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#somehow still evades me
pixelatinate · 2 years
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here she comes!
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deva-arts · 9 months
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She's corrupting him with brushed hair, skincare and head scratches. Soon he might actually be tolerable.
On a side note who gave him that smarmy shirt. Someone, anyone. Go compost it.
Bonus scribble and speedpaint under cut!
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Making the ratman want to go back to the sewers
Video!!! A video!!! I love ibispaint's niche little features <3
#sonia is really pushing it with her outfit but vincent does not particularly understand or care about the concept of cleavage lol#soniasanderstag#vincent is so odd to draw for me#vincenttag#they are so silly#When asked what she likes about vincent#sonia says: lmao idk he's stupid sometimes i guess haha also can i use the bathroom#she went to the bathroom and proceeded to jump out of the window to evade the interview panel entirely#when vincent was asked the same he said: shes okay i guess.#then he proceeded to insult the interviewer with a thesaurus' wealth of words until she cried and flew to a little farmer town to woo ellio#they are friends#the world will never know if vincent actually likes the scritch scratches.#(he does. he just has trouble articulating when he feels safe or at ease most of the time. being cared for at all is pretty foreign to him.#she's socializing vincent like a feral kitten and it might be working somehow#while vince is still learning and adjusting to the shiny new world of humane treatment chock full of new layers to his hierarchy of needs#sonia is just happy to chill and have a friend. a kooky weird friend that regularly talks about wanting to fight bears nude in the forest.#sonia is the kind of person that can get along with anyone#given the right amount of time to reach them#Golden retriever personality vs feral hyperactive racing dog personality#Vincent: Oh. This actually feels... Not-pain? is there even a word for this? f*cking yikes bro. ew. cringe. I want more actually#ARK_SYSTEMA
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svtskneecaps · 1 year
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yknow as a wee bab i always kinda assumed i'd be the range type of video game fighter yknow keep to the background, wait for a chance, preferred weapon is a bow or whatever
nah. "sprint in and mash the attack button until it stops moving"
#my point here is my botw playstyle as it turns out#equip a sword and hit it more than it hits you that's my motto#anyway i've explored all of hyrule castle now + gotten every memory + finally purchased the fucking ancient set except for the helmet#bc 1) shit's ugly 2) i had 1944 money and it was 2000 YES i was angry#found the spring of courage (i feel so stupid); defeated the camel blight; killed two moldugas; killed a blue lynel;#killed the white lynel in gatehouse two (PANICK); finished the darkness trial; found an ENTIRE FUCKING STABLE I SOMEHOW MISSED;#finally found it within me to shoot farosh in the face twice; set up a system to shoot both naydra and dinraal in the face every night;#stalled a blood moon in hyrule castle so that was a weird month for the citizens; finished tarrey town; filled out more of the compendium#(while trying to find a FUCKING stealthfin trout to upgrade the sheikah set bc NO i am NOT looking it up >:(( )#actually used urbosa's fury on purpose; accidentally used urbosa's fury while trying to stasis launch a slab of rock; accidentally#used mipha's grace against the lynel (i swear that guy was white maned but the wiki says blue?? literally checked w camera before charging)#still have used revali's gale. twice. ever.#yea so anyway fuck that bird i guess like at this point i'm gonna beat ganon and like. i am only going to have used his shit. two times.#my ass sprinting up the mountainside: NAYDRA'S COMING I GOTTA GET ABOVE HER FOR THE BEST SHOT RN HOLY SHIT#THIS IS THE ONLY WAY TO GAIN ALTITUDE#not kpop#shut up vic#shoutout to my homie recommending i use revali's gale to evade guardians unfortunately for us i'm fucking dumb#i think about it constantly EXCEPT when i open the game i am being completely serious
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x-nephophile-x · 1 year
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I should’ve recorded my bleach process, Brad Mondo would have either been very proud or would’ve had a heart attack.or maybe a little of both
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lovebugism · 9 months
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could i request “mean” eddie and reader going swimming somewhere and maybe she’s in her swimsuit and someone says something that makes him jealous? also just want to say i love you writing sm!!! <3
hi, lovely! thanks so much for your request and your kind words!! i hope you like it xoxo (1.7k)
bug's summer fic fest ♡
Eddie can’t stop staring at you.
It’s not like it’s his fault, though. You’re all sprawled out beside him in a plastic lounge chair, clad only in a bathing suit that leaves little to the imagination. It’s an all-black number with little white bats all over it, clinging to you like it was made to do it.
It’s a wonder the two of you even made it to Hawkins Community Pool, honestly. Eddie's thoughts verge on obscene at the sight of you. But then again, they tend to when you're on his mind.
You lay with your hands folded above your head, totally surrendering yourself to the golden sunlight. It gives Eddie the opportunity to gaze at you fully — even though sometimes he thinks he’s already memorized you by now.
He analyzes you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you, like you’re the last thing he’ll ever see.
The pudge of the top of your breast spills over the hem of your bikini. The skin of your stomach bulges underneath your high-waisted bottoms. The fullness of your thighs begins to glow beneath the glittering daylight.
He commits all of this to memory and figures maybe that’s what the sun’s doing too, as it paints your skin more golden.
He doesn’t know how he got you. 
But he hopes your eyes are closed behind your thick glasses. Or, at the very least, that they block your view of him. Eddie knows he’s unabashedly staring at you, but he also knows he can’t stop. He doesn’t want his ogling to be met with your teasing — even if he is deserving of it.
The Lord of the Rings book in his hands goes quickly abandoned. It’s a feat he even made it to page fifty. He’s flipped through it enough times to memorize it, though. Sort of like you.
Like the novel, he could read you a million times and never get bored. The only real difference is he finds you much, much sexier than printed words on a page.
“I can feel you staring, you know?” 
Your voice jolts him from his stupor, light and golden like the slowly setting sun. Your words are nearly drowned out by the sounds of the bustling pool — screaming kids, splashing water, and people trying to converse over it all.
Eddie’s far too attuned to you not to hear you, though.
You’re not looking at him, but he can see the corner of your lip quirk in a slight half-smile.
“Can you?” he deadpans, turning back to his book like he hadn’t been looking at you at all.
The words are all mush, though. He’ll blame it on the stifling summer heat. He was the idiot out here in a black t-shirt and trunks, after all.
“Yeah,” you nod.
He sees your smile completely when you turn to look at him. The sun pierces through your amber lenses, making your eyes more visible beneath them. You’ve got one eye squinted to evade the blinding light. The beam you wear is somehow brighter.
“’S like spidey senses, you know? I can always tell when you’re looking at me, Munson.”
Eddie wants to be embarrassed at the thought. He knows that you’re joking — if only just the slightest bit — but it makes him think about all the other times he’s shamelessly gawked at you. He spent years doing it before you ever got together.
Many of his high school years were spent paying more attention to you than his homework. He thinks maybe that’s why he had such a hard time graduating.
“You’re saying my girlfriend’s a superhero?” the boy jokes, brows raised behind his curly bangs and chocolate eyes going wide. They look more golden in the sunlight, and they twinkle with mischief.
“Uh-huh,” you hum with a wider smile than before. “You didn’t know?”
He shakes his head. Some of his curls still stick to him, damp with the sweat beading on his milky skin. “No. I can confidently say that I didn’t.”
“Good. It was supposed to be a secret, anyway.”
Eddie doesn’t mean to laugh, but he does.
It’s a sharp exhale through his nose more than anything, paired with a crooked pink smile. He wishes he knew how much of a dork you were a year ago. He might’ve asked you out sooner.
“Brush up on your spidey senses before you go out patrolling the neighborhood, alright, Spiderwoman?” he jests in a monotone, turning the page of his book even though he hadn’t actually read it. “’Cause I totally wasn’t staring at you.”
You know he’s lying.
And it’s not just because you could feel it — even though you think his button-eyed gaze can be palpable in its attentiveness at times. But what you lacked in superhero senses, you made up for in awareness of all things Eddie Munson. 
You knew when he got quiet that he was in his own head. And being that you hadn’t heard a single page turn in several minutes, you figured his eyes must’ve been on something other than the book in his hands.
Your quip was hardly more than a lucky guess, really.
“Good,” you hum as you flip over onto your stomach. Your backside had been completely deprived of sunlight before now. You prop yourself up on your elbows and lift your sunglasses to the top of your head. Your teasing gaze is no longer amber-coated. “‘Cause that would mean you find me attractive.”
“And that would just be a travesty, wouldn’t it?” Eddie scoffs.
He looks over at you again and finds your changed position. Your back is pointed towards the sun now, the very bottom of your ass on full display. Your thighs are indented softly from the slatted chair beneath you.
He can’t pry his eyes off the combination of the two despite knowing you’re watching him right back.
“It’s okay if you have the hots for me, Eds,” you tell him, feigning sympathy. “I’d only make fun of you a little bit.”
Eddie stays silent for half a moment too long, then shakes his head to dismiss the thought. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. It’s just the heat.”
You scoff. “Yeah. Let’s blame the way you’re ogling at me on sunstroke.”
He still finds it a bit difficult to be your boyfriend sometimes — or just a boyfriend. And it’s not because of you. Not in the slightest. He just sort of put a wall around himself when he was younger. He’s been behind it so long he’s forgotten how to let people back in.  
And even though he hasn’t said it yet, he loves the goddamn shit outta you. But for some reason, he can’t let himself be vulnerable in that way — can’t even ask to touch you without coming up with some lame excuse that covers up all his vulnerable-ness.
“You, uh… You put sunscreen on, right?” he asks, shifting slightly in his chair. He spares a brief glance your way from the corner of his eye, halfway concealed by the fluffy brown curls framing his face.
“Yeah?” you answer with pinched brows. “Right after I forced you to put some on, remember?”
He scrunches his nose as he squints at you. It takes everything in you not to lean over and kiss the tip of it. “I don’t know,” the boy singsongs as he tilts his head to his shoulder. “I don’t remember it, actually…”
“Then maybe you’re the one that needs to get checked out, Eds.”
“I think I should just put some lotion on your back,” he summarizes with a shrug, already rising from his chair to swing his legs over the side of it. “You know, just to be safe.”
The teasing glint in his eyes makes you grin. You trap your bottom lip between your teeth to dim its brightness, lest how happy he makes you go to his head.
Your feet lift in their air and twist together with a girlish excitement. It makes your ass wiggle gently. Eddie swears you’re doing it just to tease him.
“Get my legs, too, while you’re at, yeah?” you quip.
Eddie reaches for the tote beside your chair with an effervescence that can only be described as a boy on Christmas morning — his present: the opportunity to touch you. He rises again with the blue bottle in his hand.
A low whistle sounds from behind the both of you.
“Looking good, sweetheart,” Billy compliments with a smirk as he walks by your chair. He’s in his lifeguard uniform — a pair of red swim trunks and his toned, golden torso.
He lifts his sunglasses from his face and rests them on top of his curled mullet. His crystal blue eyes gape at you, far sharper than Eddie’s chocolate syrup ones.
“Bite me, Hargrove,” you deadpan in response.
“I like the sound of that,” he laughs, chomping spearmint gum between his pearly white teeth. He spins on his flip-flops and walks backward to keep ogling at you. “Just give me the word and I’m yours, darlin’.”
He disappears in the bustling crowd after that, fading like rubbed-in sunscreen. You forget about him the second he’s gone.
He’s always been an asshole like that. It’d be a rookie mistake to give more than half a shit about him. But Eddie still feels the boy’s presence like a mean, lean, green monster full of envy. It’s like he’s still there — close enough to punch, even.
He isn’t sure if it’s the heat or if he’s actually seeing red.
“What an asshole,” you murmur under your breath.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Eddie snaps.
“Whoa,” you drawl within a laugh. “Slow your roll, tiger.”
The boy's eyes go wide as he looks over at you again. “I’m not even sure what I just said, honestly.”
“You’re a dork who plays Dungeons and Dragons, remember? You can’t start talking about fighting Billy Hargrove.”
“Yeah. You’re probably right,” he sighs, rigid body finally loosening with the heavy exhale. He squints at you after. “You don’t think I could take him?”
“I don’t thank you have to,” you lilt.
“That’s such a non-answer, babe.”
“I’m just saying,” you giggle with a shrug. “I’m asking you to feel me up, Eds. Not that creep.”
A rosy smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth, smug and full of love.
You meet it with a grin of your own. 
“C’mon, I’m burning to a crisp over here,” you urge, shifting in the chair just to make your thighs jiggle in the way you know Eddie likes.
His eyes glaze over at the sight — one he’s seen a million times now — and you know it’s done the trick.
“Let’s give Hargrove a show, yeah?”
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papiliotao · 9 months
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꒰ 𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆 ✩࿐
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pairings: alhaitham, childe, cyno, heizou, kazuha, scaramouche, tighnari, and xiao x gn!reader (separate)
content: fluff, comfort in a way, established relationship, protective boyfriends, persistent stranger won’t stop trying to ask you out
summary: you and your boyfriend attend a party together. however, a bothersome man keeps trying to flirt with you.
a/n: unfortunately icky people are unavoidable, but the idea of being protected from them is just <3 anyway, i hope you enjoy reading this!
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ALHAITHAM
Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.
Those are the words you repeat to yourself over and over, echoing through your head like an overplayed melody. It takes everything in you to remain in control of your emotions and refrain from slapping the audacious man standing in front of you.
You want nothing more than to leave peacefully before things escalate to a dreadful point of no return.
And amidst all of your wishing, a saving grace comes to aid you. In other words, your boyfriend turns up at just the right moment, although you expected nothing less from someone as perceptive as Alhaitham.
“Is there a problem here?” Alhaitham asks as he walks up to you. His voice is as cold as the glacial essence of bygone winters. It’s not unusual for Alhaitham to speak in such a tone, but somehow his words feel more pointed right now.
“No,” the man blurts out quickly, regarding Alhaitham with a look filled with both curiosity and apprehension. “I was just trying to ask them out.” He gestures at you, and you internally cringe at his antics.
He really is shameless.
However, Alhaitham is unfazed by the stranger’s actions. He simply sighs and takes your hand in his.
“Good because we’ll be taking our leave now,” Alhaitham says monotonously. He begins to pull you away, not sparing so much as a glance back at the man you had been conversing with just seconds prior.
“Wh — Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” the man exclaims, trying his best to catch up with both you and Alhaitham.
Despite his efforts, he’s swept away by a tide of partygoers as Alhaitham leads you through crowds of people. It almost feels as though he had planned an escape before approaching you, observing, analyzing, and carefully calculating in a meticulous manner in order to determine the best course of action.
Once the two of you are sure you’ve successfully evaded the stranger, Alhaitham looks you up and down, scanning your body for any sign of injury. He ensures you’re alright before speaking.
“After that experience, I doubt you want to remain here any longer,” he says. Although he’s still quite stoic, there’s a certain lofty quality to his voice that makes it feel softer than it had back when he had confronted the irritating man. “I suggest that we leave right now. I was beginning to get a headache from the constant noise anyway.”
You crack a small smile. Alhaitham is as blunt as always, and that’s what you love about him. Your boyfriend is incredibly straightforward, and while other people would see his behaviour as callous or insensitive, you know that this is just how he is.
“Take me away,” you tell Alhaitham, looking into his eyes, gazing at your reflection within hues reminiscent of a breathtaking oasis in the middle of a desert. 
It’s rather fitting. Alhaitham is your refuge. With him, you feel safe, and you’re sure that if any similar situations arise in the future, he’ll be by your side to defend you.
With those words, your boyfriend leads you out the front door of the party venue, and you escape into the night, losing yourselves in the bliss found under the ephemeral lamplight of a secluded night, warmed by each other’s touch.
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CHILDE
“Hey, you,” you hear a familiar voice speak from behind you. You look back to see strands of messy ginger hair resting above ocean blue eyes. “I couldn’t help but notice that you were making my lover uncomfortable.” Childe enunciates the words “my lover”, making it clear that you’re already taken.
Your boyfriend moves between you and the man, shielding you.
You sigh. If this escalates any more, it won’t end well. You know Childe well enough to predict that the confrontation could get rather… heated if you didn’t stop it. However, you feel as though you can’t do anything.
“Who said they were yours?” the man talks back, smirking at Childe. He knows Childe is challenging him.
You flinch. Childe seems to be getting more and more irritated by the moment. As you glance at your lover, you notice a blaze of blue embers beginning to flare within his irises.
“Listen carefully, comrade,” Childe says, leaning in closer to the man. Your boyfriend towers over the stranger in an almost comical manner. “They’re my partner, and if you don’t stay away from them,” Childe pauses, “well, let’s just say you’ll find the consequences quite unpleasant.”
Childe smiles, and although he maintains a friendly façade, the intent of his words is not lost on the man. An icy chill permeates the air, and you feel shivers go down your spine.
Although he’s dense, the man before you seems to sense the change in atmosphere as well. He mutters something under his breath, glares at your boyfriend one last time, and leaves. 
“Serves him right,” Childe chuckles. “I’m glad you’re safe now.,” your boyfriend tells you, giving you a kiss on the forehead. “If anyone ever bothers you again, just tell me, and I’ll deal with it.”
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CYNO
“What do you think you’re doing?” Your boyfriend’s deep voice interjects, throwing the man standing in front of you off. He’s standing behind the stranger, gazing deep into your eyes with a look that reassures you that everything will be okay.
You smile. As expected, Cyno is as vigilant as ever, especially when it comes to your safety. Nothing ever slips past him.
“Why do you want to know?” the persistent man replies, not bothering to turn around and face Cyno. It seems that he hasn’t recognized Cyno yet because you’re sure that if he did, he would back off in an instant.
“Perhaps because I’m the General Mahamatra?” Cyno refutes dryly. It’s almost laughable how casual Cyno sounds because as the stranger hears your boyfriend’s words, his features twist into an expression of shock, undergoing a metamorphosis where all hints of smugness are replaced by nothing short of pure horror.
The stranger slowly turns away from you to face Cyno. As soon as he catches a glimpse of your lover, he freezes. Soon enough, fear causes tremors to wrack his body, and he averts his gaze in order to look anywhere but directly at Cyno.
“What’s wrong?” Cyno asks the stranger. “You’re not quite as bold now as you were a few seconds ago.” Your boyfriend acts clueless, taunting the man slightly. Although it’s barely noticeable, you see his lips turn up ever so slightly in a subtle grin for a few seconds before the expression vanishes entirely.
“I — I’m sorry, General Mahamatra,” the man says. He shrinks back under Cyno’s gaze. “Please forgive me.”
Cyno sighs.
“I’ll let you off easy this time,” he mutters, “but if I catch you harassing anyone else…” Cyno trails off, leaving the rest to the man’s imagination.
The man swallows a lump in his throat and nods furiously.
“And as for you,” Cyno makes eye contact with you, “I’ll escort you away from this man,” he says.
He gestures for you to follow him, and as he leads you away from the stranger, you feel your nerves beginning to settle. The erratic beating of your heart, the restless thoughts battering your weary mind like waves tossling a ship, and the overwhelming urge to simply run away all cease to exist. Instead, a sense of safety floods over you. It’s a calmness like no other, akin to the ambience encapsulated in quiet dusks spent with the one you love most.
Once you’re far enough away, Cyno laces your fingers with his. Although no words are exchanged, you know it’s an act of comfort, and after the hectic events of the day, you find that it’s exactly what you need.
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HEIZOU
“Well, well, what do we have here?” Heizou’s voice interrupts the conversation between you and the stranger trying to pursue you.
You breathe a sigh of relief as your boyfriend comes up to you.
“You have a good eye,” Heizou says, causing confusion to riddle your mind. What is he saying? Is he encouraging the stranger to continue flirting with you?
“Thanks,” the man replies. However, his eyes narrow after a few seconds. “But are you going to try to steal them away from me?”
Heizou chuckles. “Well, it’s not like they’re yours, right?”
The stranger’s features twist into an expression of shock, and as he’s lost in a surprised daze, Heizou glances over at you and winks. You sigh. Leave it to Heizou to come up with a cheeky method to get you out of a predicament.
The man rolls his eyes, and then turns his attention back to you. He plasters a smirk onto his face.
“Come on, darling,” the man says, his voice is sickly sweet, dripping with a venomous nectar, “I’m much more attractive than this idiot, right?” The stranger gestures at Heizou, and you have to force yourself to stifle a giggle.
“I disagree,” you tell him, causing the smug expression to fall from his features.
The man opens his mouth to protest, but no sound comes out.
“Man alive,” Heizou says. “I guess I’m just far too charming to resist.” He grins at you playfully and inches closer towards you.
The stranger scowls, and turns away.
“Fine,” he sighs. “You win.”
Your boyfriend kisses you on the cheek as the man walks away. You look into his verdant eyes and grin at him, thankful that he was able to get you out of the troubling situation, even if his ways were slightly unorthodox.
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KAZUHA
“Excuse me, love, is this man bothering you?” Kazuha asks as he walks up to you. He subtly wraps an arm around your shoulders, making it clear to everyone in the room that you’re taken.
You feel the tension within your body alleviate as you’re enveloped in your boyfriend’s warm embrace. Even now, his touch is simultaneously as comforting as the sun on a euphoric spring day and as calming as a gentle autumnal breeze. The discomfort that you had previously felt due to the unfamiliar man trying to flirt with you dissipates.
“Oh, is he your boyfriend?” the man sneers, glaring at Kazuha with eyes that speak of malicious intent. He shuffles slightly closer to you, and you feel shivers run down your spine.
“He is. Now will you leave me alone?” you respond bluntly, hoping that your words will be enough to make the man back off.
You feel Kazuha’s grip on you tighten. Your heart melts when you realize he’s trying to protect you. He can read you like a book, and he’s the most thoughtful boyfriend you could ever ask for, unlike the man standing before you.
You look over at Kazuha, and you notice that his crimson eyes have narrowed, the stars once filling his irises turning into pointed daggers. It’s almost disturbing to see him this way. You’re so used to seeing your boyfriend with a look of pure adoration dancing through lakes of soft red, but now he looks nothing short of intimidating.
It seems that the stranger feels the same way as you because as you look back at him, you see his gaze lock with Kazuha’s. He shrinks back, and he begins to step away.
“Okay, okay, fine,” the man scowls. “I’m out of your league anyway!” He quickly turns around and walks away.
You and Kazuha watch as he leaves. Once he disappears back into the crowd, Kazuha speaks.
“Are you alright, my love?” Kazuha asks you.
You smile contently when you hear his voice soften once more. You’re so lucky to have a caring and kind boyfriend who always has your best interest in mind.
“I’m fine, and it’s all because of you,” you say. “Thank you, Kazuha.”
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SCARAMOUCHE
Discomfort flows through your veins, and shivers run down your spine. The man before you is making you feel unparalleled discomfort, and at this point, you’re wondering why your boyfriend hasn’t stepped in.
You can see him in the edges of your vision. His hair, spun of midnight, sits atop porcelain skin, and most strikingly of all, a gargantuan hat obscures his eyes. As expected, he’s sitting in a secluded corner, away from all the action, but you know he’s keeping an eye on you.
“There’s no need to act so shy,” the man tells you, stepping closer to you. He smirks at you, and you feel nothing short of disgust. “I’m friendly. I promise.”
The stranger leans in, and he’s about to wrap an arm around your shoulder when all of a sudden, someone grabs his wrist.
“Care to explain what you were trying to do with my lover?” Scaramouche hisses at the man. 
When you look over at your boyfriend, you notice that there’s a certain glint in his eyes. It’s dangerous. He looks as though he’s ready to do almost anything to defend you from the unfamiliar man.
Although the stranger is stunned for a few moments, he quickly snaps out of his daze and chuckles.
“This is ridiculous,” the man says, sneering at Scaramouche.
This is not going to end well.
“Why would I feel threatened by someone like you?” the stranger glances down at Scaramouche with disdain dancing through his irises. While it’s true that Scaramouche is rather short in stature compared to the man, you think that he’s underestimated your boyfriend’s strength.
The stranger attempts to pull his wrist out from Scaramouche’s grip, but Scaramouche only tightens his hold. It’s in that moment that you see the unfamiliar man’s eyes go wide with fear and uncertainty.
“Do you really think I’m stupid enough to pick a fight I can’t win?” Scaramouche retorts.
The stranger seems to shrink under the glare hosted within your boyfriend’s indigo hues. Although Scaramouche’s eyes usually resemble a serene night sky speckled with entire galaxies of stars when he’s with you, his softer side has now vanished. Instead, his irises are filled with a coldness that the majority of people who cross him are familiar with.
Scaramouche smirks.
“Listen closely because I’ll only say this once,” your boyfriend hisses in a low tone, indiscernible to the party-goers around you, and yet when his voice reaches your ears, it almost feels as though it’s been amplified. “Leave me and my partner alone. Lay another finger on them, and there will be far worse consequences.”
Upon hearing Scaramouche’s words, the man nods furiously.
You almost laugh.
Even though he tried to appear all tough earlier, the stranger has been reduced to nothing more than a trembling coward in the presence of your boyfriend.
“Now, run along,” Scaramouche releases the man from his grasp, waving his hand as an indication for the stranger to get out of his sight. “Take this as a warning.”
Without another word, the man scrambles away, nearly tripping over himself in his panicked state. Once he’s finally gone, you hear your boyfriend breathe out a sigh of relief.
“What a bother,” he says. “Are you alright?”
You nod. “Thank you for protecting me.”
You lean in towards your boyfriend and give him a quick kiss as a reward. His lips are soft and as warm as ever, and butterflies dance around in the pit of your stomach, eliciting feelings of absolute bliss within your heart.
As you pull away, you note that a shade of red has dawned upon his cheeks, tinting his pale skin a hue reminiscent of vivid sunsets.
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TIGHNARI
“Excuse me. Is it just me, or does the person you’re talking to appear extremely uncomfortable?” Tighnari asks, coming up to you and narrowing his eyes at the man pestering you. His tone isn’t the friendliest, but you don’t blame him. After all, it’s difficult to remain calm when a stranger is persistently flirting with your significant other.
The man chuckles, completely disregarding Tighnari’s words and turning his attention back to you. He smirks at you and then speaks.
“You’re not uncomfortable, right gorgeous?” he says, looking at you with an expression that sends shivers down your spine. It’s ironic. He insists that you’re alright, yet you’re feeling more and more unsettled by the second. Thankfully, your boyfriend is here to help.
“Take a closer look at their body language,” Tighnari sighs, staring intently at the man.
Although the stranger does take a few seconds to look you over, he doesn’t seem to notice anything. Instead, he simply rolls his eyes and turns back to Tighnari in order to refute him once more.
“I don’t see anything wrong,” the man scoffs, glaring daggers at your lover. He’s beginning to become slightly hostile, and it seems Tighnari can tell because as the stranger steps closer towards you, Tighnari wraps a hand firmly around your wrist and pulls you behind him.
“Since you’re not sensible enough to discern that you’re bothering them,” Tighnari gestures at you, his gaze steeling into the embodiment of desolate winter flurries as he turns his focus back to the man, “we’ll be taking our leave.”
Before the stranger can protest, Tighnari drags you away. He leads you into a crowd, and as you walk, you begin to feel disoriented. However, you assume it’s all part of your boyfriend’s plan to lose the man. Every left and every right begins to feel the same, but eventually, you end up outside the venue in a breathtaking spot where a gentle zephyr causes leaves to sing songs of blissful serenity and thousands of stars dazzle atop a canvas of dark night.
“Thank you,” you say to Tighnari once the two of you stop. As you meet his gaze, you notice that his expression has softened, and his eyes reflect the majestic skies above.
“Don’t thank me,” he tells you. “I was just doing what any good lover would do.”
He pulls you into an embrace. In the midst of evening frigidness, his touch causes a tepidness to blossom — a tepidness you wish to indulge in until sunrise paints the sky shades of pink and orange.
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XIAO
Right now, you need Xiao more than ever, but unfortunately for you, he’s not here.
Xiao had left earlier in order to get some fresh air. You agreed to let him go upon seeing the distress and discomfort swimming through his warm amber hues. He told you he would be back soon, and you hope that he’ll stay true to his promise because at the moment, you just want him to show up and save you.
You just have to hold out until he returns.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go out with me?” the stranger before you asks, gazing at you with pleading eyes. You grimace under the weight of his stare, a look that feels so unbearably heavy upon your conscience.
“Sorry, I have a boyfriend.” You force the words out, trying your hardest to remain civil, even in the face of such a predicament.
The man’s eyes darken and fill with shadows reminiscent of the essence of night. Your body tenses, and a feeling of anxiousness begins to fill your heart, causing it to beat in a panicked frenzy.
“Are you lying to me?” he asks.
But just as things appear as though they’re about to escalate, you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder.
“Is something wrong?” a calm voice questions you.
It’s Xiao. He’s here, and upon realizing that, a sense of security washes over you. Your boyfriend is back, and now you have actual proof that you’re already taken.
“Xiao!” you exclaim, heart filling with elation as you glance over at him. At the moment, he looks more handsome than ever. Party lights accentuate his dark hair with various shades of the rainbow, and his irises contain dandelion hues that glow as brightly as ever. You feel nothing short of relieved to see him.
Your boyfriend looks back at you, and when you make eye contact with him, reassurance flickers through his gaze.
You’re going to be alright.
Xiao slides his hand down your arm in order to interlace your fingers together. His warmth momentarily causes you to forget all the worry that had once plagued your mind, and the tension within you unravels and dissipates, dissolving under rays of golden comfort.
Xiao looks over at the man, who appears to be frozen in shock and embarrassment. He sighs and tugs on your hand gently, signaling to you that now is the perfect time to make your escape.
You allow your boyfriend to pull you away, weaving in and out of a crowd of partygoers. He pulls you away from the commotion, and before you know it, the two of you are together alone in a secluded spot on the roof of the venue.
Xiao wraps his arms around you, enveloping you in an embrace akin to the caress of the luminous moon above. It’s comforting, and after all the turmoil, you feel like everything is alright once more.
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to be honest, this probably isn’t my best work, but i hope you liked reading it! thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this, please reblog or comment!
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fetusgooseandjuice · 3 months
Text
Trust Me
Pairing(s): Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader
Summary: You haven’t been able to sleep in a couple weeks, and Natasha knows just the way to get you to close your eyes.
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: None? (If anyone finds any feel free to message me!)
Author’s Note: Heyy guys! I know I haven’t posted a fic in like 6 months, but I got writers block and it just never really went away. I’m not sure when I’ll post again, but I’ve had the idea for this fic for a while and I finally got the motivation to write it. It might not be that good but I hope you enjoy it at least a little! Think of it as a little Christmas gift :)
Author’s Note Pt. 2: Also, this is not proofread because I just wanted to get it posted so there might be some spelling and grammar errors!
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You heavily sighed once again for probably the fifth time in the past five minutes. It’s been a few hours since you and Natasha had called it a night, and yet here you were at nearly three in the morning still lying wide awake.
Although it’s not as if you were surprised or expecting anything else. You’d been having trouble falling asleep since the first night you and Natasha arrived in Norway.
Despite not having gotten many hours of sleep lately, for some reason you still weren’t tired and still could not fall asleep.
When your girlfriend came to you a week and a half ago and told you she had no other choice but to leave the states in order to evade the government after the whole incident between Tony and Steve, you instantly decided you’d be going with her without a second thought and left no room for her to disagree.
After all she should’ve known you’d follow her anywhere, but you guess it’s taken a toll on you.
You wanted to sleep, and yet you weren’t sure what was keeping you up. Maybe you were worried about something happening to Natasha?
‘What if she gets caught? Or what if we both somehow get hurt?’ you thought.
But you knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself and keeping you safe at the same time.
Even with the amount of times you told yourself not to worry, your mind wouldn’t listen.
You eventually sighed and turned your head to look at the redhead behind you. Her arms were wrapped tightly around you and no matter how much she shifted throughout the night, she never let you go.
The mere thought of that would be enough to bring a smile to your face if you weren’t so frustrated with yourself.
Deciding you’d had enough of laying there awake, you carefully unraveled your girlfriend’s arms from around you and slid out of bed.
You almost shivered at the cool temperature of the trailer as your bare feet touched the floor and you made your way into the kitchen.
The random plastic bags on the counter rustled as you rummaged through them in search of something to snack on, finally coming across a bottle of water and a pack of chips you’d never heard of.
As you went to open the cap of the bottle, a pair of arms slipping around your waist startled you. The yelp you let out made the person behind you chuckle, and you relaxed recognizing the sound.
“Sorry, malysh (baby).” Natasha said and you turned to look at her to see the apologetic look she had on her face.
You gave her a slight smile before shaking your head, “It’s okay. But what’re you doing up right now, Nat? You should be asleep, you need to rest.”
She dipped her head down to press multiple kisses to the skin of your neck, “I could ask you the same question because so do you.”
You should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to leave the warmth of your shared bed without her noticing.
“I just couldn’t sleep.” you said, making her eyebrows furrow as you opened your water bottle and took a sip. “But I know you’re still tired so you should go back to bed, I’ll be there soon.”
“No, not without you.” Natasha was quick to disagree, “What’s going on, dorogaya (darlin)? You were yawning quite a bit before we went to bed. Why can’t you sleep?” she rested her chin on your shoulder, ready to listen to what you had to say.
You sighed realizing that you were going to have to have this conversation now. Your shoulders shrugged, “I don’t know.” was all you offered.
Natasha stayed quiet, giving you the floor for when you were ready to add on. A moment later, you did.
“I haven’t really gotten any decent sleep recently, so I’m not sure why I can’t fall asleep or why I’m not tired.”
Your girlfriend pecked your shoulder blade, acknowledging that she heard you.
“How long has this been going on for?” she asked.
For a second you went quiet, not exactly wanting to answer when you remembered that now that she knew, she wasn’t going to let it go until she made it better.
“Since we left the states.” you admitted.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Once again, you shrugged your shoulders, “I didn’t want to worry you.” you said. “You already have a lot on your plate with this whole situation and I didn’t want to add more to it.”
You heard Natasha sigh and now you appreciated that fact that you weren’t standing face to face at the moment.
“I guess I’m thinking too much.” you added. “At night I finally get the time to actually think about stuff, and I worry about you and if you’re going to be okay.”
Natasha was also glad you weren’t standing face to face right now because if you were, you would’ve seen the way her lips pulled into a smile.
“Well if you’re going to worry about me then I think I have every right to worry about you.” she chuckled and you fought back a smile at it.
“I’m sorry.” you said.
She didn’t say anything for a few moments until you heard her soft voice with that hint of rasp speak up.
“Look at me, krasivyy (beautiful).”
You craned your neck to see green eyes which were filled to the brim with love and tenderness staring at you, the singular warm light above the kitchen sink allowing her to see your sad ones.
The frustration that’d been building up in you beginning to melt away ever so slightly.
“I want you to talk to me about what you’re going through.” Natasha spoke. “I don’t care about what you think I might have going on, you’re always my first priority, okay?”
You nodded as she raised a hand to caress your cheek, brushing a hair behind your ear in the process.
“I love you too much to have you worrying that pretty little head of yours all alone when I’m always right here for you.” she pressed her lips to your temple to emphasize her point. “So promise me next time you’ll tell me if somethings wrong?”
“I promise, and I love you too, Nat.”
“Good,” Natasha smiled and leaned in to connect your lips in a loving kiss, pulling away shortly after and leaning her forehead against yours. “I’m going to be okay, so there’s no need to worry. We’re both gonna be okay, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you agreed. You knew Natasha would make sure of that.
“Alright, do you think you’re ready to head back to bed?”
You weren’t sure how to answer that. Even though you were relieved Natasha knew now and you talked about it, you still weren’t even close to being able to go to sleep.
“No,” you spoke quietly. “I’m still not really tired, and I honestly don’t know if I will be until this all blows over.”
Natasha went silent for a few moments, thinking. She turned you around to face her and moved your arms to wrap around her shoulders.
“Nat, what are you—”
“Shhh,” she interrupted your sentence, “Just trust me.”
So you did.
Her arms snaked back around your waist and pulled you into her. You weren’t exactly sure what she was doing until she began swaying with you from one side to the other.
You’d danced together before, but at Tony’s many parties. Not when you were trying to make yourself fall asleep.
“Nat, I don’t think—”
“You’re supposed to be trusting me. Do you not?”
“I do, but—”
“So shhh,” she said and you couldn’t help the little giggle you let out. “You said you were thinking too much, right?”
“Yeah.” you confirmed.
“So just relax and let me do all the thinking. I don’t want you to worry about anything except trusting me.”
“Okay.” you whispered, giving in and resting your cheek on her shoulder, allowing her to move you.
A few seconds later Natasha began humming. It wasn’t a song that you knew, but you recognized it as one of the many Russian lullabies she’s hummed and sometimes sang to you before.
The way she hummed them always made you feel relaxed and peace, and this time was no different. Because soon you started to lean into her more as you became more and more weary.
Your heavy eyelids fell shut and your head found security in her neck as you cuddled closer to it, happily letting her comforting scent soothe you.
After a couple of songs, Natasha finally looked at you to find you pretty much sound asleep.
She grinned to herself and pecked your head before lifting you into her arms, making her way back to your bedroom.
“Told you to trust me.”
~ end ~
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acourtofwhatthefuck · 5 months
Text
Practice On Me — Part Nine — Azriel x Reader
Summary: Roza’s arrival in Windhaven brings some home truths crashing down on Reader. She just needs a hug, someone to talk to, but it all goes very, very wrong…
Word Count: 3k.
Warnings: None.
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Chaos evades logic.
There is no rationality to be found here. No sense to be made of the ample feelings that begin to chew you up and spit you out.
All you know, as you lace your breeches up and correct yourself, is that you feel like you’ve been punched in the gut.
“Are you decent?” Roza calls, her back still to you.
You tie the last lace. Clear your throat. “All good.”
The closest person you’ve ever had to a mother figure turns on the spot. She’s absolutely beautiful — fucking glowing — her swollen belly visible through her thick coat, and her eyes alight with a quality you’ve never seen before.
Rhysand really is the mirror image of her.
“I actually cannot believe I just witnessed that.” She grouses. “And just when I thought the morning sickness had finally come to an end, too. My poor, poor eyes.”
Cassian makes a noise. “Roz, that’s a bit dramatic—”
“You be quiet.” She points a finger at him. “Your mouth has done quite enough tonight, thank you very much.”
The two of them stare at each other — Cassian wanting to be a little shit and push his luck, and Roza wanting to…
Well, to gouge her eyes out with a rusty spoon, probably.
But then Cassian cracks a grin, and he’s bounding over to the female like an excitable pup. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”
“Watch your language.” Roza scorns, but she happily accepts the hug that Cass yanks her into. “Gods, you’ve grown even more.”
You…you are rooted to the spot. Unable to move.
You want to go over there, too. To embrace her. But…but just seeing Roza makes the previous couple of months come hammering down on you in an unwelcome downpour of unwanted realisations.
You think: Roza caught me fooling around with Cassian.
And then you think: Fucking hell, I fooled around with Cassian again.
And then you’re wondering how — how you’ve let the recent events of your life veer down such a beaten, broken path.
It’s like Roza’s appearance brings a clarity that has been very much absent as of late. She’s always been a figure of reason and wisdom, always stopped you from spiralling.
And now she’s here, you’re looking at Cassian — your damn friend — and wondering just how much damage you might have caused.
He’s mid-conversation with Roza when he seems to notice you staring at him. Roza notices, too.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She says.
You open your mouth, unsure how you intend to respond. All that slips out is a rasped, “I’m just…so glad you’re here.”
Cassian snorts. “Tell that to your face.”
You can’t bring yourself to laugh at the jibe. And it would seem that Roza can’t, either. She’s studying you in that assessing way you’ve seen her wear a thousand times before — the one where the motherly instinct kicks in, and she’s sensing something is wrong. It seems to be a subconscious act, the way she slides her hand over her bump.
“So what are you doing back here, anyway?” Cassian asks her, slinging an arm round her shoulders. “I thought the High Lord wanted you to stay in Velaris for the pregnancy.”
“He does.” Roza says. “But then I found out Y/N had somehow ended up homeless and that he hadn’t bothered to help, so he and I aren’t on the best of terms right now.” She eyes you again. “I’ve come to move you properly into the cottage — including retrieving your belongings from your father’s house. I will not have you freezing your ass off in this dump.”
Gods, you love her.
She’s so fierce, so passionate. This is a female who housed three lost, rowdy children under her roof and offered them the same amount of love as she felt for her biological son. This is a female who does what she believes is right and damns the consequences. This is a female who doesn’t hesitate — not for one second — to help somebody in need.
She’s the exact kind of female you want yourself to be. And she’s the only person you wish to see in that moment.
“Perfect.” Cassian chirps brightly. “I’ll help. Let’s go fetch Y/N’s stuff from the bastard’s house right now.”
He takes a step towards the door, but Roza is laying a hand on his arm. She doesn’t look away from you once. “Cassian, my darling, I love you endlessly. And so, I say this with the greatest of adoration — fuck off to the mead hall, or something, and leave Y/N and I to have some girl time alone.”
“What?” He squawks in outrage. “But you just got here.”
“And I promise you we’ll catch up properly later. But right now, Y/N and I need some time alone.”
“But—”
“Do you want to stay and discuss the ins and outs of childbirth?”
Instantly, he falters. The change of tune would be comical if you were actually capable of feeling anything but despair in that moment.
“You know what?” He cracks a grin. “The mead hall sounds great right about now.”
Roza chuckles. “I thought it might. I’m taking Y/N back to the cottage. I’ll come and fetch you when we’re done. And if you see Az or Rhys, be sure to tell them to stay away, too.”
Oh.
This is going to be a serious talk.
You can’t remember the last time Roza was so insistent about it just being the two of you.
Probably when you got your first ever cycle, and she held and soothed and bathed you through it.
Will she still be so tender when she hears of the full scope of the mess you’ve created for yourself? You’re not sure you’d deserve it.
“Go easy, Cass.” Roza warns. “Don’t get into any fights.”
“Pff. As if I would.” Your friend lands a kiss on her cheek. “You look beautiful, Roz.” He says, and then he’s bustling out of the door without a care in the world.
You stare after him. Wish you could be that carefree. It feels…it feels impossible.
Gods, you just want to fucking cry.
Roza can see that. She holds a hand out.
“Come, my little dove.” She says. “Let’s get you home.”
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
It kind of feels like walking into the cottage for the very first time, all over again.
You remember that night like it happened only yesterday. Remember how the cold had felt as you’d followed Azriel through the snow. The noises of bickering coming  from behind the door.
Even at eleven, Az had always seemed so much taller than you. You’d noticed that as he’d strode ahead and led you inside.
Roza had been standing in the kitchen, and she’d turned to you with a curious expression. “Oh.” She’d chirped, with more warmth than you’d ever heard from your own kin. “What have we here, then?”
You, Azriel had explained to her, had been set upon by a group of males far older than you. Az had defended you, and then he’d invited you to share his dinner.
Roza had taken one look at the dirt packed beneath your fingernails and told you to thoroughly wash your hands before taking a seat. You’d done just that.
And it was at that very table that Rhysand had introduced himself.
“I’m Rhysand. My father is the High Lord.”
Roza had scolded him for showing off.
And it was after that that Cassian had eyed you with a wild, feral look and simply said, “I bet I could beat you in an arm wrestle. I beat everyone.”
“Not at my dinner table, you don’t.” Roza had put a stop to that immediately. And then she’d placed a steaming pie in the centre of the table, and High Lords and arm wrestles were all but forgotten, and Azriel had been quiet and shy at your side, but dutifully offering you different foods before he took any for himself—
Standing at the threshold of the cottage, now…it’s like watching that entire scene play out before you. The ghosts of your younger, wayward selves feast greedily on a wholesome meal that lets you forget your harrowing experiences for a little while.
How things have changed.
You finally step in. Kick the door shut behind you. The smells and warmth of your sanctuary envelop you, and you know — you fucking know that you won’t be able to keep a lid on your tears for long.
“Don’t know how many times I’ve told those idiots to put the fire out before they leave the house.” Roza mutters, but she goes striding straight towards that burning fire and welcomes its warmth. “Although, I must admit, I’m a little impressed. I expected this place to be far messier in my absence than it is. Don’t tell me they’ve actually been cleaning—”
“Roza.” You cut in, your voice shaky, desperate. “About what you saw—”
She turns back to you. Says nothing as concerned, violet eyes sweep the length of your body. She’s letting you speak, but you don’t know what the fuck to say.
You open and close your mouth as though the act will make some sense of…any of this.
It doesn’t.
“I didn’t realise you and Cassian were…” Roza clears her throat. Pauses. “I just…what of Azriel, Y/N?”
You blink at her.
Roza’s very good at knowing things she hasn’t been told, but for her to know about you and Az when she’s been in Velaris this whole time, and when, as far as you’re aware, these things have been strictly kept between you and Azriel only—
“What?” You breathe.
“Perhaps I’m wrong, I don’t know.” She frowns. “But I always suspected that you and Az would be…something more. Your connection with him has always run a little deeper than with anyone else. That’s why I was so shocked when I found you…and Cass…”
Is she wrong?
No.
And fucking damn you for taking all these years to see it. Fucking damn you for only realising you wanted Azriel as more than just your friend when somebody else began to recognise his brilliance.
Fucking damn you for all of this, and damn Azriel, too, and damn everyone.
It all comes showering down on you in an instant, harsh and unwelcome.
You love Azriel. Not just in the way you love Rhysand and Cassian. You’re in love with his soul, his spirit. Who he is will always be tethered to who you are, even though he isn’t yours to cling onto. It’s been that way since you were old enough to harbour such feelings, and you’ve been burying it all these years, burying it under bad choices and regrettable actions, because all of that seemed easier to face, than…this. The fact that you were never able to control your heart, stop it from feeling such things, and now you feel them so intensely that it hurts.
Had your deal with Az ever really been about helping him, or had it been a selfish ruse under which you could have some small experience to remember him by when he inevitably gave his heart to somebody else?
Because you are just Y/N. You’ve always just been Y/N.
You are not Kaeda — Kaeda with the wings, and the strength, and the excellence.
Just Y/N. Just Y/N—
“Speak to me, my love.” Roza steps closer. “I’m worried about you.”
Your eyes blur with tears. Your legs buckle, and you’re bracing one hand on the back of the couch while the other flies up to cup over your mouth.
“Oh, gods, what have I done?” Your voice breaks.
“Speak to me.” Roza says again.
“This is all such a mess.”
“What is, Y/N?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t know what—what to do!”
“You need to breathe.” She responds firmly. “Deep breaths. Now.”
You try. Gods, you try. But your chest is constricting, and the air won’t reach your lungs, and all you can hear on a constant loop inside your head is one, bellowing sentence.
Everything is irreversibly changed.
Roza closes the gap between you and cups your face. The touch is soft, but firm. She forces you to look at her, and her face is blurred by your tears, but you know she’s looking at you how she’s always looked at you — with love.
“Tell me what’s going on, and I can help you through it.” She pleads.
“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” You sob back.
She yanks you close, arms wrapping around you. She’s held you like this through so, so much. This is no different.
But it feels different, in that it feels worse. Not only is it possible that your actions could change your relationships with both Cassian and Azriel, but also that they could change their relationship with each other, too — change the strong, steadfast dynamic between your three closest friends.
You tremble, clinging to Roza like you may just collapse. Your heartbeat gallops in your ears like rhythmic footfalls.
“Y/N—”
“It all turned into a total mess.” You choke out. “I was feeling things — I am feeling things — and then Azriel had Kaeda and I was jealous and stupid and I — I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have slept with Cassian.”
“You did what?”
Those three, outraged words are not spoken in Roza’s voice. The sudden interjection of Azriel’s is enough for your sobs to catch in your throat.
Every single inch of your body goes cold as you step back to look at him. Blink at him. Roza fights to keep hold of you.
Normally, he would have hurried over to embrace her. But he stays rooted to the last step of the staircase. He’s staring at you. Only you.
You’ve never seen him look so pale.
“Az.” Roza sighs softly. “We didn’t realise you were home.”
He doesn’t look away from you — not once — as he asks, “What did you just say?”
Roza inches towards him. “I think we all need to sit down and talk about this—”
“You fucked Cassian?”
Tears spill over, roll down your cheeks. Your voice doesn’t want to show itself as you croak out, “Az, I can explain.”
“You fucked Cassian?” He’s repeating it like…like he needs to. Like it won’t get into his head any other way. “You had sex with him?”
“Yes, but—”
“Around the time you and I were doing similar things?”
Roza’s head whips round to you in surprise. You’d failed to mention that bit. After a moment, she rights herself once more. “Azriel, you should let her speak.”
“I can’t fucking believe you.” Letting you speak is the last thing on his mind as he steps down, storming past the two of you. You reach out for him, but he’s jerking away, heading for the door.
“Azriel, please.” Your voice cracks. “Let me explain.”
“Explain that you fucked Cass? At the same time that I was sharing such…such huge things with you—”
“At the same time you were sharing them with Kaeda!”
He falls still, hand faltering on the doorknob, shoulders hunched.
And then he glances over his shoulder at you with an expression so bleak, you’d do anything, make a bargain with anyone, to wipe it from his face.
“Except that I’ve never touched Kaeda like that.” He says. “Not once. I couldn’t.”
Before you’re capable of summoning an answer, he’s yanking the door open and thundering out into the snow.
Shock pulses through you, ice-cold and harrowing. You blink, and blink and blink and blink, and you think Roza might be saying your name, but you can only choke out another sob that grates against your throat, and then your legs are moving forward, stumbling out of the door.
“Az, wait!” You cry, but he’s already striding far into the distance. “Please!”
You try to move, but it’s like the snow is binding your ankles, grounding you firmly to the spot. You sob. Try to move. Fall. Get up. It’s cold and wet. You’re hurting. Everything’s hurting.
And somebody’s yelling — yelling at you.
“Hey!” You know the voice. It’s a voice you don’t like. But you can’t put a face to it until its owner is stopping in front of you, sneering at you. Lord Devlon. “What did I tell you about staying away from these parts, girl?”
You’re incapable of answering him. You’re not even looking at him. You just stare and stare in the direction that Az disappeared in, fat, hot tears rolling down your cheeks.
“I’m talking to you.” Devlon grabs your chin between his fingers, hard. “Insolent female—”
“Remove your hand from her face at once.”
He blinks at the sight of Roza stepping out of the cottage. Clearly, he had no clue she’d returned. And even he won’t speak out against the High Lord’s pregnant mate.
He drops his hand immediately.
Roza steps up to your side and narrows her gorgeous eyes at him. Her hand sits on her swollen belly. “Look at you, Lord Devlon — following orders like a good dog. Now, go on. Fuck off.”
There’s a slight twitch of a muscle as he clenches his jaw. He hates every second of it, but he obediently turns away from you.
“Oh — Lord Devlon?” Roza calls after him.
He stops. Turns. “Yes, lady?”
“I decide who can and cannot live in my house.” She stares him down. “That call is mine and mine alone. And if I hear of you giving Y/N any more trouble? I’ll rip your fucking throat out.”
She turns her back to him with utter dismissal. If you weren’t so devastated, you might laugh at his stunned expression.
But Roza sees the pain in your eyes, and she pulls you into her arms.
“Come, my love.” She murmurs  softly. “Let’s get you inside.”
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slytherinslut0 · 5 months
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MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me
Chapter Nine-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.
(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theós fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)
Tags: 18+, SMUT, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviours, Manipulation, Gagging, Choking, Fingering, Denied Orgasm, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Slight FreeUse Kink, Sexual Aggression, CNC, DubCon.
***FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.
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"What's it like tutoring him twice a bloody week?" Emily said, her wide eyes pinned on the rowdy ruckus emanating from the Slytherin table, where Mattheo Riddle was of course reigned at the very center. "I'm surprised you even have any hair left. I'd probably pull mine out within the first two seconds of being alone with him."
You chuckled at her words, seemingly brushing her off, but your mind couldn't help to race with the thoughts of how fast everything escalated. In just a matter of weeks you'd gone from absolutely despising eachother, Mattheo seemingly not giving two shits about you or your tutoring sessions--to being unable to keep your fucking hands off each other every chance you got, while Mattheo somehow manages to get grades higher than he's ever gotten in his entire life.
Yeah, the guy was bloody fucking insufferable, and you still couldn't stand him on a day to day basis, but Gods you loved the way he touched you. You loved the way he made you feel.
"Believe me, every moment I manage to keep myself from throttling him is a miracle," you muttered under your breath, shifting your gaze back to your own table, silently praying the blush creeping up your cheeks went unnoticed. "He's beyond insufferable."
"I heard he fought someone for you," Emily's gaze fixated on you, her curiosity palpable as she leaned over the table toward you. "And not just someone...Berkshire, of all people? What on earth happened there? I can't believe you didn't tell me!"
Your stomach twisted into knots. You had managed to evade Emily's inquiries about Friday's incident by stealthily steering the conversation toward her favorite book, immersing yourself in studies, and strategically avoiding her whenever possible. Yet, you knew this conversation was inevitable. You had just honestly hoped it wouldn't come today, especially not when you were mere minutes away from your first reoccurring Tuesday meeting with Mattheo's brother.
Navigating this topic was like stepping on shards of glass, the memory of Mattheo's fierce defense cutting through your thoughts. Each recollection was a visceral experience, the clench of his fist, the predatory glint in his eyes, all etched into your mind like a painting of unrestrained intensity. The mere thought of his protective stance sent a shiver down your spine, leaving your skin electrified with the memory of his presence. Discussing the incident meant confronting the pulsating heat between your thighs, a tangible reminder of the way his concern wrapped around you like a cocoon.
"Mattheo skipped our tutoring session, so I ventured into the Slytherin common room to find him," you explained, your voice steady but your hands trembling slightly. "The entire Quidditch team was there, and Berkshire, well, he got upset over something I said and things escalated quickly."
Her eyes widened in anticipation, the unspoken question hanging in the air. "So Mattheo stepped in to save you? Defend you?"
"Both, technically," you responded, your voice laced with a mix of frustration and resignation. "But it was his fault to begin with. If he had just shown up for our session, none of that would have happened."
Emily's eyes widened in concern, her brows furrowing. "At least he had the audacity to step up for you," she said, her tone torn between disapproval and understanding. "He's been unhinged lately, picking fights with anyone who glances at him the wrong way. I even heard he got into it with his own brother...have you seen Tom's face? It looks like a bloody war zone."
Dread coiled tightly in the pit of your stomach, a sinking realization seeping into your veins. You'd taken nothing but a small, fleeting glance at Tom yesterday in class, avoiding eye contact in a desperate attempt to avoid any type of conversation--but anyone from a twenty mile radius could notice the blackened skin around his eyes, the split in his perfect plush lips.
The thought of facing him tonight clawed at your insides--the pretense you'd have to maintain, acting as though you were oblivious to the reason behind his battered face, felt like a weight pressing down on your chest. You knew the truth, you knew all too fucking well why he looked the way he did, and the knowledge hung between you like a fragile web, waiting to shatter at the slightest touch.
"I haven't," you said, steeling your shoulders to seem convincing. "But I heard that as well...nothing about that boy surprises me anymore."
You lied not out of malice, but out of self-preservation. Admitting that you knew the real reason behind Tom's injuries wasn't even in the question, wasn't even a thought to be had. Your lie was a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the storm you could see brewing on the horizon, a storm that threatened to consume everything in its path. So, you played your part, hoping that your facade would hold long enough to keep you out of the fray.
"Well, it should. He's mad, that one. I'd avoid him at all costs. Tutor him and run," she said bluntly, her words carrying a weight of caution as she packed up her books. "What are you doing tonight? We should study for Herbology."
Your stomach twisted again, tying into a tight knot as her words echoed in your ears. If only she knew the truth behind you and Mattheo's situation, if only she knew how bloody deep you were ensnared in his web. Desperate to change the subject, you cleared your throat, realizing you hadn't even told her about the fact that Tom had asked you to meet with him on Tuesdays.
"I...I can't...I'm meeting Tom tonight." You said, tentatively, pausing briefly in order to choose your next words carefully--knowing that regardless of how you explained it, she was bound to absolutely freak. "He asked we meet one-on-one each Tuesday, in addition to the Thursday guild meetings..."
Your words hung in the air, a heavy revelation that seemed to catch Emily off guard. She blinked, her previous endorsement of Tom Riddle echoing in her mind, seemingly frozen for a moment until her eyes widened with a spark of excitement.
"Woah, woah, woah..." she practically threw herself across the table at you, unable to control herself. "Why? What exactly did he say?!"
You hesitated, unsure of how to explain the complexity of the situation without divulging too much. "I don't know," you replied, your voice low. "He just...requested it, and I didn't feel like I could refuse."
"Oh my stars! I must be a fortune teller!" She giggled, revelling in her previous comment from last week. "Do you know what this means?! Do you know the opportunities this can open up for you if it turns into something more?! Imagine the scholarly collaborations, the doors to advanced research, and prestigious circles you could access...your academic reputation would soar, paving the way for extraordinary opportunities in the future-"
"Yeah, Emily, it's all very...exciting," you cut her off, your voice laced with a grumble, your mind racing with thoughts of Mattheo and the impossibility of being with someone like Tom, no matter how perfect he seemed on the surface. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves here, please."
"But, this is a golden opportunity!" Emily exclaimed, her brows furrowing in confusion. "I mean, it's Tom Riddle we're talking about. The doors he could open for you, the knowledge you could gain from him--it's practically a scholar's dream! Why aren't you more excited about this? Don't you see the incredible possibilities waiting for you?"
Your internal irritation churned like a storm, each pushy comment from Emily adding fuel to the fire. Mattheo's face, his touch, his words claiming you as his echoed in your mind, reminding you of the complexity he brought into your life. Despite the impossibility of a relationship with Mattheo, the mere thought of Tom felt like a betrayal, a path you couldn't tread because of fear of Mattheo's reaction.
"Gods, I get it, Emily," you snapped, your tone sharper than you intended, the pressure of your conflicting emotions bubbling over. "But not every connection is a ticket to social or academic advancement...sometimes it's about...something deeper." Your voice softened as you attempted to mend the sudden rift, regret colouring your words. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so harsh...it's just...complicated, and I don't really want to rely on someone else for career or academic opportunities, it just...feels like cheating, you know?"
Emily nodded slowly, understanding dawning in her eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so pushy...it's just, you've never had a boyfriend...and Tom, well, I just think he'd be perfect for you." There was a warmth in her words, a sincerity that softened the edges of the conversation. "I have to meet Michael in the courtyard, we're going to study...I'll see you later tonight then, yeah?"
You managed a small smile, appreciating Emily's concern despite the frustrating conversation. "Thanks, Emily," you said, your voice softer now. "I'll see you later."
As Emily got up and left the table, a mix of relief and lingering irritation settled within you. You couldn't shake the internal turmoil, the conflicting emotions that came with both the budding relationship with Tom and the unrelenting thoughts of Mattheo. It was as if you were caught between two worlds, neither of which felt entirely right.
The tension in the air was almost tangible as Emily's footsteps faded away, leaving you alone at the table. The flickering candlelight danced on the polished wood, casting intricate shadows that seemed to mirror the complexity of your emotions. You felt like a character in one of the many novels you'd read, entangled in a plotline far more intricate than any you'd ever encountered.
As you rose from the table, your eyes met Mattheo's from across the room, his gaze piercing into your soul with a knowing intensity that sent shivers down your spine. There was something in his eyes, a depth of insight that left you feeling exposed, as if he could see through the layers you desperately tried to conceal. The unspoken connection between you both hung in the air, an invisible thread that refused to be severed.
Making your way to your dormitory, you couldn't shake the memory of Mattheo's gaze. It followed you like a ghost, haunting the corners of your mind as you picked out an outfit for your meeting with Tom. The anticipation hummed in the air, the atmosphere crackling with a strange energy. You opted for a slightly revealing top but still professional, a conscious choice to make an impression, to assert control over a situation that seemed increasingly beyond your grasp.
Walking down the dimly lit corridors of the castle, you felt a knot of apprehension tighten in your stomach. The library loomed ahead like a sanctuary of secrets, its ancient walls holding the wisdom of centuries. As you pushed open the heavy oak doors, your eyes met Tom's bruised face, seated in a secluded corner of the room, the evidence of Mattheo's anger etched into his skin. It was a stark reminder of the forces at play, the dangerous dance you found yourself entangled in.
You moved toward Tom cautiously, your footsteps echoing in the hushed silence of the library. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw the reflection of your own turmoil mirrored back at you, a depth of intensity in his stare that seemed to pierce through your very soul. As you approached, he rose from his seat with a fluid motion, his tall, commanding figure casting a confident shadow.
With a faint, enigmatic smile, he extended his hand in a gesture of greeting. "Top of the evening, darling," he said, his voice velvety and composed, the words hanging in the air with a subtle weight. "It's a pleasure to see you again."
As he spoke, his eyes never left yours, his unwavering gaze drawing you in further. "Evening, Tom..." you replied, your voice catching slightly as you took his hand, a rush of warmth spreading through you at his touch. "Pleasure to see you, as well."
With practiced elegance, he pulled out the chair for you, his movements precise and deliberate, a testament to his controlled demeanor. You allowed him to guide you into the chair, feeling the subtle brush of his fingers against your skin--once seated, Tom resumed his own place, his posture impeccable, exuding an air of sophistication and confidence.
"You're looking particularly lovely tonight," he said, his tone low and smooth, his dark eyes dipping over your chest. "I've been looking forward to meeting with you again more than I'd like to admit..."
Blush flooded your face, warmth spreading through you. "You are much too sweet, Tom...I'm not sure what I've done to deserve such compliments."
"I appreciate your modesty," Tom leaned back in his chair, smirking subtly. "Perhaps that's precisely what makes you so deserving."
As you engaged in conversation with Tom, your mind raced with thoughts of Mattheo, his presence lingering in your mind like a ghost in the room. Your gaze flickered involuntarily to the fading bruises on Tom's cheek, the scabbing split in his lip, and you simply couldn't ignore the discomfort in your throat. Despite your efforts to suppress it, an uneasy feeling settled in your stomach.
Tom's flirting, though subtle, only intensified your discomfort. You knew all too well how possessive Mattheo could be, and the mere thought of him overhearing even a hint of this conversation made you squirm internally. With a subtle shift in your tone, you ventured to inquire about an answer you already knew; hoping to solidify your innocence, your voice laced with nothing but concern.
"I couldn't help but notice the bruises," you murmured gently, your eyes flickering toward Tom's face. "If it's not too personal, may I ask what happened?"
"It was my brother," Tom admitted, his tone carrying a hint of exasperation. "He can be quite...stubborn, and tends to resort to physicality when he feels strongly about something. But it's nothing I can't handle. Sibling disagreements, I suppose. We've had worse."
He offered a small, dismissive smile, downplaying the severity of the situation, although his eyes betrayed a glimmer of frustration.
In response, you nodded, smiling softly. "Makes me glad I'm an only child."
"I imagine it has its perks," Tom replied, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. His gaze lingered on your face for a moment before he shifted the conversation. "By the way, how has your tutoring been going with my brother? I know he's quite the handful...I imagine your sessions are quite...intellectually stimulating."
Your lungs stalled, pulse quickening in your throat. There was something in the way he said it, a flicker of curiosity mingled with a hint of something else that made your stomach twist with unease.
"Oh, intellectually stimulating is one way to put it," you replied, trying to keep your tone light. "He's certainly...unique to work with, but we manage."
The room seemed to constrict around you, the air thick with tension as Tom's gaze bored into your soul, searching for hidden truths. His eyes, sharp and discerning, followed a deliberate path across your face, lingering on every contour as if trying to decipher the secrets etched in your skin. His fingers played with the pages of his book, tracing the edges with a calculated precision, a tangible unease settling between you.
His scrutiny intensified, his eyes dipping lower, skimming over your lips, then your chest, before locking onto yours with an unwavering intensity.
"You know, I've heard what you've done for my brother..." he continued, his voice a mere whisper, yet it echoed with a resonance that sent shivers down your spine. "Improving his grades in just a few short months...it seems you have a talent for reaching him in ways others couldn't, considering how resistant to tutoring he's been..." his tone darkened, a challenge flickering in his eyes. "I can't help but wonder what methods you employ to achieve such...drastic results."
In the charged silence that followed, you shifted slightly in your seat, feeling the weight of Tom's scrutiny like a physical presence. The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with tension and unspoken questions--you could tell he was pushing for something, but you refused to even give an inch.
You held your ground, meeting Tom's intense gaze with a steely resolve. "Teaching is about understanding individual needs and tailoring the approach accordingly," you replied, your voice firm. "Every student has their unique way of grasping concepts, and it's my job as a tutor to find that approach. It's not about methods; it's about recognizing potential and fostering it. Mattheo has the intellect; he just needed the right guidance to unlock it. That's what tutoring is all about; guidance, patience, and a genuine belief in the student's abilities."
Tom's lips curled into a knowing smile, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned closer. "A unique approach indeed," he murmured, his voice laced with intrigue. "Understanding someone like Mattheo requires more than just conventional tutoring methods, I suspect."
You felt a flush creep up your neck at his insinuation, his words hanging in the air like a tantalizing threat. There was an unspoken challenge in his gaze, as if he dared you to reveal the depths of your connection with Mattheo, and you were growing increasingly more uncomfortable with each passing second.
"I find your insinuations rather perturbing, Mr. Riddle," your voice dropped to a near-whisper, laced with firmness and defiance, your eyes narrowing in challenge as you leaned in closer, the tension between you palpable. "Mattheo may have a reputation, but he's a student here, just like the rest of us...he deserves a fair chance to succeed, without unnecessary assumptions clouding his progress. Don't you agree?"
The intensity in your gaze dared him to challenge your statement, refusing to back down in the face of his probing scrutiny. His lips curved into a sly smile, his eyes dancing with intrigue.
"Indeed, darling," he replied, his tone smooth like silk. "A commendable dedication to your students. It's a quality not often found in tutors."
The glint in his eyes hinted at a deeper curiosity, leaving you with the sense that he was far from convinced by your response, but when he changed the subject, seemingly dismissing it as though nothing even happened, you found yourself expelling a long breath of relief. You engaged in conversation with Tom for a while longer, the topics ranging from academics to shared interests in literature and the intricacies of magical theory. Despite the undercurrent of tension, you found yourself drawn into the conversation, momentarily forgetting the complexities of your situation.
As the night grew darker, Tom glanced at the time and offered to walk you back to your dorm room. You accepted his offer, and together, you strolled through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts. Emily's words from early bounced around in your mind, reminding you of how good for you Tom could be, if you let him--but despite the intellectual conversations and the surface-level connection, something fundamental was missing, a spark that failed to ignite the depths of your soul.
In the silent moments between words, you couldn't help but compare the encounter with the electrifying energy that Mattheo stirred within you. With Mattheo, every glance, every touch felt charged with a raw intensity, a potent magnetism that left you breathless, angry, and alive. His presence had a way of awakening something dormant inside you, a flame that burned brighter in his proximity.
You could light fires with the feelings you felt for Mattheo--a passionate hate, one inexplicable by words.
When you arrived at the hall leading to your dormitory, Tom turned to face you, his demeanor exuding a dark, enigmatic energy that sent a shiver down your spine. There was a lingering hesitation in the air, a palpable tension that neither of you acknowledged, yet it clung to the atmosphere like a ghost. With a smile that held secrets you dared not explore, he leaned in, his gesture carrying a weight that made your stomach twist with unease.
"I enjoyed myself tonight." His lips brushed your cheek in a touch that was both gentle and possessive, leaving a cold trail in its wake, his hand curling around your waist. "Until next time, little witch."
His voice a mere whisper against your skin, his words sending an aggressive chill down your spine. His stature remained stoic and composed, his eyes holding a darkness that seemed to mirror the shadows lurking within the castle walls as he pulled back--in an attempt to hide your discomfort, you shot him a small smile.
"Goodnight, Tom." Keeping your voice steady was impossible. "Thanks for walking me back."
With one last knowing glance and a chilling smirk, Tom spun around, his footsteps echoing off the cold, empty corridor as he made his way back into the shadows, disappearing from your view. The silence that settled in his wake was thick with unspoken words, leaving you standing there, heart racing and mind clouded with a sense of foreboding.
You spun around, eager to continue your path down the hall, only managing to make it a few strides when the hushed whispers of the night were abruptly drowned out by a sudden rush of footsteps, too swift and too silent to be anything ordinary. Before you could react, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into the shadows.
A door to a small closet was whipped open, and you were abruptly pulled inside, a gasp catching in your throat as you were abruptly slammed against the door as it shut behind you, your eyes widening as you found yourself face to face with Mattheo. His dark, stormy eyes bore into yours, a dangerous glint flickering within their depths. His hand pressed firmly against your mouth, silencing any protest that threatened to escape. The contrast of his icy touch against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, and a strange mix of fear and something else, something inexplicably alluring, tightened its grip on your chest.
Trapped in the narrow space between the unforgiving wooden door and Mattheo's overwhelming presence, your entire body roared to life, sparking dormant nerves. It was as though he had uncovered a realm of feelings you never knew existed, leaving you in awe and fear of the power he held over your senses. The memories of a time before his stifling dominance became elusive, fading like distant echoes as you grappled with the reality of his suffocating control.
His influence was a dense, intricate web that ensnared you effortlessly, making it difficult to discern where he ended and you began.
"You're a filthy little slut," he hissed, his words laced with dangerous venom, the lingering scent of cigarettes filling your nostrils. You tried to shake your head, but his hand kept your skull pressed firm to the wood behind it. "God, you're fucking filthy, Raven...look at you, dressed like this to meet with my fucking brother..."
You squealed into his palm as his free hand travelled down your stomach, wasting absolutely no time before slipping between your thighs and grazing over your sex--a low, deep growl reverberating through his chest as he pressed you against the door, suffocating you in a whirlwind of barely-restrained sadistic rage.
"You're so fucking lucky I didn't kill him...you're so fucking lucky I didn't rearrange his face until he was begging me for mercy just for fucking looking at you the way he was..." his grip over your mouth tightened, his words a demonized growl in your ear, your body reacting in inexplicable ways as he slipped his hand under the band of your leggings. "Fuck...I think you need to be reminded of your fucking place..."
You mewled, melting against his body and fusing with the wood of the door as he circled two fingers over your clit, teasing you with a quick swirl before he slid lower, slicking his fingers through your rapidly increasing wetness. When he pulled his palm off your lips, he didn't give you a mere second to gasp for air before he gripped your face and forced your jaw open with his thumb.
"So fucking wet for me already." His thumb pressed on your tongue, eliciting a gag, long fingers stretching over your cheek and entangling in your hair. His voice was a growl against your flesh, teeth grazing your jawline. "Tell me who the fuck you belong to."
"Fuck-" you gasped, crying out against him as he slipped a finger inside your cunt without warning, the blissful stretch inspiring a world of sensations you'd never known to exist--your pussy feeling full beyond comprehension with just one of his fucking fingers, every inch of your body trembling in response. "-you!" 
"Shut the fuck up," he hissed, shoving his thumb deeper, hand shifting to grip the bottom of your jaw now, nails digging deep into your skin. "Fucking hell...you're so fucking tight, Raven...you can barely take my goddamn finger..."
A whimper escaped your lips, your hands clenching onto the fabric of his shirt as if it were your lifeline, your legs trembling uncontrollably beneath the weight of his touch, slowing finger fucking you while his thumb twirled over your clit, your entire body spasming with pleasure against him, your chest heaving for air, and your eyes rolling back in sheer ecstasy. You couldn't comprehend the overwhelming waves of pleasure consuming you, leaving you in a state of blissful delirium.
"Yeah, that's fucking right...feel that tight little cunt stretch for me..." his voice flowed like molasses, his curls tickling your cheek. "Fuck...how the fuck do you ever plan on taking my cock, hm?"
"Gods..." A haze of pleasure was clouding your vision, drool spilling from your mouth as he massaged your tongue with his thumb. "Oh, fuck...."
"Tell me who you belong to, Raven..." he ordered, voice a deep growl in your ear. "Tell me who this tight little cunt belongs to."
"You-" you choked, voice hiccuped through your moans and squeals of pleasure, words distorted with his thumb still planted between your teeth. "I-it belongs to y-you..."
"Yeah?" He pushed against you harder, lips attacking your neck, his aggressive erection pressing against your thigh, his body heat swarming you, suffocating you whole. "And who am I, princess...say my fucking name."
His fingers quickened their pace, sending jolts of electricity through your entire body. You convulsed in response, beads of sweat soaking the fabric on your back, the intensity of the moment leaving you breathless. He withdrew his hand from your mouth, leaving you gasping for air, and shifted it to your chest, groping and squeezing your tits like his life depended on it. His chest was rising and falling against you as he fingered you, brushing his thumb past your swollen clit, rocking his hand against you. Your pulse picked up, your breath coming faster, head spinning with the rapidly approaching climax on the horizon.
"Matt-" you choked, hardly able to string a cognitive sentence. "Mattheo...oh..."
Mattheo groaned, yanking down your shirt until your tits were fully exposed, his hungry eyes burning wounds into the soft flesh, his fingers working your cunt faster, bringing you directly to the edge of pleasure, ready to explode in his fucking hands.
"Mhm...dirty fucking whore..." his free hand toyed with your tits, his chest rumbled with a deep growl, echoing the intensity of the moment, while you struggled to stifle your cries, attempting to maintain some semblance of control over your escalating noises.
Despite your best efforts, your attempts at silence proved futile, shattering into desperate gasps as Mattheo sank his teeth into your neck.
"You want to cum for me, pretty girl? You want to cum on my fucking fingers?" You bobbed your head frantically, throat more arid than the desert. "Use your words, Raven..."
"Please," you whispered into the fabric covering his shoulder, hands clasping his arms. You couldn't get out much else as he grazed your clit again, bolts of ecstasy halting your ability to make words. "Please, please..."
"Please what?" he said, driving his finger deeper into your cunt.
"Let me cum," you said, voice torn with your irregular breath. "Please let me cum!"
At your words, Mattheo exhaled sharply, his fingers retreating from your cunt, leaving you stranded on the precipice of euphoria. The abrupt cessation of his touch left you in a tormenting state, teetering on the edge of an elusive climax, aching for fulfillment. Your frustrated moan of despair reverberated through the room, a raw manifestation of your desire. But before the sound could fully escape, Mattheo silenced you, his fingers forcibly invading your parted lips, triggering an involuntary gag reflex while his other hand closed around your throat, exerting a firm, possessive grip, ensuring your gasps and cries were swallowed in the stifling air of the closet.
"No," he hissed, voice a dangerous growl against your ear. "Only good girls get to cum...and you...you've been a bad little slut...remember when I said bad girls get fucking punished, Raven?"
A soft whimper escaped your lips, a harmonious blend of need and vulnerability as Mattheo's hand constricted around your throat, cutting off your oxygen supply. The exquisite agony of air deprivation was intertwined with a delightful buzz, amplifying the tingling sensation from your cunt to encompass your entire body. You felt every nuance intensely: the synchronized rhythm of your heaving chests, the pulsating restraint of his touch, and the restrained anger emanating from him like a tangible force.
"Wait until I get you alone tomorrow, Raven..." he murmured, voice laced with a promise of punishment. "You just fucking wait."
With a sudden, abrupt motion, he let you go, his grip loosening as he reached past you to pull open the door. The rush of cool air brushed against your skin as he swiftly exited through the door, leaving you in the aftermath of the intense encounter, your senses still tingling with the lingering traces of his touch.
———————————-
Chapter ten here->
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He Paints a Picture (Price/Reader)
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WARNING: PERIOD BLOOD KINK
You have been warned!
“Wait,” Price narrowed his eyes at you, “why not? Is everything alright?”
You hated to break the news to him. Ever since you’d had to be off your birth control, your periods had returned with a vengeance. You’d always had rough monthlies, but it almost seemed like your body was getting its revenge. The elevator scene from The Shining came to mind as you considered confessing why you’d been dodging Price’s advances. 
Your ex had been so disgusted with you when it was “that week,” that you’d been conditioned to think you had to hide it. Unfortunately for you, that week was also when you were the most sensitive, craving a delicious pounding to relieve the cramps and satisfy your sexual cravings. 
You didn’t think John would be so cruel, but even just imagining a negative reaction from him truly upset you, so you’d evaded his attempts to fondle you for three whole days. He’d dip a finger into the side of your panties, and you’d scoot away, playing dumb. You’d given him so many blowjobs this week that he started to get suspicious. Now, he was asking you flat out why you were denying him his favorite midnight snack: your pussy. 
“We just…can’t,” you shrugged, hoping he would drop it. 
Fat chance. His brow furrowed, growing concerned,
“Love, did I do something wrong? I thought you were enjoying the back rub. Did I hurt you?”
He was so large that, when he pouted, it looked like you were comforting an disgruntled wildebeest in your bedroom. His big, sad eyes and his frowning, bearded face broke your damn heart. You bit the bullet, realizing you couldn’t go one more minute with him thinking this was somehow his fault,
“It’s that week.”
“What week, love? Did I miss an anniversary? I know I’ve been away last week. Maybe I accidentally had the wrong calendar…” he was frantically flipping through his smart watch, confused and distressed. 
“John,” you grabbed his forearm, shaking your head, “my time of the month, you know?”
You could see the realization wash over him, softening his features before returning immediately to confusion,
“And?”
“What do you mean by that?” You didn’t understand what he was asking. 
“So, the painters are in. What about it?” He looked so lost. You decided to be very upfront, the clarity burning in your throat,
“You don’t care that I’m bleeding?”
Still, no reaction. He shrugged, shaking his head,
“Why would I? I mean, if you don’t feel up to it, I’m happy to fetch the hot water bottle and neapolitan out of the fridge,” he grabbed you around your shoulders, “but a bit of blood isn’t going to scare me off, love. In fact, I bet you’re wet and ready for me right now. Hot.”
He kissed your neck, sucking into your skin, licking your throat, and pulling at the flimsy straps of your tank top. He exposed your breasts, and with how high your hormones were, they felt swollen and hypersensitive. As he rubbed them, kissing your nipples and laving his tongue over them, you moaned from the strong tingles he created in your nerves. 
“Are you sure?” You panted, still nervous about his perception. 
“Mm,” he tugged a nipple into his mouth before looking up at you, darkness shrouding his gaze, “very sure. Lay down. I’ll grab a towel.”
He yanked your top off, throwing your clothes on the floor and dipped into the bathroom to grab a towel. He came back with a big beach towel that he’d had for years. Big palm trees swayed against a perfect blue background. You hoped you wouldn’t ruin it. 
Price signaled for you to raise your hips, and he put the cloth underneath you, protecting the bed. Roughly, he stripped you of your bottoms, making you naked when he was still fully clothed. Then, to your horror, he assumed his usual position with his head between his legs, licking his chops like a hungry wolf. 
“John!”
Mid-lick, he looked up at you, frozen in place,
“What?”
You didn’t have a chance to say anything. Keeping his eyes on you, he continued toward his destination, licking and sucking on your folds, ignoring your worried throat noises. 
“You can’t! It’s…it’s gross, right?”
He mumbled, his mouth full of pussy between phrases,
“No, sweet girl, mmph, ‘s good. Gets my blood up. Cock’s gonna be achin’ in a moment.”
You tried to relax, even getting close to coming since you were so sensitive, but as he licked you, your shame became too much. You thought he was just appeasing you,
“John, please. You don’t have to pretend…”
He was on you in a flash. His hand slipped around your neck, crushing your jawbone, forcing you to look at him in the face, snarling at you like a hound,
“Are you really trying to keep this pussy from me? I don’t care if you bleed every day for the rest of your goddamn life. This is my cunt, and I’m starving for it. You know your safe word. Use it!” 
His sudden aggression stunned you. Price waited, patiently, knowing you needed time to think. He was already covered in red smears, his mouth and beard caked in your blood and sparkling with your slick.  
You looked up at him, eyes worried and full of past pains,
“Are you sure?” 
The captain smiled maliciously, 
“Does this feel sure to you?”
Your heart almost stopped when you felt him slap his cock on your thigh, letting you feel the heaviness of his impossibly hard erection. Your face must have worn your shock all over it because he chuckled darkly, obviously feeling vindicated. 
“That’s what I thought, love. Now, can I get back to my mission, or do you need to stop?”
You stared at him for a while, searching for any deception. Finding none, you shook your head, giving him free reign to proceed as he saw fit. 
Price was such a grizzly when he needed to be, roaring to stand his ground, but you knew that, with just one word from you, he’d release you, forfeiting his claim at your whim. You couldn’t believe that he wasn’t repulsed. If anything, he was turned on. 
He ate you like a man possessed, sucking at you and covering his cheeks and lips and nose in red, sticky blood, not giving a shit about the mess. Your thighs were covered. You could feel every bit of effort he put into making you come, and he seemed to be celebrating each and every moment you moaned or jolted your hips up towards his waiting mouth. 
Then, he reached his hand up toward your hole, sinking two of his fingers into you as deep as they would go, massaging your walls in slow circles as he pushed inside. You groaned in a deep, guttural voice, feeling like your whole body was quivering for his touch. Watching as he pulled his hand out to thrust into you again, you saw the dark burgundy fluid that had fallen from your womb. 
Price paid it no mind. He was too busy humping his cock into his other hand to care, readying himself for your shared pleasure. He began fucking you on his hand in earnest, his knuckles hitting that space between, sending shocks of pleasure through your body, the wet, milking sounds echoing in the room with both of your ragged moans. 
“Oh, fuck, love,” he grunted, “you’re damn well flooded.”
He licked his lips, smearing your blood with his tongue. Then, he bent to suck your clit again, groaning as he did, making it vibrate with his low voice. Even when he made you come from his lurid efforts, he didn’t let up. If anything, it made him wilder to see your redness staining his hand. 
Finally, he pulled away from you, and he used his dripping hand to stain his cockhead, lubing himself up for his entry. There was little resistance to him as he pushed forward into you. That was very abnormal for your coupling. He was heavy and thick, and it usually took quite a bit of grinding to reach your warm middle. Not tonight. 
Tonight, his head sank all the way to your womb, pressing against the soft, sensitive flesh like a wet kiss, and he was beside himself,
“Fuuuuuckin’ hell…” he growled, “That’s good. So. Damn. Wet.”
Each word was a struggle, punctuated by his rough thrusts. As he fucked you, you felt your blood and come coating the skin between you, making a mess of your thighs and ass cheeks, dripping down onto the towel and onto his balls and legs. His face was still covered in blood, as were his hands. He was rubbing his hand on his chest, enjoying the slippery feeling over his nipple, taking turns rubbing your breasts as well. Your skin had red streaks all over it, painted like a Pollock. 
He didn’t last long, and just when he was ready to come, he pulled his cock out to explode all over your belly, rubbing his dick on you and smearing your fluids across your skin. 
The aftermath looked like a war zone. He didn’t help you to the shower until he had repeated his sanguine worship twice again, each time more feral, almost animalistic. It was as if it made him hungrier, watching your blood dry sticky and dark on your body. When you finally walked to the bathroom with him, he made you stand with him in front of the mirror, dipping his finger into you like an ink well, painting more lines and shapes across his ruined face and body, eating it, marking himself with your blood.
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ghost-with-a-teacup · 9 months
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hi! so i loved the whats in between fic (because everyone does) and i wanted to ask if you could write something like the spiderteens watches broke and they cant get back home so instead of waiting it out in the spider society place they go to miguel and readers house and sleep over! and ofc miguel complaining about just having them fix the watches but that would take too long
𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞
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Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader
Summary: Miles is on a mission that ends up going awry right as it's about to end, and with his watch shattered there's no way to get back home. The answer? Stay at you and Miguel's shared home for the night :3
Warnings: None!! It's really fluffy, Miguel is soft with Miles (I'm sorry I couldn't help it hhhh)
It's late at night as Miles walks through the Spider Society HQ. Far too late for anyone to still be around, everyone was already at home in their own universes. He on the other hand was coming back from a mission that went awry.
It was supposed to be easy. Pop in, pack up the anomaly and head back to drop them off before going home. But for the last 7 hours the villain managed to evade his grasp until he finally cornered them on the edge of town at a shipping dock. But somehow on the trip back to HQ the villain managed to escape both the webbing they were stuck in and the force field keeping them trapped.
Had it not been for the fact that the villain glitched out mid-fight, HQ might be a lot worse for wear than it was. Luckily Miles managed to recapture the villain and place them into the holding area, but not without a cost.
In his hands was his watch, broken to pieces. He already loathed the lashing out he was about to receive from the Leader of the Society, but since there was no way for him to get home otherwise there was no avoiding the conversation.
Making his way through the doorway, he’s surprised to see you analyzing the screens instead of Miguel, having already mentally prepared for the scolding he was about to receive.
Right before he was about to open his mouth to speak, his form glitches out as he groans in pain, his atoms clearly unhappy to be existing in a universe that wasn’t his own.
“Miles!” you say, concern washing over your expression as you finally take note of him. Swinging down from the platform, you grasp his shoulders keeping him upright. “Are you alright? Is there something wrong with your watch?” you ask as you check him over like a worried mother.
“Something wrong? More like it's in multiple different pieces,” Lyla says, popping up behind him and looking at the broken watch he was trying to hide.
Miles’ expression grows even more sheepish as he brings his hands around to show you.
“I’m really sorry, the anomaly I was trying to capture escaped the trap somehow on the way back to HQ,” he says, and your eyes widen as you glance back to your screens. At that moment his body glitches out again, and you look at him worriedly. Then your expression brightens as you remember something.
“Give me one sec, sweetie,” you say with a kind smile before swinging back up toward the platform. Searching around, you reach into Miguel’s top drawer and find just what you were looking for.
“Hey Miles, catch!” you say, tossing him the bracelet. The Spider Society ‘Day Pass’ as Peter liked to call it. Relief immediately washes over his face as he slips the bracelet on, and he says a small ‘thank you’ as you swing back to his level.
“You don’t happen to have any spare watches lying around, do you?” he asks, shuffling back and forth on his feet. A nervous tick you seem to have picked on in the time you have known him.
“Typically we do…but Jess brought in a few new recruits the other day so we just ran out. Lyla, what’s the status on the production of those new watches?” you ask, and she pops over onto your shoulder as she scrolls through her own screens.
“Hm…it should be about another 16 hours until they’re done. We had to have some parts shipped in from the city which put them behind schedule,” she explains.
“Usually we would just fix it for you rather than you getting a brand new watch, but considering the state of yours…” you say, taking the broken watch into your own hands. The screen was shattered, the wristband was practically nonexistent and somehow the circuit board was hanging out in pieces.
“What on Earth even happened to this? Did the anomaly chew it up and spit it out again or something,” you say with a laugh, and Miles only chuckles nervously.
“Yes, actually. That’s exactly what happened,” he winces, and you only laugh harder for a few moments before pulling yourself together, your expression becoming a touch more serious.
“You’re not hurt anywhere, right?” you worry over him, turning him from side to side to check him over. You had a soft spot for the young Spiders here at the society and weren’t afraid to show it. Miguel had one too, though he loathed to admit it.
“No, I’m alright. It’s just my watch that isn’t,” he says, and you smile at him understandingly.
“Alright, but if I sense that you’re lying to me you’re heading straight to the infirmary young man, do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am!” he says, and you laugh softly.
“Don’t call me ma’am, it makes me feel old,” you say.
“Sorry, ma’am! Wait…” his eyes widen slightly as he realizes his mistake. You only snort.
“We’ll work on it, Miles,” you grin. “The only issue right now is how to get you home…Lyla, is there anyone still at HQ? I left my watch at home since I thought I’d only be staying on base today,” you ask.
“Nope! Sorry, ma’am,” she says jokingly, and you narrow your eyes at her playfully. “Everyone’s missions finished up early today, Miles was the last one back.”
“Damn,” you say as you run through things you could do.
“Since there’s no way to get you back to your universe until the watches finish up…since it’s not too long, how would you feel about staying at me and Miguel’s house for the night? I was about to head back when you came in,” you suggest, and Miles’ face drops at the suggestion.
“Yours and Miguel’s house?” he asks. He knew the two of you were together, you had revealed you were married a few months back but he didn’t think he would be staying at your shared home.
“No offence, but there is no way Miguel would be happy to have somebody staying the night, let alone me,” he says quickly, and you give him a sympathetic look.
“Well, it's a good thing it's not only his house, it's mine too. And I’m inviting you to stay the night, okay? I don’t want you staying at HQ alone, there’s nowhere to sleep unless you want to rest on a hard pillar all night and we have a guest room you can stay at,” you explain, but Miles’ expression is still unsure.
“Look, I know the two of you didn’t exactly get off on the right foot when you first met, but I can give you my word when I say that you are one of the few people he tolerates even if he doesn’t show it. Okay Miles?” you say, and while he doesn’t look like he fully believes you quite yet, he finally relents.
“Alright,” he says, and you pat his shoulder warmly.
“Alright,” you say with a smile. “C’mon, let’s head to my car and we’ll head back to my place, yeah?”
“He won’t be angry that I’m there…right?” Miles asks as he fidgets a bit as he settles into the passenger seat.
“Not on my watch,” you chuckle. “He had the day off, he should be in a great mood. But you know, a lot of his anger is just a front for the things he’s been through. He doesn’t like people getting close to him, and while I admit it isn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, we all deal with grief differently. Do you get what I mean?” you explain as you drive back home.
“Yeah…yeah, I do,” he says softly, and you smile sympathetically as you glance over at him.
Despite the good work that everyone does at the Spider Society, being heroes in their own worlds, they all have some of the most difficult lives. Filled with suffering, grief, secrets and loss. It was the lives they were dealt by the hands of fate, and though that fate is shared across the multiverse it didn’t make it any less hard.
“He’s hard on you and your friends because you’re young and he thinks he can mould you into the heroes he wants you to be, which isn’t right and I tell him that often. But it also means he thinks you all have greater potential beyond what you can see, and he does care…even if he struggles to show it. Don’t worry too much, sweetheart,” you say. You knew you were rambling, but you just wanted to ease his worries at least a bit. He nods before his stomach interrupts the conversation.
You laugh a bit as a flustered expression washes over his face.
“Hungry? I’ll whip up something for a late-night dinner, I’m pretty hungry myself. How does that sound?” you say warmly, and he nods.
“…Thank you, really. I’m grateful you’re doing all this for me, you really didn’t have to,” he says, and you shake your head.
“Don’t worry about it, Miles. I quite adore you and your little friends, even if you do get up to the most trouble,” you say, memories of them and all their pranks around HQ playing through your head as you pull up to your driveway.
The house was a bit outside of the main city, somewhere quiet and less industrial than the heart of Nueva York. The lights were still on in the living room, indicating that Miguel hadn’t yet gone to bed which was to be expected. He always waited up for you to come home, (not to mention he had the worst sleep schedule).
“C’mon sweetheart,” you say, stepping out of the car. But you notice Miles’ expression, looking absolutely terrified even though he tried his best to hide it. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit.
“Miles, you’ve been here before. I promise it’s alright, okay?”
“Okay,” he says, finally smiling a bit.
You both walk up the front steps, and you unlock the door like you’ve done so many times before.
“Mi vida,” you hear Miguel’s voice say as he appears around the corner. It washes over you like a warm summer breeze, and you feel the tension leave your body as you finally return home. You can’t help the soft smile that plays across your face.
“Hello, darling,” you say, and he can’t help but smile back.
“Now…I know I didn’t give you a heads up but,” you say as you pull Miles out from where he was hiding behind the front door. Immediately Miguel’s expression drops slightly, not so much in anger but more so in annoyance that there was someone there to interrupt his time with his wife.
“Before you say anything, Miles’ watch broke on the way back from a mission, and you know that the new watches are still in production since we ran out a few days ago so I figured since they would be done relatively soon, he can stay the night and head back to his universe in the morning?” you say, not so much asking but telling him much to his dismay.
For a moment he only sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking back at you. He could never stay upset at you, at least not for long.
“While a warning would have been nice, mi alma,” he scolds lightly, and you grin sheepishly.
“You can stay the night Miles, though it would do you well to not break any more watches in the future,” he chastises, and Miles straightens up almost comically.
“Yes, sir! I’m really sorry about that, the villain managed to escape the trap somehow and managed to bite it off of my arm before I could get away, and then it got really hectic back at HQ but don’t worry though because there isn’t too much damage, and I managed to clean up the most of it but there might still be some debris around and-” he rambles nervously, but Miguel’s snort of amusement interrupts him.
“Look kid, I get it. Mistakes happen, just don’t make it a point to break Society's property too often, yeah?” Miguel says a kind expression on his face that soothes Miles’ nerves.
“Yes, sir!” he says immediately.
“Don’t call me sir, it makes me feel old. Miguel is fine,” he replied, and you laugh slightly at the fact that you said the same thing earlier.
“Come inside already Miles, or are you planning to spend the night on our porch,” you say, pulling him in gently by the wrist.
“Are gorditas alright? I know they’re not exactly dinner food but I’m craving them,” you ask him, noticing Miguel’s expression light up at the mention of them, almost identical to the expression on Miles’ face.
“Gorditas? They’re my favourite!” Miles says, and you smile as you head into the kitchen to whip them up.
“Behave, you two!” you call out as you leave them to their own devices in the living room.
~
Before long, the late dinner is served. Small talk and banter are tossed around the table as you all eat together, then you usher Miles off to bed like a worried Mother given the late hour before heading off to bed yourself with Miguel by your side.
“That was quite the surprise today, mi vida,” Miguel says as you join him in bed, Miles all settled in the guest room and snoring away.
“I know…but he’s a good kid and I felt bad leaving him at HQ alone,” you say sheepishly, peering up to look at him.
“Lyla’s there…” he trails off, and you smack him playfully.
“Miguel,” you chastise, and he raises his hands in surrender as you snort. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding,” he says, and you just shake your head with a smile.
“I felt bad, you know?” you say softly, and he turns a bit more to listen to you speak.
“This life we all live here at the Society? It’s hard, especially for the young ones. I didn’t want him to feel alone in a universe that isn’t even his own, this life is lonely enough as is,” you voice your thoughts. It really was hard, living this life and protecting the canon at the expense of other Spiders’ suffering. Anything you could do for them you would do, to make things at least a bit easier. It’s why you were pretty much Miguel’s right hand alongside Jess, you were the gentle touch paired with his cold calculated self.
“You really do have a soft spot for them, don’t you?” Miguel asks, and you chuckle softly.
“I do, but don’t pretend that I don’t notice you do too my love,” you say, and he scoffs slightly before glancing away. But by now you knew that was one of his tells that he wasn’t being entirely honest with you.
“I’m not soft, querida,” he says, and you give him a knowing look to which he switches off the lights to avoid.
“Whatever you say, tough guy,” you say before snuggling in closer, a content smile on your face as you feel yourself drift off to sleep in his arms.
Taglist: @beiroviski, @scaraza, @blueoorchid,@remuslupinwifee, @local-mr-frog, @johfaam0, @rawegggohan, @honeycriess, @alexenoirex,@chimpkinnuggies ,@rqdior, @banana—belle, @notasadgirlipromise, @6billionyearsold, @gods-perfectidiot, @ieatmunson, @honeii-puff, @wh0re4zaynmalik, @toplinehyunjin, @ohworm-writes, @ishii03, @snowywhiterose
A/N: I can't help it, Miles is just so precious I had to have the reader be motherly with him lol. Thanks for reading! And I apologize for the delay in requests, it's a teensy bit overwhelming but I promise I am working on them!!
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whateveriwant · 3 months
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could i request sumn real quick..
TF141 with a s/o who does archery, with those Japanese longbows (they’re called yumis, i think😭) ??
This was completely foreign to me so I hope I at least kinda did it justice 😭
Gaz
When you first told him about your hobby of choice, admittedly, he was unfamiliar with it
Archery as a whole was nothing new to him, but knowledge about your discipline in particular had entirely evaded him up until now
However, after learning more about it from you as well as researching on his own, he's now become your biggest cheerleader, literally and figuratively cheering you on from the sidelines
Whether you do it just for recreation or you do it for competition, he's always there to support you with 110% enthusiasm
He's like a proud dad whenever he gets to watch you in your element, always pulling out his phone to record you so he can show off to his mates later
Major cheeseball that he is, he's even gotten custom decals on his car to brag of your accomplishments, so that everyone can know about you and your unique skill
Soap
His interest was immediately piqued when you first brought up your incredibly specialized sport
You see, he used to do a little archery himself back in secondary school, and (not to brag) but he was actually pretty good at it
Of course, that confession gets your interest piqued, so you invite him to take some shots with your bow, which he readily accepts
He's positively preening as he nocks an arrow, confidence oozing from him as he takes aim… only to turn a shade of red just shy of tomato as he misses his shot by about 10 feet
He tries again and again, somehow getting worse with each shot, the frustration and embarrassment coming from him clearly palpable
Though you try to encourage him to keep going (after all, no one’s good at anything their first try), eventually, he timidly hands the bow back, saying he thinks he’s better off just leaving it to you
Price
He's a very physically active man himself, so learning that you're involved in a martial art was a major turn on for him
And him being in the military and thus heavily trained in all sorts of weaponry, the fact that it's a weapons-focused discipline was doubly appealing to him
From the first moment you brought your hobby up, he was practically begging to watch you shoot
It didn't matter if you had all the bells and whistles ready or not; hell, you could’ve been dressed in a flour sack aiming at tin cans in his backyard and he’d have still been over the moon
Wanting some privacy though, he took you to a range where you could show off your skills without distraction or disruption
And when he saw you take that first shot, hitting your target dead center, he would never tell you, but his pants got a little tighter after that
Ghost
While he finds what you do very intriguing, he wishes there was a more “real life” application to your sport
He knows how dismissive that might sound, but just think about it. In an emergency, are you going to whip out your two meter long bow to defend yourself? Exactly.
Ideally, he'd like to teach you how to use a gun. And you'll agree to let him… only if you can teach him how to use a bow
You might have some lighthearted bickering where he stubbornly insists that a gun is much more useful when it comes to personal protection
But well wouldn't you know it when one night he's awoken by the sound of someone trying to break into your flat, and what object should his fingers find in the dark? Yeah, I think you know
To you, your bow seemed like a perfectly good weapon when he used it to whack the would-be thief over the head…
Yeesh, now that earned you the side-eye of the century. But alright, he eventually conceded, maybe it does have its merits
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izzyizumi · 2 years
Text
* B . l . o . g . P . S . A
{DO NOT re-blog Please} {Comments in the comments section/‘Likes’ OK}
On Event weeks:
(So I’ve noticed a lot of new ones popping up...)
In the past, a few times, people have reached out to me to ‘Promote’ their events. There are times where I have, (with or without people asking, promo’d them)
but I feel I should make a formal Disclaimer now
If you ask me to participate in your event, unless it is specifically a Koushiro-focused event, (preferably one with a high focus on L.G.B.T.Q.I.A.{P.N.}+ contents/support) my answer will almost definitely have to be “No”.
I wasn’t as vocal about this back in 2k15~2k17 when I started becoming more active in re-blogging (and making my own things), but I am an @utistic creator (using the @ so this doesn’t show up in Search) and a lot of people browsing my blog since definitely know that now. I am very bad at keeping up with events and also not great at producing content / fan-works on a timely schedule, especially with more limited, vague prompts. (I do much better if someone can ask of me say, a full prompt for a fan-work concept, like an A.M.V. set to certain song requests... and that’s usually not what these kinds of events have)
Adding on to the fact I only really feel comfortable writing fic mainly from Koushiro’s P.O.V. first, along with my preference for KouTai (Koushiro/Taichi), which to this day despite all my own contributions to boosting it continues to remain (unfortunately) regarded by the wider Adventure-02 fan-base as very much a so-called ““rarepair””, a lot of other things take a lot of work for me to write fic for even when I’ve tried my best handling other characters at times too.* (*Includes attempts handling the 02 Chosen multiple times since I was younger, up to and including making a literal shrine and 16 chapters/parts long fic for them when I was younger, which is also in heavy need of re-writes, and I never even got to finish it back then either) (*As well as multiple charas from across all the other @nime spinoff series)
I am also Very Much Not An Artist. I do not have any intent on pursuing art (including for fan-works.)
While I can sometimes make A.M.V.s, they take a huge amount of energy out of me and I cannot always finish them the way I ideally want to (often due to Windows Movie Maker, which, yes, I’m still using for reasons, constantly crashing on me if I surpass a certain amount of video clips). It is also extremely hard!!!! to make quality A.M.V.s for ships/charas with limited amounts of screentimes / quality footage to use without heavy manipulating, something which I also very much do not have the skills to do at this time. (I’m good at splicing up scenes, I’m not good at heavy editing!) This is usually why I stick to KouTai as a main focus for A.M.V.s, because Taichi being a prominent main chara (and Koushiro having focus as specifically his support) they have just enough scenes together that I can somehow make A.M.V.s work for them, and even with them I’ve had to splice scenes they had together across multiple series/the reboot too, to “fill out” some past A.M.V.s.
That leaves only gif-sets, and while I’ve tried to compile various things for other charas/ships/series I Iike along with my own Top favs and O.T.Ps/ships, I can only make so much there as well, especially for ships which already didn’t have a lot of huge scenes together. I am honestly more used to (*in the past) rp-ing (roleplaying games/charas) than I am fic-writing, but I do make attempts with Favs whose voices I feel comfortable attempting. And regardless...
So... You can ask me to “promote” your event, POLITELY, and respectfully, and I maybe will (LIKELY if you are genuinely polite and respectful). However, I heavily prefer you read and agree to my About and FAQ before you ask. If you do not, you might as well not ask.
Sorry to have to bring this up, but it’s become kind of an issue recently. I usually feel best contributing to/promoting events where I know, or at least recognize, and respect the OPs. If you’re an Anonymous OP, I will be somewhat more wary, unfortunately also due to people having gotten around blocks in the past (block-evading) without my knowledge, and that was something which really upset me, especially as apparently some other people heavily active here knew they were block-evading. And, despite all my own Yelling Into The Void TM that I do on my own blog/works, I tend to be very shy and (*also due to @utism) socially anxious (*Note: I am also diagnosed with Generalized @nxiety Disorder, because Comorbidities Are Indeed A Thing) around people I don’t know very well or haven’t spoken even once with. It helps if you can introduce yourself to me POLITELY and actually acknowledge my FAQ, my clear favorite parts of the series or aspects of it I support (*the U.S. dub side/fans I also have heavily since the start supported, for example) and acknowledge what I re-blog about most often, my Favs, and my ships.
If you genuinely can’t do any of that, even attempt it before you contact, I can’t join or “Promo” your event. Sorry.
#izzyizumi posts#izzyizumi blog psa#izzyizumi text#izzyizumi text post#izzyizumi vents#02 standom issues#advs events#(Sorry I'm just . a bit apprehensive lately)#(I'm still extremely mad about the person who block evaded KNOWINGLY and all the people active who knew)#(I've since hardblocked all of them so hopefully they all know by now to not pull that on me again)#(but genuinely I have to get this across to you guys Somehow)#(Please read my rules and F.A.Q if you want to have Interaction with me)#(I see a lot of people constantly vague blogging over how 'you cant expect everyone to read your FAQs!!!1!')#(and all those same people once tried to follow or lurk here KNOWING that made me really uncomfortable)#(That They Didnt)#(So You Know)#(I don't know how else to get these points across to wider fandom stans including on 02 side I've tried Literally Everything)#(to make all these points obvious here multiple endless times?..... Yeah)#(The fact I'm using Formal Tone of Voice here and proper grammar and no yelling is how you know I'm being ACTUALLY serious writing this)#(That's an @utism Thing Too I Am Speaking This Way For a rEASON And I Seriously Hope People Actually Pay Attention To What I'm Saying)#(This is just a formal PS@ for this sideblog anyhow Queue Is Still Going)#(Aside from the person who block evaded there were also numbers of Stans over the years who lurked while constantly trashing on the parts of#(*the series that I liked and made very OBVIOUS IN MULTIPLE WAYS that I liked all while they lurked my digiblogs for years So You Know)#(I'm mostly getting this PS@ out of the way now because I have a feeling I'm going to be asked again and Sorry I Need To Say This)
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magiccath · 4 months
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The Doctor's licking habit
tenth doctor x GN!reader
summary: in which the Doctor's habit of licking things finally has consequences. Based on a request from the lovely @internet-stranger-says-hi
A/N: this is a rework of one of my older fics originally titled "Figure it Out" :)
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The Doctor was a 900-year-old toddler. Sometimes, you felt more like a tired school teacher than a time-travel companion. 
“Do not put that in your mouth!” was something that you had never figured would frequent your daily vocabulary. It was his horrible habit - putting things in his mouth without thinking about it. Honestly, he could just scan stuff with the Sonic Screwdriver. But, no, he just had to lick it. It was almost a weekly occurrence that he would end up licking something. You had to be constantly alert to ensure he didn’t contract some space disease. 
Somehow, he had managed to evade any kind of consequences of licking strange objects. That was, until today. 
The Doctor needed to find a certain kind of space rock. However, he didn’t tell you that he needed to taste the rock to ensure it was the right one. Before you could stop him, he was lapping at a small rock he had found inquisitively. 
“Doctor!” you scolded, swatting the rock away from him.
“What?” He frowned, upset that you had distracted him from his studies.
“That could be some poisonous alien thing,” you emphasized the last word, distressed.
“It probably is,” he smiled like it was a good thing. You wanted to slap him.
“You’re gonna get yourself killed!” you scolded.
“It’s not like it’s coated in cyanide,” he shrugged, “which doesn't really affect me much anyway.”
“Are you saying it was poisoned?!”
“If you’d let me taste it again I could tell you for sure,” he pouted, eyeing the rock excitedly.
“I’m not letting you lick that thing again,” you furrowed your brow, moving the rock out of his reach.
He groaned, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes. As adorable as he looked, you weren’t going to let him put the rock in his mouth again.
“Absolutely not,” you commanded, frustrated. 
“If you let me taste it again I can tell you if it’s the rock I need,” he argued, still pouting at you. 
“The TARDIS can tell you that,” you said, turning on your heel to walk away from him.
He whined, trudging after you as you stomped back towards the ship. You loved the alien dearly, but he was too careless for his own good. He was convinced he was invincible, but he wasn’t.
“Please, just one lick?” he begged again as you opened the doors to the ship. 
“No,” you said for the hundredth time. 
You slipped through the blue doors, dragging the Doctor behind you by this sleeve. You stopped listening to his grumbles as you locked the doors behind you.
You felt his slender arms wrap around you, and his face came to rest against your shoulder. You stiffened under his touch. It wasn’t that you didn’t like the contact, more so the opposite. The Doctor had never touched you like this. He was a man of small touches: handholding and celebratory hugs. But never intimate cuddles like this. 
“You’re amazing,” he nuzzled into your neck. You shook him off of you begrudgingly, turning to face him with furrowed eyebrows. 
“If this is your tactic to get me to give you the rock, it isn’t working.” 
The Doctor’s eyes traveled to the object you were gesturing with, a look of confusion on his face. 
“I don’t want that thing,” he blubbered. You tilted your head, confused. 
“You were just begging me for it two seconds ago.” 
“I want you,” he tried to hug you again, but you evaded his touch. 
“What has gotten into you?” 
The Doctor mumbled a strand of incoherent words that you didn’t understand and moved to grab you again. You skirted out of his grasp, clutching the rock to your chest. You didn’t understand why he was acting like this. 
You looked down at the object in your hands. Without thinking about it too much you ran to the door and chucked the rock outside. You slumped back against the doors with a sigh, clenching your eyes shut in hopes it would fix things. 
When you opened them, the Doctor’s face was all you saw. He smiled the minute he made eye contact with you, eliciting a small yelp from you. 
You planted your hands firmly on his chest and pushed him backward so you could move past him. 
“Where are you going?” He whined, chasing after you again. You whipped your head back around, flabbergasted. Why on Earth was he acting like this?
“I’m taking you to bed,” you grumbled, “so you can sleep this off,” you gestured wildly with your hands. You couldn’t think of much else to do with the inebriated Time Lord.
“I’m fine!” he slurred, swaying slightly. 
You shook your head and took his hand, dragging him back towards his bedroom. Honestly, you didn’t get paid enough for this nonsense. You didn’t get paid at all!
“You’re beautiful,” the Doctor hummed as you dragged him through the corridors. 
“Shh,” you scolded, trying to navigate the winding hallways. You had enough trouble finding your own rooms, the Doctor’s were a whole other story. 
“I love you,” He said matter of factly. You stopped in your tracks, dropping his hand. Your brain struggled to catch up, still processing his words. You turned to look at him in shock. The Doctor didn’t say those words. He just didn’t. It was hard for him, being that emotionally vulnerable. He never said it, especially not to you.
“Stop it,” you laughed uncomfortably. He had to be messing with you now, and you really didn’t find it funny. Not at all.
“I love you,” he repeated, furrowing his brow in frustration. 
“No, you do not.” 
“Yes, I do.” 
“You’re drunk,” you explained. You weren’t sure if that was what was going on, but he was certainly affected in some way. 
You grabbed his sleeve again and dragged him down the hall, relieved to see his door at the end. 
“You need to sleep this off,” you said as you dragged him through it. 
He protested as you led him to bed, pulling back the sheets so he could crawl in. He was still grumbling as you tucked him in.
“‘M fine,” he mumbled, nestling his face into a pillow. He passed out a few seconds later, his soft snores already filling the room. You sighed and closed the door. 
It was about time that the Doctor’s recklessness caught up to him. After all of the things he had put in his mouth without thinking, you were surprised it had taken this long for one to elicit a bad reaction. You had just figured he’d get sick. Turn green or throw up. Something that you could handle. Unsolicited confessions of love weren’t exactly on your list of things you were prepared for the Doctor to do.
You decided to make use of the quiet in the TARDIS by cleaning up the control room. It could use a good mopping and declutter. Plus, it gave you time to think about the Doctor’s words. Clearly, he hadn’t meant any of it. It was just the unknown alien substance talking, right? Surly, the Doctor didn’t love you. 
You were wiping the console off, lost in thought, when the Doctor walked into the control room. 
“Hey,” he said, strutting his way over to you. You stopped your work and looked up at the Doctor wide-eyed. You had been so preoccupied, that you had almost forgotten he was in the other room.
“Hey,” you gasped, setting your cleaning supplies to the side. “How are you feeling?” 
“My head’s a little heavy, but other than that I’m quite alright,” he smiled. You looked away from him, embarrassed. 
“That’s good,” you said, more to the floor than the Doctor. 
“Can we talk about it?” he asked gently, his hand moving towards your arm. He decided it was best not to touch you, instead, he settled for resting his hand on the console next to you. 
“It’s ok,” you shook your head, “I know it was just the poison,” you looked at him with a pained smile on your face.
“We can just move on,” you said. 
“What?” The Doctor frowned.
You looked back at him, eyebrows furrowed. “Do you not remember?” If he had some kind of amnesia that might make this whole conversation a lot easier.
“No, I do,” he shook his head, “I just don’t want to move on.” 
You didn’t quite know what to say, so you just remained silent. 
“I really care about you,” he whispered, catching your eye. His honey-brown eyes glistened with a sadness that you knew all too well. 
“More than I have ever cared about anyone before,” he moved his hand slightly so it was brushing yours. Your eyes traveled to where your hands connected, and you found it hard to look away. 
The Doctor guided your face up gently so he could look at you. The feeling of his hand on your chin sent sparks through your body. 
“I’m sorry that it took some alien poison to get me to tell you,” he said earnestly. 
“It’s ok,” you whispered, hopelessly lost in his eyes. He let your chin go, his hand dropping down to his side. 
“I just wanted you to know that,” he said, looking away from you. He started to back away from you, and you acted on impulse. If the Doctor could make impromptu confessions of adoration, so could you.
You grabbed his tie and dragged him back towards you, crashing your mouth into his. He was shocked at first, but quickly relaxed into the kiss, his arms wrapping tightly around you. You felt safe and secure in his arms like you had finally found the place you were supposed to be. 
You pulled away for air, looking at his face adoringly. He really was the most attractive alien you had ever seen.
The Doctor pecked at your lips again and again, like he couldn’t quite get enough of you. 
“How do you know that I’m not poisoned?” you laughed.
“I don’t care in the slightest,” he said between kisses.
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supernovafics · 4 months
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The I’ll be there for you series is ace! 🥵 I’d love a funny blurb about Steve walking in on reader and she’d just go out the shower! Steve would be so flustered. Kinda reminds me of when Chandler saw Rachel naked 😂
𝐋𝐄𝐓’𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐓
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"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist
pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader
word count: 702 words
warnings: explicit language
summary: in which a very awkward moment occurs when you’re late for class 
author's note: thank you for the request!! i loved this idea lol
general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Fall 1985
You were already running late for your nine-thirty class, so you thought you might as well make your lateness worth it. 
You decided to actually put an effort into picking out an outfit for the day before taking a longer shower than usual because why not?
Twenty minutes later, you were pulling your towel from around you and starting to wipe the mirror to clear the steam from it, when the bathroom door abruptly opened.
Steve started walking in, gaze first meeting your immediate confused one. His eyes then glanced down for the briefest of moments before he quickly jumped back and slammed the door shut. “Oh. Fuck. Shit.”
“What the hell just happened?” Your bathroom door was now firmly closed, but you were still staring at it with wide eyes as you wrapped your towel back around you. 
“I’m sorry.” You heard Steve’s voice. “I thought you weren’t here because you’re usually gone and headed to your nine-thirty class by now. And I ran out of body wash, so I was coming in to steal yours. It’s nine-fifteen, why aren’t you at class right now?”
He was rambling and you didn’t have to actually see him to know that he looked so flustered right then. If you weren’t still completely thrown and in shock by the entire current situation, you might’ve laughed. 
“I woke up late and decided to just take my time instead of rushing,” You explained, making sure your voice was loud enough as you went back into the shower to grab something. “This professor is barely ever on time anyway.” 
“Oh, okay.” 
You opened the door and Steve immediately turned around. “Don’t worry, I have a towel on now.” He faced you again and you handed over your body wash. “I hope you enjoy smelling like lavender and vanilla for the day.”
“Thank you. I will,” He said, evading your eyes and keeping his gaze fixed on your bedroom floor. You could still see how red his cheeks were. “Once again, I’m sorry.” 
“It’s fine,” You told him. In that moment it didn’t necessarily feel fine— your best friend had just seen you fucking naked for goodness sake— but you knew that it would eventually feel fine, and you didn’t want to make things weirder than they were. So, you instead decided to make a joke. “I’ll just have to see your little Harrington one day to make things even.”
Somehow, Steve’s face turned an even brighter shade of red. 
“Steve, I’m kidding. Obviously,” You said as you readjusted your towel a bit, holding it firmly shut around you with just one hand so that you could use the other to poke your best friend standing in front of you. “Stop being weird and awkward about this. You saw me naked for a second, whatever, that’s okay.” You thought about your words for a second. “Okay, it’s not “okay,” but it will be. Let’s just forget this ever happened.”
He nodded after a second and you let out a happy sigh in relief, muttering out a quick, “Great.” You were about to turn around and go back into the bathroom but Steve started talking before you could. 
“Y’know, if seeing my… stuff is what it takes to restore balance between us, then we should do that,” He said and hearing the playful tilt in his voice made you smile. 
“I honestly think that if I saw your little Harrington right now it would just make things even more weird than they already are.”
“Okay, in that case, I’ll keep my pants on,” He told you and you laughed a bit. “It’s also not little, by the way.”
Now it was your turn for your cheeks to warm in awkwardness. You rolled your eyes as you finally turned away from him and started heading back into the bathroom. “Ew, oh God, please get out of my room. I didn’t need to know that, and you’re giving me way too many scarring visuals now.” 
When you closed the door behind you, you heard Steve say, “Oh, and we’re definitely taking this moment to the grave.”
You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “Of course. I thought that was obvious.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
let me know ur thoughts<333
(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)
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-PÂRO Featuring Wriothesley
Meaning: The feeling that no matter what you do is always somehow wrong—that any attempt to make your way comfortably through the world will only end up crossing some invisible taboo
Word Count: 1.7k~
Description: After accidentally breaking a few laws while at lunch with your boyfriend, he has to ‘punish’ you for your crimes
Edited by: @pretty-princess-peach @tortellini-bandit
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You paced around Wriothesley’s office, trying to stay calm. Today hadn’t gone even remotely as you had intended. You were supposed to be having a completely normal lunch with your boyfriend. Unfortunately, however, you had somehow managed to end up in the fortress of meropide… well, in Wriothesley’s office, anyway.
You really hadn’t meant to do anything wrong, but despite that, you had still broken several laws while on your date. Although, it really wasn’t your fault that your fork had caused one of the carrots in your salad to shoot onto the ground, resulting in you getting a littering charge, and how could they blame you for bumping into the table and causing your boyfriend's drink to spill in your lap, which was apparently contact with alcohol while underage (Seriously? You were 20!).
And were they really allowed to call it “evading arrest” when you refused to go with Wriothesley to the fortress?
Despite your refusal, Wriothesley had taken you (read: carried you over his shoulder) to his office in the fortress, and he left you there while he talked to the chief justice about your punishment. Now you were stuck waiting for your boyfriend to return and tell you if you would have to go to jail or not.
Finally, you heard the metal doors creak open after heavy steps came up the staircase. Your boyfriend walked behind his desk and sat down, rubbing his eyes.
“So?”
“‘So?’”
“Do I have to go to jail…?”
“Oh, that.” He smiled gently. “No, but… you do need some kind of punishment. Neuvilette said that community service might be a good idea, but he didn’t give a definitive punishment.”
“But I didn’t do anything wrong!”
He sighed, shaking his head.
“You still broke laws, but it is up to me to determine your punishment, since this wasn’t an official trial.”
You stood there for a moment, waiting for him to say more.
“So, what will you decide…?”
He leaned back in his chair and raised his eyebrows at you.
“What do you think you deserve?”
You thought for a second. Should you just say something like community service or just a small fine? Or would he think that’s not enough? You contemplated what you should say, but before you got a chance to say anything, Wriothesley spoke.
“I think you deserve to be handcuffed and punished for being a bad girl. What do you think, princess?”
You blushed. Was he really going to punish you like that…? For this? There’s no way this was a legal recourse. You weren’t going to complain if that’s how things worked out, but you were still confused.
“Is that legal?”
He let out a light laugh.
“Do you really care?”
You smiled at him.
“I guess not.”
Wriothesley smiled back at you, but there was something in his eyes that made you nervous. He had punished you before, and you knew that you were right to be concerned, but it still disquieted you.
“Strip.”
You did as he asked. You slipped out of your dress and took off your underwear.
“Come here. Now.”
Wriothesley slid his chair back as you walked over to stand in front of your boyfriend. He looked you up and down, drawing his eyes over your beautiful body. He stood up and grabbed his handcuffs from his belt before sliding them onto your wrists.
“Get on your knees.”
Wriothesley sat back down in his chair with his legs open so you could settle between them. He took off his belt and undid his pants before pulling out his cock.
“Suck.”
You felt the urge to disobey him bubble up inside of you. You smiled up at him and simply stated, “No.”
He returned your smile once again.
“‘No?’”
His voice holds a menacing lilt.
“No.”
He sighed.
“Five, four, three.” You felt a sense of unease in your stomach, and you began to question your resolve. It was hard to be firm in your brattiness when he used that voice. “Two, one, zero.”
He didn’t say another word as he roughly grabbed your hair in one hand and forcibly opened your mouth with the other. He pushed his cock into your mouth and brought you down until you reached the base. You spluttered and gagged as you tried to get used to his cock in your throat, your jaw already hurting from how thick the Duke was.
He pulled you up and down his cock, letting out deep groans as he did so. You wiggled around, trying to slip out of your handcuffs, but you were completely at Wriothesley’s mercy.
After a minute or two of your boyfriend fucking your throat, you had a bright idea. You could use your teeth! Seconds after you slid your teeth against his cock, he was pulling you off and leaning down to look you in the eye, still gripping your hair tightly.
The look in his eyes sent a chill down your spine. You had made a big mistake.
“Do that again and see what happens, princess.”
You felt your resistance dissipate after those words. You were already being punished, and you didn’t want to make it worse.
“I’m sorry, your grace.”
Wriothesley smiled softly at your submission. You relaxed your body and opened your mouth. He pushed his cock back down your throat, keeping a firm grip on your hair, far preferring to set the pace himself rather than have you do it. This was a punishment, after all. You did your best to breathe through your nose and relax your throat as your boyfriend used your mouth like a toy.
Your throat felt so perfect around Wriothesley’s cock. He was finally about to cum, but before he did, he pulled out of your mouth so he could cum on your face, rather than down your throat. Bad girls don’t get his cum.
You instinctively closed your eyes and stuck out your tongue before his cum landed on your face. You licked up what landed near your mouth, but with your hands stuck behind your back, you were forced to leave the rest.
Wriothesley took a moment to breathe before standing up and dragging you up with him. He turned you so that you were facing away from him, and he pushed you down on his desk. He stood back, admiring your bent body before grabbing his belt where he left it on his desk. He folded his belt and stood back slightly before bringing it down hard on your ass.
You fought the urge to stay silent and began to count the strikes, just like his grace had taught you. One, two, three, four, five.
“Six!”
You braced yourself for another hit, but it never came. You felt his hand gently run over the marks he had made, and you couldn’t help but wince at the discomfort. Wriothesley removed his hand from your ass and ran a finger up your slit.
“You’re so wet. Do you want me to fuck you?”
“Yes! Please.”
A choked scream escaped your lips when another hit came from your boyfriend’s belt.
“Please, what?”
“Please, your grace!”
“Better.”
You felt the tip of Wriothesley’s cock at your entrance and almost protested at the lack of prep, but before you could, he was pushing inside of you. Tears were forming in your eyes from how much his cock was stretching you out. Fuck, he’s thick.
He bottomed out inside of you, pausing to let you somewhat adjust to his size. How sweet of him.
When he could no longer restrain himself, he started fucking you hard and deep. You felt like you had ascended to heaven after enduring hell. He filled you up so perfectly, turning your mind blank and holding your hips in a bruising grip as he worked towards his end.
“You’re fucking perfect, taking me so good.”
He couldn’t help but let out a deep moan at the feeling of you tightening around him.
“Feels so good! Thank you, your grace!”
A breathy laugh escaped his lips, and he began fucking you faster, needing you more. You were so perfect for him, taking your punishment without protest, and then taking his cock. Was it really necessary to tell you that you hadn’t actually broken any laws, and that he had used your ignorance of Fontaine’s complicated legal system to orchestrate a night of fun for the two of you? He did have to have a meeting with Neuvilette, so it wasn’t a complete lie, but still.
You were losing yourself slowly to the overwhelming pleasure and could barely form words at this point. You tried to tell Wriothesley that you wanted to be closer to him but all that came out was gibberish. The only thing that he was able to make out was “closer”, and fuck, he wanted to be closer to you too.
He wrapped a hand around the front of your throat and pulled you up until you could feel the fabric and the cold clasps of his vest against your bare back. His lips found your neck, and he kissed up towards your lips until, eventually, you were kissing. His lips moved against yours passionately as he continued to fuck you.
“I’m gonna cum! Please, need to so bad!”
Wriothesley smiled at how good you were being, even asking permission to cum.
“Go ahead, princess.”
You let yourself be consumed by the pleasure and tip over the edge. You saw stars as Wriothesley fucked you through your orgasm. As you came down from your high, Wriothesley continued his harsh rhythm, and you could do nothing but whine from the overstimulation. He always lasted longer than you, and you were almost always overstimulated by the time he was finished.
Finally, you felt his rhythm begin to falter, and finally, you felt him fill you up with his cum. The two of you stayed connected, placing gentle kisses on each other's lips as you wound down from the experience.
“How are you feeling?”
“Tired.”
You just wanted to lay down in bed and sleep after such an intense experience. If it weren’t for Wriothesley’s arms around you, you were certain that you would be laying flat on his desk.
“Let’s go home.”
The Duke undid your handcuffs and placed them back on his belt before doing up his own pants and helping you get dressed. Then, he scooped you up and began to carry you home.
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Tag List: @lilia-sspouse @but-a-peach @stannazuna @izzalovesdilfs @lordbugs @randomlycockroach @licensedsimp @leena-shi @cesimaaa @welpthisisfine @dainself-when-playable @fic-rebloga @bubblyxdolly @wanderin-stories @iwysbellez @k4ze3e @kenmabfasf @vvyeislazzy @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @hopeless-smvt @bloomingheartz @crazydreamcat @kazumiku @str4wb3rizz @kyon-cherri @ravereina @ashrodisiac
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morbific-or-felicific.
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