been the most reasonable of demons and respects the binding power of pacts without question.”

You bit your lip, your brow furrowed. “Are you sure? What if that changes?”

Barbatos smiled softly and cupped your face in return. “If I have to choose between loving you and duty, then I will choose love. Every time, for eternity.”

More tears slipped down the corners of your eyes to absorb into your hair. “Then make a pact with me. Please.”

Barbatos’s eyes glowed slightly, and a shudder ran through his body. He lowered himself onto you, the heat of him soaking deep into your skin, your muscles, your bones. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, deep and pounding. He may be a demon, but he looked and felt as real as any man, and far greater than any human. His cock was hard between you, pressed against you in all the right places, places that made you want to arch your hips and greet him, to coax him within you so you could let him feel the love that nestled there, just for him.

He didn’t question your request. He didn’t require verification. He took your decision as gospel, an order that he was more than willing to follow.

He kissed you hard, his mouth open and tongue searching. You met his ferocity with your own, your fingers gripping his hair tightly as your legs wrapped around him. He pulled away just enough to stare into your eyes again. With every inch of your bodies intertwined, he dipped his hips, allowing his cock to find its home at your wet entrance.

“I am Barbatos, Demon of Time, servant of Prince Diavolo, first of his name.”

He pushed himself into you slowly as he spoke, allowing your body to stretch around him and welcome him home. You gasped, your eyes closing briefly, before they opened again. As he bottomed out against you, your cunt tightened around him, throbbing. His cock twitched, his nerves singing in pleasure as he felt the magic of his words begin to coalesce.

“I pledge myself to you, Y/N...” he pulled out slowly to the tip and pushed back in again, just as slow. “...that we may be bound by an unbreakable pact.”

He loved the way you inhaled, the way your pulse fluttered in your neck. He pulled out and thrust in again, harder, as the magic moved through him, first as a trickle, and then a stream.

“This I swear to you on both my name as well as the very blood that runs through my veins,” he finished.

The stream was now a river, powerful and strong. If you didn’t complete your end of the pact, it would sweep you both away in its destructive force. The thrill of it, of the feel of ancient power humming in his veins while your cunt squeezed his cock, brought its own sense of dizzying euphoria. He thrust into your harder, his pace increasing as he lifted himself slightly to improve the angle of his approach, to reach the deepest parts of you, the parts that made you moan and writhe.

“I....” Your breath hitched by his thrusting. “I am Y/N, descendant of Lilith, keeper of the... Seven Deadly Sins through oath and blood.”

Your oath was interrupted briefly by a sharp gasp as Barbatos thrust deep into you, his breaths turning into pants against your skin as he watched you, his cheeks flushed red.

You could feel the magic transferring to you, the demonic power within him flooding your veins. If you didn’t finish your oath, the binding would be incomplete, and it would incinerate you from the inside out.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, forcing yourself to center on him as you felt your orgasm begin to build.

You strengthened your voice, your tone firm. “I accept this unbreakable pact, that we may be bound in body and name.”

Your hands moved from his neck to cup his cheeks as you rode the tides of his lovemaking.

“I promise to call upon you in my times of need, and to guard your soul as my own. This is my oath to you.”

Barbatos gasped as he felt the connection solidify, an anchor that pulled him down to you. He could feel his orgasm begin to build as the magic weaved and tangled itself between you. He lowered his lips to your body, his soft lips meeting the top of your stomach just below your ribs. A ring of magical fire emerged on your skin, radiating outward to unveil the intricately woven circle of his pact mark on your solar plexus. It didn’t burn, and you didn’t scream. But you gasped, your eyes flying open at the power that coursed through you.

Barbatos’s thrusts increased as he greedily watched the fiery ring expand across your skin like a stone being dropped in a pond. His eyes glowed, and his canines sharpened as his demon blood burned hot from the binding. He closed his eyes and kissed his mark on you again.

“Mine.” He said gruffly as he thrust into you. He could feel his balls begin to tighten, could feel your sweaty thighs shaking against his hips.

“Yours,” you replied as your fingers were once again tangled tightly in his silky strands.

“All mine,” he repeated. He planted another kiss as the pleasure coursing through his body started to crest.

“Yes. All yours,” you confirmed. “No one else’s, I promise. Ah! Barbatos...”

Your words fell away into soft whines and gasps as your entire body tightened around him in anticipation of the euphoric fall you were about to take. The magic still coursed strong in you, making everything heightened, sensitive, and your connection with Barbatos more powerful than ever.

His mouth found yours again, all tongue and teeth as he panted heavily into your mouth as he fucked you fiercely, the bedframe shaking and shuddering.

The pleasure finally snapped, overtaking you like wildfire just as the magic had done moments before. You came with a gasp as you clung to him, and Barbatos followed suit, your name on his lips as he spilled himself inside of you, his cock thrusting needily.

The frantic rhythm subsided to a stuttering of hips and spasming, sensitive bodies, the air between you hot and humid with each panting breath. You stared up at him with tired, dazed eyes, and he kissed you with your face in his hands.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips. “I love you, I love you.”

You wrapped your arms around him. “I love you too. I love you, I love you.”

After a moment of reprieve, Barbatos pushed himself up to sit, his twitching cock still nestled inside you, his hands on your hips.

You had expected to feel his soft touch along your sides, your hips, your thighs, massaging your tender muscles as he always did after your time together.

But the touches never came.

You opened your eyes worriedly to see him staring down at your body wide-eyed, his flushed features washed pale.

A sense of alarm stole the remnants of peace from your veins.

“What?” you asked. “What is it??”

Had you done something wrong? Was the pact incomplete? Damaged? Had you hurt him in some way? You stared down at your own body where you’d felt the magic of the pact weave itself. It was then that you noticed it.

Barbatos’s pact stood out beautifully against your skin, a proud, intricate pattern that rested at the center of your body.

But beneath that, where the pact of Gluttony had been, was... nothing.

It was gone. Your pact with Beel was gone.

And so was the pact with Asmodeus.

And Mammon.

And Leviathan.

You stared at your naked body. Barbatos’s bruises were still there, a collection of brands upon your skin. But the pact marks... your connection to the fallen brothers... was gone.

“Barbatos...” you whispered, as numbness began to overtake you. “What have you done?”

He was just as stunned as you, his voice just as quiet. “I... I don’t know...”

#obey me barbatos #obey me #barbatos x reader #barbatos x y/n #barbatos x mc #obey me x reader #obey me x you #obey me x mc

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ijustwanttoreadfanfiction · 1 year

Text

Friendly Sex - Chapter 1 - The Party

Eddie Munson X AFAB!Reader

Your 6 year long unrequited crush on Steve Harrington is starting to wear thin, and after discovering Eddie Munson feels the same way about Chrissy Cunningham you decide to make a pact. After all, what's the harm in a little casual sex between friends?

A/N: Story opens April 1986. Slight AU, all the events of seasons 1, 2 and 3 happened, except Hopper didn't get transported to Russia, the gate was closed and Joyce, Hopper, Jonathan, Will and Jane all move to California as one big happy family. Jonathan and Nancy break up (necessary for plot, apologies to any shippers). Nancy and Steve are together. Reader is 18 and in final year at Hawkin's High School, alongside Robin and Eddie etc. Reader works at Family Video with Robin & Steve. Vecna storyline is not a thing, strange things will not be happening. This has been festering in my brain and I don't know what to do with it, so, tada!

Warnings: NSFW. SMUT, (MDI) 18+ only, drugs, sex, alcohol, underage drinking, public sex, dirty talk, name calling in sex (consensual), explicit language, adult themes, there will be angst, it will get messy.

More warnings to be added.

Revised edition.

************************************************************************

It was Robin’s idea to go to the party, one of those let’s have a party for the sake of having a party, parties, the all American standard, under-age keg fest.

It was an unwelcome change from your regularly scheduled Saturday night plans of doing nothing.

But argue as you might, Robin had made it clear you were going, even if she had to drag you.

"I'm tired of watching your ass wallow in self-pity." She said in true blunt Robin fashion, pulling outfit after outfit out of your closet, throwing them haphazardly in your general direction.

"I thought you loved watching my ass." You bite back, holding up a rust-coloured corduroy mini skirt to your hips.

"Ha, ha. I'm serious though dude, this whole moping Minnie routine is getting old, you just need to get out there and get yourself laid." She groans, pushing past you, flopping face first onto your bed in frustration.

"The skirt looks good, you should wear it with your tan knee highs." She adds, laying on her front to look at you.

"I'm working on it Rob." You grumble, fishing your boots out from under a pile of clothes. "It's not easy to let go of a 6 year crush you know."

"Well maybe if you had made a move 6 years ago, we wouldn't be in this mess." She huffs in exaggeration.

"Gee, you're right, let me just hop in my time machine, go back and tell my 12-year-old self to man up and ask out Steve Harrington. Huzzah!" You quip dryly, yanking the zipper of your boots up none too gently.

"Honestly Harrington has a lot to answer for, it's like the women of Hawkin's see him and suddenly all rational thought disappears." Robin laughs.

"It's the hair." You agree, fluffing up your own in the mirror. "And only the great Robin Buckley, lesbian superheroine, is immune to its hypnotic powers."

"Then I must use my powers for good!" She declares in a manly tone, hauling herself off the bed to wrap her arms around your shoulders. "My mission, gentle citizen, is to break the spell cast over you." She places a wet kiss on your cheek casting an appraising eye over your finished ensemble. "Very hot."

***

It's not that you disliked parties, after all it was a time honoured tradition to go to some random person's house whilst their parents where out of town and get absolutely wasted, chintzy picture perfect living rooms suddenly overrun with overactive hormones, sweaty bodies and dubious punch bowls, however after the initial buzz wore off you usually found yourself longing for the quiet solitude of your bedroom. Of course, when you express this to Robin, after half an hour of being there, she merely rolls her eyes in disgust, thrusting another cup of mystery alcohol in your hand, ushering you back into the throng of young adults.

"Would you stop?" She implores, holding your left shoulder with her free hand. "Your problem is you think too much. So, give those little grey cells a break by killing some of them off." She lifts her own drink in a mock toast, nodding at you to do the same.

"You are a terrible friend." You relent with a laugh, toasting quickly and taking a gulp, face scrunched up in distaste as the alcohol burns your throat.

"The very worst." She says with an evil grin, which fades somewhat as she focuses on something behind you. You turn towards the source, and despite knowing what you would see, your stomach still swoops uncomfortably at the sight of Steve or more precisely Steve with his arm wrapped around Nancy Wheeler looking incredibly loved up. "Shit." Robin declares.

"Shit." You agree flatly.

You move to go back towards the kitchen, but Robin takes your hand, holding you in place, Steve having already spotted you both, his own hand thrown up in greeting, weaving through the crowd with Nancy in tow.

"Fancy seeing you fine ladies here." Steve grins broadly, leaning in to give each of you a one-armed hug, your skin burning from his touch.

"Fancy that." Robin agrees sheepishly, you get a grim sense of satisfaction at the uncomfortable look on her face.

Nancy, who had been hanging off of Steve's free arm for the majority, leans forward to speak to you over the pounding music. "I love your skirt Y/n." She smiles sweetly; and you feel the rather irrational urge to stick pins in her bright blue eyes.

"Thanks Nancy." You call back, trying to return her smile. "I- uh -I like your bracelet." You say, noticing a golden glimmer on her wrist, plastering on the enthusiasm.

Nancy, being an actual angel, flushes with pleasure at your compliment. "Steve bought it for me." She sighs, toying with the gold bangle,

and you try not to urge as they share a sickening saccharine look.

"Of course he did." You mutter grudgingly to yourself, desperately wanting to escape.

"What did you say Y/n?" Steve asks absent-mindedly, still gazing at Nancy.

"I'm gonna grab another drink." You say in a clearer voice, not that it mattered, because at that moment Steve seemed to find a very interesting spot on Nancy's neck that required the immediate attention of his mouth. Grimacing you slip past them, purposely ignoring Robin's pleading calls for a top up and/or a sick bucket.

Reaching the kitchen, you chug a cup of punch straight off, before refilling it to the brim, whilst you knew alcohol wouldn't solve your problems it could certainly try and soothe the jealous beast currently roaring in your head at the human octopus that was Stancy.

Deciding the garden was the best place to avoid a front row seat to the lovefest, you steer your body around bumping and grinding couples, careful not to spill a drop of your precious emotional medicine. The backyard to your pleasant surprise is empty, the party having not yet spilled out, and the chilly night air was a welcome contrast to the stale humidity inside. You wander out onto the pristine lawn, and find yourself releasing a breath you didn't realize you had been holding, ears ringing slightly as they adjusted to the now muffled thumping bass.

"Well, well, well what brings you out here Sweetheart?"

You groan heavily at the teasing drawl behind you.

"I was trying to get some peace and quiet, but that's not likely to happen with you around, is it Munson?" You sigh, turning to face Eddie Munson who was perched on a swing set to the far right, slightly obscured in semi-darkness, but a Cheshire cat grin clearly plastered on his face.

"Ouch, you wound me." He says, placing a dramatic hand over his heart, still grinning away like an idiot. "Seriously though, I wouldn't have pegged you for this kinda gig." He gestures with his head back towards the party.

"It was Robin's idea." You mutter darkly, glaring towards the shut French doors.

"Well, if looks could kill, I'm guessing you'll have a best friend vacancy by this time tomorrow." He laughs again, which irritates you further.

"What are you doing here?" You deflect back, hiccupping slightly as you drink some more punch. "Place is like jock city in there, hardly your regular stomping ground either."

He nudges a battered black tin lunch-box with his foot, slightly tucked under the swing. "You know me sweetheart, got a business to run, empires to build, horizons to expand." He says with the usual Eddie flair.

"Dealing drugs to inebriated teens, I should've guessed." You say wryly, rolling your eyes.

"You make it sound so dirty." He mocks you, irritating smirk still fixed. "And you've never complained before." He reminds you pointedly.

Whilst far from being a hardcore user, you were a semi- frequent customer of Eddie's when it came to weed, finding him to be discreet, reliable and most importantly for your minimum wage ass, cheap.

"Well maybe I'm in the mood to complain tonight," You mutter suddenly feeling bitter about the way the night had gone downhill so quickly, scuffing your boot into the neatly trimmed grass.

Eddie leans down to extract something from his tin.

"Joint for your thoughts?" He offers, holding out a perfectly rolled spliff, quickly adding. "No charge." You mull it over for all of 2 seconds, concluding your jealous inner demon will not be calmed by alcohol alone.

"'Atta girl!" He calls happily as you stomp over to squeeze beside him, he pats your knee in encouragement, then lights up, graciously passing you the joint for the first drag which you take gratefully.

You both sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, offering the smoke back and forth. You could tell straight away that the weed was a much higher quality than you could ever normally afford and therefore hoped its soothing effects would kick in a lot quicker.

"Soooo," Eddie gently ventures after a few more minutes, "you wanna walk about it?"

"What's there to talk about, I'm in love with a guy who is in love with someone else." You shrug on a heavy exhale.

Eddie whistles between his teeth, regarding you carefully as you take another hit.

"Ah, that old cliche huh?" He nudges you lightly, taking the joint back for his turn.

Now Eddie had said it, you couldn't help but laugh in agreement.

"I guess it is pretty clichéd."

"Yup no points for originality this time princess. So, who's Captain Oblivious?" He asks, offering you another hit, shaking your head you opt to take a swig of alcohol, mentally bracing yourself for Eddie's inevitable teasing.

"Steve Harrington." You sigh glumly into your cup.

Eddie let out a muttered "Damn."

"The former King of Hawkin's High himself. I don't envy you there babe."

You snatch the joint back from his ringed fingertips, fed up with his teasing. "Don't take the piss Eddie, I'm not in the mood." You mumble defensively, leaning forward so as not to see the smirk on his face.

"Hey." He says in a surprisingly genuine tone, his hand rubbing your back, making you turn to look at him. "I'm not ragging on you sweetheart. Harrington is a nice enough guy now he's not hanging out with the douchebag brigade. I can see why you'd like him."

You lean back and Eddie slips his arm around your shoulders.

"Well, I'm glad you can see it, he doesn't even know I exist, at least not in the way I want him to." You sigh, resting your head on his arm, seeing off the last of your drink and feeling distinctly sorry for yourself.

You both lapse into silence again, the swing swaying gently beneath you as you burn through more of the joint , somewhere inside the house voices were shouting "Keg! Keg! Keg!"

After a few moments, Eddie shifts slightly, arm wrapping more securely around you.

"Can I tell you something?" He asks, sounding nervous.

"I mean I just bared my soul to you, so I guess it's only fair." You murmur, glancing up at him.

He breathes a heavy sigh, right leg jiggling.

"I have been head over heels in love with Chrissy Cunningham since middle school." He confesses with a wince.

You wanted to say something encouraging, maybe even profound, or at the very least offer some words of comfort, so you felt a little guilty when you couldn't suppress the giggle that passed your lips.

"Chrissy Cunningham?!" You exclaim, staring at him wide-eyed "Cheerleader extraordinaire, Chrissy Cunningham?"

He looks at you, lips pressed tight as though he was trying to hold back his own laughter.

"Yep." Letting the 'p' pop. "Ever since she shook her pom-poms in the talent show."

You were barely holding it together, attempting to keep your voice level as you spoke.

"Wait, wait. So not only are we both in love with two very attractive people who are waaaay out of our league, these people are also in long term committed relationships with two other very attractive people."

Your statement hung in the air for a second, both of you then erupting into fits of laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Eddie chuckled throatily around the stub of the joint, almost burnt out. "Oh man, we are pathetic." Shaking his head.

You jam your elbow lightly into his ribs. "Hey, speak for yourself!" You jokingly admonish.

"What, you think you have a chance?" He snorts incredulously.

You pretend to weigh up your options.

"If Nancy Wheeler gets hit by a bus, sure I'll shoot my shot… after an extended mourning period of course." You say.

"Of course." Eddie agrees, both of you collapsing into fits of uncontrollable giggles once more, fuelled on by excessive alcohol and weed.

"So, what do you think you need to do to get over little old Stevie?" Eddie asks you somewhat more seriously, stamping the remainder of the joint out under his sneakers, leaning back against the swing, taking you under his arm again.

You shrug, settling comfortably against him, staring up at the night sky, your own arm wrapping lightly about his waist. "Robin says I just need to get laid." You sigh flatly.

"I mean it's not the worst suggestion in the world." He says reasonably.

"Yeah, but c'mon Munson, guys aren't exactly queued around the block waiting to give me a service." You say, gesturing to the empty garden, Eddie pulling a face at your phrasing.

"Maybe that's because you've spent the past however many years with your Harrington blinkers on." He suggests, and it hits a nerve within you, quite often you wondered if you had missed opportunities with other guys because of your Harrington fixation. Your first and thus far only proper relationship, at 16 ,was doomed to fail from the start as Bobby Cooper just couldn't live up to the standards you had set in your daydreams of Steve.

"Well, what about you and your Chrissy conundrum? Your on-tap supply of groupies not helping to ease the pain?" You bite back, on the defensive.

Rather than get shitty with you, Eddie just gives you the classic Munson smirk.

"You think I’m good enough to have groupies?" He teases, squeezing your side, with a saucy eyebrow raise.

You pinch him back playfully. "I've seen you play Eddie; you know you're good." You admit with a smile.

He heaves a dramatic sigh, hand to his brow like some wretchedly poor southern belle.

"And yet, the tour bus-"

"Your van?" You chip in snidely.

"-my van" He ruefully concedes "is decidedly empty, even with the new air freshener."

"It's a crying shame, Eds." You laugh, patting his cheek.

He places an affectionate kiss on your head, cuddling you closer against the chilly breeze, it feels nice to be held, and even nicer to talk to someone so openly, other than Robin of course.

You lapse into comfortable silence once more, the strains of some Blondie song thumping from inside, the party was kicking up a gear but you found yourself lost in thought.

You had always had a soft spot for Eddie, conversation flowed easily enough, and you appreciated his dry sense of humour, both of you were regular outcasts in comparison to rest of the high school cliques, and you had found yourselves in detention together more times than you cared to count; you had a bad habit of disagreeing with your English teacher. And if you were being honest, he was actually really kind of pretty when you took the time to really look at him, chocolate brown eyes, full lips, awesome hair.

You hadn't realised you had been staring at him until he cleared his throat, you pulled away from his arms sheepishly, cheeks aflame from the embarrassment of being caught out, but feeling sure Eddie had been staring at you for the same amount of time.

"Uh- sweetheart, and by all means please let me know if I have completely misread some signals here, but I think I may have found the solution to both our problems." It surprised you to hear a note of uncertainty in his voice, particularly as Eddie was normally shockingly cavalier to a fault, it made you turn back to face him.

"Go on…" You encouraged him, finding your mouth oddly dry.

He took a deep breath, leaning closer, his arm snaking about your waist, warm fingertips tracing absentmindedly across the inch of exposed skin between your skirt and top, goose pimples erupting that made a shiver run up your spine.

"You need to get laid." He stated. "I need to get laid. We both have stuff we need to get out of our systems. You're a stand-up girl," he gave you a courteous nod. "...and I think I'm correct in saying you find me tolerable at the very least." The uncertainty was back, steeling yourself you placed a hand on his denim clad knee giving him a squeeze.

"More than tolerable Eds." You offer a smile.

"Thanks sweetheart." He mutters blushing. "So, uh anyway, what I'm trying to say here is… in a pretty roundabout way and you can of course say no-"

"Eddie"

"Sorry, rambling, what I'm trying to say is we could… help each other out?" He was staring at you, pleading with you to chime in.

"You mean sex?" You ask slowly, noticing his blush creep up to his ears.

"Uh, y-yeah that thing." He stammers. "If you wanted to, with me, we could have sex as friends every now and then, friendly sex."

You glanced at your wristwatch, 26 minutes ago you came out into the garden of some unknown person seeking a quiet place to drown your Steve induced sorrows, and now you were sitting next to Eddie Munson, seriously considering his offer of 'friendly sex'. Maybe Robin's kiss from earlier really had broken a spell, you laughed aloud at the thought, mirth quickly turning to frantic apologies at the look of horror on Eddie's face, forgetting that he was not privy to your inner monologue.

"Oh my god Eddie, no I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you!' You cried, cringing at your own social ineptitude.

"Hey, it's ok honey, I told you, it's cool if you don't want to-" His tone was calm, patting your side, making to stand and walk away with what little dignity he had left.

"NO! Don't go, I do want to!" You let out a shout, grasping his arm to pull him back down, your face burning in mortification that you essentially just begged Eddie to fuck you.

"Alright sweetheart, calm down I'm not going anywhere, no need to shout." He soothed; devil- may-care smirk back in place, holding you firmly about the waist again. You tried to turn away at his teasing, but Eddie cupped your cheek, the numerous rings on his fingers cool against your prickling skin.

"I'm going to kiss you now." His voice low and surprisingly authoritative. "Ok?" He asks, inching closer to your lips. Unsure if you had the nerve to speak, you merely nod. "Use your words princess, I need you to tell me that it's ok for me to kiss you." He teased; lips just shy of brushing against yours.

"I-it's ok, kiss me, please." You whisper, hands fisted in his jacket, pulling him in to close the final gap.

Eddie surged forward with an urgency that made you gasp, kissing you hard, your teeth clacking together painfully but you didn't care, adrenaline coursing through your veins like rocket fuel. You quickly found the right rhythm for each other kissing back with equal enthusiasm, his grip tightened moving you to straddle his lap, with you kneeling. He kneaded your ass, grinding you down, you gasped feeling the hard outline of his dick, taking full advantage of your open mouth, his tongue slipping in to meet with yours. Releasing his jacket, you tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging harder than intended as Eddie nipped at your bottom lip, but he hardly seemed to care judging by the groan that escaped his throat. You smirked, tucking the knowledge away for later use, Eddie also appeared to be mentally cataloguing your reactions, like the way your hips rocked involuntarily as he sucked your neck just below your right ear, and how your breath hitched whilst he felt you up under your shirt, brushing the underside of your breast.

So lost in each other you didn't notice the sudden increase in noise coming from the party, signalling that someone had opened the screen door, it was the violent retching sound of vomiting that had you jumping apart as though you had been electrocuted, scrambling off Eddie's lap. You grimaced in disgust, Chance from the High School basketball team spewing chunks over the once pristine lawn, to the jeers of others inside.

"Hey…" Eddie spoke breathlessly, pulling your attention back to him, his lips kiss bitten, pupils blown wide. "You uh, want to get out of here?"

Grinning you snatched up his hand pulling him none too gently in the direction of the back gate, the sound of Chance's digestive pyrotechnics mercifully fading away, Eddie now pulling you along in the opposite direction to the house.

My van is this way."

Your heels clacked against the concrete, the pair of you moving at a light jog, keen to pick where you left off, both breathless as you came up on Eddie's van.

"Your chariot milady." He gestured proudly to the beat up vehicle like it was Cinderella's magical pumpkin carriage.

"Eddie, calling me milady is a total turn off." You teased, nose wrinkling.

He pulled you to him, spinning you so your back was pressed against the passenger side door,

"Oh well in that case, I best stick to sweetheart, huh sweetheart?" Caging you, his smile almost predatory as he set to work sucking what would no doubt be a prize-winning hickey just above your throat.

You grabbed the scruff of his neck when the skin got too sensitive, pulling his lips back to yours, both of you fighting for dominance in the kiss, thoroughly making out. Eddie palmed your tits, as you reached down trailing a teasing hand along the bulge in his jeans, he broke the kiss huffing out a low "Shit…."

Feeling bold, you flashed him a mischievous grin, unbuckling his belt, your hand slipping inside the tight denim stroking his cock properly, he was fully hard, your thumb swiping a thick bead of pre-cum around the mushroomy head.

"You keep doing that sweetheart and I’ll have no choice but to fuck you right here in the street." Eddie panted against your neck, his words going straight to your cunt.

"Promises, promises." You said with a purr, jerking him slowly.

He laughed breathlessly. "Fucking tease." His hands quickly hitching up your skirt, hips pressing you closer to the van, slipping your panties to the side, you gasped as he trailed a finger through your wetness up to your clit and back down again.

"Jesus baby, you're soaked. All this for me?" He asks incredulously, kissing you deeply again, two fingers moving slowly pumping in and out of your cunt as his thumb plays with your clit. The pair of you working each other, quiet moans slipping past swollen lips

"Eddie." You whined softly, there was a tiny voice in the back of your mind which was terrified about getting caught in such a compromising position, but a much louder voice was screaming, begging to let Eddie have his way with you in the street where anyone could see.

"What is it princess?" He murmured, biting at your lower lip.

"I want -" You hiccupped on a moan, all four of his fingers now working over your swollen clit, spreading the slick from your cunt, you could only hold his cock, brain not functioning enough under his ministrations.

Grinning, taunting you openly he nipped at the sweet spot under your ear, whispering "Use your words baby."

"Oh my god." You whimpered. The screaming in your brain reaching a fever pitch; you wanted him to fuck you, right now, you didn't care if you got caught. "Eddie, do it, fuck me, fuck me right here." You say frantically, his movements stilling in shock.

"You sure sweetheart? I-I can wait, we don't have to do anything you don't wanna-" He cut off, watching as though in a trance, you turned yourself around, pushing your ass out toward him, in the dim streetlight your pussy glistened with wetness all swollen and pretty.

"Ho-ly fuck." He breathed out in awe, fishing hurriedly for a condom in his jacket pocket. You were breathing hard against the passenger window, watching Eddie's reflection, staring, cheeks flushed with excitement and lust as he yanked his jeans and boxers down enough to free his length, panting as he rolled the condom on. Coming up behind you, he crowded you against the van once again, his body covering your back, feeling his cock line up with your entrance; shivering at the slow press and delicious stinging sensation as he worked his way in.

"Christ you're so fucking tight baby." He hissed, balls flush to your ass as he bottomed out, one hand coming up to play with your tits, the other bracing against the van as he started to thrust.

"Eddie…fuck." You choked out, rubbing at your sopping clit, you were already so close, bouncing your hips back against him as he thrust harder.

"Oh my fucking god, you're perfect, so fucking tight and perfect. I can feel you dripping on my balls." He groaned, grabbing your hair, turning your head to capture your lips in a frantic kiss, you keened into his mouth. He was pulling your top up, freeing your breasts, pinching at your puckered nipples, his other arm wrapping tight around your middle, holding you steady, pounding deeper.

It was lewd, it was indecent, it was sinful and you had never felt so alive.

"Eds, Eddie, I'm - fuck I'm fucking close, please." You begged, pleading, hovering over the edge, heat swimming deep in your belly.

"Oh shit, yes, such a good girl." You could hear he was close, the words passing through gritted teeth. "Taking this cock so well. You wanna cum baby?"

"Yes." You whined desperately, the coil within you tightening. "Please, I wanna cum so bad, fuck me harder."

You didn't know where the words were coming from, had never felt this pent up, never craved sex this way before.

Eddie's balls were slapping against you in a faster rhythm, the sound penetrating the otherwise still night air.

"Fucking hell baby, yes take it, so fucking good - shit - that's it fucking cum for me sweetheart. Cum-on-my-cock-you-little-fucking-slut." He punctuated each word with brutal thrusts and at the word slut you felt the dam break, wave after wave of throbbing pleasure seized your body, head thrown back in a wordless cry, spasming around his dick.

"Shit,shit,shit,fuck,fuck." Eddie was chanting in a low whine, hips stilling against you, even with the condom on you could feel the pulse of him cumming.

You both stayed perfectly still for a moment, your shared heavy breathing the only sound now.

"That was… holy fuck that was…" Eddie muttered leaning heavily against your shoulder, you clung onto the side mirror for support, legs feeling like jelly.

"Uh huh." You agreed breathlessly, you felt his hand on your back rubbing soothingly, unable to stop yourself from hissing as he pulled out, gently righting your panties for you and pressing a fleeting kiss to the back of your neck.

It was a remarkably sweet gesture, particularly in stark contrast to your position moments before, you tugged your top down, and skirt back up leaning against the van with a heavy exhale. Eddie had tucked himself away, and was now busy tying the condom off, stepping into the road to drop it unceremoniously down a gap in a drain cover, your face scrunched in distaste at the action.

"Giving the swimmers a new lease of life." He said winking impishly.

"I'm sure the sewer rats will be ever so pleased." You deadpanned.

You were unsure what the plan was now, should you go your separate ways, you back to the party, him to - well wherever Eddie spent Saturday nights?

Returning to the party felt like a hellish idea, not just because you probably looked like you had just had sex, which you had, but you'd also have to face Steve and Nancy and whilst you now seemingly had the option of sex on tap, emotionally your heart still very much belonged to Harrington. Also you had the beginnings of a headache no doubt from the toxic punch.

"Uh- sweetheart you in there?" Eddie asked you, waving his hand in front of you, evidently you had zoned out.

"Huh?"

"I was talking about milkshakes."

'Milkshakes?" You repeatedly blankly.

"Yeah, ya know, you take the milk, you take the shake you take them both and then you have the facts of life." He said moving past you, opening the passenger door.

You just stared vacantly.

"Oh my god I fucked the intelligence out of you." He giggled, ducking to one side as you tried to punch him in the arm, catching your hand he pulled you to him.

"Sweetheart I would very much like it if you would accompany me to a diner where we can have milkshakes and discuss the intimate details of our little arrangement." He clarified, gesturing for you to get into the van.

"Details?" You ask cluelessly, clambering into the seat, maybe he had fucked you dumb.

"Details." Eddie cooed, tapping you on the nose and strapping you in like a child, before handing you his drug box and slamming the door.

You were unsure whether to be amused or concerned at how he skipped to his own driver's side, lighting a cigarette.

"Eddie, what exactly are we doing?" You ask, completely exasperated. He revved the engine, jamming the play button on the car radio, head banging along to Ace of Spades - Motorhead for a few moments.

"EDDIE!" You yell over the music impatiently.

"You and I are making a pact princess" Flashing you a huge grin before peeling down the street.

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