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illicitlamb · 6 months

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𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐗: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 | 𝟑𝟎-𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄

SUMMARY | Wednesday finally allows Xavier to draw a portrait of her for himself. In return, he makes her time worthwhile.

“Easy enough?” Xavier quizzed as he pushed himself up from the chair, staring at Wednesday for her approval. He only received a sigh, which was interpreted as a “yes” as she seated herself. “Good.”

Making his way back to his desk, he waited for his wife to get into position, already picking up his pencil. “Turn your head a little more,” he corrected.

“Just draw,” growled Addams in return, but carried through with his order.

Thorpe smirked. “Aye-aye, Captain.” He knew she had been dreading this for whatever reason, but he was more than appreciative of her for actually allowing him to draw a portrait of her – a pose of his choice and on both of their times rather than any quick moment he had while she was not looking.

Starting with the outline of his piece, his strokes were painted as soft lines before being filled in by more defined, darker scrapes against the sketch paper. Now having a reference rather than relying on his visions’ sole memories, he would glance up often, flicking his bangs from his view for his hazel eyes to admire the gothic beauty before him. In the midst of it all, he was doing two of his favorite things: draw and take in the view of his spouse.

The outfit he had chosen for her to wear was still in her taste of color palette but out of her comfort zone with style. A 2-in-1 mini dress complemented with a black tie – a white collared shirt overlayed with a strapped black corset stretching down into a relaxed slim-fit skirt. Instead of matching heels, he finished the selective look with black thigh-high stockings.

Of course, this whole thing was not something she would agree to easily, but it would all come with a favor in return. Just a little while longer.

Seated on the prop for 20 minutes now, Wednesday’s neck began to ache with a creeping cramp that threatened to strangle her into defeat. “How much longer?” she grumbled. A soft, amused scoff teased her hearing.

“Almost done.”

She expressed a nasal sigh and opted for playing the part of a model for several more minutes before being relieved of her statue-like role. Pacing over to her husband, she came up on his left to see his finished work. Of course, it was bold and striking, but his artistic ability seemed to dive into a deeper level of detail. His strokes, his shading, his effort – everything looked intensified with a sense of emotional influence. Maybe it was because this would be one of the only times that she would let him draw her by her will. Or maybe it was because she was finally his – his love, his mate, his wife… even if it was the other way around.

“What do you think?” questioned Xavier while looking from his drawing to her face, searching for a responsive look.

The other’s mocha orbs reviewed the page with an observing gleam. “It’s not bad.”

Thorpe smirked. “But it could be better, huh?” As she looked at him, he sat back. “Everything could be better when it comes to you.”

Giving him an unamused huff, she glanced back at the portrait and leaned forward to show her efforts of seeing his talent. This time she complimented him with phrasing containing a little more positivity. “It’s a very impressive drawing.”

“I think I’ve gotten better at drawing you.”

“You should have,” Wednesday pressed. “Considering your countless sketches of me, I assume you would have me memorized by now.” She glared at him. “It’s a wonder why you were so adamant to have me take time out of my day to do nothing but serve as a reference.”

“Well, I guess that just proves that I can’t get enough of you,” the artist played. Pushing himself up from his desk, he pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Did you ever assume that?”

But this did not phase her as her dark eyes locked to his light ones. “Actually, I did. I just thought you were a little more creative than that.”

Pearlized teeth were sided with raised eyebrows. “Creative?” He then leaned close to her ear with a beckoning voice saying, “I can do that,” prior to pecking her cheekbone and then magenta lips as she turned her head his way.

When they broke, the raven challenged him. “Show me.”

Joining once more in a mutual kiss, things escalated. With his wife moving in time with him, Xavier hoisted her up to have her legs secure around his hips and carried her over to the guest room’s bed. He felt her slender fingers get a feel around his neck and in his hair as he eased her onto the mattress, now granting his own hands more freedom to roam about her petite yet heavenly body.

They kept each other occupied with passionate kisses and occasional, soft moans for several more moments before the heat between them manifested into a burning flame. Thorpe’s shirt was stripped of him and thrown to the floor. Addams’ skirt had been pushed up to reveal black-lace undergarments. Her inner thighs were nudged apart by his knees in time with her handle on him traveling down to massage the contracting muscles of his bare back. Black nails pricked the smooth skin, tracing steady lines before she broke from his lips to catch her breath.

Meanwhile, the other psychic turned his head to plant sucking kisses along her jawline and down her neck. Her luring scent drove him wild, giving way for him to tease her with subtle nibbles here and there which had him smirking in between when he hit a sensitive spot every now and then. Rewarding her gentle cringes with a nuzzle, his roaming hands moved to undo her tie.

Another nip to her neck broke Wednesday’s barrier. “Xavier,” she moaned with a hitch in her voice thanks to her sensitivity.

He only spoke between pecks while freeing the cloth. “What?” Then, he met her gaze. She was calm, which he did not expect judging by her call out to him. “I didn’t think you were the needy type. Guess I assumed wrong.” Holding the tie in his mouth, he took her wrists up and above her head. He transferred his hold to one hand while the other pulled the accessory from his teeth. “You ready?”

Her tempting lips curled slightly at the corners, eyes flashing with an intrigued spark. “Now, this is getting interesting.” After her wrists became locked together by the bind, she was seduced by physical touches – with one hand gliding down her raised arm to hold her tricep, the other slipped down further to press against the side of her chest. Xavier lowered his face closer to hers once more and spoke with a husky whisper.

“We’re just getting started.” He then subtly nuzzled her nose with his, “Can you handle that, Mrs. Addams-Thorpe?”

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vertigoblockbuster · 6 months

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Info Dump: Ardra Nakshatra

In vedic astrology, Rudra is the ruling deity of Ardra nakshatra, the 6th lunar mansion in the Hindu zodiacal system. Rudra is a form of Lord Shiva the Destroyer. Within Hinduism Shiva is one of three principle deities, the other two being Lord Vishnu and Lord Brahma. In extremely simple terms, Brahma is the creator of the universe, Vishnu is the preserver of it, and Shiva destroys it to recreate a new universe.

Rudra is very different from the other gods. Rather than desiring nice clothing and adornments, Rudra prefers to wear animal skin and tree bark. A graveyard is his preferred dwelling place over a peaceful home. He doesn't wash or cut his hair and searches for a deeper meaning that he values above all earthly comforts. One who has Rudra nakshatras (Ardra, Mula, and the two Bhadrapadas) prevalent in their birth chart has the power to unleash their anger onto untrue, impure things. Lies, harmful people, and corrupt institutions are the types of animals Rudra hunts. Evil is washed away by his storms and a clean slate is made available for good things to manifest.

Shiva is eternal and therefore is not literally "born," instead he is an embodiment of an energy that existed in Brahma first. The story of Rudra's "birth" from Brahma goes like this: Brahma worked hard to create beings to help him in forming the universe. When they disobeyed him because they did not want to mingle with lower earthly things, Brahma understood their reasoning but was simultaneously furious at their disobedience. His rage built up between his eyes (think of how we scrunch our faces when we become angry) and when he pulled it out of his head it took the form of a howling baby that was purple and androgynous, Rudra.

To help Brahma in his creation of the universe, Rudra was instructed to separate his male and female forms and make eleven copies of himself so that they could reproduce together. These beings formed from Brahma's fury were full of anger and threatened to destroy the world that he was attempting to create. Brahma instructed Rudra to control his anger by meditating. Rudra threw himself into yoga to conquer his mind and become peaceful. Brahma was pleased with the work that Rudra had done on himself and renamed him Shiva. Literally translated, Rudra means the "howler" or the "most frightening one" while Shiva means "calm" or "benevolent." Rudra's self-mastery through yoga is why he is revered as one of the original masters of the practice, another being Brahma. Rudra is perhaps a more notable yogic master because of the inner rage he had to conquer within himself. His path to self-control was more challenging because he is the embodiment of Brahma's anger.

When used unhealthily, this destructive force is inflicted on innocent people and things around the native with Rudra influencing their chart. It can also be turned inward by the native onto themselves. Here we can see the archetype of the tortured bad boy or the tragic bad girl. No superficiality is tolerated (at least not comfortably) at this point in the zodiac and must be destroyed, including one's own character.

Some of the symbology associated with Ardra includes the color green (Ardra translating to mean moist one or fresh one), a jewel, a human head and a teardrop. The color green reminds us of the rich landscape of a forest after a storm. After a violent downpour the plant life is hydrated, nourished, and rejuvenated. Here is a reminder that storms, while frightening experiences best avoided from a superficial standpoint, are not only beautiful on a deeper level but necessary for growth. This same principle can easily be extended to human beings and is the major lesson we learn from Ardra nakshatra: Anger is not bad. We need anger. The challenge is directing it properly.

The symbol of the jewel evokes ideas of the formation of diamonds. It is commonly known that tremendous heat and pressure are required to form diamonds, and that they are held around the world to be extremely valuable. Again, we are brought back to the idea of using our turbulent, angry emotions (think of the heat and pressure required for a diamond to form) as tools to create a life that we truly value (the diamond itself).

The human head and teardrop are associated with Ardra because it is a nakshatra of intellect, deep reflection, and also of anguish and suffering. Crying has been said to be a remedy for those with prominent Ardra placements in their chart because it releases pent up emotions. After crying we are left with a clean emotional slate and there is now space to recreate ourselves.

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I credit Vic Dicara for the information on the story of Rudra/Shiva. Please check out his YouTube channel Vic Dicara's Astrology if you are interested in learning about vedic astrology.

#astrology #vedic astrology #ardra #nakshatras

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pretty-little-pink · 1 year

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Chase made a surprised noise, which then quickly turned into a drawn out moan, as his and Author’s tongue entwined together. The strange taste that met him as their kiss deepened was the source of the man’s brief bout of confusion, none of his previous partners had ever had a taste like this. Chase eagerly explored Author’s mouth, enjoying both the sensation as well as the odd nectar-like taste that now thoroughly coated his tongue.

A small, quiet, whine escaped Chase when Author pulled away from him. He licked his lips as he panted for breath, watching the other with a gaze which conveyed clear as day the overwhelming desires that now consumed him fully. His breath stuttered as Author began to speak. Truthfully he didn’t know if he would be able to last long, his stamina wasn’t what it used to be in his younger, rowdier days. He was tempted to bring it up, ask the writer to be somewhat gentle with him, but the words couldn’t even take form in his addled mind before any coherent thoughts were swept away by the marvelous friction doubling down upon him. His hips slowly lost their rhythmic pace, becoming slightly more erratic.

A mumbled, repeated string of “yes”’ stumbled out of his lips as Author kept talking, before becoming muffled into moans as he was kissed again. Chase was brought back to some of his senses when the warmth and pressure of Author left his laps.

Hands were now burying themselves amidst the strands of his unruly mess of hair. Chase idly wondered just when exactly had his snapback lost its rightful place on his head, but it was quickly pushed aside when his face was shoved into the soft ample breast of Author.

His hands immediately started fumbling with his belt at the command, not needing any more incentive to do as he was told. All the while, he mouthed at Author’s tits. Sucking and occasionally nibbling at the offered flesh. His eyes looked up almost reverently, attempting to lock gaze with the man that loomed over him.

When he finally succeeded in undoing his belt buckle, the thing was practically thrown off of him. His fly soon followed suit, and not even a second was wasted before Chase fished out his hard, flushed dick out of his pants. It wasn’t the most impressive in terms of length or thickness, mostly just around average, but it still proudly stood, drooling at the tip.

“Please, can I…?” Chase pleaded against one of Author’s breasts, lacking the confidence needed to finish the sentence. The intent behind it was obvious enough anyway, no one could ever miss what was currently being asked. -🐄

Author gave pleased little hums as he felt Chase's warm mouth against his skin, lightly scratching his scalp as he looked down at the other. He basically didn't know Chase at all, and now they met just to fuck basically. He didn't really care, as he was sure his interests were as different from his like Bing's tended to be, though he'd never give up the opportunity to find someone fitting to his needs. The fact that Chase was so easily influenced by his pollen was making him happy on a deeper level than conscious thought. He didn't need to actively "drug" Chase to make him aroused and wanting to fuck, the small-ish amounts of pollen that left him involuntarily enough to get the man ready for him.

As soon as the rustling of Chase's belt and fly stopped, Author only had to lower himself a little to feel the leaking tip of his cock against his folds, his slick slowly dripping down onto Chase's length. He moved one of his hands to Chase's cheek, gently cradling his face in his soft and gentle hand. He looked down at him, smiling down at him. "Please do. Be my good boy and enjoy yourself.", he hummed, using his grip on Chase's hair to press him more against his chest, making sure he wouldn't even dream of pulling away.

He lightly moved his hips, feeling the tip of Chase's cock rub through his folds, catching on his entrance. He knew Chase would probably be surprised and/or startled once he felt just how different his cunt was, but that certainly wouldn't stop him. Author lowered himself just enough that the head of Chase's cock entered him, shuddering in delight. It was far too long since he's last been fucked -and it didn't matter if it had only been hours or weeks, he craved something inside him near constantly.

"Ready baby?", Author asked with a little grin, giving Chase absolutely no chance to reply as he immediately sank down completely onto Chase, sitting back onto his lap, a drawn-out moan leaving him as he was filled. It didn't matter how big or small Chase was, his insides eagerly squeezed the cock inside of him now. "You feel wonderful- so good for me.", Author breathed heavily, clenching around Chase's cock, before rolling his hips slowly. Author's insides were lined with tiny little tendrils, squirming and wet and eager, rubbing against Chase's cock, sliding through the slit, tracing veins and whatnot.

"You'll fill me well, won't you? A dad must have wonderful, potent seed.", Author muttered lowly, the flowers on his head wiggling and trembling, some more pollen freeing themselves. Author knew that no matter Chase's stamina, his pollen would keep him hard for as long as possible if he was "high" enough on them, and if Chase got to drink Author's sweet nectar.... well, Author hadn't lied saying he'd milk the man absolutely dry, getting fucked multiple rounds.

#" ''no one could ever miss what was currently being asked'' you tell that to me a known himbo #bloody ink #cow anon

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

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Draw your swords, pt. 8

Summary: Forced to face their feelings, neither the Darkling nor his wife dare to speak them out loud. Influenced by Genya’s words, Y/N starts to wonder about her husband’s past.

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of alcohol, sexual content

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five // Part six // Part seven

=================================

As a young girl, Y/N often daydreamed about her first time. She believed it would be with a kind man who’d move mountains to find her if she called his name. Reality was quite different – this man wasn’t kind, but he’d burn the world for her.

Whether he realized it, she saw through him easily. The Darkling is a symbol, the fear surrounding his name is all for show because he’s not evil. In fact, she’d go as far as say he’s redeemable. Anyone capable of love is capable of being saved and while she didn’t know what he needed saving from, her heart told her he’ll need her. And she knew he cared, she felt it in the way he held her in that tent, and again in the way he’d touch her when he had all the power just the night before.

Moving her head toward the other side of the bed, Y/N looked at her sleeping husband. His lashes are long, thick and dark, a beard that tickled her neck adorning his face. Asleep, his cheekbones were not as sharp, his face much more welcoming and relaxed. He didn’t seem as the formidable foe she imagined him to be.

Aleksander laid on his side, facing her. Pursing her lips, Y/N allowed her eyes to roam over him. His broad chest had a small area of dark, curling hair. His muscles are made large, shapely mounds. His arms are capped by a round, firm muscle. Biting her lower lip, her eyes continued down to his hard, flat stomach with faint lines forming separate areas of muscles, making her swallow thickly. It was only after a moment that her eyes went lower. What she saw did not seem so powerful as it felt the previous night, but as she watched, his manhood began to grow.

She gasped and her eyes flew back to his. He was awake, watching her intently with a smirk, his eyes growing darker by the moment. No longer was he the gentle man she had awakened to, but a man of passion, the general who showed her he was just as capable of leading a woman in the bed as he was of leading an army on the field.

Y/N tried to move away but Aleksander still held her trapped by her hair that strayed on his side, under his back. What was worse, she didn’t even want to fight him. Y/N recalled her plans for him clearly; but this was more than a plan she carelessly implemented. Everything was different now when she had the memory of his body and the pleasure he infused her with when he made love to her. Could that term even be applied to them, she wondered. Did he see it as making love or simply satisfying his needs?

“Stubborn wife,” he whispered and the tone of his voice made chills run along her arms. It’s more than the tone he used or the look of his dark eyes that had her insides turning, but the words he had spoken…it almost felt like a term of endearment coming from him.

Grimacing, she rolled her eyes at him, “Dreadful husband.”

Pursing his lips, he seemed amused rather than insulted.

She was right, their relationship has changed.

Irrevocably.

Last night she had thought she learned all there was to know about love between a man and a woman, but now she thought, perhaps she knew very, very little. There was much more to learn from this man and of this man and how to use that knowledge for her own gain, but right now? She just wanted to let herself go. She wanted to enjoy his company. For once, he was good-natured, playful even. She felt genuinely happy in their little bubble.

For a moment, Y/N wished to stay there. She wished he could always look at her as he is now.

She looked at him, his hair still a mess in the bright morning sunlight. She watched him intently, perplexed how he could look more handsome and more human than she’d ever seen him.

His eyes are nearly black as he pulls her to him again. He runs his tongue along her lips, touching the inner corners especially. She parted her teeth for him, desperate for a taste of him. He’s better than the richest honey; hot and cold, soft and firm. She explored his mouth as he had explored hers, no longer shy or reserved with him. How could she be when his fingers have delved lower, pushing inside her?

Gasping, she smiles against his lips. “Genya will be here soon”, she warns him.

"I don't fucking care", he insisted as he crashed into her, his arms wrapping around her like a cage she never wished to escape from. He brought his mouth on hers, inhaling her, "Do you even know what it feels like to be around you?! I can't", he paused as his arms drew away from her and she shuddered as he took the warmth they provided. With bruised lips, she watched as he ran his hand through what used to be perfectly tousled hair. Disheveled, he turns to her, "I can't breathe around you."

She chuckles at him, "Well, I am breathtakingly beautiful."

Rolling his eyes, the Darkling shakes his head, "Well, you're not unattractive. I'll concede on that."

She ran her hands over his back as he lowered his head to her neck, running his tongue along the pulsating beat of her carotid, the only friend he had in her – her pulse couldn’t hide how enamored or exhilarated he made her feel. Instinctively she leaned her head back, her breathing turning deeper, quicker.

When his lips and tongue touched her breasts, she nearly cried out. She thought perhaps she might die under such torture. Trying to pull his head back to her mouth failed as he gave a deep, guttural laugh that made her shiver, her insides turning with the sweet melody and her heart? Her heart felt warm, big and incredibly full.

Maybe he did own her.

A knock on the door had interrupted their bliss as Y/N stiffened, looking at the door in slight panic. If someone saw them right now, no one would doubt their marriage was a successful love match. They seemed happy, truly in love. That’s not how it was meant to be.

“Someone doesn’t value their life”, he grumbled under his breath. “GO AWAY!”

Clasping a hand over his mouth, she chuckled. “Who is it?!”

“General?” Ivan’s voice faded her smile instantly.

Even with Aleksander’s hands cupping her bottom, his body covering her and the door being shut, Y/N felt ashamed as if she was bare in front of the entire world.

“Unless the world is burning, leave me alone!” Pecking Y/N’s lips, he smirked, “I never get a peaceful morning anymore.”

Come to think of it, Y/N never found him in the bed when she woke up. This was the very first night they spent together and he stayed by her side. Considerate was never a word she’d use describing him before, but he is considerate, kind and incredibly cautious when it comes to her. It made her heart sink.

Hearing no word from Ivan, Aleksander’s hand moved. Caressing the inside of her thighs, he made her shake in desire. Holding her breath, she bit her lower lip. Still sore from the night before, she felt her stomach twist as he lined himself up with her entrance once more. Pushing himself inside, he captures her lips as she cries out. The pleasure is undeniable, but she couldn’t deny there was pain too. She clutched at him, her legs pressing around his waist as she rose to meet each thrust. Sweet torment he had inflicted felt as if it would split her in two - one Y/N to plot his demise and the other who’d never let him leave her bed.

Finally, when she was sure her heart would explode, she felt the pulsing throbs that released her and soon after, Y/N felt him speed up and his own release followed. Collapsing on top of her, Aleksander held her so close that she could hardly breathe. In that moment she didn’t really care if she ever did breathe again.

Aleksander didn’t move, still buried deep inside her as if she is his saving grace. It’s insane to think he could fuck her into submission and feelings. It was impossible to ignore the fact that she developed feelings for him, but that realization created doubts. Eventually, something will have to break – and the thought of hurting him suddenly felt too much to bear.

“Are you alright?” He moved her hair out of her face, remaining on top of her as if she’s a conquered territory he refused to leave.

Swallowing thickly, she nods. “Why aren’t you moving?”

Eyes widening, the Darkling felt heat rush to his face. He was trying to be sweet, to show her it was more than a quick fuck. It was indescribable for him – a dawn after a long night he’s lived in. No woman ever lessened the loneliness inside his heart and then she waltzed into his life. He couldn’t imagine living without her again. She was the northern star in his dark sky and he never wanted to leave.

“I should see Ivan about earlier”, he murmured, nearly wincing as he pulled out. She wrapped herself up in the sheets again, her eyes wide as she stared ahead, thinking about how badly she’s already failing her mission.

Frowning as she shifted, Y/N felt Aleksander’s semen leave her. She cleared her throat, her eyes watering. She felt disgusted with herself, like she needed her skin rubbed off with scalding hot water and peeled off if that didn’t work. She could feel him, smell him on every inch of her skin and the worst of it all? She loathed just how cold she felt when his arms weren’t wrapped around her. She absolutely detested how giddy her heart felt when she saw the shit-eating grin on his face as he brought her to climax.

“When will we visit the armies by the fold?” She asked, switching into the woman she is instead of the woman she’s molded into by his lips.

Impassive, he looked back at her as he worked on the buttons of his shirt. “Why? Don’t believe I’ve kept my word?”

It unnerved her just how cold his voice felt, how impersonal. Standing, she wrapped the nightgown around her body. Taking his kefta in her hands, she held it open for him to slip into.

His eyes flicker from the kefta to her, as if he’s confused as well. It felt odd not knowing their place now. Their previous dynamic was easy to settle into, bickering felt like second nature. Conversing without spewing venom brought unfamiliar discomfort mostly because they’d much rather return to the bed behind them. Leaving that room carried an unspoken possibility of their time together being nothing but a fluke – a onetime deal. The outside world carries responsibilities, the kind that places them on opposite sides of the war.

“Thank you”, he turns around, allowing her to help dress him. Wives do that, he realized. Loving wives help their husbands dress just as often as they help them undress. Husbands do the same for their wives – though he much preferred the undressing part.

He kissed her brow unexpectedly, eyes flickering to her trembling lips as they passed a surprised gasp. “I know you want to see the results on a field, but rest assured I’ve kept my word.” Licking his lips, he reached for a glass from behind her. Pouring himself a glass, he watched her gnaw on her lower lip. For once, the ice queen showed there are emotions inside her capable of more than just disdain.

Breaking out of her daze, she cleared her throat. “I prefer to have confirmation”, she remarked.

Snorting, he looks up in frustration. He wanted to grab her by the throat as he would with any other human who’d dare challenge him, question him. In his mind, he pinned her to the bed, his hands wrapped around her delicate little wrists. ‘Don’t play games with me’, he’d say, ‘Don’t ever think you’re capable of that.’ He wanted so badly to treat her the same, as an enemy, but she had done something to him. No matter how hard he wished he could fight it, something inside him came to life – his heart beats unburdened by the shadows, for her. It was always going to be her.

“I guess I’m asking you to trust me”, he looked at her with a softness he visibly struggled with. His hand griped the glass far too tightly for it to fool her. He was hurt by her insinuation and she didn’t know how to respond.

“Aleksander.” Calling him by his first name for the first time felt so natural, but terrifying as his eyes lit up when it crossed her lips.

He shuddered. “Say it again”, he commanded, his eyes darkened as he pressed his lips together.

The look on her face would surely haunt him for an eternity. She was shocked, maybe even frightened. She didn’t mean to call him by his name, she had made a mistake and he could read it on her face.

She spun, fleeing into the bathroom. She ran from him like he had come to steal her soul. He thought about chasing after her, but it would be futile. She would return on her own. She lost the game, she was his. He swallowed his whisky and smiled. Perhaps the way his heart fluttered at the sound of his true name passing her lips should have been a sign he lost the game too, but he didn’t give it a second thought.

She is his.

Once he left, she did exactly as she wished – she scrubbed herself clean of any remainders of him. He’ll walk around with her scent clinging to him, but she will not be branded his. Though her hips bear his markings, she felt satisfied they were easily covered with a kefta.

“You don’t have to say it”, Genya raised an eyebrow at the shadows of Kirigan’s fingertips across her friend’s hips.

“Say what?” Y/N narrowed her eyes, her heart picking up pace.

Smirking, Genya lowered her voice, “You enjoyed it, didn��t you?”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N, exhaled audibly through her nose. “It wasn’t terrible.”

“Ha!” Genya clapped her hands, “We are winning today!”

Raising her eyebrows, Y/N turned her undivided attention to an overly excited Genya. “Care to explain?”

“Well”, she shrugged innocently, “I may have found us a new ally.”

Stunned, Y/N sat on the edge of the bathtub. “Who?”

“David”, Genya exclaimed.

“Isn’t he Kirigan’s little…pet?”

Knitting her eyebrows, Genya huffed, “No! He’s a brilliant man and he believes in equality and a brighter future.”

“But can we trust him with the secret?”

Swallowing thickly, Genya paused. Inhaling deeply, she nods. “I’d vouch for him.”

“I need concrete proof”, Y/N sighs, “This isn’t going to end well for us if he decides to spill everything to Kirigan!”

Rubbing her temples, Y/N felt as if the pressure inside her head would cause her brain to burst. It’s pressing in, choking every good idea she’s ever had.

“What would happen if he did know?” Genya crouched before her. With her hands on Y/N’s knees, Genya sighed. “Maybe he’d be receptive too.”

Snorting, Y/N couldn’t believe how naïve Genya is. “No. He’d be too angry to see the big picture.”

It didn’t matter that he’s begun colonizing Y/N’s heart or that every inch of her skin craved the touch of his hand. It felt as if she were invincible when he stood beside her, as if he had made her fireproof. No scar hurt when he kissed her, no grief was too difficult to bear when he looked at her.

“Damn it”, Y/N covered her face, “I want to believe in him, I do.” She couldn’t help but wonder if her feelings are the aftermath of the night he saved her life or the night of ecstasy he had given her. Is it really genuine emotion or did her heart move to her vagina?

“So believe”, Genya encouraged. A sympathetic smile adorned her full lips, her eyes kinder than before.

“How can I ever trust him when he’s got a superiority complex regarding humans? He’s never going to willingly protect one!”

“He did with you”, Genya pressed her lips into a thin line. “You’re paranoid because you are afraid allowing yourself to see the good in him might actually make you love him.”

And she is. She’s afraid to love him or let him love her. What would be the point? In the end, they’re too different.

“Talk to David again”, Y/N stood, sniffling. “I’ll head to the library.”

Genya raised an eyebrow. “Library?”

The first casualty of war is innocence and Y/N had none left. She was once called ‘angel’ by her father, by her comrades in the army too. She was the epitome of a pure heart who would sacrifice itself for others. She didn’t feel like an angel anymore, but she will play the part. No one expects an angel to set the world on fire.

“Yeah”, Y/N breathes out. “I want to look for something.” Truth be told, she wanted to research Aleksander and his lineage.

If the dark heretic is from his bloodline, she needed to know everything about him, about the hearts of those he came from. If she’s ever going to consider her husband as an ally, she has to know him – all of him. If she asked, she worried he’d cover up the darkest parts of him. He’d deem her too human to understand, too fragile to know all the horrors that tie into who he’s become.

It was time to find out if she could trust Aleksander.

=============================

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart @xceafh @sanna2020 @tarkanelima-blog @takethee @mellifluous-cosmos @marvel-ousnesss @tea-effect @starlightofsolaria @p3nny4urth0ught5 @blackbirddaredevil23 @sarcastic-and-cool @slytherinsbiggestproblem @within-thehollowcrown @notthatchhavi @musicconversedance @freakytillthemoon @lgkoval @honeyofthegods @queenmalhinewahine @misselsbells06 @whatthefluffrichard @aami98 @britriestbr @itsfangirlmendes @padme-parker @readingsssssssss @runawayolives @thehighladyofasgard @emlynblack @keithseabrook27 @dailydoseofchoices @deceivedeer @olympiacosplay @pansysgirlfriend

Part 9

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #shadow and bone

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tetralea · 2 years

Note

Oh I love this. One prompt that really got stuck in my head is the one with the tickle fight. That'll be so hot 🥵🔥

Hey! So I have been sitting on this forever, but now it is ready 😃 enjoy!

Maybe Carlos was a bad influence on him? Charles questioned himself as he reached out to press his fingers to Max’ side. Maybe. “Stop being so sore, your bad vibes don’t let me sleep.” He mumbled and turned his head to Max who was laying on his back as well. They were on the plane home from a race, now laying next to each other on the narrow convertible bed or maybe couch, and Charles was not supposed to be there, but his flight had some problems and Max offered him a ride to Monaco. And, well it was not important why Charles was laying next to Max, what mattered was that the blonde was still salty after the race and his grumpy demeanor bothered Charles a lot. Mostly because he had to look at it for a few hours more.

The cabin crew left them alone to sleep, but they weren’t too successful yet.

“Stop pouting.” Charles tried again and pressed two fingers between Max’s ribs teasingly. A warning came as a yelp and a sharp look, but Charles was not having it. His smile was wide as he did it again and again and again, Max trying to dodge the attacks before launching his own. Now they were kind of in a tickle fight, arms moving rapidly to reach the spots they deemed the most ticklish on the other’s body. Charles was letting out small, high pitched noises as he tried to wiggle his body and dodge Max’s attacks. His whole body heated up as he turned slowly to his back, trying to escape, but Max was in a winning position towering over him and seemingly not being very ticklish. Max easily grabbed Charles’ hands and pinned them above the brown mop of hair, while swinging his leg across Charles’ legs to pin his thighs down, immobilizing the Monégasque. Charles was still fighting, moving under the weight of the other boy, when the long fingers ran down on his exposed biceps and reached the strong neck to tickle the sensitive skin, only to coax a different sound from the brunette. Their movements stopped when the small moan escaped Charles’ lips, their bodies froze, and they only noticed now how unnecessarily close they were the whole time.

Confused blue eyes were staring into the shocked green ones, while one of Max’s hands was still holding Charles’. They didn’t dare to move, now their heavy breathing from the previous fight was barely audible from the noise of the plane. Charles slowly parted his lips, his tongue sticking out to wet them, the movement was small but looked so inviting, immediately drawing Max’s attention. If Charles could have he would have reached out and pulled the blonde down for a kiss, but his hands were still trapped. ‘Kiss me.’ He breathed out instead, his voice a bit more desperate and shaky than he wanted but he couldn’t care because Max leaned down to him, pressing their lips together gently in a heartbeat.

Charles lifted his head a little to get closer to the soft lips moving against his own. He opened his mouth a little more, inviting Max to kiss him deeper and he couldn’t stop himself from moaning into the kiss as their tongues met in a deep, intoxicating kiss.

He felt like his head was spinning, and his body acted on its own when he arched his back, pressing his chest to Max’s and pulling his hands out of the softening hold, finally wrapping them around the broad back. He pulled Max even closer, kissing him with a deeply sated hunger, his hands roaming on the wide back and in the soft locks.

Max noted every sweet little whimper he coaxed from the brunette, they were the sweetest sound his ears could hear all day. He wanted more.

He broke the kiss, but the swollen lips found their place on the soft skin of Charles’ neck in a second making the brunette moan loudly and his body shudder. It was wrong but why did it feel so fucking good then? He opened his mouth and slightly bit the sensitive spot, then gently sucked the hot skin making Charles whimper and slowly lose it. He trailed down then to the other side, leaving red marks in his awe, determined to hear those sweet sounds again and again.

He didn’t stop, not even when warm fingers slid under his shirt pushing it up a little as Charles in return left long marks on his back. When he was almost finished assaulting the sensitive neck, his hands also started to wander, sliding under the red Ferrari shirt, determined to figure if Charles’ whole body was so sensitive or just certain spots.

He reached the small nipples and after a few strokes he pinched them, earning a dissatisfied groan which made him go back to exploring. He felt the slight pull in his hair, signaling him to lift his head and when he did he found those sweet lips pressed to his again.

He wanted to move a bit up, grinding their clothed cocks together in the process. Now it was his turn to whimper into the kiss. He quickly adjusted his position, letting Charles’ legs free. The strong thighs opened for him way too fast, and he gladly took his place between them, slowly dry humping Charles under his body.

‘You opened your legs pretty fast.’ He teased and earned a pull on his hair.

‘You climbed on top of me first.’ Charles blamed Max, but his flushed cheeks, red lips and painfully hard cock told another story.

‘You asked me to kiss you.’

‘Fuck you.’ Charles cursed and he wasn’t sure if he crushed Max or the way he was grinding their cocks together.

Max sucked on his neck, before kissing him deeply. ‘You mean fuck you?’ He was breathless and it felt like he was slowly losing control, like he was getting drunk in the brunette under his body.

‘Yeah, fuck me.’ It slipped out of Charles’ lips so easily and unexpectedly like the first moan. He was holding onto Max tightly, his hips meeting the blonde’s rhythm. Their pants slowly filled the small cabin, along with the rustling of their clothes.

‘They could come back soon.’ Max referred to the cabin crew, who promised to let them alone so they could sleep, but that won’t keep them out in case of a bigger turbulence.

‘I want you.’ Charles mumbled while getting rid of both of their shirts, their bare chests pressing together making everything feel a hundred times better. It felt like the sentence had been passed. Max couldn’t ignore it, he wanted it too, he had no idea when he developed such a hunger for the brunette, but he couldn’t deny it anymore.

His hands went to their pants and pulled their hard cocks free, wrapping his fingers around themselves as he kept up with his rhythm. Charles cursed and arched his back, his hands sinking into the loosened jeans and under the cotton briefs to grab a handful of Max’s ass while his eyes fluttered closed as he gave himself completely to the pleasure.

‘I will fuck you all you want after the flight, but now we can’t.’ Max reasoned through his own groans and whimpers, but he wasn’t sure Charles heard him. As he looked down to the pretty face, he was blissed out, eyebrows knitted together, lips slightly parted. So inviting. He had to lean down and catch them in another kiss, which Charles reciprocated hungrily. He mumbled something Max couldn’t fully understand until a second later when he felt Charles reaching his high, his body was shaking, white teeth biting the soft lips to muffle his own moans, his cum coating Max’s hand quickly.

And Max came too. He had no idea if it was the fact that he just made Charles cum so easily, or the way the warm liquid spilled on his own cock completely drove him crazy, but he couldn’t care.

‘Do you… do you promise?’ Charles asked breathless and still shaky, slowly coming down from his high.

Max opened his eyes to look at what they had done, but he didn’t get past the satisfied green eyes looking up to him so gently.

‘If you still want it, yes.’ He promised quietly.

Charles lifted his head to reach the plump lips. ‘I’ll still want you, have wanted you since we were seventeen.’

#charles leclerc #lestappen #max verstappen #lestappen smut

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nightingaelic · 3 years

Note

Companions (DLC included) respond to the Courier getting drunk at their wedding.

Arcade Gannon: "What is wrong with you? You couldn't pick any other day to act like a brahmin who got into the broc patch?"

Super apologetic toward his new husband, he should've known the courier was going to make a scene, honestly, it's about the only thing they're good at, and gets so flustered he starts blushing and his newly-minted spouse has to reassure him that the courier isn't even the most inebriated person there. That award goes to Cass, who is pickling herself in a mixture of wedding joy and despair that the nerdy gay scientist of the friend group found love before she did. Arcade stops the courier from being a bad influence and forbids the bartender from pouring the pair of them any more shots. Will not hold the courier's hair if they throw up, but will slip them some Rebound for the inevitable hangover.

Craig Boone: "Take it easy. Here, I'll finish that one for you."

Ignores the courier's antics completely until they make their way up to congratulate him and his new partner personally, at which point his usual stony façade will crack a bit. He's well-acquainted with the courier's drunk personality by now, but hasn't let himself loosen up out of a strong sense of duty. Now, on this happy day, he's willing to relax an inch and share some extra drinks with them and the rest of the Lucky 38 crew. This is the one time the courier will be able to steal his beret and be able to hang onto it until after the festivities.

Lily Bowen: "Go sit in the corner until you can behave yourself, dearie!"

Embarrassed by her surrogate grandchild's actions, Lily would attempt to scold the courier back into sobriety. Eventually she would realize her efforts are fruitless and take a few minutes to sulk, before the whirlwind happiness of the day and the flounce of her dress win out and she lets her spouse, the courier and her Lucky 38 and Jacobstown friends lead her out to the middle of the dance floor. After that, well, there aren't many spectacles that can top seeing a bunch of super mutants dancing.

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "Hey, hey, slow down boss! Tenemos muchos años más to act like fools together, eh?"

As soon as the courier jumps up on a table to give an impromptu toast, Raul will unleash his best grito and toast them back with the nearest bottle of tequila. Once deep enough into the alcohol himself, Raul would get a little weepy and start thanking them profusely for their role in his recent years of life, leaning on them as much as they're leaning on him. Largely forgiving of messes caused by clumsiness or turned stomachs, unless any of them threaten to ruin his suit or his partner's outfit.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Well if this ain't an excuse to get wasted in the wastes, I don't know what is."

Cass lives up to her nickname "Whiskey Rose" and is probably just as deep into her cups as the courier. Through the laughter, stumbles, bumps and curse words, however, Cass is careful not to go past her point of no return, and cuts the courier off before they also slip over the edge. She's spent much of her later life trying to get blackout drunk, but today is not a day she wants either of them to forget. As such, she has a low tolerance for anyone who messes up something important in her eyes, and will toss them out on their ass. God help anyone who rips her dress.

Veronica Santangelo: "That's the first time I've seen anyone mix Jake Juice and ant nectar together. This should be interesting."

Rather than confront a drunken courier about their bad behavior, Veronica settles for blushing deeper and deeper shades of pink, until her new wife tells her to go outside and get some air. Like Cass, she is very protective of her dress, but mostly because she loves wearing it in general and wants to feel like a princess for as long as she can. Will definitely get lost in the bathroom with Cass and the courier at some point, complimenting everyone who walks in. Will hold the courier's hair back if they throw up.

BONUS!

Dean Domino: "Don't leave me out if you have plans for some grand finale. Marriage might've caught me, but this snake can still rattle."

As long as the courier doesn't start singing, Dean regards their drunken stunts with a charming smile and a wink or two. If the courier tries to start some impromptu karaoke, however, Dean will start heckling them and get the rest of the guests to join in. This is less about being offended by their singing and more about putting himself back in the center of the spotlight. If the song is a duet, though, he'll probably join in on the second part with some pre-war choreography.

Christine Royce: [scowls]

The Brotherhood assassin is quite good at piercing glares, which is exactly what the courier will get if they don't put the centerpiece down and melt back into the crowd around the bar. Christine is also unafraid of a confrontation, and if the courier's behavior doesn't improve after their first warning, they'll be kicked to the outskirts of the reception, or kicked out altogether. Veronica will take pity on them if this happens and sneak them some food, but Christine doesn't let her guard down easily anymore and removal from the party is permanent.

Dog/God: "Hrrrrrrn..."

Watching the courier overindulge is too much for the nightkin, who is painfully reminded of his own split personality. Still too polite to ask the courier to tone it down or leave though, he instead disappears until the courier leaves or until someone else deals with them.

Follows-Chalk: "Let's share a cup or two, then get back to things, neh?"

Though he's personally fine with the courier's lack of decorum, Follows-Chalk meets the disapproving glances from the rest of the Dead Horses with sheepish grins and hustles them to the back of the celebration if they get too loud. He'll share a few drinks with them though, and the alcohol will warm him up significantly toward letting them back into the center of things. Ultimately, he and the courier will wind up swaying together over a bonfire, singing songs off-key and reminiscing about their time together in Zion.

Waking Cloud: "Muddy your water if you must, but do not forget to let it run clean beneath the morning."

The tall, stately bride is polite and tolerant of the courier's drunken outbursts, but chooses not to partake herself when offered drinks. The Sorrows view mind-altering substances as something for serious, sacred purposes, and weddings are focused on celebration rather than ritual. Still, Waking Cloud can't help but smile when the courier tries their hand at the intricate, unending dances on the banks of the Virgin River. They might look foolish, and watching members of the tribe might wince, but the smile on their face is pure ecstasy.

Joshua Graham: "There is a fire that burns within the righteous, but that fire cannot prosper if you insist on quenching it."

As a Mormon, Joshua Graham doesn't drink, and he's very judgmental of those who overindulge. Seeing as it's the courier, his disdain is tempered into something more akin to disappointment, but he'll still take every opportunity to pull them aside and try to explain their faux pas in between their hiccups. Most likely to have a dry wedding in the first place, but we all know the courier has a trusty Vault 13 canteen and is great at breaking the rules.

Ulysses: "The Twin Mothers knew how to cure a wound with bitters, one drink at a time... some wounds need more. More bitters, and more drinks. There's enough bitterness already in our history."

Ulysses also doesn't drink, but he knows better than to try to separate the courier from a good time. He'll simply avoid them until they simmer down, grabbing his partner and ducking out of conversations right before the courier crashes them. He's so successful in this that the courier might start loudly complaining about how they "didn't know we were back in the Divide," and enlist ED-E to bob around the party in pursuit.

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morphinethevaccine · 3 years

Text

Elliot and Vincent Nightray Relationship Headcanons with a shy s/o

In response to this ask

Part of Elliot’s and the entirety of Vincent’s is under the cut because of length.

Contrary to what one might assume, you don't have to match Elliot's temperament to be his significant other— in fact, it's probably for the better if you don't. One issue this dynamic has, however, is that Elliot possesses a rather dominant personality, and while he won't necessarily steamroll over softer types, he does best with someone who will give him a little pushback when needed. That's not to say there aren't any upsides.

For one, a shy or timid significant other can be beneficial to Elliot's development, as it forces him to be more introspective of his words and actions. Interestingly, things most likely did not start on a positive note.

There's a high chance you both didn't see eye-to-eye during your first few interactions: you most likely felt startled or hurt by some of his behavior, and in turn, Elliot might have found himself confused by your reactions, annoyed considering what it was he did wrong.

So how do two people who aren’t particularly alike end up together? For starters, if there's anything Elliot can't stand, it's a lack of sincerity or people who put on airs. And that's one of the first things he notices he likes about you: the way you aren't vying for attention or trying to be someone you aren't.

The first display of his growing interest starts as offhanded complaints to Leo that you seem fragile and he doesn't know how to deal with you, but further prodding from his companion leads Elliot to admitting that fine: yes he's curious about you, even if he can't quite explain why. From discussing books together in the library, to merely just sitting together in silence, it isn't long before you both realize the interest is pretty mutual.

What does he think of your shyness in particular? It isn't that he's bothered by it, moreso that he recognizes it as a trait that could lead to you being mistreated. Being quiet is one thing— Leo can be a little quiet too, you know, but being shy is another. Leo isn't mousy and has no issues standing up for himself, but you...

The thing is, if Elliot is anything, it's dependable. Though he may chastise you for not being more self sufficient, he's always going to back you up if you need him or if he sees the need to interject himself— even if you're going to get an earful from him afterward. He's never going to not defend you, but he feels better knowing you can stand up for yourself too.

He doesn't care if you’re outgoing or not, but at least once the two of you get close, getting you to behave less timidly is a goal... which probably eventually leads to Leo insisting he should leave you alone and let you be yourself. Elliot will grow to stubbornly accept that maybe it's not such a bad trait, in you at least.

He might be rash and prone to being harsh, even with people he loves, but he's got a conscience, and though it may take time and the swallowing of some pride, he'll always make things right between you in instances where things went badly.

The dynamic you share is, itself, a teachable moment— one in which you both offer the other a perspective they may not inherently see.

Coming to behave more moderately isn't a bad thing for Elliot to master, in addition to a non-confrontational partner making it easier for him to be more open with his thoughts and feelings. Being around someone as passionate and unafraid as Elliot might, in a similar way, influence you to be bolder. Perhaps there's some truth to the saying opposites attract after all.

In many ways, someone who's shy isn't a bad match for Vincent. Though Vincent often filters out his true thoughts to give pleasant conversation, it's not like he’s actually fond of talkative types anyway. An overly chatty person would be pretty quick to put him in mind of behavior he's expressed a clear dislike of.

It’s not hard for him to pick up on your temperament: perhaps it's a ball, and you catch his eye—seeming just a little out of place, maybe not quite as conversational as the rest. If you don’t seem typical, all the better. Vincent isn't particularly normal himself: an outlier or person somewhat different from the expected might just secure some of his interest for the moment.

His intentions likely aren’t the purest when he first approaches you, but with a personality that’s generally sociable, he’ll do just fine bridging any gaps: he'll carry a conversation even if you’re quite reserved, nor is he going to care too strongly if you don’t have much to say.

During the early stages of getting to know each other, your shyness provides him with a clever out if he ever does something that upsets you. Vincent has perfected the ‘smiling gentleman’ act, but the mask does slip every so often, and your introversion means he can more effortlessly insist you merely misread the situation; an excuse he’s not above using.

The longer the both of you are together, the better Vincent becomes at picking up subtle differences in your behavior. He often seems to have a way of figuring things out solely from what you didn't say, meaning even if you're rather quiet, there isn't much of a struggle for him to understand you.

If you have a hesitancy to express yourself or seldom speak your thoughts in conversations, you’ll likely find he has a way of recognizing it. He may even ask, head tilted with a smile, if there’s something more you wanted to say to him.

Vincent is, at his core, often avoidant. It may not seem that way because he does display a range of emotion, but the genuine things that bother him or deeper aspects to his being are rarely close to the surface or willingly displayed.

You not possessing a pushy nature is a benefit here: while he does need someone who's unwavering enough to stick around through some of his more alienating behaviors, it's best if you’re not too forceful.

If your nature includes an uneasiness for physical affection, you likely aren’t going to be too sure if he’s just aloof to some of your discomfort or intentionally doing things to fluster you: a kiss behind your ear, pulling you close when it's not too appropriate, or falling asleep on you by ‘mistake’ (he's going to be more than a little amused if he wakes up to you having been too nervous to move.)

It might be followed by an apology depending on your reaction, but whether it's genuine or not is up for debate.

The fact you’re reserved doesn’t matter much in regards to deeper aspects of the relationship, because persistence is one of the only real keys here— that is, you being someone who won’t be driven away easily. Though he might cycle through some unpleasant emotions, if you pay attention, it's clear some of his behaviors come from a place that shows, even if it's something he internally wrestles with, that he really does care about you.

#Pandora Hearts #pandora hearts x reader #elliot nightray #vincent nightray #elliot nightray x reader #vincent nightray x reader #pandora hearts headcanons #character x reader #ph x reader #headcanons #scenarios #imagines #reader insert #fluff #ph #gender neutral #tuesday

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atlafan · 4 years

Text

Regular Thing - Part Two

a/n: a few of you really wanted a part two, so here’s a small follow up! Reblogs are super helpful and keep me motivated, enjoy!

Warnings: smut, fluff, and a little angst

Words: 5K

Part One

Y/N woke up feeling all kinds of groggy, but at least she was cozy. Harry had blackout curtains since he often needed to sleep during the day, so his room was still plenty dark. Y/N nuzzles into his back as she was still wrapped around him. She still really wanted him to fuck her, naturally. It was the whole point of staying over. She didn’t want to wake him up abruptly, he deserved to sleep.

Harry can tell she’s awake now from the way she’s fidgeting next to him, eager for him to fuck her no doubt. He rolls over onto his other side and she looks up at him. He tucks some hair behind her ear, and she pulls on his shoulder so he’ll get on top of her. Once she’s on her back, she toes off his boxers, and he kisses on her neck. He rucks the shirt of his she’s wearing up over her breasts so he can feel them on his chest. He grinds into her and she groans. He gets her underwear off and she pushes her hips up so his hard dick can rub against her folds.

“Do you want me to get a condom?” He says against her neck.

“No…I wanna feel you.” He shifts to look at her. “M’on the pill, and I know I don’t have anything.”

“Neither do I.”

“Okay.” She bites her bottom lip. “Please, I’m already so wet, just put it in.”

He looks down to line himself up with her. He wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to hit it raw. He stays close to her, and her arms go around his back. He’d give it to her sweet and soft this morning, nothing to rigorous. Her heels dig comfortably into his ass, and she lets him rock in and out of her.

“You feel so fucking good.” He groans into her ear and it makes her moan.

“So do you.”

He hooks his arm under one of her legs so he can get in deeper, and he knows she likes it because she starts tugging on his hair. Slow, deep strokes that had her hips chasing his every time he’d slightly pull out. Every moan and whimper that left her lips was music to his ears. He shifts so he can look down at her. Her eyes were screwed shut and she was biting harshly on her bottom lip. She was concentrating. He lets her leg go, and grips both of her things and has her wrap her legs around his waist. He kisses on her chest and nips at her collar bone.

“Oh!” She gasps when he hits her g-spot. “Fuck, right there.” She moans.

Harry keeps himself steady, trying to keep hitting the same spot for her over and over. She was starting to tighten around him, and without the condom he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last. She was so wet and warm, and already looking fucked out for him.

“Y/N, I, shit, where do you want me to come, babe, I can’t-“

“Shit, shit, shit, um, in-inside’s me fine, just don’t stop, I’m really close.”

“Inside you?!”

“Yes! Fuck!” She cries out as she releases around him, and he loses it at that.

From the way she was clenching around him he just couldn’t hold it. She moans breathlessly as she feels him fill her up with his come. He gives himself a moment to catch his breath before pulling out of her. She tries to clamp her legs together to not make a mess.

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll just wash them.” He kisses her cheek before fully getting off of her.

“Okay.”

“Did you want to take a shower?”

“Sure, yeah…you don’t happen to have a spare clip or hair elastic, though, would you?”

“I do, actually.” He gets up and goes over to his dresser. He was completely naked, but there was no reason for him to be shy. She actually liked watching him walk around naked anyways. “Here.” He tosses a scrunchie her way, and she sits up so she can flip her hair over to put it up.

“Thanks.”

She stretches as she gets up, and he grabs a couple of fresh towels from his closet so they could both look decent while they walked to the bathroom. Harry had no idea if Niall was home or not. Y/N had never showered at Harry’s before, which seemed odd at this point. He gets the water going as he brushes his teeth, and Y/N uses some mouthwash.

“How’s the temp?” He asks her, and she sticks her hand in.

“Perfect.” She drops her towel and steps into the shower, as does he. He stands under the warm water and lets his hair get wet. He looked tired, she could tell. “I woke you up too early, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t, it’s fine.” He lets her step into the water. “How are you feeling? You were kind of sloshed last night.”

“Was I really that bad? I didn’t think I was.” She look at him and wonders if she looked as tired as he does. “I feel fine, a little tired, but fine.”

“Nah, you weren’t that bad.” He steps back into the water and grabs his soap to wash up. He briefly looks down and his eyes widen when he sees his come sliding down her thigh. “Here, uh, the showerhead detaches.” He gets it down for her.

“Oh!” She blushes and takes it from him. “Thanks.” He turns around awkwardly while she cleans herself up. She taps his shoulder so he can put it back up. “You’re…a caring person, Harry.”

“What do you mean?” He asks as he starts scrubbing his head with shampoo.

“You, like, helped me take my makeup off last night, and then you helped me change and stuff.”

“I would have felt bad if you broke out or something.” He shrugs.

“Right.”

Once he’s down rinsing his hair she steps towards him and wraps her arms around his waist. He sighs and hugs her back. He rests his chin on the top of her head, and lets his eyes flutter closed. He starts chuckling and she looks up at him.

“What?” She giggles.

“I just never really realized how short you are before.”

“I think you’re just tall.”

“M’really not that tall.” She rolls her eyes at him. “I’m not! I’m just under six feet, I just look tall because my boots have a little heel on them.”

“So do mine, and I can assure you they don’t help me look much taller.”

“But you wear them well.” He cups her cheek and kisses her. He sucks on her bottom lip and then kisses her forehead.

“Nice of you to, um, notice.” She says, clearing her throat.

They get out of the shower and towel off. He watches as she gets her clothes on from the night before. He looks at the weather app on his phone and he sighs.

“What?” She asks.

“It’s, like, only gonna be in the high forty’s today.”

“Okay?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Take one of my sweaters with you.”

“Harry, Mike’s gonna come get me, I’ll be outside for two seconds.”

“Please.” He takes one out of his closet and hands it to her. “It even matches, just take it. You can give it back to me later.”

She wants to fight him on it, but she wonders, briefly, if this had anything to do with his parents. Harry didn’t say what happened to them in class, just that he only had his older sister. So, she nods and takes it from him, putting it on over her crop top. She didn’t mind it so much, it smelled like him and it was cozy. He also gets dressed, just in some joggers and a sweatshirt.

“When’s he coming to get you?”

“Whenever I text him.”

“Oh.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Can I…offer you some coffee?”

“Harry.” She smirks. “We don’t need to do this.”

“Do what?”

“This.” She gestures between the two of them. “You’re very polite, and I appreciate that, but I’ll probably go grab breakfast with my boyfriends.” She grabs her phone and texts Mike to come get her.

“Why do you call them that?”

“Habit.” She shrugs. “They’re boys and they’re my friends, so they’re my boyfriends.”

“Makes sense.” He gets up and opens his bedroom door, and they go down the hall to his kitchen to wait for her ride. He gets his coffee pot going and leans against his counter.

“You’re not gonna try to go back to sleep?”

“Nah, I have a report to work on for class.” He furrows his brow at her. “When do you take your pill?”

“In the evenings, no worries.” Harry nods at her. “Are you okay that we did that?”

“Yeah.”

“You just seemed surprised that I wanted you to.”

“Because I was. Most girls want you to pull out when it’s casual.”

“Well, I didn’t want you to stop, and you would have if I told you to do it on my stomach.”

“You did come pretty hard, huh?” He smirks as he grabs a mug for his coffee. She smiles and shakes her head.

“Hard not to when you hit it just right.” Her phone dings. “My ride’s here.” She walks over to him and presses herself against him. “Do you wanna see me again tonight?”

“Yes.” He says it without hesitate, but his gaze was intimidating, so it’s not like he was letting on how hard he was starting to simp. “Are you gonna come to the bar again?”

“Most likely.”

“Don’t get too fucked up, or we’ll end up in the same situation.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She smirks and then pecks his lips. “I’ll text you later.”

“Sounds good. See ya.”

Y/N heads out and down to Mike’s car, where the rest of the guys were already piled in, ready to go eat breakfast. Harry pours his coffee and sits down, contemplating if he even feels like eating. He hears the jingle of keys and Niall soon appears in their apartment.

“You’re up early.” Niall smirks.

“It’s ten.”

“Early for a guy who gets off work after two in the morning.”

“Could say the same to you.”

“Hooked up with this girl.” Niall shrugs and pour some coffee. “How was your night with Y/N?”

“Good, we just went to sleep since she was a little too under the influence, but we hooked up this morning.”

“That’s nice.” Niall sits down and narrows his eyes at Harry.

“What?”

“You seem…a little less than thrilled than usual.”

“We had sex without a condom for the first time, and she told me to come inside her, so I did, and-“

“Oh my god, are you gonna go get her a plan B?!”

“She’s on the pill, chill out.” He sips his coffee.

“Oh, well, alright then. So, what’s the issue?”

“There is none.” He puckers his lips in thought. “Do you think I see her too often?”

“Isn’t that the point of having a regular thing? Meeting up on the regular for sex?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have made myself so exclusive.”

“Is it established that it’s exclusive? She could easily be fucking someone else.” Harry grimaces at that. “Oh, no…don’t tell me…”

“Tell you what?”

“Do you have feelings for this girl?”

“What?!” Harry scoffs. “No.”

“Oh my god.” Niall runs a hand over his face. “If you didn’t, why would you care if she was fucking someone else?”

“I don’t care, I just think it would be rude when I seem to be satisfying her. I don’t want to fuck anyone else, it’s good with her. She knows what I like now, it’s easy.” He shrugs.

“But…you’re starting to catch feelings, no?”

“No.” Harry says firmly. “But things were oddly intimate this morning. Then we took a shower together, and we didn’t even do anything, we, like, hugged for a bit.”

“Is she letting on about anything she might be feeling?”

“Nah, she didn’t even want to stay for coffee. Think I’m just reading into things.”

“You could make yourself less available, tell her no once in a while.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Sometimes you two hook up twice in the same day, like, today, are you gonna see her tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? You saw her this morning. The way I see it is, you could go fuck someone else tonight, or fuck her again and slowly fall down the rabbit-hole.”

“I can’t fuck someone else after I fucked her raw this morning, that would be such a dick move.” He sighs. “But maybe your right, I could just tell her no tonight.”

Harry’s plan went out the door when he saw Y/N strutting down the small hill with her friends. And not just because she looked incredible in a short pencil skirt and crop top, but more so because he wanted throttle her. She wasn’t wearing a jacket, again. She was wearing black tights and a pair of booties at least. Part of he liked about her the first time he saw was that he thought he wasn’t like every other girl that walked in. Why would she start doing this?

“Hey.” She says, and all he does is side eye her as he checks everyone else’s ID’s. “Your sweater’s in my car.”

“Why isn’t it on you?” He snaps.

“Because then I would have had to carry it all night.”

“Yeah? Well, you look stupid walking here like this.”

Her mouth falls open in shock. She swallows, nods, and goes inside with her friends.

“Smooth.” Niall says to him.

“Shut up.”

“What’s his problem?” Rob says to Y/N as they sit down at a table.

“I have no idea, he’s obsessed with me being warm, or something.” She bites her bottom lip. “I didn’t think he’d get upset, I thought he would think it was funny or something.” She drums her fingers on the table. “I’m gonna go to my car, I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, I’ll go with you.” Mike says. “Can’t let you walk alone.”

She nods at him and they head out swiftly. Harry was checking ID’s so he didn’t see them leave, so he was confused when he saw them coming back, this time she was wearing his sweater. He nods to Mike that he can go in as Y/N stands in front of him with her arms crossed.

“Apologize.” She says to him. “Because now I really do look stupid.” She pouts.

“No, you look sensible.” He looks her up and down. “What are you all dressed up for anyways.”

“I’m not explaining until you apologize.”

“Fine, I’m sorry I said you looked stupid.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Yes.” He smiles.

“Good, I don’t need you embarrassing me in front of my friends.” She flips her hair over her shoulder. “It’s Danny’s birthday, so I dressed up a little for the occasion. Is that alright?” Harry nods at her. “You know, it’s too bad you have to work and can’t just enjoy the night. I’d love to get you on that dance floor.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” She smirks. “Guess I’ll just have to dance with the guys instead.” She shrugs and heads back inside.

“Right, so, you’ll be fucking her tonight.” Niall says, nudging Harry.

“I’ve really got no choice now.”

There Y/N was, drink in hand, dancing with her friends, in Harry’s sweater, and Harry couldn’t look away. She and Danny were grinding one minute, and the next she was grinding with Drew. Harry could never date her, even if he wanted to, he’d be too annoyed knowing that’s how she acts with her friends. Although…she was laughing and having a good time, it wasn’t like she had a lustful look in her eye. She didn’t look at them the way she looked at him.

Y/N promised herself she wouldn’t drink that much so she could hook up with Harry again, and she kept that promise even though her friends were getting trashed. When last call is announced, she looks at all of them.

“Well, I’m gonna go sit at the bar and wait for Harry to finish up.” It’s hugs all around and she goes up to wait.

He was behind the bar helping cash people out. He sees her sitting there, patiently, sipping on a glass of water.

“I see you’re back to listening to me.” He says to her.

“I’m just after some good dick.”

Harry grins and walks away from her to start putting chairs on top of tables. Niall wipes down the bar and looks at her a few times.

“You’re waiting for, H?”

“Yeah.” She nods. “You’re his roommate, right?”

“Mhm.” He smiles. “Nice to formally meet you.” He extends his hand for her to shake and she giggles.

“Same here. I hope we haven’t been too annoying.”

“Not at all.” He scoffs. “See that little lady waiting down there? I’m taking her home tonight, so you’ve got the place to yourselves.” He winks and walks away.

“Alright, I’m all set.” Harry says to Y/N and she hops off the barstool. He leads her up the stairs to his apartment, and to his room, closing and locking his door. He gets some club music playing on his Bluetooth and she raises an eyebrow at him. He didn’t typically play music when they fucked. “Thought you wanted to dance with me.”

“Are you serious?” She steps closer to him with an unconvinced look on his.

“Mhm, come here.”

“Okay, well, I’m at least taking the sweater off now.” She does so and tosses it on his bed. “You sure you can handle me?”

“I’m up for the task.”

She wraps her arms around his neck and presses her body to his so she can grind against him. His hands grips her hips. She sways back and forth with him and lets her head fall back a few times before she turns around. She bends over in front of him and shakes her ass. He gives her a smack before she comes back up to be flush with his chest. His dick was starting to get hard, and he pushes it right up against her. Her arm comes up to hook around his head so she could grip at his hair. He nibbles on her hair and she gasps.

“Do your friends ever get this hard when they dance with you?” He says into her ear.

“No, they have self-control.” She grunts as she presses back against him, wanting to feel more. “I don’t grind my ass against them like this.”

“Sure seems like you do.”

“Hm, someone likes to watch.”

“I have to monitor the dancefloor.”

“Mhm, sure.”

He turns her around and cups her jaw. He slots his mouth over hers and walks her back to his bed until they both fall onto it. Their tongues mold together as they get more comfortable. She kicks her boots off and he does the same. It was like they suddenly couldn’t get naked fast enough. Clothes were flying off, and he nearly rips her tights as he tugs them off. He kisses down her body, and gets his head between her legs.

“Oh, fuck!” She gasps as he wastes zero time licking into her. His fingers work her clit quickly. “H-Harry!”

He kicks up from her center to her clit, nibbling on the small bud before sucking on it harshly. He slides two of his fingers inside her and curls them immediately, petting against her front wall. He grunts and groans against her as she writhes underneath him. It was all too much, but he keeps her there. She clutches at the blankets as she nearly screams as she comes. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before getting a condom.

“Don’t you want me to suck on you before-“

“No, it’s alright.” He rolls the condom on and sits up against the headboard. “Just come sit on me.”

She nods and gets into his lap, sinking down on him slowly. She buries her face in the crook of his neck as he moves her on and off his cock. She knew how to ride dick, and sometimes he’d let her, but she knew he liked to be able to move her himself, so she stopped fighting him on it. Instead, she decides to move her head and kiss him. She sucks on his bottom lip and he squeezes the plushy skin on her hips. For the first time in a while they both weren’t using words while having sex, just moans and whimpers were shared.

“M’gonna come.” He pants.

“Yeah?”

“Need you to come again first.”

She snakes a hand between them to rub her clit as he continues to thrust up into her. They make eye contact through the entire thing. He moans at he comes and so does she. He cups the back of her neck and kisses her. She wraps her arms around him and cards her fingers through his hair. She slowly lifts off of him. She looks around for his shirt and throws it on.

“Just gotta pee, be right back.” She says as she slips out the door.

He discards the condom and puts on a fresh pair of boxers. He sits on the edge of the bed as he waits for her to come back. She comes in and sits down next him.

“Want me to stay or go? I’m fine with either.”

“You can go if you want…are you okay to drive.”

“Yeah, I really didn’t drink that much.” She gets up and tries finding all of her clothes, he sighs and grabs a pair of his joggers.

“Here.”

“You really like giving your clothes out, huh?” She smiles as she takes them. “Thank you, you’re always so sweet, Harry.” She puts them on and grabs her things, slipping her feet into her booties. “This could be a look, don’t you think?” Harry laughs at that and nods.

He walks her to the front door, and for the first time, he doesn’t kiss her goodbye. Not that she seemed to even fucking notice. He needed to take a break from her. He didn’t want to be in a relationship, and she clearly didn’t either, but he liked having sex with her…maybe a little too much. Tomorrow was Sunday, so he could detox for a little bit. If she invited him over during the week he could tell her has homework or something.

Alright, so, Monday night she had texted him, and he stuck to telling her he couldn’t come over, but the conversation didn’t end there. They started texting, and the texts became explicit, and then she CALLED HIM because she wanted to be able to hear him when he came. So, yeah, if Harry wasn’t fucked before, he was now. He thought she was so…cool!

Wednesday before class Harry had to go see his grad advisor, Lilly, to talk about how things were going, and to go over what classes he needed for the spring semester. He checks in at the grad admissions office, and waits to be called in.

“It’s great to see you, Harry.” Lilly smiles as they both have a seat in her office. “Your grade came in for your intensive, congrats on the A.”

“Oh, yeah, I saw that, thanks.”

“Think you’ll do that again? The social media marketing class sometimes offers a section as a weekend intensive.”

“I don’t know if I would want to do it for a class like that, maybe for a different elective, though.”

“Fair enough.” She shrugs. “How’s everything else going? Online classes alright?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty easy, and I like my in person ones too. Really no complaints.”

“Awesome, so, here’s what you should take next semester to stay on track.” She hands him a piece of paper to look over. “Still feeling like the school is a good fit?”

“Yeah! I really like it here. I’m good friends with another international student, or he was a student, Niall Horan? We live about the Yard Dog downtown.”

Lilly nods as if she didn’t already know this from hearing Y/N talk about it. She was a professional, after all.

“I know Niall, yeah, I’m glad you found each other. It’s nice you found that job downtown, Greg’s a good guy.”

“He’s super nice. He’s really showing me what it takes to run a business.”

The two chat a bit longer, and then Harry’s free to go. As he walks down the hall he bumps into someone carrying some folders, and they drop them.

“I’m so sorry!” Harry says and bends down to help clean up.

“No, that was me I was in a rush for…Harry?”

“Y/N?” They both stand up and look at each other. “I had a meeting with my advisor.”

“Oh! That’s right…you worked with Lilly.”

“Yeah.”

“I work with her.”

“I gathered.” He could see her cheeks growing red. “Why were you in a rush?”

“Just…it’s about lunch time and I’m hungry, that’s all.”

“Right.”

“This is weird, yeah?”

“Very.”

“But it shouldn’t be, I see you at work all the time.” He looks her up and down. She looked hot in her business attire.

“Where’s your office?”

“D-down the hall.” She bites her bottom lip. “Do you wanna see it?”

“Yes.”

She nods and has him follow her to her office. It was in the back corner of the building. It was a decent enough size for the work she was doing. There was a small loveseat for visitors. She made it quaint and comfortable, inviting.

“This is nice, Y/N.” He says as he looks around.

“Thank you.” She closes the door and locks it. Next she pulls the shades on the windows. “The building is old and sound travels easily.”

“Guess we’ll have to be quiet then.” He looks down at his watch. “I have twenty minutes and then I have to go to class.”

She nods and steps towards him. He cups her jaw and kisses her. She sighs into it happily. As much as she liked phone sex, she preferred the real thing. Normally, she wasn’t the type to do something so risky in her office, but most people left for lunch, so there wouldn’t be a ton of people around. He sits down on the loveseat and tugs her into his lap. She rolls her hips down on his as he squeezes her ass.

“Do you think we do this too much?” He blurts out as she kisses on his neck.

“What do you mean?” She pouts.

“It’s been a couple of months now…I’m just surprised this hasn’t gotten old for you.”

“Has it gotten old for you?”

“No, not at all.”

“It hasn’t for me either. I really like what we have going. This job is so stressful, and school is stressful, and…you make things less stressful.” She mumbles and runs a hand through his hair. “We don’t have to do anything now if you want, we could just…kiss?”

“Okay.”

“I mean…have you met someone else, is that was this is about?” She looks concerned.

“No…I’m only sleeping with you at the moment.”

“Same here.” She chews on her inner cheek. “Would you tell me if you did sleep with someone else? I think we should be honest about that…”

“I agree, and yeah I would tell you. Would you tell me?”

“Yeah, of course.” She pecks his lips. “I…I’m pretty satisfied so I’m not really out there, like, trying to catch some tail.” She chuckles and so does he. “Must be hard with so many people throwing themselves at you all night, turning them away for me.”

“It’s not hard to tell a drunk a person no, but it’s nice knowing you’re usually waiting for me.”

“So…we’re good?”

“Yeah.”

She smiles and leans back in to kiss him. After a few moments she gets off of him.

“I don’t wanna make you late for class.” She uses her thumb to brush his bottom lip. Some of her lipstick got on him.

“Thanks.” He smirks and stands up.

“Do you wanna come by before your shift?”

“I can’t, I’ll need to take a nap after class, sorry.”

“Oh, right, yeah, that makes sense.”

“Wanna just plan for Friday? I could come by when I get off.”

“I’d like that.”

“You wouldn’t mind waiting up?”

“No.”

He pecks her lips before he goes, and she makes her way to Lilly’s office.

“You have no idea how hard it was talking to him as if I didn’t already know half the shit he was talking about.” She says to Y/N.

“Do you think I’m crazy for not wanting more with him? I mean, he’s going for his grad degree, he’s got a decent enough job, he has aspirations, he’s well traveled, what’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you! You’re twenty-three years old and you’re still figuring your life out. This is your first real job out of school, and you’re still getting the hang of it. You’re working your ass off to get your grad degree…you’re getting great dick, what else do you need?”

“It…it would just be nice to maybe go out for dinner, or go out on a real date for a change. Like, I wonder if he’d ever want to go bowling, you know?”

“So ask him.”

“No, he’d run for the hills.”

“I think he’s a really nice guy, but he seems to be in the same boat as you, Y/N. He’s busy getting his life together.”

“Right, so what the fuck is my problem?”

“Why don’t you find someone to go out on dates with, and still fuck Harry? Or you could hang out with that friend of yours more.”

“Mike? Yeah…you’re right. We have a lot of fun together, I should just hang out with him more.”

Friday evening Y/N goes bowling with Mike, and they have a lot of fun. It was definitely a piece of things she had been missing. Sex was great and all, but sometimes it was nice to just go out and laugh. He asks her if she wants to go to the bar afterwards, but she declines. She decides to take a little nap before Harry comes over. She wakes up to the sound of him knocking on the door. With a yawn, she gets up and opens the door for him.

“Hey.” He smiles.

“Hi.” She wraps her arms around his neck and nuzzles into his chest.

He picks her up and carries her to her room. She needed it soft tonight, he could tell. He knew her mannerisms so well by now.

“How was your night?” He asks as he takes her clothes off.

“Good, I went bowling.” She says as she undoes his belt. “With Mike, it wasn’t a date or anything.”

“Sounds like fun.”

He licks into her mouth and kisses her tenderly. They get onto the bed, and he kneads her breasts. She whimpers from the way his lips wrap around her nipple. His hand slides between her legs and she opens up for him. Two of his fingers slide in and he pumps in and out of her.

“Please, just fuck me, want you.” She looks at him with pleading eyes.

“Do you want me to use a condom?” She shakes her head no at him. “Need you to actually say it, Y/N.”

“No, I don’t want you to use a condom.”

He nods and shifts up her body. She presses on his chest to give her some room, and she rolls onto her stomach. He pushes inside her and leans down so his chest is flush with her back like she likes. He snakes a hand between her and the bed to rub her clit, and he gets a rhythm going.

“Oh fuck.” She moans. “Just like that, shit.”

“You’re so fucking tight.” He groans into her ear. He moves his hips in a circle and she moans out. “Like it when I stretch you like this?”

“Yes, fuck, oh my god.” She starts panting. “I’m so close, Jesus, Harry.” She moans out into her pillows as he keeps thrusting.

“Where do you want me to come?”

“Inside me, please, fill me up.”

With a couple of quick thrusts he comes inside her, filling her to the brim. He kisses her back and pulls out.

“Harry, will you stay tonight?”

“Yeah, course.”

She nods and gets up to use the bathroom. Once she’s all cleaned up, he goes to use it, and then they get into bed together. She lays her head on his chest, and he keeps an arm around her.

“You know, I love bowling.” He says and she looks up at him.

“Really?”

“Sure, what’s more fun than having a couple of beers and throw a ball at some pins?” She laughs at that and nods.

“Not much.” She bites her bottom lip. “What else do you for fun?”

“Um, I really like going to the movies when I can. I feel like I haven’t had much of a social life in a while, you know, to do those types of things.”

“I like going to the movies too. Do you ever miss going to a bar for yourself?”

“Sometimes. More so just to hang out with friends, but I work with some really cool people. Sometimes we’ll all get together after a shift to hang out.”

“Harry…I…I really like having sex with you, like, it’s incredible, but…”

“I’d like to stay for breakfast tomorrow.” He looks down at her. “We never eat together, and I know why. We can go somewhere if you don’t have any breakfast food, but I think it would be nice if we did that.”

“I have plenty here, I love breakfast food.”

“Me too.”

“So you wanna make it together and all that?”

“I think it could be fun, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I think it could be fun.”

#harry styles #regular thing #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #bouncerry #bouncer!harry

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miedemamadness · 3 years

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Vivianne Miedema: Dissecting the best strikers at Euro 2020 - The Athletic

There is an incredible variety among Europe’s top strikers at the moment, and that is reflected at Euro 2020. If you take the top goalscorers from the major European leagues, and then compare them to each other, they’re completely different players. It’s Harry Kane in England, Robert Lewandowski in Germany, Kylian Mbappe in France, and Cristiano Ronaldo in Italy. They’re all big names, but stylistically there is huge diversity.

I’ve always studied attacking players to try to improve myself. Growing up, I wasn’t really exposed to much women’s football, so I watched a lot of forwards from the men’s game. When you’re young, you have your idols. Mine was Robin van Persie. To this day, I try to examine players to understand what they do — movement-wise, technique-wise, tactics-wise.

Ronaldo’s record speaks for itself. He is now the top goalscorer in men’s European Championship history. After his two penalties against France last night, he has matched Ali Daei as the highest ever goalscorer in international football. Any footballer, at any level, can benefit from watching him.

I don’t think he gets enough credit for how he’s adapted his game over the years. I went back and did some research on his career — it feels like in every single season he made little tweaks to his game.

We all remember him at Manchester United. I was young then, but I still remember that excitable right winger taking people on, dribbling with the ball and shooting from outside the box. After a couple of years in Madrid, he converted himself into almost a second nine, just to the left of Karim Benzema.

Look back at his goals then: his striking ability and the power he generates is so good. He doesn’t need to put disguise on his shots, because he connects so well. Even if the goalkeeper knows where it’s going, he can’t get there.

But Ronaldo didn’t stop there. He continued evolving. When he went to Juventus, he started playing out on the left wing. He began dribbling again, and having a wider influence on the game. He was playing off a target man in Mario Mandzukic or Alvaro Marata, and then you saw something else happening to his game. It wasn’t just about goalscoring anymore, it was about creating too. To still be developing and changing at his age is pretty unique.

You can see that evolution in his physique too. He’s gone through such different stages. Once he got to Madrid, he really bulked up. He looked very strong, but his top speed was probably lower than it is right now. This summer he looks a little leaner, and he is flying.

We all saw his blistering run to score against Germany, covering 97 metres at 32 km per hour. To do that at 36 is incredible, but it wasn’t a surprise to me — I noticed that in one of the warm-up friendlies against Spain, he sprinted 60 metres in just seven seconds. That’s 32 km per hour. He’s doing this consistently.

He’s taken his game to a new level by making little physical adaptations. He’s worked out what he needs to do to make the difference on the pitch.

I try to do that myself. When we went into lockdown, I had four months training away from the Arsenal squad, trying to keep myself fit. I decided to work on running in-behind, to add a different dimension to my game. I was locked down with Lisa Evans, who is naturally super-quick and has always had that ability. We worked on it together so I could begin to introduce it to my play. Two years ago, I couldn’t have run behind 10 times in a match because I would have torn my hamstring! But now, when I see the opportunity, I can do it.

Of course, you need to have the stamina. Against Hungary, Ronaldo scored two goals in the last five minutes. That shows how mentally and physically sharp he still is.

His second goal against Hungary was not one of his most spectacular. Going through one-on-one, just a few yards out, he shaped to shoot before dummying past the Hungarian goalkeeper, Peter Gulacsi. It looked easy. It looked simple.

For a fellow forward, however, it was beautiful in its efficiency. The little touch he took to go around the keeper — how many other strikers would even try that? People say moments like that come from practising on the training ground, but that’s not right. This isn’t something you can learn in training, it’s something you pick up during your career. It’s something you earn through experience. It’s a sixth sense of knowing what to do in front of goal.

Ronaldo doesn’t panic. He knows that by taking it around the keeper, he turns a 50-50 chance into a 100 per cent goal. His instincts are perfectly attuned, his mind in perfect connection with his body. People say he is robotic. That’s not right either: you can only produce a piece of skill like that if you truly feel football.

When you’re analysing strikers, you can almost separate the tactical, technical and physical qualities of each player. Take Lewandowski and Romelu Lukaku, for example — there is a huge difference in style, but they’re both so effective.

I’ve watched a lot of Bundesliga this season, and Lewandowski — who scored two outstanding, and very different, goals against Sweden last night to keep his country in with a chance of getting out of the group — has such an instinctive understanding of where to be in the box. He scored 41 goals in 29 games — crazy numbers.

Yes, part of that is about knowing where the ball will drop, but it’s also about reacting to what other players do. That’s the difficult bit: you have to know your team-mates, and know your opponent — that’s what enables you to anticipate quicker than anybody else.

When I was at Bayern, Lewandowski was there too. I watched him train. He plays fully focused, all of the time. His concentration is unbelievable: even in the four-on-fours and seven-a-sides, you can see him looking at where the ball could end up. When a team-mate has a shot, his eyes aren’t on that player — they’re already looking at the goal, and anticipating where the ball might ricochet. It gives him a split-second before anyone else moves. The goals look simple, but when you break down all the work that goes into them, they’re far from it.

He does it so naturally. Personally, I don’t think of myself as a pure goalscorer in that way, I’m more of a creator. I’m always telling people I’m not a “nine” — but I score a lot of goals, so no-one believes me. Ciro Immobile is another predator who has shone in this tournament. He scored from outside the box against Switzerland, but it’s his goal against Turkey that sums him up: inside the area, first to react, first to the ball.

Lukaku is a different type entirely. His physique is something else. He’s got the body; he’s got the speed. The moment he faces forward and he runs at you, you’ve got absolutely no chance. He achieves such separation, so easily.

I love how he’s proven people wrong. When he was at United, people took the mick out of his first touch — but look at the way he’s played this season. His recent record for Belgium is absolutely ridiculous: 23 goals in his last 21 games.

Again, he deserves credit for the way he has evolved physically. I’m not saying he was overweight at Manchester United, but he didn’t have the same physique he has right now. For such a big guy, he’s now able to turn very quickly. You see that in his dribbling — he has such flexibility. He’s adding things to his game, and is a completely different player these days.

His athleticism means you can play him upfront alone, and he can run in behind time after time for the whole 90 minutes. You need that in this tournament — especially with so many teams playing a back five. When you’re up against three centre-backs, there’s obviously a lot less space for the striker. Personally, I hate playing against five at the back. To thrive, you need to engage your tactical brain.

There are different ways you can combat a back five: if they play a high block, like Russia tried to do against Belgium, you need the No 9 to make diagonal runs across the lateral centre-backs. It pulls them deeper and disrupts the line. Look at Lukaku’s two goals in that game — they both come from that very run.

If the defence sit in deeper, like Scotland did against England, then sometimes the striker really needs to pull one of the three centre-backs out. That can mean the No 9 coming back into midfield to drag his marker with him, enabling a No 10 or wide forward to run in behind. Kane has been criticised for playing deep, but tactically it’s the right move. His quality is on the ball, he needs to be involved — the issue is that, with England, he doesn’t have the same understanding he does with someone like Son Heung-min at Spurs. When he drops in, there isn’t the same movement in-behind. England are still a developing team, and those relationships aren’t there yet.

France are still trying to find the right balance too. For pure talent, few countries can match the trio of Mbappe, Benzema and Antoine Griezmann. The question is whether they can develop the relationships on the field quickly enough. Benzema joined the group late — though there are signs it may be clicking.

If it does, I’ll be watching. I’m still only 24. There’s still a lot to learn, and I believe I can still get better. Studying your contemporaries can only help you do that. At 36, Ronaldo is proof that the process never stops: keep observing, keep evolving, keep improving.

#vivianne miedema #arsenal women #arsenal wfc #womens football #football #euro 2020 #dutch #oranje leeuwinnen #arsenal #harry kane #romelu lukaku #ronaldo #robert lewandowski

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kittypryde-bipride · 3 years

Text

five times percy leaned on his friends, and the one time he stood alone

Percy stands with Jason at what might’ve been the end of the world and his hands tremble.

He feels so much – the sea roiling in pain, responding to his inner fury; the earth lying dormant, having just lost its master – but when he looks at his friend, he just feels numb. Jason’s uncertain, afraid to touch him, as frail as he is still after Tartarus and this last fight, but too kind to leave him alone.

“Are you alright?” He murmurs, putting his arm around Percy’s shoulder and slowly lowering them to the ground together.

Percy’s bare hands touch the ground and his fingers dig into the dirt. He’d unmake the world if he could undo the last hour. He’d let Gaea win.

He doesn’t say this though- there’s too many gods lingering on the scene for honesty. “She’s dead,” is what he settles for. He thinks Jason gets the message.

“Leo’s gone, too.”

Percy looks to his friend and frowns. There are unshed tears in both their eyes- Percy thinks heroes shouldn’t cry, not after a battle they’ve survived, and wonders what he could’ve done better. “I don’t think we won.”

“No,” Jason agrees. “I don’t think we did. The gods did, though.”

Percy snorts, his throat burning at the movement, and he shakes his head. “What will you do next?”

“Keep fighting their battles, I suppose. Pretend like this meant something.”

“You think it didn’t?” Percy asks, his tone cautious- wary of those who might be listening, judging their all too mortal saviors.

Jason just stares at the scene around them. The Parthenon is burning. Neither of them have moved to put it out, with either the sea or rain, and it’s clear the gods themselves couldn’t be bothered.

“We were already the children of prophecy,” he says. “This shouldn’t have happened. I think we chose wrong.”

Percy thinks the brief time all seven of them were together on the ship. Some of them – Hazel, Frank, Leo, Piper – were too young to know better. But him and Jason? Annabeth? They were old enough to know these gods are not just. They were old enough to survive- would’ve survived, if things had been a little different.

He thinks to how no gods stepped forward to save Annabeth when she fell, and wonders if they sensed their disillusionment.

If this is a warning, it’s a dangerous one.

“This did mean something,” Percy replies, closing his eyes. He can feel every drop of water for miles- the sea, the ocean, the sweat on his fellow heroes. He digs his fingers into the earth until they bleed, feels his blood mix deep in the soil, can sense miles underground to its now broken core. He inhales and can practically taste the stench of blood in the air, can hear the pulse of every living being left on the battlefield, can see the golden ichor coursing through the veins of the gods. “This proved that we can fight side by side with the gods, and come out stronger.”

He leans his head against Jason and they gather clouds in the sky, summoning a storm. Rain pours down on them and Percy doesn’t feel weak anymore.

---

“I couldn’t protect her,” Percy confesses darkly to Grover, staring at a burnt shroud. The rest of the crowd has long-dispersed.

Most of the campers they’d been close to died in the Battle of New York. Piper and Jason are on a quest. Hazel, Frank, Nico, and Reyna are back in New Rome. Chiron is too weary to stay.

“It’s not your fault, Perce,” Grover says quietly, not making eye contact.

Percy shakes his head. His fist tightens and he has to consciously stop the earth from shaking in response. “I could’ve stopped it if I’d been paying attention. I’m strong enough.”

“If the gods couldn’t save her, there was nothing you could’ve done-” Grover tries to assuage him, but Percy knows better than to trust false reassurances.

“You don’t know what I can do.” The sky darkens at his cockiness and he grins up at it, all bared teeth and no joy. He wishes they’d throw the first punch. He thinks maybe they already have.

Grover grabs ahold of his arm, then tugs him into a close hug. “I can still tell when you’re upset, Perce. What’s wrong?” Percy stares at his friend incredulously and Grover sighs. “You’re right, that was kind of dumb of me, but you know what I meant. What you’re feeling isn’t normal grief.”

“What happened wasn’t normal,” Percy retorts harshly. His friend flinches and his resolve weakens- he doesn’t want to hurt what’s left of his loved ones. He just also can’t tell them the truth. “I’m sorry, I just- I could’ve saved her. They could’ve saved her. It- they were sending me a warning. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“Fixating on the dead isn’t healthy,” Grover says solemnly, eyes downcast. “She wouldn’t have wanted this for you.”

“Yeah, well,” Percy laughs bitterly and turns away. The earth grabs at him every time he takes a step, longing to be closer to their new master. He’s taken to walking barefoot. “I don’t think she would’ve wanted a lot of what happened. I doubt she liked either prophecy. Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

“Perce,” Grover warns, but Percy continues.

“Doesn’t mean she didn’t die. Doesn’t mean the gods haven’t fucked us over every time they got the chance.” The mud beneath them is sliding towards his ankles and he lets the cool earth calm him- not yet, it seems to caution. It can’t lose another master so soon.

Grover is too focused on Percy to notice the slow-moving ground beneath them. “No one angry with the gods ever wins,” he reminds his friend. “The combined Titans couldn’t beat them. Gaea, a primordial, couldn’t defeat them. Luke died fighting them.”

“I wouldn’t die, if I challenged them,” Percy says quietly and his old friend freezes, panicked. The sky rumbles and Percy forces himself to laugh- wildly, freely, like he would’ve before his anchor to this world was ripped away.

“Ah, man, don’t joke about things like that,” Grover says nervously, eyeing the still angry sky. “No need to tempt fate.”

Percy grins bitterly and pushes down the empathy link- there’s no need for Grover to get caught up in further conflict. He doesn’t need to know what side his friend would choose, after so much time apart. “Sorry. Won’t happen again.”

---

Tyson walks with him on the bottom of the ocean floor towards their dad’s palace and Percy keeps his posture relaxed- he’s just visiting family, after all, no deeper motive.

“Father’s made all kinds of improvements to the castle since Gaea was defeated,” his brother says enthusiastically. “He’s locked the foundation in deeper to the seabed, cementing our stability, and he’s uncovered a whole new kind of rock under the surface. We’re mining it for new weapons.”

“Weapons for gods?” Percy asks curiously. “Is it that strong?”

Tyson nods. “Oh, yes. And it can only be forged in our deepest caves, with lava taken directly from the center of the earth.”

Percy fights down a surge of protective anger – he felt when they reached that deep, felt them steal from the already aching, unrecovered earth, though he hadn’t known what the interference was then – and smiles brightly instead. “Wow, that’s super cool! Have you been helping with any of that?”

“I’m the General of Father’s army,” Tyson responds proudly. “Of course I’m involved in the new weapon. We have to be careful of how much we touch it, though- it hurts anything not strong enough to handle it. I touched it and it burned my hand.” He rubs his arm, visibly remembering it- it must’ve been something terrible for that visceral of a response.

Percy grabs Tyson, then sends water to wrap around the scar, cooling and healing it. When he’s done, there’s not even a mark left.

Tyson gasps and looks at it excitedly, then pulls Percy into a bear hug. “Even Father couldn’t do that!” He bursts out. “You’ve grown very strong. Thank you.”

“It’s not problem,” Percy replies easily. They step through the pearly gates of Poseidon’s castle and Percy starts feeling out the terrain, paying attention to how the castle fits into the earth and how the sea feels protective over its inhabitants. “Damn, this does look impressive.”

Tyson looks at him confused. “You can’t even see most of our changes yet!”

“Guess I’m just so confident in what you can do,” Percy easily side-steps his question and keeps walking through the halls.

The whole castle is well-reinforced and surrounded in its element, but even the best-made structures can tumble down- look at the last couple hundred years of the Olympian’s influence, after all. It’s strong, but Percy’s willing to bet he’s stronger. Even if he can’t control more of the sea than his father, he can use the ocean floor and direct line to the earth’s core to wreak havoc- and that new weapon sounds like it was made for him to yield.

Poseidon’s always been a critical part of the gods’ offense and defense. Percy’s prepared to destroy him first, when the time comes.

He turns to his brother and high-fives him. “You’ll have to show me when you finish that weapon- I bet it’s gonna look so cool. Show me your room?”

Tyson cheerfully guides him to the housing part of the palace and Percy pushes down his guilt. This has to be done, and he’s resigned to be the one to do it- he’s got nothing left to lose, thanks to the gods.

---

Percy grabs the half-full bottle out of Thalia’s hands and pours it onto the ground.

“Hey,” she slurs, angry. “That’s a waste of some perfectly good whiskey.”

“And you’re fifteen,” Percy says smugly. “You’re a little young to be drinking that much.”

She glares at him and crosses her arms. “I’m older than you and you know it!”

Percy snorts. “You don’t look it. Don’t tell me Artemis lets the twelve-year-olds on the Hunt drink like that?”

She looks down and some of her defiance melts into repressed pain. “Yeah, well. Special circumstances and all that. Guess there’s some benefit to a dead kid brother.”

Percy’s casual combativeness crumbles alongside her own- he can sense the tears welling in her eyes and he decides not to mention it. “What happened?” He asks quietly- respectfully.

Thalia clenches her fists- she hasn’t stopped trying to mask her grief with rage. Percy knows the feeling far too well. “Apollo dragged him on a quest. Something about a prophecy. Helping him while he’s mortal. Jason didn’t make it back.”

“I’m not surprised he went,” Percy says. “It’s hard to find rest, when you’ve been at war that long.”

She laughs bitterly and shakes her head. “He shouldn’t have been on that quest. Artemis told me- he wasn’t named in it. He wasn’t needed for it. Why couldn’t they leave him be?”

“They knew he’d say yes,” Percy offers, shrugging. “They asked me and I said that I don’t do that kind of thing anymore.”

Thalia whips around to glare at him, practically snarling. Her tears are falling now. “You’re the reason he was on that quest? You’re the reason he died?”

Percy frowns at her- he must’ve gotten scarier sometime recently, because it’s enough to make her falter. “The gods are the reason he died. They shouldn’t have asked him to do that. But Jason wanted all those prophecies to mean something, in the end. He would’ve died on some quest, sooner or later.”

“Sometimes-,” Thalia starts, her voice thick with some pained emotion. “Sometimes, I want to tear apart the whole system. I- I want to leave the Hunters and march up to Olympus and murder my father with my own bare hands.” Percy raises his eyebrows and she lets out a sob. “How dare they take my brother from me and all I get for it is a measly bottle of booze? This isn’t fair, Perce, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it-”

The sky thunders and Percy smiles carefully at her. The ground beneath them is hollow, aching, craving- he pushes down the urge to act. “I’d be wary of who listens, if I were you. Jason wasn’t. I wasn’t.” Her eyes go wide and he hushes her. “Don’t fight the gods unless you’re sure you can win. Are you sure?” She hesitates, just for a moment, and he grins knowingly. “Right. I don’t want to lose another friend- don’t make me, okay?”

She looks up at him and sniffs- this is the most broken down he’s ever seen her. It’s a sign of how few of their friends are left, if she’s letting him see her this weak.

“You said Jason said yes because he didn’t remember how to rest,” Thalia says finally, slowly. “But you said no. How- how did you find a way to rest?”

He looks her in the eye carefully and thinks- if he’s ever wanted an ally, now’s his chance. But he won’t drag someone innocent down with him in this crusade, can’t brand someone else as a villain, not until he’s sure he can protect them too. He’s loyal to his friends and his ideals and to the dead, so he’ll save them all in every way he can.

Sea green eyes meet electric blue and when he smiles, it’s all sharp teeth. “Who says I have?”

---

He and Clarisse fight back-to-back against the latest rush of monsters trying to invade Camp Half-Blood- they’re the only ones of their caliber left here, since everyone who could moved to the Roman camp to try and start their lives in peace.

He and Clarisse are too independent, too angry, too restless to be happy there.

In another life, Percy and Annabeth could’ve thrived in a domestic town in New Rome, but it’s too late for him now.

When it’s over, they sit outside the camp border listlessly. Threats like this barely faze them anymore.

Percy’s back at the camp for the first time in a few months and he’s been happy to catch up with Clarisse- she’s had to rise up in the absence of other camp leadership, and she’s done an admirable job. Even so, he’s not here without an agenda: he’s desperately searching for one reason not to carry out his plan; for something to stop him before he can’t take it back.

“How’s it been, sticking around here so long?” Percy breaks the silence finally. She knocks elbows with him and shrugs.

“Same old, same old. Young kids come in and need guidance. Mr. D’s gone and Chiron’s struggling, after everything that’s been happening, so I’ve been picking up some of that slack.” She grins at him, loose and familiar in a nostalgic way, and Percy’s reminded of camp meetings with Katie and Travis, Lee and Castor, Beckendorf and Silena. Annabeth. It’s just the two of them left now. “You could help out with it all too, if you wanted to come back. Getting sick of being a city-slicker again, Jackson?”

Percy smiles tightly at her. “I don’t know if the camp life is for me, anymore. I don’t think there’s a lot holding me here these days.”

“That’s fair,” Clarisse concedes. “But I see all these new faces in Ares cabin, each and every year, and I feel like I’m making a difference. Showing those suckers how to survive, how to go back home like I never could.”

“There’s no one in my cabin,” Percy says. “Would I really make a difference here?” And if he could, he’ll stay- he’ll stop all his plans, turn back on every heretical idea he’s had in the past year, dive headfirst into whatever will best help his fellow demigods. He and Jason are the same in more ways than one: they’ve played the hero so long that all they know is to be selfless for their people.

It’s just- Percy doesn’t think playing the good demigod will help anyone but the gods; and he hasn’t been loyal to them for a long time.

“Of course, you would,” Clarisse answers. “You’re practically a legend around here, you know- everyone hears about your quests and want to be the next to get a prophecy, to meet the gods.”

Percy feels the ground beneath them and he frowns. He’s in so, so deep, and he’s so, so broken, just like the earth. “I don’t want them to be blindly loyal to the gods, Clarisse.”

“Alright,” she mutters, clearly surprised by his intensity. “Well, you wouldn’t have to do that, I guess- maybe just show them how to have a life outside here? Tell them about how you’ve kept up with your family, how Sally’s doing-”

“My mother’s dead,” Percy interjects. It’s the one secret he’s kept for too a long time and now that he’s let it out, he’s made his decision on the fate of the gods- it feels real. “I went to their apartment after everything was over and a monster got her and Paul. She’s been dead since before we beat the Giants. While I was missing.”

Clarisse freezes, stunned and unsure of what to do. “Jackson, I-”

He stands and brushes off his jeans, then turns to face her. “It’s been good catching up.”

“No, wait, I-”

“I’ll see you again soon, probably,” he smirks and then starts laughing- it’s the first genuine one in a while and it tears out unbidden. He can’t stop it. He starts walking away and his feet sink deeper with each step, the earth swallowing him- protecting him. “May the best side win?”

---

Percy meets his friends on the battlefield and they all know he’s unbeatable, even alone. And he is alone, even with the sea and the earth and the blessing of the Styx and the blood in their veins- he can tell they think he’s gone as mad as Luke.

He lets them attack, the demigods who’ve been called up out of their retirement like he knew they would be – Frank and Clarisse’s blades reflect off his invulnerable skin, the earth won’t respond to Hazel’s commands, Nico’s skeletal armies are crumbling, Piper’s words can’t sway him, Grover’s plants can’t breach the ground to touch him – and

He lets them attack, the demigods who’ve been called abruptly out of their retirement like he knew they would be. Frank and Clarisse’s swords bounce off his invulnerable skin, unable to find his weak point. Grover presents a call to arms to the trees, but they can’t breach the ground to come near him. Nico’s skeletal armies crumble to dust as the water in the air erodes them. Hazel sinks into the earth with Piper by her side, trying to sneak up on him, but the earth protects him and traps them, half-buried.

He weathers it all until the gods arrive.

Tyson stands behind their father, face drawn in betrayal and horror, the newly forged weapon in his gloved hand. Percy holds out his arm – senses the earth in it, the metal mined from the ground and the lava it was bathed in – and summons it to him. He hefts the monumental longsword in his hand and even if the rest of the gods don’t know what this is, there’s fear in Poseidon’s eyes- he wonders what his dad would look like if he knew his precious castle has already crumbled, eaten by the ravenous earth.

He surveys the battlefield now that the demigods have fallen back, behind the gods, and sees Thalia standing behind Artemis. She looks conflicted, but too tired to make a stand- he’d known she wouldn’t stand up for him if it came to blows, not after everyone she’s lost in a fight. He thinks she’ll support him once he wins.

Percy closes his eyes, breathes in the stink of the fight, and he can sense everything: the ground beneath their feet, vapor in the sky, the sweat on their skin. The ichor in the veins of the gods.

He opens his eyes, sees them rushing towards him to try and defeat him, and clenches his fists. The ichor bursts and the gods fall- it was a great show of hubris from them, to even believe they could stand a chance against him.

He stares at his friend’s terrified expressions and laughs brightly, one last time. He’d been willing to martyr himself for this cause and he doesn’t quite care what happens now- he’s more than done his part to save the world. It’s up to them.

He sinks deep into the earth, letting it take him, and decides whoever wants to find him can come to him. Until then, he can finally rest.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28535157

#pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #bamf percy jackson #dark percy #ao3

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synmorite · 3 years

Text

Still a Brat

Summary: It’s Sammy’s turn with the brat.

Word Count: 1855

Warnings: 18+ only, language, gagging, light bondage, fingering, voyeurism, sloppy seconds, unprotected p in v, rough sex, talk of wincest, breeding kink, mentions of m/m anal sex, orgasm denial, m/m kissing, hair pulling

A/N: This… did not go the way I expected it to.

A/N2: Thank you so much to @negans-lucille-tblr and @writethelifeyouwant for nominating Brat for the Spnfanfic Pond's Angel awards! 🥰And thanks to @hoboal87 for being a bad influence (though we're both bad influences on each other, I think.😏) And tagging @fandomfic-galore who wants to read this filth of mine.

~~~

Dean had barely pulled out of her before he walked into the bathroom and got into the shower. Claire rolled over onto her back and was still trying to catch her breath when the motel room door opened and Sam entered. A smirk formed as he gazed over Claire, noting the light sheen of sweat covering her skin, the bruises beginning to form on her hips, and his brother’s cum dripping from her abused hole.

“Looks like it’s my turn.” He said as he shut the door.

Claire couldn’t help herself. She needed to be bratty. "I dunno, Sam. Dean fucked me pretty good. Not sure you could do better." She trailed a hand down her body to her folds. Swiping a couple of fingers through the mess that Dean left, she brought them back up to her mouth and licked them clean. Sam raised an eyebrow at her before reaching down and grabbing a piece of cloth from the floor. He walked over to her and shoved her own panties into her mouth. He yanked his belt off and grabbed her wrists in one large hand before wrapping the leather around them and securing the other end to the headboard.

Sam smiled wolfishly at Claire all stretched out and gagged on the bed.

“That’s so much better now. Not quite as bratty when you’re tied down and silent, are you?”

Sam stepped back from the bed and stripped his clothes off. His cock was longer than Dean’s while Dean had more girth. He was also harder than Dean had been when they started, but Sam always got turned on more when he had someone tied up and at his mercy.

He reached forward and dipped his fingers into her hole to gather some of Dean’s cum and her slick. He wiped the mixture onto his cock and then started to pump up and down slowly.

“Now, you can be a good girl, can’t you, baby girl? You remember that good girls don’t cum until I say you can, right?”

Claire nodded.

“And I think that tonight, you should wait until I’m cumming before you cum. You think you can do that for me, baby girl?”

Her eyes widened. He’d never made her hold out so long before.

“I think you can be good for me and hold off.” He reached forward with his free hand and ran it up the smooth pale skin of her leg, still watching her.

She nodded hesitantly and Sam smiled.

“Such a good girl for me.”

Sam climbed up onto the bed and ran his hand down her chest, over her belly until he was cupping her mound. Slowly, he teased his middle finger down between her folds and around her clit. She was still sensitive from when Dean fucked her. She groaned at the feeling, knowing that she was going to have trouble holding off her climax for so long. Sam liked to make her wait to orgasm while Dean liked her to have multiple. He slipped his fingers lower and pushed a couple of them into her tight channel. She whined at the full feeling.

The door to the bathroom opened and steam wafted out as Dean walked out with a towel around his waist. He looked over and saw Sam playing with Claire. He grinned and sat down on the edge of the other bed to watch.

“I see you found the present I left for you.” He said.

Sam quickly grew tired of playing with her and pulled her legs apart before settling in between them. He lined himself up and started to push into her.

“You didn’t open her up enough, Dean.” Sam grunted as he continued pushing his length into Claire’s hole.

“I did, she’s just tight as fuck, Sammy.” Dean replied with a smirk. “Besides, I left plenty of cum in there. That should help ya to slide right in.”

Sam finally bottomed out with an exhale. Claire was breathing deeply through her nose at how deep Sam was inside her.

“She’s almost as tight as you are, Dean.” Sam panted out.

“Doesn’t he feel good, Claire? So big, right? Sammy knows just what to do with that cock of his to leave you squirming.” Dean tugged the towel off as he gripped his cock.

Sam carefully pulled out before thrusting back in sharply. Claire grunted out. It was a bit painful, but both she and Sam knew she could take it.

Sam watched her face before saying, “Maybe I should fuck a baby into you, Claire. Maybe you’d stop being a brat and learn some responsibility then.”

Claire clenched as she let out a whimper around the gag. Sam smirked down at her. “You like that, don’t you? Such a little whore who wants to be fucked full of our cum.” She felt Sam slide in and out easier as she got wetter. Now that Claire was more relaxed, Sam got into a steady rhythm.

Dean was sitting on the edge of the other bed, watching as Sam fucked into Claire with sharp thrusts, the sound of skin slapping and small grunts and moans from them echoing through the otherwise quiet room. His hand squeezed and slid over his own cock as he watched the muscles in Sam’s stomach tense with every thrust. Sam glanced over at Dean and saw him breathing in short pants and his cock weeping precum.

“Didn’t get enough when you fucked her, Dean?”

Dean’s eyes flickered up to Sam’s face before going back to where Sam’s cock was moving in and out of Claire.

“She’s not as good as you are, Sammy.”

Sam barked out a laugh. “Hear that, brat? Dean prefers his brother fucking him over fucking you.”

Claire moaned as thoughts of Sam fucking Dean filled her head.

“Shit, she just got wetter.” Sam breathed. “Maybe we should let you watch sometime, baby girl? Would you like that?”

Claire nodded frantically as she clenched around Sam again and whimpered.

“Course we’d have to tie you down. Can’t have you touching yourself to our little show, could we? Cause that would just be naughty. What type of person gets off on watching two brothers fuck, huh? Sounds like someone who’s a brat to me.”

Claire could feel the coil tighten in her belly even more. She was trying so hard to hold on, but it was a battle she was beginning to think she might lose. Claire knew the brothers fucked, but the chance to actually watch them? Just thinking about it was bringing her so much closer to her end. She could feel herself right on the edge.

“I can feel that you’re close. But you know the rules. You don’t cum till I do. I want to feel you as I cum deep inside this pussy of yours.” Sam pulled back and sat back onto his heels. She whined at the loss of him. He yanked on Claire’s legs until her ass was settled onto his thighs and shoved himself back inside her with a grunt. The momentary break was just enough to pull her back from the edge and the angle changed just enough to give her a little bit of relief.

“Get over here, Dean. I want to look at you while I fuck her.”

Oh no. She thought. She thought Sam was being merciful, but he was making it so much worse.

Dean got up quickly and moved onto the bed by Claire’s head. He positioned himself so his cock was pointed over her chest. Claire whimpered again at the close proximity of Dean as well now. Her eyes focused on his hard cock as he continued to stroke it over her. She wanted to take him into her mouth and taste him, but she was still bound and gagged. She was nothing more than a pussy for Sam to fuck at the moment. Seeing movement from above her, Claire watched as the brothers’ lips met and moved together. They were so perfectly in sync that she clenched around Sam’s cock. He moaned a little in Dean’s mouth which only spurred Dean to pull on his own cock harder.

“C’mon baby boy. I know you want to cum all over her.” Sam whispered against his brother’s lips as he thrust even harder and deeper into Claire. She felt tears leaking down from her eyes as she desperately tried to hold off her climax. Sam glanced at her as he could feel her pussy fluttering around his length. Sam moved one of his hands from her thigh up to Dean’s head and grabbed a fistful of hair before smashing his lips against Dean’s and licking into his mouth.

Dean cried out at the sudden roughness and began to cum in thick spurts over Claire’s chest. The noise pushed Sam into his climax just as Claire lost her battle against her own. Sam pushed in deep as Claire’s legs trembled around him and her vision whited out. As Sam gave a last couple of slow thrusts and Claire tried to get air through her nose, Dean flopped down on the bed next to her with a grunt. Claire winced as Sam pulled out of her before reaching forward and pulling her panties from her mouth so she could breathe more easily. Sam dropped them to the floor and went into the bathroom. She heard water running before Sam shut it off and came back out with a damp washcloth. He walked over to Claire and tugged his belt loose from around her wrists. She brought her wrists down and rubbed them where they were red from her pulling while Sam cleaned her up as best he could. She knew that she’d be leaking both brothers’ cum for a while. She sat up, and Sam frowned as he saw her wrists.

“Sorry, baby girl. Didn’t mean to make them so tight. You okay?”

Claire smirked up at him. “I still could’ve gotten out of them, cowboy. I only stayed tied up and gagged cause I wanted to be.”

Dean snored loudly from next to Claire and Sam snorted at him.

“Such an old man. Passing out so quickly.” Claire said as she rolled her eyes.

“I ‘eard that.” Dean grunted before rolling over and tucking a pillow under his head.

Sam smiled at his big brother.

“So, uh… would you really let me watch? You know… you two… together?” Claire asked timidly.

Sam looked over at her in surprise. “You really want to? Like I know that you know we fuck, but it’s different actually seeing it, isn’t it?”

Claire shrugged. “Sounds hot. Seems like it could lead to a lot of fun.” She smirked at him.

“Uh, yeah, sure I guess. I’m sure Dean would be into it.”

You heard a muffled “yup” come from Dean, and Sam laughed.

“Then sure, you can watch us sometime.”

Claire grinned. “Awesome. Just, maybe, give me some time to recover from tonight.”

Sam smirked at her. “Oh, trust me baby girl, there’s no amount of time you can ever take to recover enough from us.”

Part 3- Worth It>>>

#Sam x Claire #Sam x Claire x Dean #smut #hints of Wincest #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural #synmorite #synmoritewrites

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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

Text

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 7

So this chapter is in Ivar’s POV. Kind of a glimpse as to see what is going on with him. Plus, its a great excuse to write some Floki/Ivar interaction.

Warnings: swearing, implied violence, Ivar having boundary issues but that’s not new.

Words: 4550

Tag List: @heavenly1927 @youbloodymadgenius @zuxiezendler @punkrocknpearls @love-all-things-writing @southernbe

Series Masterlist

"There you are, you crippled bastard. I've been looking everywhere."

Ivar smirked, exhaling the cigarette smoke from his mouth, not even turning his gaze from the lights of the city beneath him. "How did you get up here? I thought your old, lazy ass wouldn't be able to handle it."

Floki scoffed as he moved to stand next to his protégé. "Old, lazy ass. I may be old but I could still kick your ass if I wanted too."

Wordlessly, Ivar pulled out his cigarette carton from his suit’s pocket, taking one out and handing it to Floki. He grabbed his lighter and held it out, open palm. When Floki did not immediately take it, he glanced over to see one of the people he trusted most, staring down at the cigarette spinning between his fingers.

"I won't tell Helga."

Floki giggled. "You're a bad influence on me, boy." He took the lighter and lit his cigarette, handing it back over after.

The two stood silently for several minutes, leaning against the railing, overlooking the city. They were at the Ragnarssons Trading headquarters, one of the taller buildings in the heart of the city. The sound of humanity floated away to a hushed background noise with how high up they stood. The upper floors of the building were restricted access, being the main offices and meeting rooms of Ragnar, his sons and others deemed important. The lower floors housed the cesspool of asinine insubordinates, those that did their limited jobs and were easily replaced. Ivar avoided those floors, not just because of the stares, or the twittering females and few males who vied for attention from the Ragnarssons in hopes of snatching one up or thinking sleeping with them as an easy way to further their careers. No, he found them all boring and beneath him. With a single look, he knew what many of them wanted, they were so easy to read, to know their simple minds. It was pathetic.

So, when he did come to the headquarters, he immediately headed to the upper floors. He had an office next to Torstein that he used infrequently. Most of his work he could do remotely, a blessing due to his condition and his volatile temperament. When he had work that needed extra cyber security or to delve deeper into concerns, having the multiple monitors at his office and the ability to search out his father or brothers immediately came in handy.

The roof of the building was his favorite place to think and plan. No one came up here but more than that, he could see everything. The city, the surrounding water, everything. He wondered if this was what the gods felt like looking down on Midgard from Valhalla.

Ivar exhaled, the curl of smoke slipping from his lips. "Are you coming to the meeting?"

Floki ran a hand over his tattooed head. "Your father asked for me to come."

"Mmmm. Know what it's about?"

"Probably the same old boring shit."

They chuckled, still staring over the city. Out of the corner of his eye, Ivar could see Floki tug uncomfortably on the black business suit he wore. The only reason the shipbuilder ever wore anything remotely formal was when Ragnar demanded it….and coming to the headquarters fit into the category. Ragnar liked to say that if they wanted to be taken as serious businessmen then they needed to dress the part, and it was not too difficult to wash blood out of the suits.

The youngest Lothbrok leaned against the railing in a charcoal gray suit, his dark hair pulled back into a man-bun. He did not mind the formal attire as much, there was a sense of prestige and strength that came with it. On more than one occasion, he had been told he presented a striking figure and he liked to use that to his advantage. Whether it was terror or arousal that his figure caused depended on the person. He knew how to control them all.

A vibration had Ivar pulling out his phone to see a new text from Kari. He smiled softly at her cheeky response. When asked what she was doing tonight, she said she was taking a bubble bath and reading a book. He said he did not believe her and demanded a picture as proof she was actually taking a bubble bath like a child. Now he gazed down at an image of her feet peeking out of bubbles against a porcelain bathtub. The picture was so innocent yet sensual, just like his kitten. An innocent seductress. His cock began to stiffen at the lewd ideas running rampage through his mind at the simple picture.

With her picture came a text.

Kari: You should try it sometime. It's very relaxing.

He snorted. There was no way in hell he would ever take a bubble bath, and he figured she probably knew it.

Ivar: the only way I'm gtn n2 a bubble bath is if u in there w/ me

Grinning smugly, he could imagine the flush on her cheeks at his answer as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

Floki's voice interrupted his thoughts. "You going to tell me about her?"

Ivar did not answer right away, taking a drag from his cigarette and slowly exhaling it. "Nothing to fucking tell."

"Hmmm…. I'd bet she is the only person you smile for like that."

"Fuck…." He ran his hand over his mouth, before turning to lean his back against the roof's railing. Floki was right and clearly knew it if the sly look said anything. It made Ivar want to knock the smirk off the madman's face with his cane, which rested on the railing next to him.

"This isn't like Freydis, right?" Floki quietly inquired after several minutes of companionable silence.

"Gods, no. She is…." He found his words trailing off, unable to articulate what Kari meant to him.

Freydis had been a hope for someone more than just a fuck, someone who potentially cared for him. Unfortunately, he quickly realized that she may have cared for him, but she cared more for the status and money being in a relationship with him allowed. So, they used each other. She wasted his money on frivolous things, lavishing herself with stuff she would never dream of having otherwise. He used her for fucking and to have someone on his arm when they attended events, to silence the pitying looks from others and the comments that he did not know how to please a woman.

After ten months though, he found himself resenting her and their relationship. It was then he broke it off with her. She cried, supposedly heartbroken but he did not care. In the months following, she tried to worm her way back into his life but he slammed the door shut, uncaring of how cruel he appeared to others. He fucked other women or had them give him blow jobs, never even taking the time to remove his leg braces or pants. They meant nothing. They were nothing.

But all that changed a month ago when a woman with blue-green eyes and a sweet innocence about her bumped into him…. and then confused the hell out of him when she kissed him.

"What's her name?" Floki asked, tapping the ash off the end of his cigarette.

"Kari." He answered, probably sounding far softer than he meant to. After, he tilted his head to look at his surrogate father, brow furrowed. "How'd you find out?"

"The gods told me." At Ivar's unamused look, Floki giggled. "Your brothers. They said you have a new girlfriend."

"She's not."

"Mmmm?"

He sighed. "My girlfriend. She's made that very fucking clear. She keeps saying she can't be my girlfriend or she doesn't want to date right now. It's fucking infuriating!" He ripped the cigarette from his mouth, throwing it on the ground. "I don’t…. I don't fucking understand. She always says we're just friends, but I know she wants more. Sometimes I can see it when she looks at me. I don't know what to fucking do!"

"Why are you still wasting time on her then? She sounds like she doesn't care. Just move on from the bitch."

"Don't you fucking call her that! And she does care! More than most people." He snarled, fists trembling at his side. When Floki only smirked at him, Ivar rolled his eyes, anger slowly abating. He played into the old man's game easily.

Floki dropped his own half-used cigarette, eyeing Ivar curiously. "What is it about this girl?"

"She…. fuck…. she sees me. Not a cripple. Not some rich guy she can fuck and get stuff from. She sees... she sees me. Just me. Like you and mother. I don't….no one has looked at me like that. There's always a motive, always an angle. But not with her." The words rolled off his tongue, a dam unleashed, as if begging to have been finally uttered, to share his thoughts aloud to make sense of them. With Floki, he knew his thoughts were safe, that the man would never cruelly make fun of him.

"You really care about this girl."

Ivar did not answer, the truth already hung in the air as if painted in the sky for all to see.

Floki moved closer, wrapping his arm around Ivar's shoulder and pressing their foreheads together. "Give her time. The gods will tell you what to do. But for fuck's sake, stop stalking her. Hvitserk made sure to tell us how you showed up at her work and home unannounced."

Ivar chuckled, mirroring Floki's action. "Hvitty better keep his fucking hands off her."

"He will. He sees how important she is to you." Floki leaned back, that stupid grin on his face. "When do I get to meet her?"

"Why the hell do you think I'd let her meet your insane ass? She'd take one look at you and run away."

"She puts up with your stupidity. I'd be an improvement for her."

"Fuck off." Ivar laughed, throwing a mock punch at the man. "I've only known her for a month."

"But it feels longer, right?"

Ivar startled at the soft tone Floki used, like he knew exactly how Ivar felt. For once, he wondered if this was how Helga and Floki’s relationship felt. His tone was just as quiet, almost reverent as he answered. "Yeah."

"Don't do something stupid and lose her. Meet her where she is. Be her friend if that's what she wants. She seems good for you."

"Where is this wisdom coming from?" Ivar scoffed, running a hand over the braids on top of his head.

"I've always been wise, you just don't listen, pretentious asshole."

"No, it's Helga that's the wise one."

"My sweet Helga certainly is." Floki clapped a hand on Ivar's shoulder. "Come on, the meeting will be starting soon. I was sent to find your crippled ass."

"Why the fuck are we talking then?"

"I wanted to hear about this girl. From the sounds of it, you'll start waxing poetic sonnets about the poor girl soon and the gods will certainly…."

"Shut the fuck up."

Talking casually about the latest boat Floki was working on building back home in Norway, they headed towards the meeting room attached to Ragnar's office. The trip from the roof to the meeting room should have been quick but Ivar moved slowly, leaning heavily on his cane. He knew the whites of his eyes had an alarming shade of blue. He had seen it that morning when he looked in the mirror but even more so, he could feel it in his bones. It felt as if with one simple misstep, he would break a bone. The fragility of his body was never more evident than on these days.

He loathed it.

Thankfully, Floki made no comments about Ivar's eyes or his slow, measured gait. Instead he talked, making sure to hold doors open and continued in his loping walk as if they were on a leisurely stroll. He did comment about how nice Ivar's cane was and asked if he had used it on anyone recently.

The cane had been a gift from Floki three years ago for his birthday. It appeared to be an expensive cane made up of an ebony tapered shaft and sterling silver handle with a snarling wolf's head. What only a few knew was that if Ivar twisted the handle and pulled, a long, slender knife came out, the blade attached to the handle. Plus, the shaft of the cane was reinforced with a sturdy material, making it easily used as a blunt force object without fear of it bending or denting. Floki had said long ago that one should never be without a weapon, and the cane was his way of ensuring Ivar followed that sentiment.

The private meeting room of Ragnar was a spacious corner room with two walls made up of floor-to-ceiling windows, a dark hardwood flooring and deep green walls. A single slab wooden oak table was the centerpiece of the room, with cushioned chairs around it. Currently all those seats were filled besides two, signifying that Floki and Ivar were the last to arrive at the meeting.

Ragnar Lothbrok looked up as they entered the meeting room, appearing both suave and intimidating in his gray business suit and hair plaited. "Where have you two been?" He narrowed his piercing eyes at Floki. "I thought Helga wanted you to stop smoking."

"Your son is very convincing." Floki shrugged.

The patriarch's lips twitched in a suppressed smirk. He waved at the almost full table. "Sit. Let's get this started."

At the beginning of each month, Ragnar liked to meet with his sons and few trusted advisors to review the past month and discuss anything important in the future. It was his way of checking in with progress and making sure everyone was doing their jobs, while keeping all informed. Ivar typically found the meetings boring and a waste of time, but he made sure to attend them like a dutiful son.

In this particular meeting, Ragnar discussed how he would be meeting with Ecbert of Saxon Industries in a week, an impromptu decision but Ecbert had insisted of its necessity.

Ivar rolled his eyes but kept his thoughts to himself. He knew by the way Floki clenched and unclenched his fist on Ivar's left that he felt the same way. A glance at his brothers showed the two latecomers were not the only skeptical ones. Ecbert and Ragnar had a mutual respect for one another but it did not stop them from betraying and trying to sabotage each other's businesses when it pleased them. Aella, who ran the Northern part of Saxon Industries, made no qualms about showing his disdain for Ragnar and his family, labeling them nothing more than "power-mongering, bloodthirsty heathens who allowed their animalistic tendencies to rule them".

To say there was bad blood between Ragnar and his sons with Aella was an understatement.

Years prior, Saxon Industries had been the leader in imports and exports in the United Kingdom and Ireland but all that changed once Ragnar set his gaze upon those shores. Now, Ragnarssons Trading was the powerhouse of the United Kingdom, Scandinavia, and France, with that influence expanding even more as trade flourished around the Mediterranean.

Saxon Industries was forced to turn their ventures to North America, something that caused resentment from both Ecbert and Aella, even if Aella was the only one vocal about it.

Ivar personally thought they should just wipe out the competition, utterly destroy Saxon Industries until it held no hope of recovery. It would also send the perfect message to any who tried to compete against them in the future.

At the conclusion of the meeting, Ivar rose from his seat, still moving slower than normal. He could feel the tenderness in his muscles and bones. A silent threat to his body. The concerned looks from those around did not help. It only happened every few months now, but he still hated the pitying looks.

"Ivar, I need to speak with you." Ragnar announced, momentarily breaking off his conversation with Torstein and Sigurd at the head of the table. Ivar nodded his understanding. With a muted groan, he sat back down in the plush chair and pulled out his phone.

"Want me to wait for you?" Hvitserk asked, coming to his side.

"Nah, go ahead. I'll see you at home."

Hvitserk gently clapped him on the shoulder then leaned down to whisper smugly. "Tell Kari hello from me."

"Fuck off!" Ivar said, making his elder brother laugh as he walked out.

Speaking of, Ivar opened his phone to view the response from Kari to his previous message.

Kari: unbelievable.

For a second, he considered replying but closed out of the text. At this late hour, she would already be asleep due to how early she regularly woke up. Instead he decided to wait until the morning to reply.

Soon enough, everyone trickled out of the meeting room leaving him alone with his father. Once it was just the two of them, Ivar watched as the confident, composed expression typical on his father's face slid away to reveal something more haggard. He straightened in his chair when his father walked across the room and pointedly closed and locked the doors before taking the seat next to him.

Ragnar rubbed a hand down his face, gazing out the open window before them. A sudden falling star streaked across the sky, momentarily distracting Ivar from his impatience, which thudded in his chest like a drum, growing louder and louder each moment his father kept them locked in silence.

"What I'm going to tell you does not leave this room. If you have any questions, you come to me directly. Understood?"

Turning his head to eye his father with intrigue, Ivar nodded. "Understood."

Only after that did Ragnar shift to meet Ivar's intense blue eyes with his own. "Our security system caught an email being sent out which contained an itemized list of some shipments we will be sending next month to our friends in Finland."

Ivar's eyebrows rose. About ninety percent of Ragnarssons Trading was legal, something his father was very proud of considering how the company started. That hidden ten percent, it allowed them to stay connected to the black market and underground trading, to know things before they happened. Most recently they had made contact with a new buyer from Finland who had an affinity for certain illegal weapons.

Ragnar leaned forward, rubbing a hand over his mouth before continuing as if it pained him to utter the words. "It seems the damn email was supposed to be encrypted but somehow never fully transitioned, leaving half of it legible. We know it was sent from this building."

"Do you know who the recipient was?"

"The Russian mafia in Thailand."

Ivar sharply inhaled, his mind furiously working on the implications, plus what their next steps should be. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to find out who the fuck is selling us out. By any means necessary….and I want to burn them alive."

A sinister grin grew on Ivar's face, matching the one on his father's.

"Consider it done."

"Good." Ragnar absent-mindedly tapped the table with his fist. "This is your main priority but completely confidential, not even a word to your brothers."

"You think it's one of them?"

"No, but we don't know who is close to them that it might be." Ragnar reassured.

Ivar rubbed a hand over his mouth as he thought, eyes drifting to the window. "I'll trace from my office. If the need arises, I'll go to Norway with Mother."

"Good. You've never failed me. I know you won't in this."

Ivar's heart swelled at the praise, something he rarely received from his ambitious and frequently absent father, especially during his childhood.

After a long moment, Ragnar reclined back in his chair, a small smirk on his face. "Your eyes are blue."

"They are always blue, courtesy of your genetics." Ivar retorted harshly, already knowing where this was going.

"You know what I mean, Ivar." His father flatly stated. "If you break something, your mother will be breathing down both of our necks."

"I'm not a fucking child, I can take care of myself."

Ragnar hummed, seeming amused by his son's antagonized state. "Don't come into the office tomorrow."

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want to."

"Start whatever you want, but for gods' sake, stay in bed where you can rest. If I get a call that you're in the damn hospital with a broken bone, I'll break something else on you." He threatened, pointing a finger at his son.

Ivar sneered, "Mother will skin you alive."

Ragnar chuckled darkly, leaning back once again. "No, her style would be to sabotage me somehow. Now get out of here. Your brothers planned on going out for drinks tonight, are you going to join them?"

He opened his mouth to answer when an impulsive idea latched itself in his mind. "No…." He answered slowly, a wicked smirk curled on his lips. "I think I'm going to bed."

"Alright."

Ivar rose, leaning on his cane. After taking a few steps away, he turned back to see his father watching him curiously. "Doesn't mean it's going to be my bed."

With that, he walked out of the meeting room to the sound of Ragnar laughing loudly behind him.

*****

He closed the bedroom door silently behind him, pleased with how the house remained quiet as he moved about. It was nearing two in the morning and the last thing he wanted was the police called with the neighbors thinking he was a burglar or something ridiculous.

Gently, he leaned his cane against the wall then proceeded to slip his shoes and shirt off. He dropped them on the floor, overly aware of any noise he made. Carefully, he maneuvered to the side of the bed, feeling very much like a thief in the night though he ignored it, and eased his legs out of his braces, setting them on the ground. Next, he slid under the rumpled covers, pleased when the bed's other occupant did not wake. His heart pounded in his chest though it did not deter his actions, if anything the forbidden feel spurred him on. Laying on his side, he placed his arm around her. Cautious of his body, he scooted closer to her until his chest was to her back. Before he could fully relax, she began to stir.

"Mmmm?"

He tenderly placed a kiss on the back of her neck before murmuring. "Shhh, go to sleep."

"Ivar?" Kari asked sleepily, her body tensing under his touch.

"Yes. Go back to sleep."

At his words, she twisted in his arms to face him, his arm still over her waist comfortably. He could hear the sleep fading from her voice. "What? What are you doing here?"

"Trying to sleep." He answered coolly, a flash of irritation shooting through him. Why was she questioning him? All he wanted to do right now was sleep with her in his arms. The increasing pain in his traitorous body made him want to lash out. To demand she shut up and let them sleep. He bit his tongue before the venom could erupt. Logically he knew his presence was unexpected and surprising at this hour, but he had hoped she would be more excited to see him.

"That…. what? How did you get into my house?" She demanded, trying to wriggle out of his hold but to no avail.

"I have a key."

That easy statement made her freeze. "You have a key…." She slowly repeated. After a moment, she sighed, relaxing back into his embrace. "You know what, I'm too tired. We'll talk about that fact in the morning. Why are you here though?"

Maybe it was the darkness surrounding them or the enticing sleepy voice of hers, either way he found himself answering honestly…. a bit too honestly. He pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes as he quietly confessed. "I missed you….and I don't want to be alone."

They laid there for several seconds in a tense silence. Even though she did not pull away from him, he could practically feel her over-thinking. If she told him to leave right now, he wondered if his dark heart would splinter. Over the past month she had become so vitally important to him. When he first met her, his interest had been fueled by lust plus the mystery and innocent aura around her. He wanted her. Now though, it had moved beyond want. It was a need. As much as he needed air to breathe, his mind and body coveted her. She somehow slipped past his guarded heart to entangle herself in his very core. Her presence soothed the violence that controlled his mind, she gentled his rage. She cared about him, not because of who or what he was, like everyone else. No, she cared about him as his own person, as simply Ivar.

Finally, she spoke in a resigned whisper. "Fine. Go to sleep, Ivar."

"I was trying to but someone kept asking me questions." He quipped, in hopes to hide the joy and relief in his voice.

She grumbled, then turned over and tried to move away from him but he was not going to have that. Not now. Not where he wanted her to be after so long. Where she deserved to be. With the arm around her waist, he pulled himself against her until they were spooning. At first, she attempted to fight him, squirming away, but after a few moments she surrendered. A barely suppressed chuckle escaped him, as he tightened his hold on her. She felt so perfect in his arms, like the gods created her to fit flawlessly against him, two puzzle pieces that finally found their match. He pressed his face into her hair, nuzzling into her. His elation only increased when her fingers intertwined with his that were splayed just under her breasts. A fond smile danced on his lips at her acceptance.

Within moments, he felt her go limp against him, sleep consuming her one again. He lightly kissed the back of her neck, pleased when he thought he heard a content hum come from her at the action.

Knowing his kitten, there would be hell to pay come morning, but for now, he needed this. Her body against his, to feel her heartbeat, to know she was safe. It was something that was no longer optional. He felt a man possessed, bewitched. Everything about her cast him under her spell- her beauty, her friendship, her tenderness towards him, the silly ways she made him laugh, and how she stood up for him. She was his. His responsibility. His devotion. His peace. His kitten. His alone.

"God natt, min skatt." He whispered against her skin. (Good night, my treasure)

It did not take long for him to follow her into sleep, more at peace in this moment than he had been for in years.

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ourloveisforthelovely · 3 years

Text

Revelation Part 3

Harry Potter AU- Marauders Post Hogwarts

Link to Part 2

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader

Rating: E- smut and sensitive themes

_________

One question, is that my shirt?

You looked up from the refrigerator keeping your face as innocent as possible. Regulus stood in the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed in the dom-like manner that made your heart pound.

My plan is about to work so well.

You thought gleefully before looking down at your body.

“So it is.”

You replied with an innocent smile. Regulus crossed the room and lifted you onto the kitchen counter.

“You’re playing with fire, little girl.”

The tone was teasing...teasing and oozing with passion. Reaching out, you yanked him to you by his shirt.

“Maybe I want to...daddy .”

The word left your mouth before you even thought about it. By the way that Regulus smirked, you could tell that he was assumed. Your hand went to the buttons of the shirt When you put it on you had only buttoned it halfway now you were more than happy to take it off.

“Leave it.”

Regulus ordered as he forcibly spread your legs and shoved a hand between themes. You gasped as his middle and index finger stroked over your clit and down to your entrance.

“No panties? Love, you are definitely playing with fire. If we do this, you know there is no stopping right?”

“I don’t think that I would be sitting her butt booty naked on the kitchen counter if I didn’t need a good fucking. Now take my heart like a man.”

That was all Regulus needed to hear. The last thing that he needed was you getting mad at him after the two of you had mind-blowing sex but since you gave him the green light...he was about to rock your world.

Regulus’ mouth was on yours kissing you hungrily. A year of pent-up passion between the two of you was finally flowing free. If either of you needed any sign that there were still “feelings” between the two of you here it was.

Your hands were fumbling with the buttons of the black button-down that Regulus was wearing. He groaned when you missed one button for the third time.

“Hold on.”

He said softly before yanking the shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor before going for the buckle of his pants. Tossing his hair over his shoulder, Regulus tilted your face back to his.

“Eyes up here, sugar. I have missed those pretty lips...fuck I have missed everything about you.”

“I’ve missed you too. Just fuck me already.”

You replied against Regulus’ mouth as he moved to kiss you again. Regulus pulled you off of the counter and gently shoved your top half down onto the surface.

“Soon.”

He commented before grazing your neck with his teeth. making your squirm against his body. It would be so easy to mark you up. Regulus could leave enough love bites so every man in the house would know that you were off-limits. Not that he really had the need to worry about any other man in the house trying to get you. Sirius was too busy charming Remus (that didn’t mean that Regulus had totally stopped worrying about his brother possibly developing feelings for you in the future). His cock was hard against your ass.

“Baby, you feel so good.”

Regulus moaned, rubbing his cock down the line of your ass. He pushed you forward, to push two fingers into your aching core. You cried out and was thankful no one else was home. Regulus’ fingers pushed deeper. Regulus finally placed his fingers with his cock...what you really wanted. Your pussy stretched to accommodate his size. Had you really forgotten about how good he felt when buried deep inside of you?

The two of you were so busy fucking that neither of you noticed Sirius step into the kitchen and freeze. He watched for a few moments, blinking, before turning and going to join Remus making a mental note on where to sanitize the next morning. Sirius at least had some gossip to share (Remus, you will never believe who I saw fucking in the kitchen. Okay, yeah, it was Reg and Y/n...I think she was wearing his shirt too.)

You, meanwhile, were so focused on the feeling of the head of Regulus’ cock cramming against your cervix that you couldn’t focus on much else. Regulus snaked a hand around your waist to toy with your clit.

“Come, princess.”

Regulus groaned against your back. The moment that he pressed down on your clit, you came without having to be told twice. You knew better than to make Regulus tell you twice. If he had to tell you twice, your ass would be red and raw. You weren’t for sure if he would do that tonight since this was the first fuck in so long. You decided not to press your luck as Regulus came inside of you. He collapsed on your back, holding onto you as tight as the pulsating died out.

“God damn, love, you know how to make me feel like a man.”

You pressed a kiss to Regulus’ wrist as he reached down his free hand to tug his pants back up.

“I’m sorry for everything that I did. This may be a shitty time to say it but I am.”

You slowly turned in his arms for a kiss.

“Let's just have fun. We can talk tomorrow.”

The next morning brought more drama than it did making up. You woke up with Regulus’ arm around you. The bed was nice and warm, almost encouraging you to snuggle back against Regulus and go to sleep, however, a voice caught your attention. It sounded like your old work partner from back in the states...Michael.

Wiggling out of Regulus’ arms you quickly pulled on your abandoned clothes.

“Where are you going?”

Regulus groaned, opening one eye to look at the clock 8:45. He never slept this late but today could be the one exception.

“I heard something downstairs.”

You quickly walked downstairs to where the voices were coming from. Sure enough, there sat Michael beside Moody. Sirius turned with a smile,

“Someone missed you.”

Michael jumped up and pulled you into a bone-breaking hug.

“What are you doing here?”

You asked with a smile. To say that you were surprised, would be an understatement. You assumed that when you told Michael goodbye, it was actually goodbye.

Michael was another interesting topic for you. He reminded you so much of Regulus (sarcasm) and Sirius (everything else) mixed together paired with an LA street smart cop. Had you not been so hurt over Regulus’ breaking up with you, you may have given Micahel a chance. The breakup had taken a lot out of you, including your ability to consider dating someone else. That didn’t mean that Michael didn’t try. He tried hard! The poor guy tried to charm you nonstop with no giving up insight.

“I woke up a couple of days ago and thought that it was time for a change of scenery. I heard London was nice, so here I am.”

“A move across the ocean is more than a change of scenery.”

You replied. Michael grinned.

“Well, a girl could have influenced my decision.”

Sirius was watching the whole thing with a raised eyebrow. You hadn’t mentioned some other guy that could be crushing over you….especially last night when his little brother was fucking you senseless a few feet away from where you stood now.

Before Sirius could say another word, Regulus stepped into the kitchen and his eyes immediately landed on Michael. He clearly saw the way that the dude had his hands wrapped around your waist.

“Y/n, what the hell?”

You winced before turning to face Regulus. One look at him, told you that he was pissed (even though he has no reason to be). It didn’t matter how good Michael was to you or how bad Regulus was to you, you would always choose Regulus.

“Reggie, everything is fine.”

You said before going to join him. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you had the bright idea that this could be your perfect chance to show Regulus that you could easily be stolen from him if he didn’t treat you right. He would have to be willing to fight for you if the relationship were to work and sustain itself. Maybe it was cold and childish but it could work.

“Who’s the tool?”

Regulus asked slowly. Micahel frowned.

“My name is Michael. I’m her work partner from America. I’ve been transferred here on assignment.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow before letting himself regain his cool composure

“Well, isn��t that special. You’re an American? Just an FYI, the steering wheel in the car is on the other side and you lot drive on the wrong side of the road.”

Sirius quietly snorted and had to put his head down. That had to be one of the more savage takedowns that he had seen Regulus offer in some time...and it was brilliant.

You, meanwhile, were looking at Regulus out of the corner of your eyes while Michael faked a smile.

“Yeah, kind of figured that out. Thanks for the info. You are? I didn’t catch your name.”

“Regulus.”

Regulus kept his response basic. The least this idiot knew about him the better off things would probably be.

Michael meanwhile nodded suspiciously. He knew Regulus’ name well. This was the boyfriend. It all made sense now. Michael couldn't help but be curious if the two of you had already worked all of your issues or if this was just a “fuck and play” thing? If it was the latter of the two then Michael still had a chance with you...and Regulus could go fuck himself.

“Oh, you’re the boyfriend.”

Regulus nodded.

“Yeah, that’s me. I’m her boyfriend.”

You gently patted Regulus’ shoulder before focusing your attention back on Michael.

“Okay, that’s enough you two. Regulus, I’m going to take a shower. Sirius, make sure no one dies while I’m gone.

Sirius nodded. You knew that it was stupid to leave the room but the more Regulus and Michael got to know each other the better things would work in your favor. Should you feel bad for essentially using Michael like a piece of meat to make Regulus jealous? You knew the answer was definitely yes now.

You had been out of the room for a few moments when Remus decided to be the first one to speak.

“Let's all sit down.”

He had a feeling that things were about to get interesting. Remus caught Sirius’ gaze before motioning toward Regulus as if telling him to “mind his brother.”

Michael sat down at the table keeping his “sunny” disposition. His attention was on Regulus who was muttering in French to the male on his right. Michael had a feeling that they were talking about him too based on how the other brother, introduced as Sirius, was laughing.

“I think London is a lovely city. It's nice compared to Los Angeles but I don’t see as much to do.”

Regulus smirked up.

“Maybe you should have stayed in LA. I hear there are great street gangs to join.”

Michael’s pleasant smile faded.

“I’m an auror. That would be a little illegal. Is that a dark mark on your arm there Regulus? You were a dark wizard?”

Regulus glanced down at his left arm where his dark mark was clearly visible before looking up.

“Ah, so that’s what that is. There is no getting past you. To answer your question, yes I was a dark wizard...speaking of which would you like to see some real dark magic? I can show you…”

Michael’s cheeky smile faded as Regulus stared at him not blinking. Slipping his hand into his jacket, he decided to wrap a hand around his wand. Michael was still trying to figure out if he was actually in any danger or if Regulus was just screwing with him.

“Okay, Reg, that’s enough. You’ve made him shit his pants. Go take a shower with Y/n. I’m sure with her being all wet and slippery that she would love to see you.”

Sirius commented, breaking Regulus’ stare on Michael.

“Great idea, Sirius.”

________

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brittababbles · 4 years

Text

Target Practice

Din Djarin x female reader

Authors Note/Warnings: Well… this is Young Din, and Young Din was a wild child. He’s about 23 here. So… warnings, let’s see. A hint of dub con, various somewhat light bdsm elements (tying up, blindfolding, biting without drawing blood, overstimulation), possessive Din, drug use, Din’s a mean lover. I don’t know you guys, this just kind of came out…

You ever have the feeling you’re being watched? you think, feeling the hair on your scalp prickle slightly.

Even across the hanger, easily a thousand meters away, with at least ten people between you, you can feel the Mandalorian’s gaze upon you. It makes you shiver, though certainly not from cold. Hardly. The hanger is hotter than sin today. You’ve stripped down to a thin, practically transparent slip of a shirt and a tight pair of shorts. Which is maybe what is drawing his gaze. Maybe.

You swivel on the spot and return his stare, meeting the line of his visor solemnly. He’s leaning casually against the loading ramp of his ship, the ship you’d worked so hard to repair over the last week. He’s completely ignoring the activity behind him as the crew loads the Razor Crest for a job. No, he’s not interested in that. He’s interested in the long expanse of bare skin of your legs, the way your top clings to your breasts. You can’t even see his face, but you can feel it in his stare.

It wasn’t completely unjustified. You were lovers, of a sort.

You’d never once seen his face; no one had, as far as you were aware. But you knew enough. He was a 20-something young human man under all that beskar. Young, and fiery. It came out in waves as he pounded your body into his mattress.

You tried hard not to think about what he did when he was off the station. You’d heard that Twi’lek cackling as she retold the story in the cantina.

Target practice…

Not that you were surprised particularly. It was just so… brutal.

But that wasn’t an especially unwarranted descriptor when it came to Mando. Brutal.

You turn your attention back to the blaster you’re repairing, and with the comings and goings of ships in the hanger, manage to miss the Razor Crest’s exit. When you look back up, he’s gone.

The job will take hours. You shrug to yourself and focus on your work.

When you straighten your spine several hours later, it’s quiet in the hanger. A few odd engineers are scattered about the large room, but otherwise there’s very little movement. Deciding you need a break from your small pile of half-repaired weapons, you stand and stretch, reaching your arms toward the ceiling and arching your back.

A gloved hand snaked around your throat. There’s no pressure, but you gasp all the same.

“Come with me,” his modulated voice growls in your ear.

You put up no fight. Why would you fight him when a faint buzz is growing in your belly? He steers you almost mechanically through the corridors, passing nobody along the way until he reaches his quarters. Without a word he opens the door and shoves you inside.

He’s on you in an instant, crowding you, pressing you backward into the bed. His beskar is cold; you can feel it through your shirt easily.

“Looking so pretty, out there where anyone can see you, hmm?” he hums softly, pinning you beneath him.

Abruptly something cool snaps closed around your wrists, and he deftly adjusts your arms until he can lock the binders to the thin metal bars that make up the headboard of his bed. You squirm, adjusting to your new position, as he leans back to admire the way you’re stretched out before him.

“So lovely. But even in this, I think there’s more to see,” he says.

He caresses your collarbone gently. Then, abruptly, seizes the neckline of your shirt and rips it clean down the middle. You give a soft squeak of surprise as the much-cooler air of his bunk hits your skin, making your nipples pebble. Mando tears more strategically at the sleeves, ripping the shirt off your body completely. You eagerly lift your hips, allowing him to finish undressing you. Then he wraps the ruin of your shirt around your eyes.

He’s off the bed in an instant. The room goes dark as you stare at the ceiling, already breathing heavy. You hear the sound of metal impacting metal as he discards his armor. There’s the unmistakable hiss of the locks of his helmet, a final muted clang of the beskar hitting the floor, and then silence.

Without warning, he’s between your thighs, making no effort at subtly. He bites harshly at your legs, causing you to yip with each impact.

“Mine,” he growls, “your pretty little legs are mine, cyar’ika.”

His voice is no longer modulated by the helmet. The tenor of his words spread up your spine.

“That pretty face is mine. Your ass? Mine. And this wet little pussy? Whose pussy is this, (y/n)?”

You crane your neck to look at him, knowing full well you can’t see a thing, and gasp out your answer as he slowly sinks a finger inside you for emphasis.

“Yours” you whimper.

You feel him grin against the skin of your inner thigh.

“That’s right, sweet girl. It’s all mine.”

His lips impact your pussy so suddenly that you find yourself trying to scurry up the bed. He pins you down with one arm slung across your pelvis, slipping the finger on his other hand, already buried inside you, out only to push two in. His tongue swirls around your clit, eagerly laps at your lips, then returns to your clit again. You don’t realize you’re shrieking, only that there’s some sound filling the room. He pulls your orgasm from you rapidly, far faster than you’ve ever come, stroking your insides with a pair of calloused fingers as you clamp tightly around them. Your hips try to buck against the pressure from his arm, but he’s far too strong for you to throw him off. You’re gasping for breath, eyes rolling, when the soft ripple of his laughter finally penetrates your brain.

“Good girl,” he purrs, slipping his fingers out of you and arching over you.

You’re far too out of touch with reality to respond, and barely notice as he reaches off to the side of the bed momentarily.

“These perfect tits are mine too, sweetheart.”

You feel something powdery fall across your chest. The strange, harsh scent hits your nose a moment later. Spice. He presses his face to your breasts and snorts the powdering substance off your skin.

“Oh, Maker,” you groan, unable to contain your words

“Not quite, sweetheart,” Mando mumbles.

He nuzzles against your chest for a moment, though you can practically feel his skin warming under the influence of the spice. His hips are cradled between your legs and you can feel how hard he is against your oversensitive skin. He strokes his fingers over your ribcage before abruptly rearing back to inspect his work on your pussy.

“Think you’re wet enough for me, sweet girl?”

You whimper in response. You can feel the soft press of the head of his cock against your entrance as he waits for your answer.

“Use your words, pretty girl,” he says smugly.

“Yes,” you whisper, “Yes yes yes please…”

That’s all the encouragement he needs. He sheaths himself in you in a single thrust, punching the air from your lungs as he does so. The stretch is magnificent, and you gulp in a breath of air before letting out a cry of his name.

“Mando, gods, Mando, please…” you whine as he pounds relentlessly into you.

You have no idea what you’re pleading for, only that it feels like the only thing you can say. Your cries mingle with his grunts of effort. His fingers wrap around one of your ankles and you suddenly find your leg draped over his shoulder. The angle allows him to somehow hit a deeper spot inside you. You can feel your body tightening, the spring under your skin preparing to release. You want to scream, but he’s pounding into you so hard you don’t think you can catch your breath enough to scream.

“Uhn. So tight. So perfect. Come for me, pretty girl,” he growls

As abruptly as the first, this orgasm hits with the force of a sucker punch. You writhe underneath him, shuddering as electricity tears up your spine. You finally let out a scream, feeling your pussy clamp down on him. It doesn’t slow his pace at all, however, and he continues to pound you straight through it. You twist your free leg around his hips in an attempt to draw him closer, fuller inside you somehow, as the throbbing inside you eases slightly.

“Mando, Mando… Mando,” you chant his name at him.

“That’s my girl. That’s my girl,” he answers, equally as mindlessly.

More unexpectedly than anything, your body reacts to his words in a third orgasm so strong you arch off the bed, nearly yanking your shoulders from their sockets in the process. Your vision blinks with stars as your head presses downward, shoving your chest further up into his. This time he groans, and his thrusts lose their rhythm. You’ve got his cock in a vice and his ragged thrusts seems to drag the walls of your pussy with them.

Abruptly, he lets out a loud groan, arching away from you and pulling himself from inside you. You feel something hot spill over your breasts. He groans again and collapses into your chest. You can feel his cock twitching against your thigh. His full weight is on top of you, but the solid mass of his body is oddly comforting in the moment.

“Oh, cyar’ika,” he mumbles into your skin.

Lazily, almost as if it’s a reflex than an actual thought, Mando reaches up and unlocks the binders around your wrists. The moment your hands are free, you tangle your fingers in his hair. His curls are lightly dampened with sweat. You scratch your fingernails against his scalp lightly, earning you a languid moan. He slowly arches down your body, coming to rest with his head near your chest.

You’re so distracted by the sensation of his body weight that you don’t notice the catlike licks to your breast until he’s nearly finished. It penetrates your stupefied brain that he’s lapping his own cum off your chest, and the thought alone makes your pussy clinch.

“Mando…maker….Mando…” you pant.

He smiles. You can feel the edges of his teeth on your breast.

“Ready to go again, cyar’ika?” he purrs.

You moan. He chuckles softly.

“I guess so…”

You wake up on your back, your eyes still covered, aware of the weight of one of his arms slung across your midsection. The room is pitch black, but you make no move to take off the blindfold. You reach out carefully, finding the soft strands of his hair with your fingers. You brush a little curl off his forehead, earning you a soft grunt.

“Good morning, sweet girl,” he mumbles.

You don’t answer but continue to trace his features unseeingly. Mando closes his eyes, seeming to enjoy your touch.

“I’m sorry I was little rough with you last night,” he says slowly.

“A little?” your voice cracks and harmonizes with itself, still recovering from your shrieks of the night before, “Mando, I can still feel you inside me.”

“Good,” he mutters, leaning forward and capturing your lips with his.

He pulls the breath from you with a single, deep kiss. You drape your arms around the back of his neck and twist your fingers into his hair. He gives a soft groan into your mouth, making you shudder under him again.

And then he’s gone, his weight fully removed from you as he unclasps the binders from his bed. You hear the clatter of metal again as he reapplies his armor, then something soft drapes across your chest.

“You can’t walk the corridors like that,” he says slyly.

Unable to find a response, you trace the object on your chest and realize it’s one of his own shirts. You hear the door open, then close, and you abruptly yank off your blindfold.

You’re alone in the room. The ruins of your shirt hang in one hand. The sheets are tangled around you, showing the full evidence of your exertions the night before. Carefully, you shimmy into Mando’s shirt, then hunt up your shorts from yesterday and pull them on. Your legs feel weak, wobbly, and you lean against the wall while getting your bearings.

When you’re sure you can walk the distance to your own quarters, you slip from the room, hoping to catch nobody’s eye as you slink along the corridor. There’s no glint of beskar; Mando’s nowhere to be seen.

When you reach your own bunk, you slide inside and immediately rip his shirt from your body, inspecting the marks he’s left across your breasts, your ribs, your belly. You pull the shirt to your face and inhale his scent slowly before sinking into your own bed, feeling oddly empty without him near.

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #din djarin X you #mando x you #din djarin #mando #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #wow what is this #hmmm #britta writes #target practice

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