#thank you for tagging me in the good content
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Azriel X Fem Human Reader
Summary: Azriel finds your journal and reads your depictions of the life the two of you have spent so far...
Content Warning: Memory loss, Death of a character, grief, someone on their death bed. Mention of Poison
Word Count: 2.9K
Dedicated: to @daycourtofficial who broke my heart with her Az fic this week
Tags: @milswrites @berryzxx @lady-of-tearshed @simple-fan2 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @riddlesb1tch
ACOTAR Masterlist
There once was a human girl, who fell in love with a fae male.
After the war when borders had blurred, a young human woman traveled to Prythian the land of the fae. Not aware that some still held hatred in their heart for her kind. The woman cornered by fae males twice her size, looking at her as if she were their next meal. Slamming her eyes shut the woman began to tremble and wishing she would have stayed in her safe little hut.
Yet no one had laid a hand on her. Not a hair out of place. She only opened her eyes when the shrieks and snarls of males overwhelmed her ears. Flashes of cobalt lit the alley. The males scurrying with their tails between their legs, no longer fierce predators, but the fearful prey.
Swirls of shadows slithered around the woman’s body, their touch soft kisses against her skin. They wrapped around her neck and back down before slithering away, one lone tendril remaining and resting against the woman’s wrist. Despite her life being threatened moments before she laughed. This sentient magical being was not scary, but playful and cute.
Then she heard the clearing of a throat and her head slid up, no longer paying attention to the shadow, but the person who wielded them. Whispers of the male and his friends were the talk of the village.
“Shadowsinger.” The male blinked in surprised at her knowledge of who he was.
The male spoke, and the woman, never heard a more lovely sound. “Most people call me Azriel.” He smiled and held out his hand. “Are you alright?”
The woman slid her hand into his and a spark erupted from his touch and the woman panicked as a gold thread wrapped tightly around her heart, she couldn’t see it. She felt it. Something in her mind told her that the other end led to the person in front of her. “You’re my mate.” He whispered. The woman didn’t know what he meant by that. She didn’t have to know. Two things she knew was true:
This Male’s name was Azriel, and this male named Azriel made her feel safe.
A few years went by and the woman absolutely adored her mate.
She had a mate! Someone who was her equal in every way. Someone who promised the day she accepted the bond to love and cherish her until the day air left his lungs for good. Only to promise that in case, he would simply find her in the next life.
The young woman now had a family to call her own and a loving partner to walk through life with. New adventures awaited them.
But she will always be grateful for making the trip to Prythian, the beginning of her Happily Ever After.
The end
Azriel closed the journal, his gaze eyes meeting your cloudy ones. “That was a lovely story, young man.” He smiled and gripped your now elderly hand. In the Spymaster’s eyes, you had only grown more beautiful with age. Your smile lines grew deeper from the years of laughing with Cassian. Forehead creases from playing too many games with Rhysand focusing on your shields so he couldn’t cheat. Every wrinkle, every crease, every spot told a story. Your story. As your body grew more wrinkles and your hair began to gray, the shadowsinger somehow fell deeper in love with you, your beauty knew no bounds and he thanked the mother that she chose you as his mate.
“You wrote it, my love.” Azriel gave you a rare smile and you returned it with one of your own. “It’s about how we met. About our bond. You wrote it to tell Nyx someday, to tell our children someday.” Children the two of you were never destined to have, your body too fragile to carry an Illyrian babe to term. You were devastated when Madja revealed that to you. You thought you were broken; Az recalled the numerous times you apologized to him simply for the human body you possessed. Your apologies met with arms around you and Azriel rocking you murmuring how you had nothing to apologize for.
You looked upon the fae male whom in the last 50 years had not aged. His hazel eyes felt familiar to you though you couldn’t place how. One thing you knew for certain was that this male was in love. “You have a woman in your life.” There was a flicker of sadness in the male’s eyes, but he blinked, and it was gone. “An old woman can tell these things.”
The male gave you a smile, you felt inclined to reach for his hand, he immediately grips your hand in his own, the raised skin of his scars colliding with the frail now thin skin of your own. “I do. Would you like to hear about her?”
“Please.” The handsome male squeezed your hand. “She must be special, your eyes light up, just asking to talk about her.”
“She’s wonderful.” The male’s timbre shook slightly, you patted his hand encouraging him to continue. “When she reads, she always crinkles her nose, and her face always flushes when she reaches a smutty scene.” You chuckled, “When I return home from a mission, without fail she is the first one to greet me. Leaping into my arms, her scent consuming me entirely.” His thumb idly stroked the top of yours. “My favorite thing about her, is late at night before she goes to bed, she would sit at her desk and write in her journal.”
You blinked and you smiled at the sight of your best friend, your husband, your mate. “You always scolded me to come to bed.” Azriel let a sob lose as he pressed his forehead to yours. “No fair.” He sniffled as his shadows came to greet you, as if you had been gone for ages, “You haven’t aged in 50 years.”
Azriel pressed his lips to yours, “You have only gotten more beautiful with time, my love.” He pulled away and you were able to see every emotion in his hazel eyes. Most people had a hard time figuring out what Azriel was feeling. You always knew he held every emotion in his beautiful eyes.
You lifted a hand to his cheek, and he leaned into your touch, you swiped away his tears, “We agreed,” You whispered, “No tears. No goodbyes.”
Azriel whimpered and it was the first time you ever saw the spy master look defeated, broken, lost. “We were younger when we agreed to that. You can’t ask this of me.” His palm pressed over yours. “Not when we have such little time.”
“Az, look at me, baby.” His watery gaze met yours, “We were running on borrowed time. I’ve made peace with that years ago.” Another broken sob escaped him, and you began to feel your own tears coming to the surface. “I don’t want this to be how I remember you. This isn’t how I want us to part.”
“This life isn’t worth living, if you’re not here.” His shadows kissed your cheeks, drying your tears. “I can’t live without you, Angel.”
You pressed your forehead to his once more, your arms barely able to lift you up anymore. “You can, and you will. Nyx needs to see how you are not just serious. That you’re funny, and kind, he needs to know that Auntie loved him so much and will watch over him. Just like I will with you.” Your vision blurred as the tears trickled down your aged cheeks. “Maybe we’ll be lucky, and the Cauldron will turn me into one of your shadows.” A strangled sound came out of Azriel. “I love you, Azriel and I will love you in every lifetime.”
Azriel brought your lips to his once more. “I Love you too. Wait for me in the next life.”
“Hold me. One last time.” You moved to make room for your mate. He slid his boots off and tucked his wings tightly to make room on the cramped bed. He scooped you in his arms, his shadows resting comfortably around your waist. Your whole world holding you close to his chest. “Az?”
“Angel?”
“Will you sing me to sleep?” You whispered, your eyes growing heavy, your body feeling so weak.
Azriel’s wing came over as if knowing you had caught a sudden chill. “For you, my love. Of course.” Azriel’s melodic voice singing words of love and devotion. Before unconscious held a grip on you, you felt his lips on the top of your head, “Until we meet again, My Angel.”
Azriel awoke at the sound of feet pattering on the hard wood floor down the hall. He looked over at you, your skin paled, lips a slight shade of blue, Azriel couldn’t hear your heartbeat and the bond had faded to a dim light sending his love down only to feel hollowness at the other end. Tears slid down his cheeks as his shadows confirmed what he already knew:
Gone
Gone
She has left.
A little dark head of hair wandered in and Azriel jolted as the heir of the Night Court climbed on the bed. “Auntie!” His little jovial voice echoing through the room. Azriel moved and covered his mouth as he shut his eyes fighting the sob. “Auntie, it’s time to wake up.” The Shadowsinger opened his eyes to find Nyx brows furrowed. “Auntie?” He shakes your lifeless form before he places his head against your chest, as Rhys and Feyre reached the room. Nyx lifted his head, his lip wobbled, as he met Azriel’s eyes. “Uncle Azzy, why can’t I hear Auntie’s heartbeat anymore?”
Feyre’s cries broke the silence as she also realized how still you had become. Rhys looked at his brother as he held Feyre close. Azriel didn’t miss that he held her closer than normal, not that he faulted his brother. Rhys’ throat bobbed as though he was trying to contain his emotions, for his mate, and his son. “How long?” The High Lord’s voice cracked.
“We fell asleep. Her memory came back last night.” Azriel picked up Nyx. “I woke up, she was gone.”
“She’s right there.” Nyx argued. “Auntie, didn’t leave.”
Feyre sniffled as Azriel pressed his cheek to his nephew’s head, “Her soul is gone, Little one. Her body was not meant to live as long as us. She aged and yesterday her soul left this plane of existence.”
Nyx’s eyes, so much like his father’s, lined with silver. “Will she be lonely? I don’t want her to be lonely.”
Azriel held the boy close not noticing Cassian rushing in, pain lacing the General’s face as he walked over to your body. Grabbing your limp hand Azriel whispered, “No she’s not alone, sweet prince. She’ll be busy.” Cassian kissed the top of your hand and Azriel tried to keep his composure.
“With what?”
Feyre answered, “Watching over us. She’ll want to see her favorite nephew grow up.” She walked over, opening her arms so that Azriel would hand Nyx. “Uncle Az needs a minute let’s go down and grab you something to eat.”
The small child simply nodded as he cried into his mother’s sweater. Rhys and Cassian lingered, “I’m sorry, Azriel.” Cassian was the first to speak. “She was a wonderful person.”
“A better friend,” Rhys interjected.
Azriel climbed back into the bed and pressed your lifeless corpse to his chest, allowing the tears to fall. “My perfect mate.” A shadow slithered from your ankle and swirled wildly until spotting its master. The lone shadow lingered by his ear whispering.
I’m Here
I’m With You.
Forever.
🌟🌟🌟
A century had passed without you though Azriel never felt alone. Not when one shadow would remind him you were near. Especially as he lay in the same bed you once did after a mission had gone terribly wrong leaving the spymaster fatally wounded. Sweat coated his brow as Nyx now a grown fae male held his hand, “Uncle Az, I’m sorry I should have listened.”
“Your stubborn, like your father, I’m used to it.” Azriel coughed and blood sputtered from his mouth just as said brother walked in, Cassian in tow.
Nyx rose, “Father, I.”
Fury laced Rhysand’s eyes, “Go see your mother, Uncle Cass and I will be having an at length discussion with you about following orders.” Guilt laced the young males’ features but to Azriel’s surprise, the prince puffed his chest out and walked out of the room, not sparing his brothers a second glance. Azriel smirked.
You would have been so proud of the male he has grown to be.
“He’s grown up so much, hasn’t he?” Your voice carried and Azriel’s head snapped toward the door. His shadows scurried away and began swirling around your body. Not the older woman you were when you left this world, no you were the young woman who braved the fae lands alone. The fierce youthful woman, Azriel had fallen in love with, the only difference was your skin had an ethereal glow and your dress of tool, sleeves draping off your shoulders and down your feet.
“Angel,” Azriel whispered smiling, as Rhysand and Cassian sat at either side of him.
“Madja, said that the wound was laced with poison, she said he might hallucinate.” Rhys spoke holding onto his brother’s hand as if the grip alone could keep him from disappearing.
“We have spent over 600 years together,” Cassian’s tears falling. Azriel’s eyes remained on you as you walked deeper into the room. “I was supposed to go first.” Cassian’s sobs were thunderous but were muffled to Az as he watched you place a hand on Rhys. The High Lord briefly looked over his shoulder as if he felt your touch.
“You noticed my shadow huh?” You giggled as your eyes met Azriel’s hazel ones “I promised you I would be with you. I kept it.” Azriel wanted to speak but you held up your hand, “Baby, save your words.” You looked over at your friends. “They need them more than me right now.” You moved and Azriel thought you glided from one spot to the other where you pressed a kiss to Cassian’s cheek. A gesture the general always returned. Cassian’s hand slid there tentatively as if remembering your sweet gesture from years ago.
“Cass,” Azriel’s lips chapped throat tight, “You are my dearest friend. Thank you, for being kind to me and showing me what a brother really looks like,” Cassian’s voice broke as he kissed Azriel’s knuckles.
“Fuck you, you prick. You can’t leave. Please don’t leave.” He choked out, Azriel’s gaze turned to Rhysand.
“Rhys.” Azriel wheezed, “It was an honor to serve as…your spymaster…” Rhysand silently cried as he rested his forehead against the shadowsinger’s knuckles. His shadows are still swirling and kissing you. Azriel continued, “Being your brother, and Nyx’s uncle…has…been my greatest…honor…go…easy… on him…” Rhys nodded not being able to form words.
You approached your mate, “My love.” His eyes fluttered shut as your hand reached out and cupped his cheek. “I have been granted the greatest gift.” You pressed your lips to his head, “I get to bring you home with me. We can be together again.”
Azriel hummed as another fit of cough erupted from his mouth jolting his two brothers’ alert. “Az, stay with us.” Rhysand’s voice grew panicked. “Azriel, please we still need you. Nyx needs you.”
Azriel’s eyes creaked open, and Cassian noticed life fading from them. “I love you both. Take care of each other.”
“Az-
Azriel cut the general off, “She…” both Cassian and Rhysand stilled, “is calling…me home…”
Rhysand and Cassian then looked to where his shadows were swirling, as if they could see you there. Cassian squeezed his hand fighting the tears. “Tell that little spitfire, hello for me.”
Azriel’s eyes began to droop. “I understand,” His violet eyes looked to where yours would be though he couldn’t see you, “I know you’ll take good care of him, like you did when you were here.”
You leaned down your breath lingering over Azriel’s lips, “It’s time to come back to me.” You kissed his lips and as you did, Azriel’s grip loosened from his brothers’. The roar of Cassian deafening. You pulled away from Azriel’s lifeless body only for hands to grip your waist hoisting you up, there was a glow to the now tanned arms, though his hands, no longer scarred, they were how he had always wished them to be, unharmed, undamaged. His nose grazed your skin, “I missed you too, Azriel.” He hummed.
“My Little Angel.” He pressed his lips to your cheek, “Take me home.”
You led him away, your hand adjusting to the now smooth skin of his own. He looked down at his hands and grinned, and your heart soared “No phantom pains, no ugliness.”
“They were never ugly, Azriel.” You scowled and kissed his knuckles. “Come now we must go.” You led Azriel away from his lifeless body, only to pause and turned to his shadows that were following the two of you, “Take care of them. You hear me.” The shadows nodded and swirled around Rhys and Cassian as if wrapping them in a snug blanket.
As they walked down the hall, glancing at Feyre holding a sobbing Nyx tear of her own, Azriel’s voice broke your concentration. “Tell me the story.” He didn’t need to elaborate.
You paused causing him to stop too, you pressed your lips to his, and he cupped your cheek. You put a hand to his chest and lightly pushed, “There once was a human girl, who fell in love with a fae male.” Azriel smiled as you led him to the afterlife.
His Perfect Little Angel.
~Fin
#azriel imagine#azriel x reader#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#azriel#azriel acomaf#azriel angst#kind of happy ending#azriel fanfic#acotar fanfiction#happily ever after#major character death
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tired
paring: Joel Miller x f!reader
rating: explicit
warnings: explicit sexual content, unspecified age gap, reader has hair that you can run your fingers through, no use of Y/N, UNEDITED
a/n: fully inspired by this post @bonezone44 dared to put out so i thank them for basically punching me out of the no-writing period of my life <3 and also thank you to people who've been tagging me in multiple wip challenges and fic games, especially @milla-frenchy and @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog <3 you reminded me that i was indeed an author a million years ago
word count: 2.6k
masterlist
Joel was tired. His back was hurting from helping Tommy fix up his roof, his knees were aching from climbing up and down that goddamn ladder that he could swore was ready to break at any second. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a night where he could just relax. Throw his body somewhere in his house and have someone take care of it.
Now that Ellie was building her adult life with Dina, their place - his place - now felt like just a roof over his head, all the homeyness gone with the girl that almost single-handedly owned his sharp and rusty heart.
Joel squeezed his eyes shut, dry fingertips running over the lids. He did not want to go home and fall asleep on the couch, cursing everything the world stands on the next morning when he needs to fight the tears of pain with every back spasm he gets. No, he needed someone to take care of him, to give him something good, god knows he’s given these people more than enough over these past years. But, Joel sighed to himself, scrunching his nose as his eyes fell on the dirty knees of his jeans, he was not in shape of wining and dining women tonight.
That’s what you need casual connections for, old idiot, he chuckled to himself, remembering a few times he had to spell it out for some ladies that he wasn’t interested.
You practically jumped on a stool next to him while he was still considering his options.
“Hey, Joel, long night?”
Of course you’d be the first to ask about his day. Little miss sunshine. Well, at least that’s what he thought at first, before seeing you mercilessly killing a couple of infected villagers that weren’t careful enough on the patrol. Still, you were as syrupy sweet as honey on a fresh batch of pancakes when it came to him. The only one who didn’t cringe when he said his firm “no, thanks”. The only one who didn’t actually take his no for an answer.
You never actually threw yourself at him, but Joel learned what desire looks like and you were too young to learn how to mask it properly.
“Hey, kid.” He nodded, he knew how much you hated the nickname because it put even a bigger barrier between the two of you.
“Told you not to call me that, I’m only—“
“Twenty something years younger than me? Yeah.”
He saw your lips hiding in a thin line, your unbreakable spirit was too fragile when it came to him. Joel must’ve gone soft, or insane, because he nudged your shoulder with his, making you lift your head up and look him in the eyes.
“Tommy’s roof’s been a pain in the ass to fix. It’d be easier to burn that place down and build a new one, but my brother is as stubborn as them mules he’s been dreaming to have.”
You huffed a laugh, palm squeezing the slippery glass that was now empty a little too hard. “You know,” you started, shyness verging with hope that you tried to sheath with a nonchalant tone. Joel knew. And for the first time in years he actually contemplated, nodding to you to continue. “I could help you relax, I sometimes give massages in the hospital. It can really help with back pain.”
He purposefully kept silent, looking you in the eyes and trying to make you go back on your proposal. But as he knew already, you were no less stubborn than his little brother. It was karma or something that the only people that were semi-constant in his life were the ones who’d rather kiss an infected than give up.
Joel wasn’t exactly tortured with his conscience, he didn’t seduce you, and most of the old world morals have died already, so the age gap the size of an adult child didn’t bother him either. He was almost glad you tried again, he just needs to make sure you know it’s not something it isn’t.
“Yeah, my back’s been hurtin’ pretty bad today.” He finished his drink not tearing his eyes off you, and then he slowly let them trace your lips, the naked expanse of your neck that you showed off by unbuttoning a couple of buttons on your shirt. He looked lower, noticing your breasts rise and fall faster under his unmasked gaze.
“Wanna go now?” Your voice was breathless like you’d just ran a marathon. He wondered how you’d sound later tonight.
“Sure, darlin’. Lead the way.”
You never said anything when Joel strode past the hospital shack, not even slowing his pace. He was saying something about the roof again but it was hard to understand through the blood pumping jungle beats in your ears.
You kept nodding and humming in agreement, though you couldn’t quite process the words. As you followed him, the anticipation gnawed at you, every step closer tightening the knot in your stomach. You knew he was taking you home, well, he was taking you to his house, and you went too slow for the amount of times that you dreamed to step over his doorstep. Joel's house was small and dimly lit, for some reason it was exactly how you imagined it: homey in spite of the circumstances. Joel took off his jacket silently, the faint smell of cedar and something musky filled the air, mingling with his earthy scent. He turned to face you, those piercing eyes locking onto yours.
“You gonna give me a massage wearing this?” He pointed at the warm coat you put on in a hurry as you were leaving the bar. Your fingers stumbled over each other as you tried to open the buttons of the damn thing. You felt a flush of warmth rise to your cheeks under his scrutiny.
Your fingers touched as you gave him your coat, but there was no electricity, his fingers were rough and scratched your skin, your palm became sweaty and you hurried to wipe it on your jeans when he didn’t look.
“Let’s go, bedroom’s upstairs,” his voice was low and calm, somehow its vibrations helped you settle, grounded you. You gave him a quick smile and followed his broad figure. Every stair squeaked under his heavy footsteps, you looked like a mouse that was chasing a bear. Willingly. The bedroom door creaked open to reveal a space just as humble as the rest of the house. A couple of drawings in handmade frames, a chair with a pair of pants on it, and the bed. Your eyes were glued to it. The bed and its tangled sheets seemed inviting, though a wave of nerves prickled your spine. ‘You’re here to give him a massage, don’t get ahead of yourself’ you thought, teeth sinking in your lower lip. You weren’t too young or naive to think that a massage was all this night would end with, but such a quick change of heart in Joel made you doubt your every breath.
When you brought your eyes back to the man you saw him studying you, you could swear a nervous tick clenched his jaw but you didn’t let yourself ponder on it.
“I’m gonna rip the bandaid off and say it as it is, okay, pretty girl?”
Your breath hitched. Joel stepped closer, his eyes steadily holding yours. You nodded, not trusting your voice. His gaze was intense, making your heart hammer loudly enough to be heard.
"Massage ain’t exactly the thing I took ya here for,” Joel admitted, eyes dark, voice raw with honesty. “If you catch my drift.”
“I…” You cleared your throat, you wanted to look confident, or at least not scared. You’ve wanted to get into this man’s bed for months now, imagined how and when and what, and now that it happens you can barely squeeze out a, “yeah, of course I do.”
Joel smiled, one of his hands flying to cup your jaw as he brought his lips closer to yours and you closed your eyes in anticipation of his soft skin on yours. “Good girl,” the remnants of his wet breath stained your lips.
As quickly as he came at you, he left. His pace was languid when he worked on taking off his jeans, leaving himself in a ridiculous attire of a flannel shirt, a t-shirt underneath and simple cotton boxers.
You bit your lip, suppressing a giggle at the sight. His eyes snagged on your smile, sharpening with mischief. Joel raised an eyebrow, catching your amusement. “What’s so funny, darlin’?”
“Nothing,” your cheeks felt extra hot and you were glad for the poor lighting in the bedroom. “Lay on your back, please. As I said before, I’d like to help you relax.”
Joel held your gaze for a hot minute, but then silently followed your order. “I’d maybe argue any other day, but not now, sweetheart. Today I’ll take all the care I can get,” he smiled, but you missed the warm gesture. He laid back, his head hitting the pillow, long curls that he had left to grow splayed around the back of his head. You were too focused, letting your hands wander over his chest, feeling the texture of his shirt and the years of safer life that he was hiding underneath had grown out brushing against the fabric. You moved your fingers lightly over his chest, watching his eyes flutter closed.
His hands blindly found yours, hardened blisters of his palms scraped your soft skin, and he pushed your hands lower, somewhere you didn’t dare look for too long.
“Don’t be shy, babygirl,” he muttered with his eyes still closed. You let him guide you. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the rigidity slowly melting away under your touch.
You remembered him talking about ripping a bandage off, so you followed his philosophy, hooking your fingers under the elastic of his boxers and tugging the material down. As the cool air grazed his skin, he released a slow, shuddering breath. It felt like something forced you to lift your head up, you met his gaze and saw a flicker of softness and gratefulness in his eyes.
“This okay?” You whispered, hands already exploring the places your eyes were too shy to inspect.
“More than,” Joel’s voice was calm, breathing barely indicating the intimate setting you were in. His eyes fell shut again and a part of you thought that was only to give you more freedom, save you from his scrutiny. You noticed the slight hitch in his breath with each new touch, his body responding to your feathery strokes.
When your fingertips grazed the hot skin covered in coarse hair you couldn’t help but look. Even in half darkness it was easy to see that Joel was well-endowed and eager. His cock laid on the pillow of his pubic hair, the shaft slightly curved. Pink tip was glistening with precum and you wondered if you got him excited or the promise of future pleasure. Your left hand was resting on his hip when as if hypnotized you traced your index finger from his tip to where his base was covered in sparse graying curls.
Joel’s cock jumped to attention, twitching under your light touch, prompting you to close your fist around it which you immediately did. With the first tug on the velvety soft skin both of you released a moan.
“Spit on it, baby, make it wet,” Joel’s voice was relaxed, as if you put your hand on a muscle that was aching for days and relieved the pain.
Your short nails dug into his hip when you started contemplating how to do it. You weren’t completely innocent, far from it, but somehow you could count on the fingers of one hand the amount of times you needed to spit during sex. Deciding against spitting in your own palm, you took a different position, scooting lower down the bed and hunching over Joel’s waiting cock. The moment the smell of his skin and sweat hit your nose it was like you were intoxicated. Your lips closed around his flushed tip, tongue diving to get more of his taste. Both of your hands settled on his hips, either to hold him down or find balance. You abandoned the idea of spitting, the thought of not having his cock in your mouth almost pained you. It was like this was the grand finale of your romantic labor. Here, on your knees between the legs of a man who was holding you at arm's length for the longest time. It shouldn’t have felt so good, but it did. Taking care of him, even in this basic, primal way, felt like taking care of yourself.
Your wet mouth slid further down, the thick shaft of Joel’s cock stretching your lips. It took you a moment to realize Joel’s hands were in your hair. For a moment you thought he wanted you to stop, you even started to lift off, but the firm pressure of his hand on your head made it clear that he wasn’t against this turn of events. You let yourself build up to a comfortable taste, exploring each centimeter of his skin in your mouth, the way a couple of veins bulged under your tongue, the ridge of the head pushing further in your throat. You didn’t hurry and neither did he. You savored the slow rhythm of push and pull, letting him go deeper with every thrust.
One of his hands left your head and you raised your eyes to Joel’s face, mouth still very occupied with his cock. He must have felt it, because he barely lifted his head off the pillow, stray curls sticking to his sweaty forehead and you could swear you saw him wink at you before he laid his head back, using the freed hand to tuck away long strands of hair behind his ear.
The picture of this man, always so rough and guarded, finally relaxing under your touch and shedding the years of hostility made you drunker than any booze Tommy could’ve offered. Your movements became faster, saliva dripping down his cock and making it glisten. You felt Joel’s hips tense under your palms and you didn’t even need to hear the shameless moans drowned by your excitement and the sloppy wet sounds to know he was close.
“Doin’ good for me, baby, doin’ real good,” he groaned as you felt the tip of his cock punch the back of your throat repeatedly. Your eyes watered, but you admitted to yourself that you would rather suffocate and die than let the cock of this man out of your mouth. Your jaw was aching, the pleasurable pain that said how good of a job you did.
The shaft under your tongue felt even harder, a loaded gun pressing on your tongue and you couldn’t wait for it to shoot.
Both of Joel’s hands returned to your head pressing you into his skin so hard that little hairs tickled your nose and your vision started to go blurry.
His load was salty and thick, you felt it slide down your throat like lava, burning you from the inside. Barely catching your breath you sat straight, watching closely how Joel’s chest rose and fell following his erratic breathing. There was an indecent amount of wetness gathered in the gusset of your panties and by the look on Joel’s face you knew you’d have to handle it yourself.
“Feeling good?” Your voice sounded weird, hoarse and raspy in the gritty silence of the room.
“You’re really good at massage, darlin’, I’m more relaxed than the day I was born,” Joel held his gaze on you, using his shoulder to scratch the underside of his jaw. You took it as your key to leave, after all, you never agreed to anything more.
Joel’s voice stopped you with one foot over the doorstep.
“Maybe I could return the favor some time.”
#iamasaddie fic#joel miller x reader#Joel miller x f!reader#joel miller smut#pedro pascal fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#joel miller x you
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A & 🕶️, the rest is up to you! <3 (@a-little-unsteddie)
Thanks for the prompt. I'm having way too much fun with this mafia AU! 🤣😎
@a-little-unsteddie
Forbidden flowers
Words: 971
Rated: M
Tags: Mafia AU; mob boss Dick Harrington; mobster Eddie Munson; obsessive behavior; stalking; lust at first sight; sexual fantasies; violent imagery
Notes: Part 1
Richard Harrington’s house is a fucking palace.
The fact shouldn't be as surprising, maybe. It pays well, being the boss of the city's criminal underbelly, even Eddie knows that. Not like he's planning on staying one of Harrington's lowly little hitmen forever. Don't get him wrong, he's good at what he does, but that doesn’t mean he wants to go on doing it forever, bloodying his hands fighting the boss's fights. He wants his own share of the money, the power, the splendor of it all. A guy can dream, can't he?
Speaking of dreams, even his wildest ones seem pale and bland, now that he's seen the house from the inside. Leaving the higher-ups to talk business in Harrington's office, he has strayed through light-flooded halls decked in expensive art and sculptures, footsteps echoing on marbled floors, until he finally found a pair of glass doors leading outside.
The patio opens into a lush garden. It looks like something from an Italian postcard - dominated by gleaming marble and lean pillars, overgrown with a sea of white and purple hydrangea bushes. Their fragrance hangs in the hot summer air, thick and sweet and almost cloying. Sparkling behind the blossoms is a huge, lavish pool.
In the water is a fucking nymph.
Eddie pauses, unlit cigarette halfway to his mouth, ducking between the flower bushes to hover closer. The boy in the pool doesn't notice him, too focused on doing his laps. Eddie watches his lean muscles flex as he glides through the water, watches how sun-bronzed skin glistens in the sun, and feels something curdle in his gut.
Want.
White-hot and all-consuming, more overwhelming and intense than anything he's ever felt in his life.
He doesn't know how long he stays hidden between the flowers and stares. At some point, the boy swims over to the far end and hoists himself out of the pool - one long, graceful ripple of those muscled arms and shoulders. He shakes the water from his thick, chestnut hair before padding over to the deck chairs standing a small way off, still blissfully unaware of Eddie’s eyes following his every move. A small water bottle is standing at the ready on a side table, droplets of condensed liquid glistening on the glass. The boy takes it, tips back his head and empties it with a few deep, greedy gulps. His throat - long, and graceful and dotted in moles - bops with it. Then, not bothering with the towel hanging over the backrest, he flops down on one of the chairs, sopping wet and half naked, stretching out in the sunlight like a content cat.
Eddie decides one thing, then and there.
Fuck the money. Fuck the splendor and the power and the glory, fuck all of it. Let him just have that boy.
Let him feel that body writhe under his. Let him tangle his fingers into that glorious swoop of hair and tilt back that head, let him sink his teeth into the soft, golden skin of that neck. Let him hear his own name, near unrecognizable with despair and pleasure, fall from those pink lips. Let him have all of this, and he'll die a happy man.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?”
Eddie lets out a startled noise he'll absolutely deny making later and whips around. Gareth is leaning in the open patio door, regarding him with crossed arms and a furious expression.
“H-how long have you been standing there?” Eddie croaks.
Gareth shakes his head at him.
“Long enough to see you slink around in the bushes, staring at the boss's son like a total creep,” he hisses. “C'mon, let's go. Harrington will take out your eyes with a rusty screwdriver if he catches- are you listening to me?”
“No,” Eddie says absentmindedly, already pushing apart the branches again. Lilac petals rain down onto his boots. “That's Harrington's son? Didn't even know he had one.”
“No, that's his gardener,” Gareth scoffs behind him, but still goes on to answer Eddie’s unspoken question. “Rumor has it daddy and him don't … get along that well. Harrington wants him to take over the firm but Junior isn't exactly interested. Likes the money and the lifestyle, obviously, but not so much the violence and bloodshed that comes with it.”
Eddie thinks he'd drench the entire world in blood for one taste of those lips.
Gareth tugs on his arm.
“C'mon,” he says again. “Before anyone sees us. I'd like to keep my eyes, I'm sorta attached to them.”
Eddie sighs in defeat, casting one long, reluctant glance through the leaves and petals. Then, following a sudden impulse, he reaches out and snaps off a branch with a thick, vibrant cluster of violet blossoms on the end.
Gareth gawks at him.
“Are you insane? You can't just pluck flowers from the boss's garden!”
Eddie shrugs lazily, bringing the blossoms up to his nose. Their scent is sweet and enticing and full of forbidden possibilities.
“Don’t see him around, do you?”
Gareth groans and turns to go. “I dunno why I put up with you.”
Eddie smiles, slowly following after his retreating back. At the threshold, he pauses and turns one last time. The boy is dozing in the sun, eyes closed, droplets of water glistening on his body like so many tiny diamonds. Eddie raises the branch in his hand - a secret parting salute.
“See you soon, little nymph,” he mutters.
He strides towards the front door with a new spring in his step. Because he knows exactly what it is he wants now, and he knows that he will not stop before he has it.
And if that means wrestling Richard Harrington’s crown from his cold, dead hands, and setting his empire aflame, and painting the ashes red? That is something he will gladly do.
Steve, meanwhile: Huh, wonder who that loser lurking in the flowers was. What a weirdo. Kinda cute, though ...
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No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, dejection, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: The reader attempts to move past her ruination, but is reminded of her tarnish conscience at every turn. (Regency AU, tall!reader)
Masterlist
Character: Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson
Note: thanks to those who waited on this one!.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
Love you like I love coffee and that’s a lot and probably unhealthy. Take care. 💖
It should be the happiest time in your life. You should be elated, and yet, as ever it is, every victory precedes a treacherous defeat. A proposal one day, and despair the next. That nipping of doom in your gut, that ever present doubt, is made certain by the passage of time. It has been much too long.
You sit in the pews, throat tight as you keep your chin locked. You breathe slowly, as if too sudden an intake might unleash the tempest brewing inside of you. It is more than nerves, you know it, that sicken you so. You should be happy for your pending nuptials but you are only horrified at the thought.
The bishop reads out the banns before the rows; the first for yourself, the third for your sister. She will be permitted to wed and your mother has presided over much of planning already. You dip your head as your name rings out beside Lord Odinson’s and you swallow back a swell of bile. You’ve been gulping down your own stomach for much of the morning, ever since you caught a whiff of pickled shallots in passing the kitchens.
You push your head up and your hand down to your lap, knowing you will be observed. You must at least look certain of your fate. You must sit proud for the engagement all would put into question. For the time until it shall all dissolve, you must play your part.
You can barely keep from wilting where you are. A prudent woman might bite her tongue. She may commit to the theatre of it all. She might lie and get away with the folly. You glance over at Lord Odinson, just across the aisle, and you know you cannot. It isn’t one lie, it’s a lifetimes’ worth of betrayal.
Yet how should you tell it? It isn’t only him who must know. Your father would need good reason why you’d rather the convent to a proper marriage. You will be ruined but you could not put that stain upon the only person who was ever kind to you. Lord Odinson deserves an honest wife and a child of his own.
Your insides sour and you nearly spasm as you fight the tide of nausea, brought upon by more than your forsaken condition. Your eyes trail away from your betrothed to another man bound in promise. Lord Rogers sits with your sister, as ever, and she leans on him shamelessly, even beneath the Lord’s rafters.
She would deny it. She would laugh in your face should you ever reveal the absolute truth. No, you must confess the sin as your own and that alone. You will not name the culprit for they would they never believe you and he would never admit it himself.
Yet, you know that the Duke Rogers will ever be triumphant in knowing that he has brought the monstrous giant to her knees. You are his Goliath, the vile retched creature he has slain in his valour. He will be hero and you be the villain.
💟
You hand the letter to the carrier just before noon. You don’t expect an audience to be granted until the next morning at earliest. Lord Odinson is a busy man; an ambassador in much demand between the house and society. Even his betrothed must request his presence.
The cart rattles through the gates and you watch it fade off into the grim horizon. The winter bites in the air, adding to the chill in your bones. That coldness that freeze over your heart. You must be strong now, as strong as the valkyrie he misnamed you as.
When you go to Lord Odinson, you will bring the crown to him. You will hand it back and admit your tainted stature to him. You will show him how truly small you are.
At least, that is what you intend. You may prove yourself weak as ever. However it should unfold, this engagement cannot persist.
“A day! A day and I shall call you husband,” Cora’s shrill tone greets you as you come through the front doors. She is in the sitting room with Lord Rogers. Your mother continues to fawn over the last-minute details for their wedding. “Isn’t it very exciting, my lord?”
“And I shall call you wife.”
“And Duchess,” she preens with a trilling laugh, “oh, how elaborate I shall be.”
“My Athena,” Rogers drones back, “my goddess, my beloved.”
“Oh, how darling,” your mother preens over them, “it shall be resplendent. I’ve made certain the cake will be exactly as you like it, dearie. The cook has even procured some citrus for the lemonade.”
The mention of lemonade makes you shrivel. You recall the sunny day when Lord Rogers spoke to you over a weeping beverage. As you fell for that virulent charm. And all that came after.
You peer at the grim windows and frown. How everything does change so quickly. Happiness is fleeting and yet disappointment comes as a chronic plight. You will never know a day without shame.
You flit off without notice. Your heart rents at the thought that you will not have the same fervour. You will not sit and plan your own wedding with Lord Odinson. All your fanciful dreams have evaporated. It is one thing to put a mask on, to pretend as virgin, but you could never foist a bastard upon the kind man who has shown you a taste happiness. You will be certain to thank him for all he’s done but you will not spit in his face.
As you get to the bedroom doors, your stomach churns violently and you burst through, not stopping as you rush to the pot and fall to your knees. You wretch into it as your body contracts painfully. You empty your stomach until you are panting and hollow.
“Sister,” Alina startles you as she rolls to the edge of the bed, a novel in hand, “is it a winter ague?”
“I...” you shakily wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, “I believe so.”
That lie alone singes your tongue like a brand. Your eyes well with tears and you flick them away with your lashes. You sit back on your heels and heave out a pungent breath.
“Oh, how awful, and just before the wedding,” she sits up and shuts the novel. “Let us pray it passes quickly. You needn’t delay your own nuptials.”
“Mm, no, that wouldn’t be...” you let the sentence tail off and you stand, taking the pot with you, “I’ll dump it before it can stink.”
“If you are unwell, call for the maid.”
“No, it is fine,” you insist, “I didn’t mean to disturb your reading.”
“You didn’t,” she insists. “What’s the matter, sissie? You hardly seem a lady about to marry.”
“I...” you croak, “it is the ague, that’s all.”
“Mm, perhaps Lord Odinson might offer some comfort should it get any worse. He does seem the character,” she offers.
“Or perhaps he is better to stay away. You as well, should it pass onto anyone else,” you hold the pot to your stomach and turn, carrying it out without another word. Albina huffs and falls back onto the bed, the flutter of pages following shortly after.
You descend and keep along the wall, passing through the kitchens and beyond the servants’ quarters to the rear of the manse. You come out into the crisp air and overturn the pot well away from the house. A wave of dizziness washes over you, silver spots dotting your vision. Perhaps it is an ague. Oh how you wish it were.
You set the pot down as you grasp at some stability. You stand and wipe your clammy forehead. Your hand drifts down to your bodice and you let it venture further. You try to feel your stomach through the layers. It is tauter than it once was but no rounder. Not as yet.
You sit on a low stump, the seat the stabler uses to shoe the horses. You let the frigid air seep through your dress and stare at the grey clouds that blot out the sun. You hold your chin, elbows on your legs, hunched over as you let the stagnancy of that moment swallow you.
For a moment, you believe that you can make time stand still. That you might stretch on this fantasy a little longer. That a single second might be spent into an eternity. You shake your head and close your eyes as your cheeks tingle with the cold.
You try to picture the convent. You imagine dark halls and darker mornings. Prayers and repentance filling the days and keeping wakeless the nights. Would the nuns even accept a ruined soul like yours?
“Miss,” Mary, the broom girl, stands along the path back to the house, “you have a caller.”
You sit up and blink, a caller? How long have you been there? You shiver and rise, towering over the young servant like the mottled forest creature of wives tales. You nod and stride past her, rubbing your arms to warm yourself as you return to the house.
It cannot be him. Not already. You’re not prepared. It has been all you can think of and yet you are wholly unready for it.
You carry on inside and come into the main hall. Lord Odinson waits, your mother chittering at his elbow as Lord Rogers and Cora stand in the archway to the west wing.
“You will be at the wedding tomorrow? We did not receive your response sir,” your mother pleads as she tugs his sleeve.
“Ah, yes, did I not give it?” Odinson says coolly, “certainly I will come with some Asgardian ale to christen the blissful newlyweds.”
“And we thank you for such generosity,” Cora coos.
“I’m certain refreshments will be plenty,” Lord Rogers deflects.
“Ah,” Lord Odinson’s attention is drawn by your emergence from behind the staircase, “my valkyrie, you called for me and I am here.”
“I... you have come so... swiftly,” you remark, your voice teetering.
“Of course,” he assures as he crosses the polished floor, “as ever I will for my beloved.” He approaches and takes your hands in his, kissing your knuckles, “you are like ice,” he feels your hands and covers them with his gloved ones, “are you ill?”
“No, uh, yes, no,” you stammer, “sir, I only meant... I only thought to speak with you.”
“I do cherish the tenor of your sweet voice, lady, I would ride so fast as I might to hear it,” he assures.
“You rode... all this way, my lord?”
“I do prefer to be in a saddle,” he affirms, “so, shall we converse? Perhaps we might have some tea to warm you, my valkyrie.”
“Please,” you cringe, wishing he would quit his honeyed words, “I do not require it. Perhaps somewhere private...”
“With chaperone of course,” your mother insists. You blanch but do your best not to show your unease. “Pollo! Pollo!” She claps, “forgive me I will not be able to do so myself as I have much to attend to for the morrow, but we have a groom here... Pollo!”
She cries out and the dark-haired man appears. The old groom has a round belly and wine-reddened cheeks. He doesn’t speak more than Italian but he is steadfast in his service. Your mother bids him, pointing at you, then shoos him with a flick of her fingers.
He shrugs and bows his head, nearing you and the duke. You peer over at your sister and Lord Rogers as they watch. The former stares at your betrothed as he clings still to your hands and the latter narrows his eyes in your direction. Just the sight of him makes you even more sick than before. Of any, he cannot know though you expect should Cora find out, it will not be a secret.
“The sun room, perhaps,” Odinson suggests.
“As you wish,” you agree.
He offers his arms and you accept it. He guides you along, well-acquainted to the halls already, and takes you around to the sun room. The curtains are closed and the space is dim with the shadow of winter. The groom claims the armchair in the corner, making it groan with his weight, as another servant follows to light a lamp and put flint to the fireplace.
When all is lit, you detach from Odinson and retreat from him. You mash your hands together and sway, spinning back to face him as he watches you intently. He seems unbothered by the spontaneity of it all.
“You missed me? I have longed to see you again,” he beams.
“Please,” you show your palms, “please, I... we must speak.”
“Of? Name anything and it shall be yours. As my wife, you will never want for anything, valkyrie.”
You wince as if struck. You drop your arms and your head. You stalk over to the bench that looks toward the window and sit, slumped forward as you shake your head. He approaches as he lets out a long exhale. He sits beside you.
“Something is amiss. Forgive me for making light, I came upon mistaken sentiment,” his voice is grave, “you have something to say and I must listen. As ever, I am the storm but these winds have calmed.”
You rock and another hot tinge settles behind your eyes. You roll them up and sit straight. You crane to see over your shoulder. Rollo’s eyes are closed as he’s halfway to sleeping. It is propriety alone that has him sat in that chair.
You look ahead once more, “I cannot marry you.”
He sucks in air and snorts, “what?”
“I cannot—it cannot—I'm sorry, Lord Odinson.”
“Why ever should you change your mind? The banns are read and will be again,” he touches your arm and you shy away.
“You deserve... better.”
“I deserve you,” he insists.
“Please, sir, let me find the words,” you beg touch your temples as you try to rein in your wits. You close your eyes and shudder.
“You are cold still, perhaps you might move closer to the fire--”
“It hardly matters,” you lower your hands and clutch them tight.
You make yourself look at him. You must. He warrants at least the truth told to his face and not the floor. His blue eyes twinkle as his usually bright face is stern.
“I am...” you take a breath and struggle to let it back out as the words burn the tip of your tongue, “I... am with... child.”
You choke out the last word and nearly faint. You stare at him, waiting for him to explode. You mightn’t even have a say in who knows should he speak too loudly. His eyes search yours and he blinks. He turns his face down and looks at his lap, gripping his thighs as he nods and hums.
“That’s wonderful,” he says.
“Pardon?”
“Yes, it’s wonderful. We’ll have a child.”
“Sir, I—we haven’t... it is another man’s,” you feel as if you shouldn’t have to explain this.
“Why certainly he put it there, yes, but I would claim it,” he faces you again.
Your eyes round, “why should you do that? That isn’t... proper. I am not proper, sir. I am telling you that I have been... corrupted. I should never have said yes.”
“But you did.”
“You needn’t-- it isn’t fair.”
“Perhaps it isn’t fair that you should have to carry the cad’s seed,” he agrees, “for any many who would lay with a lady and not seek her hand, well, he can be nothing else.”
You’re quiet as disbelief clouds around you. He can’t possibly mean it. He must be in shock. Certainly, he wouldn’t just accept another’s child.
“Sir, you shouldn’t-- you shouldn’t do this. I am releasing you.”
“I don’t want to be released,” he says sullenly.
“Why? Why would you do this?” You ask.
“I meant all I said to you, from the first breath, my valkyrie,” he proclaims. “And I mean it still.”
“But, sir, you cannot—I cannot live with myself--”
“You are honourable. Honest. You have told me this when you did not need to. When you could’ve claimed an early birth, when you could have kept quiet, yet you did not. That says more than a fleeting tryst. For that’s what it was, yes? Or do you lay with this man still?”
You shake your head and look down at your fingers as you twists them until they hurt, “just once. Only once. It was... unplanned. It wasn’t...” your voice cracks.
His chest inflates with a sonorous breath, “did you want it?”
“Pardon?” You murmur.
“Unplanned... did you... was it... your tryst, was it willing?”
You put your fist to your mouth and sob. You can’t say it. You won’t. You replay it in your head every night and you think of how you told him to stop and yet you did not stop him. You should have fought more. You should have screamed.
“I didn’t make him stop,” you eke around your hand.
“Make him? Did you ask him to begin?”
“Please, sir, I cannot—please just end this and I will ask my father for the convent once more. I cannot bring this shame on you.”
“Shame? Shame is the man, if I should call him that, who has done this,” he snarls and reaches for you, taking your hand. “I swore you would be my wife and I will hold to that. As you swore to be my wife. We will see the altar together. As one.”
“You do not have to--”
“I want to,” he growls and you look up at his angry face. You’ve never seen such fury in him. “I have never done anything but by my own whim and will not change that now.”
“You are too nice, sir. Too nice, I cannot ask it--”
“Who?” He sneers.
“Sir?”
“Who has done this to you?”
“I cannot--”
“I should know.”
“No, please, I wouldn’t-- it would be my ruin--”
“No, it would be his and you protect him still, so tell me.”
“No, no I will not. That I cannot tell you, sir. To say it would defeat me completely.”
He sighs into a snarls and lowers his chin. He sounds like a simmering bull, readying for the charge. You tug on your hand but he will not release you. You relent and let him cling to you.
Silence, suffocating and still.
“My brother was an orphan. We took him in when he was young. He is a duke, same as me, now,” he declares as he squares his posture. “You wouldn’t know the difference. And I won’t. Not between this child and our next.”
“Sir, surely--”
“We are to have a child,” he says, “that is happy news and I thank you for bringing me here to hear it.” He pets your hand and leans his arm against yours. He brings your fingers up to your mouth and kisses them, “one day, I will know who the culprit is and on that, I will surely split his skull. Not for his bastard, for that child has no sin, but for your honour, lady. For my wife’s honour.”
💟
Cora’s wedding to Lord Rogers culminates in a grand luncheon. The bride is a beautiful mist of tears as she accepts the well wishes of her guests. She basks in the attention as you gladly languish in the shadows.
Despite Lord Odinson’s unexpected and reassuring reaction, you’re still uncertain. You don’t know if he’s keeping a good face on until he knows how to act, perhaps renegs his grace, or if you might come to pay for your discretion later in your union. You’re prepared to meet your atonement, however it comes.
As you sit for the meal, the chair beside you is claimed almost at once. Your betrothed has appeared throughout the event but you’ve hardly been at his side. Each time you see him, his eyes skim the crowd as if he can see right through every one of them. Yet, when he looks at you, you feel only warmth. You don’t understand how he can look at you as such.
“How do you fare, today, my valkyrie?” He asks as he straightens his cravat, “you look well.”
“Good, I think.”
“Glad to hear it,” he raises his glass for a servant to fill it with sherry. You opt for lemon water, as much as your tumultuous stomach can handle.
“I thought we might have our own reception at Nine Pillars,” he suggests.
“I would like that,” you agree, your eyes drifting beyond him, to your father’s gardens, where... “whatever you may offer, I will be grateful for.”
“Mighty valkyrie, full of grace,” he praises and reaches for a platter, “ooh, they have some sweet ham here with pineapple.”
He takes a helping and puts it on your plate. You smell the tangy fruit and the underline savoury waft of the meat. You lurch and grasp the edge of the table. You give a panicked look to Odinson as he peers down at the food. He switches your plates out swiftly.
“Tell me, what are you in the mind for then?” He leans in so his arm touches yours as you sip from the lemon water to quell your stomach. “Valkyrie, give me your command and I will obey.”
You give him a coy grin, “you can be so silly.”
“Silly. Mad. All for love,” he assures you.
“Is their anything dry?” You ask, “bread, perhaps.”
“Sourdough,” he reaches to take the basket as others help themselves to the spread.
“I’ll have some of that.”
“With marmalade?” He offers.
“No,” your face pinches at the thought, “no, bread will do.”
You blink and shake of another tide of sickness. As you do, your eyes meet another pair further down the table, amid the rabble of voices. Lord Rogers tilts his head as Cora tugs on his sleeve and giggles up at the couple behind them. He hardly seems to notice as he stares you down.
You go rigid and quickly look away. You touch Odinson’s arm to keep from panicking. He looks at you, then down the table. He doesn’t say anything, merely carves off a chunk of bread for you.
You pick away at the hard crust and the dry spongey inside. You take small bites, cautious of upsetting your volatile stomach. The afternoon wears on, course after course, and you avoid those dishes which threaten to overthrow your restraint.
At last, the cake is serves, a tiered sponge with cream and fruit and candied sugar spun in a facsimile fountain atop it. It’s splended and beautiful. The couple are served first as they smiles in delight. The doling out of servings takes some time as guests wait patiently for their turn and the cake is pushed on a cart from chair to chair.
When it comes your turn, your name rises over the crowd. You sit up and glance over, relieved at least not to watch the layers of custard and cake hit your plate. Lord Rogers has his hand on the back of his wife’s chair.
“And how do you like the dessert? I believe you’ve been saving space for it all day, eh?” He chirps.
You angle your head in confusion. You look down then at Odinson who sits a little taller as he leans forward.
“You’ve hardly indulged, so I hope you might show your support and delight in this delectable dessert,” Rogers taunts. “A wedding is no place for a sour face.”
Your lips part. You’re stunned. How could he be so bold as to call you out? Among all his guests and he must torment you. Was one night not enough. Your whole life as his violation thrives within your womb. Lord Odinson subtly touches your elbows.
“I am most happy for you and my sister,” you rebuff, “and you are correct, I’ve been in much anticipation for dessert.”
You take your fork and scoop up a heaping mouthful. You smile at it even as your insides rage. You make yourself taste it. It’s so sweet and smooth and wonderful, but your stomach mulches as if it is rubbish. Your cheeks tremble and you swallow, nearly gagging.
“To you, sir, and my sister, Cora, I wish a happy marriage,” you force out as you hide your mouth behind a handkerchief.
“To the happy couple,” Lord Odinson raises his glass and the table erupts, at once, the attention shifted back to them.
You brace his arm and squeeze. You fight but you cannot withhold the uproar within. You stand and rush away, frantically searching for somewhere to hide and spew your guts.
💟
The days overcome your doubts. The weeks come with more affectations; your sickness ebbs and flows and the temperature feels at times hotter then colder, swaying back forth, while some moments you spend with a throbbing head and pulsing feet. The most obvious symptom of your condition is the tightness of your stay. Soon, you will be showing more than you like, but for now, loosened laces can ease your discomfort.
Your wedding day fast approaches. Time does seem to defy any human whim. You wish it would slow so you could catch your breath. Much like your husband-to-be who has yet to falter in his affections.
You sit before the mirror with the grown of silver petals in your lap. There is one still bent from Cora’s envy but you will keep it to the back of your head. You will wear it as proudly as that night Lord Odinson gifted it to you. You hope for the day you might both forget all else.
If it is to be. If he is at the altar waiting still.
Albina and Hannah take the crown from you and secure it among your styled locks. Albina smiles at your reflection as Hannah jabs you with a pin. You nervously wring your hands as you admire the lavender shade of your gown. You wish you’d had more of it, that you hadn’t needed to trim it in ivory to make up for your height. Still, it is beautiful and the nicest dress you’ve ever worn.
“Are you nervous?” Albina asks.
“Suppose,” you admit and lift your chin, “very, truly.” Though not for the reason she might think.
“Lord Odinson is kind. He should be gentle,” Hannah says.
Your cheeks tinge at her suggestion, “sister.”
“Well, it is what we are all thinking, isn’t it?” She shrugs.
“I hope I do not find a husband so soon,” Albina adds, “I would like to enjoy my books a little longer.”
“You might take on the spinster’s mantel then,” Hannah snipes.
“It shouldn’t be so bad,” you murmur. “Every woman must do it. Eventually. It cannot be so horrible.”
You lower your head again, trying to hide the emotion battling in your chest. It was bad, that first time. Lord Rogers hadn’t been kind at all. Would Lord Odinson be any different? For Rogers seemed kind at first glance only to be cruel upon touch.
What if you husband did not want to meet his duty? What if he could not knowing you had lain with another? You would not blame him and without consummation, he might still turn you away.
“Cora said it was more painful than anything she’s ever felt,” Hannah undercuts your dread. “Though she still loves her husband well.”
“You shouldn’t speak of that,” you gird.
“Why not? Won’t you tell us how it is so we may be ready?” She challenges.
“I... I... It’s rather strange to speak of it.”
“You are strange,” Hannah retorts with a huff.
“But pretty,” Albina chimes, “look at you, sissie. You truly look like a queen in that crown.”
You meet the gaze of your reflection. You do look better than you ever have before. You wonder if they notice the new fullness in your cheeks. If they do, they don’t mention it. You take a deep breath.
“I shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer,” you stand.
If you wait any longer, you might lose your nerve.
The bishop waits in the grand hall of Nine Pillars as you emerge from the rooms allotted for your preparations. The crowd stands among the columns and hushes as you appear at the end of the hall. You face the clergy man and for an instant, your heart dangles precariously, ready to plummet.
Where is Lord Odinson?
His golden head pops up beside the bishop and he fixes the flower tucked into his lapel. His long blond hair is draw back as a scarlet bow holds it back, its ears peeking out behind his nape. He is smiling as he pauses and his eyes meet yours across the space.
You can see even from there how his features slacken and for a moment, you are breathless. He looks as stricken. You put one foot down and let your long legs carry you.
All your doubts float away. The faces around you haze together and the world crumbles to dust. It's only you and that man.
💟
The ceremony gives way to a soiree, bodies clustered together, partners dancing, and you among them. Your husband, a husband, has your hand in his as he leads you in the steps. This man, this wonderful forgiving man you vowed yourself too nearly sweeps you off your feet, a sensation you've never known before.
Your cheer blooms from you as his cheeks flush in his excess. He barely pauses to receive kind words from his guest. His elation is contagious. It gives no way to your fears.
"Do you know what I thought upon the altar, beautiful valkyrie," he purrs, "I nearly fell upon my knees even."
"What?" You smile, glowing up at him.
"That the gods did bless me. That you must be sent from them, a gift to me, mere mortal."
You can't help but pat his chest, "you flatter."
"You are too modest," he guides you along, "you are a statue come too life, art in the flesh."
"My husband... you words are too sweet."
"I know, I know, the wedding night is still ahead of us, I do run too fast," he chuckles, "but how can I help the anticipation?
Your lashes flick and giggle, "husband."
"That word has never sounded sweeter," he grins, "but a sweeter noise might be my own name. Say it for me, valkyrie."
Your cheeks burn hot, "Thor?"
"Delicious," he growls nearly baring his teeth, "and I shall savour every sound you make. Every moan and mewl. Every breath and laugh. Just as every part of you."
It's too good to be true. You deign to let yourself feel it all but you must. If even only for tonight. If only for the next moment. You will have a morsel of happiness if it's all you have to chew on for the rest of your life.
💟
The night wears on and so do you. Your feet ache, as does most of you, and your voice is raw from laughing and talking. It is the first that you ever spent an event not along the wall or hiding in some shadow. It is a night all your own, or so your husband has made it feel.
Yet, he does not tire. Not as quickly. As he booms and bawls to the amusement of all, you cling to his arm and repress a yawn. You will not spoil his fun, you will persist.
Still, you cannot ignore all urges of your humanity. You press a hand to his sleeve and excuse yourself, promising to return. Your husband pauses to bid you not be long and you're further abashed at his attention.
You flit off to find the privy. You've been several times over the day. Your bladder swells no matter how little you drink. As you progress, you find your body is contradictory to your mind.
You venture down the corridor and sweep into the room. Once relieved, you emerge feeling lighter but no less tired. The silent desolation of the corridor rather makes your exhaustion all the more potent.
You turn towards the statue of a warrior, you recognise it, it is the means by which you've found your way. Before you can pass it, a figure appears from behind it and you falter in your slippers.
You gasp and ball your hands, the man before you sending a ripple of horror through you as he smirks at your surprise. Lord Rogers' cheek dimples as he quorks his head like a cynical crow.
"You are ever a creature of urges," he muses, "fluttering back and forth as a skittish bird."
"My lord, I... what is the meaning--"
"I'm afraid we've not had much of a chance to speak, have we? The blushing bride is much a titter," he chortles, "she has the gull to giggle like a maiden, even."
"Lord Rogers," you utter, appalled.
"But the sway of her hips do betray her true nature. That which is within her," he sneers, "as does the curdling of her face over any dish that tickles her nose."
"Sir, I know not what you mean--"
"I should laugh truly, to know that another will raise my bastard," he taunts, "that it is him, does entertain me more." He takes a step forward and you back, "so you will be certain to lay with him this night so he may believe he has vigour." He grabs your arms before you can elude him, "you will think of me, won't you, Athena, my fallen goddess? Of how I desecrated your--"
Suddenly, you are staggered. Lord Rogers is swung backward and flung into the statue. There's a roar, tha same noise you would expect of a charging bear, and the flash of scarlet. You watch paralysed as Thor grabs Lord Rogers by his jacket and spins him, throwing him into the other wall.
The smaller of the men, though they are both built well, slides to one knee, his hand on the plaster. The other is quick, wasting not a second before aims a foot into Rogers' stomach. The duke falls backward and is at once straddled beneath the larger.
Thor lays blows upon the other man, hailing down on him like the tempest he claims himself. Your fear overflows and you push through the thick waves. You come forward numbly and pull your husband by the back of his collar.
"Please sir, unhand him."
"You would defend this animal!" He wails down another fist and growls.
"No, no, I would not spare him but I would... I would have my husband not take me to my wedding night with bloodied knuckles. Thor," you pet the back of his head, "let this be a happy day. Please."
He sits back on his heels and puffs out. He looks back at you as you step away. You put your hand to your middle.
"Husband?"
He snarls and spits on Lord Rogers, standing with a huff. You reach for his hand and he takes it. He squeezes as he sends one last kick of his toe to the man on the floor.
"Let me save my strength for you, wife. I certainly would need it."
#thor#steve rogers#thor x reader#dark steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#dark!steve rogers#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#series#guileless#mcu#marvel#avengers#captain america#au#regency au
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Lee Jihoon ✶ 𓂃 She got the Ruby
w.c : 3.0 k ┊ synopsis : Lee jihoon accidentally rizzed up a rich woman and successfully gets pegged by her┊ content warning : smut , sub jihoon, pegging , face sitting/oral sex , lowkey sugar mommy dynamic , uji and his ruby red kink (red lips + red heels + red strap)
a/n : thank you for 1k followers !! Also please remember reblogs are more helpful for the blog than just likes so please reblog! Add tags and comments to lemme know how you liked the fic!
The first time Jihoon meets you it's at a bar. He doesn’t drink often, much less goes to a bar, but he’d been having a creative block in his studio for too long and it had got him feeling weary of his own studio and his shitty studio was that last place he wanted to be.
You were sitting alone, and he’d thought he could flirt with you. Not that he really thought he had a chance at all, you looked so gorgeous, dressed up a little too formally for a bar, but gorgeous nonetheless, and all while he was wearing an old stretched tee over ripped jeans, his impulsively bleached hair long and messy. But his pockets were light and a whiskey hit harder than local beer and he wouldn't mind using a stranger to vent.
“Hey, buy me a drink?” He tried, sliding by you. In all honesty Jihoon doesn't know a thing about flirting and picking up (only if he had listened to a bit of Mingyu's bizarre flirting lessons). He was stiff and awkward, his smile tight.
“No, why would I?” You were colder on the inside than what appeared on the surface.
Jihoon held his hand up, “shit, sorry. I just had to try flirting once, y'know,” he said awkwardly, trying to retreat back.
“Oh,” you say, stopping him in his steps, “I didn't realise you were flirting.”
“You didn’t?” jihoon chuckles, “doesn’t it happen a lot to you? I'd find it hard to believe it if doesn't.”
“It doesn't,” you say, pulling the chair beside you to make space for him to sit. He raises his eyebrows at his own luck and slides into the seat, “what will you drink, then?”
“A whiskey sounds good,” Jihoon smiles, feeling a bit more confident now that you set the bar so low for him. You simply nod at the bartender who pours a neat glass of some expensive looking whiskey. He glances between you and the bartender, and feels the urge to stop you, “hey, that looks expensive, you don’t really have to-”
“Don’t bother the price,” you say, passing the glass to him, “you can continue flirting with me now.”
Jihoon doesn’t, infact, flirt. After just one glass of whiskey, he’s tipsy enough to spill every detail of his miserable life, from his sloppy job as a music artist and producer, to his shitty apartment at the outskirts of the city to his music block and absolute need for new inspiration.
When Jihoon got a little too drunk, you ordered a cab for him to drop him home.
He wasn't much of a talker usually, but alcohol in his system always made him a little weird. You had ended up knowing everything about your life. And he knew nothing but your name and the phone number you gave him.
The next morning he woke up with a hangover, still remembering last night. He tried to look up for you, in hopes of finding some social media so he knew a little more of you before he could think of contacting you.
Of everything else, he didn't expect the first thing to pop up would be a Wikipedia of your name. Oh.
Holy shit, did he just flirt with one of the richest business women in all of Korea!
He doesn't contact you after that knowledge, having read everything about you (especially your net worth). The number you gave him was probably fake too. Ugh, he'd probably embarrassed himself in front of you.
He met you again. And again. And again.
He'd learnt that you didn't go to bars often, you were just waiting for a business partner who was supposed to meet you there, only to have cancelled last minute due to his sick wife.
“I'm glad I waited to finish my drink.” You'd told him, making his ears and neck heat up.
You two were at a musical exhibit, where Jihoon had performed a few of his songs as the opening guest, dressed in the expensive tailored suit you bought him as you yourself dressed in a black bodycon formal dress finished with a blazer, your sleeves rolled up.
You'd bought him a rare expensive vinyl CD of his favourite Bruno Mars album.
“I can't take that, it's too costly,” he said. He didn't want you to think that he was friends with you just for your money, because he really wasn't. “Besides, I don't have a vinyl player.”
“I do,” You say nonchalantly, “you can come over and listen to it whenever you like.”
That isn't the only thing you buy for him. Every time he tries to nod you off for it being too expensive or too big for his place, you'd take it to yours. So he had naturally ended up spending a lot of time at your penthouse. It was big and spacious and you'd told him there was enough space to fit in all his musical accessories that he couldn't keep at his own apartment.
He'd come there often after finishing his work at studio. He'd been inspired lately, writing different songs and making new beats every now and then. He'd even send you a few samples for you to review.
“It sounds amazing,” you'd said as you pulled off his headphones, “what's the title?”
“Haven't thought of it yet. The chorus is still kinda funky. Once I get it the lyrics right, I'll have a title,” he said.
He often thought his hoodies and electric guitars and the drum set and all the vinyls and vintage albums you bought him didn't fit your house aesthetic. But you never said anything about it.
He's eating dinner with you now at yet another expensive and fancy restaurant you took him to. He thinks you look gorgeous. Really gorgeous. Just out-of-his-league gorgeous. Your silky slip red dress and red lipstick and matching red heals did things to his heart (and dick) he couldn't explain.
He just wants to bed you so bad. He wants you to fuck him so bad.
He watches as you order another bottle of champagne for the two of you. He should feel more guilty, he thinks, for taking so much from you. Instead, he feels comfortable and pleased. He's always been the provider and the protector in any of his previous relationships – not that he minded to be the same with you, but it felt good to be taken care of once instead. He feels safe around you, and happy as well, and he's not an easy talk, but you hear him talk whenever he talks too. And he doesn't know what he must have done to get someone as perfect as you in his life.
“Hey, why do you like me,” he'd said impulsively, “why me?”
You could have had anyone you want in this world. Jihoon firmly believed that, with not only your wealth but for how beautiful you were, inside and out. He thinks you don't realise that, but he knows it.
You look up at him, lips opening and closing slightly, before speaking, “would you… like to come home with me tonight?”
Jihoon's back hit the wall as soon as you two reached the bedroom of your penthouse, his lips feverishly kissing yours. You were strong – not stronger than him, but you also made him feel weak. You pinned him against the wall, your one hand holding two of his above his head as the other reached to hold a handful of his hair.
He'd moan in your mouth every time you'd tug a little too hard. He loved it. He loves how you tower over him in your 4-inches red high heels. He's usually very dominant in bed, but you make him feel so submissive.
He feels dumbbed out by the kiss when you pull away, panting as you place butterfly kisses over his jaw and neck. “Shit, y/n, I want you so bad,” he whispered against your hair.
“Will you strip for me, baby?”
Jihoon would do anything for you if you call him baby in your sweet, seductive voice. You leave his hands so he can help himself, unbuttoning the silk black shirt (that you bought for him), carelessly pulling them off his shoulders and yanking them off to the floor. He undid his trousers and pulled them down to his thighs, letting gravity do the rest of the work, all while you nibbled over the skin of his neck.
“These too, baby boy,” you said, tapping on his black CK boxer briefs. Shyly, but surely, Jihoon let go of those too, now completely bare in front of you. You looked down at him, your hand ghosting over the curves of his body, making Jihoon shiver. He could feels your stare over his dick, which had gotten half hard already. You rest your hand over his abs, meeting his eyes again, “Shit, you're so pretty, hoon.”
He wanted to say you were prettier, but his voice was stuck in his throat. You pressed another kiss on his lips before taking his hand and bringing him to your bed, making him sit on the edge. You stripped for him next, giving him a full show as you slipped off your dress, your matching black lace lingerie a sight to his eyes. He immediately put his hand to the back of your knee to pull you on the bed on top of him, but you pullled back, chuckling at him.
“Patience, my baby boy.”
Jihoon let out a shaky breath, pulling his hand back to himself as he watched you undo your bra and let it slip down your shoulders and onto the floor. His mouth watered at sight of your breasts, soft and heavy and perfectly shaped. He held himself back from touching you, even as his cock was completely hard against his torso by now. Your panties came down next, and when you bent down to take off your heels, he stopped you by your wrists, “c-can you not take them off yet?” he asked you, then added in a sweeter voice, “please?”
There was a smile on your face. “Of course, anything for my baby.”
Jihoon’s cheeks grew red a little again, and he looked up at you expectantly.
“What do you want, hoonie?” you cooed softly, cupping his cheek in your right hand, brushing a thumb on it slowly.
“I-i want you,” jihoon said shyly, embarrassed at stuttering the way he did.
You laugh at him. “You want me? You are gonna have to earn it baby.”
You gently guided his face to your crotch, lifting your one leg up on the bed to give him access. For jihoon, it was nothing short of a dream come true, to have his face smushed over the paradise of your pussy. He held your juicy thighs for support, as he licked a stripe between your folds. In return, he felt your grip on his hair tightening, pulling against his scalp. He was lapping you up like a dog after that. You were wet. So wet. And he wanted to drink all of your juices.
You were moaning softly above him as pushed you by your thighs closer to his face, sliding a tongue into your heat as his nose pressed against your clit. He couldnt help but want more. It wasn’t his fault, you had conditioned him to want the best of everything by spoiling him like that.
“Baby, can you sit on my face?” he asked, looking up at you with hooded eyes, and you nodded in a yes immediately. He let his body fall back on the bed and you scooted over to his head. You were still holding yourself up, trying not to squish his face. But jihoon wanted exactly for you to squish his face down, to be pressed against your pussy till he couldn’t breathe. So he pulled your thighs down so you were sitting on his face like it was a fucking stool.
He heard you gasp a little when his tongue was right back at action. He suckled on your clit a little, not enough to drive you over the edge, but just enough to make you moan above him. He put his tongue back in its place inside your vagina and he suddenly wished he had two tongues so he could simultaneously fuck you with one and play with your clit with the other. Unfortunately, he didn’t have that choice, so he simply settled on performing the best oral he ever has eith only one tongue.
His pace wasn’t too fast, so to make your experience last longer and better, but not so slow it would be annoying for you. It was the perfect pace to get you moaning. When he felt your thighs start to shake a little, he knew you were close. He put his mouth over your clit once again, sucking harder to ride you to your high, until you were wetting his face with your cum. Fuck, he couldn’t believe he made you squirt for his first time.
You scooted back to sit on his chest now, stabilizing yourself after the amazing orgasm jihoon gave you. He rubbed comforting small and warm circles on your thighs, until you were down from you high, looking down at him with a satisfied smile.
“was I good?”
“So good, baby,” you say, leaning down to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips. “Gon’ make you feel s’good,” you say against his lips.
You both reposistion so that jihoon was lying down straight on the bed,his head supported by your pillows as you hovered on top of him, your knees encaging either sides of his hips. You kissed him again, your tongue finding it's way in his mouth, making him gasp, his hands gripping your shoulders with need.
“Are you sure you want me to fuck you?” You ask gently.
“Yes.”
“Have you ever done this before?”
“Mh,” Jihoon nods. He usually dominates his way in bed. He's good at it, doing all the work add giving his partners complete pleasure. But he's taken it before, and he can take it now too. He wants to take it. He wants to take you. “I want you so bad, y/n.”
He doesn't know how you do it, make him feel all weak and submissive for you. He waits patiently as you climb off him to get your strap-on. His palms are sweating and his cock is as hard as it can be as he watched you put on the harness. He didn't think someone could look as elegant and beautiful as you did while putting on a strap on.
The silicon end of the strap was a hot angry red, and matched with the red heels you still wore and your red lips intact from the smudge-proof lipstick makes Jihoon want to moan just looking at you. It's impossible for any being to look as sexy as you did at that moment. When you climbed back on the bed, pulling a lube bottle from the night table, his mouth almost watered at the sight of you.
You got between his legs, pulling his knees to either side of your hips so his ass was raised just enough for you to slip a hand under. You coated your fingers with an adequate amount of lube before circling his puckering hole, slipping in a digit. It made Jihoon arch his back with a moan muffled by his arm covering his mouth.
He'd cleaned himself before meeting you, but he was still tight. Your fingers were gentle, easing him at a comfortable pace. You leaned back down to his neck, nipping over the skin to mark your territory. You pushed his arm from his mouth, “let me hear you, beautiful.”
Jihoon was very vocal in bed, more so when he was submissive. Your fingers felt amazing on him. When he eased around one, you pushed another finger in, your hand caressing his thighs comfortingly.
Your fingers curled inside him, close enough to his prostate, making him whimper your name. You move up again, hungry for his lips, kissing him messily and sloppily as he moans against your mouth.
“Baby, do you think you're ready yet?” You ask him and he nods positively. Your silicone cock is big, bigger than him probably, but he thinks he could take you now. Besides, he'd like a little stretch of it too.
You smile against his lips, taking out your fingers and coating your cock with more lube. You enter the tip first, watching the man under you press his face into the pillow beside him, his drool sticking out as he moaned, taking the rest of it too. He relaxed around it, giving you a go to move.
You slam your hips against his, earning another loud sound from him. You couldn't care less about making noise, you lived in a penthouse with thick walls. You wanted to hear Jihoon moan and whimper your name, drink in his sweet noises.
As you accelerated the pace, Jihoon arched his back, whimpering little ah-ah-ah’s, clutching the bedsheets under him you held his thighs up, hosting his right knee on your shoulder to get the perfect angle to get to his prostate every time.
You loved the way Jihoon fell apart under you. You could tell he was close already, so you take hold of his leaking cock, giving it attention it needed finally. Not long after Jihoon is shooting white ropes all over his stomach, breathing heavily.
You bend down and kiss the satisfied smile on his lips, slowly exiting him as he relaxed down there. You took a few tissues from the night table and cleaned up Jihoon and yourself lazily before taking off your strap and heels. You lied down beside him, pulling a blanket over the two of you. You didn't need to be told that Jihoon wanted to cuddle, so you slipped on top of him yourself, resting your cheek against his shoulder and wrapping a hand around his waist.
“Felt good, baby?”
“Mm, s’good,” Jihoon sighed, hugging you tighter. Tonight was indeed productive. Not only did Jihoon get fucked up so good after so long, but he was also inspired by you(r red cock) and finally had a name for the track he'd been working on lately: Ruby.
#svt#seventeen#svt smut#svt x reader#woozi#woozi x reader#woozi smut#lee jihoon#jihoon x reader#jihoon smut#woozi x you#woozi imagines#jihoon imagines#jihoon#seventeen smut#svt imagines
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Dinner & Dessert — c.jh
«« previous | ateez masterlist | next »»
➮ virgin!Jongho × experienced!Reader
wc: 3.6k
summary: Jongho takes Y/N out on a nice dinner date but they decide to have dessert back at Y/N's dorm room.
genres/themes/au: light fluff, smut; best friends to lovers (bff2l), college setting; non idol au, bff au, college au
warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, reader is smaller than Jongho, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!
special tags: @bro-atz
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a/n: sorry it's taken so long to get this out but here's the next part of the Jongho Corruption Kink Miniseries. Thank you to Bro for reading this for me cause I wasnt sure if it was any good. I don't have much else to say about this other than I cranked this out in a couple hours so I hope you like it! Thank you for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.
smut warnings: oral (f & m receiving), cum swallowing, praise (m receiving), slight body worship (f receiving), corruption kink, pussy drunk Jongho (man gets one taste and just goes feral), mild face fucking (f receiving), deepthroating, use of pet names (hers: baby, babe, angel; his: babe, baby), light fingering (f receiving), and I think that's all? Lemme know if I missed any!
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“I want you to teach me how to give oral.”
The words had caught you off guard as soon as they left your best friend boyfriend’s lips. Your lips parted in shock as you let the noodles from your meal slip off your fork while you fixed him with an incredulous stare.
Quickly, you glanced around before leaning in and meeting his gaze.
“We are in public, Jongho!” you hissed. He said nothing, merely blinking back at you like he hadn’t just said something inherently sexual and inappropriate for dinner conversation.
Not that you were opposed to this kind of behavior, you just didn’t expect it from your virgin best friend boyfriend. From you? Definitely but from him? Unexpected, but welcomed.
Ever since teaching him how to properly finger you, you’d seen an uptick in his eagerness and willingness to initiate sexual intimacy. Of course you’d never gone past touching one another as you didn’t want to pressure Jongho into doing anything he wasn’t ready for.
Clearly, he was ready for more.
“So?” he muttered, glancing down at his plate and back up as you set your utensil down and picked up your napkin. This was the last thing you expected when he asked you out for dinner.
Jongho had texted you right after class and asked if you wanted to get dinner. You initially had expected him to bring take out over, a pizza or some other favorite place but instead, he told you to be ready to leave in an hour and told you to dress up.
It wasn’t entirely like him to be so assertive but since you started seeing each other (among other things), Jongho’s confidence had seen a huge boost and you like to think you had a hand in that although you knew it was entirely on him.
He’d shown up to your dorm looking less like your chaste best friend boyfriend and was instead oozing every ounce of sex appeal you knew he had. The ride to the restaurant had been silent mostly but it wasn’t awkward in the slightest and you were thankful that he was distracted by driving as it gave your eyes the chance to wander and appreciate everything they could take in.
Jongho had gone beyond your expectations, going so far as to make a reservation, meaning he had to have been planning this for at least a week. You were beyond impressed by his efforts. You remembered a conversation the two of you had a week or so ago where he assured you that what you had was more than just the physical stuff to him. He wanted more and you did, too. It was just hard to keep your hands to yourself sometimes.
So when he suddenly sprang this on you, to say you were shocked was an understatement.
Your lips threatened to turn into a smirk before you spoke.
“Well, at least you’re taking me out to dinner first,” you mused, making Jongho look down at his plate as the hostess walked by, guiding a couple to another table. He looked back up to meet your gaze. “So will you?” he asked softly, eyes shining with a curiosity that was both adorable but also played into your more carnal desire to corrupt your virginal boyfriend in every way possible.
You lifted your wine glass slowly, taking a sip and maintaining eye contact, setting it back down before answering him. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?” you asked. Jongho inhaled and exhaled slowly before nodding fervently. You admired how hard he tried to keep his composure but you could tell under the facade, he was eager to have you under him again.
‘Cute.’
Jongho would be a liar if he said he wasn’t eager to have you under him again. Ever since he’d made you come with just his fingers, he’d wondered what it’d be like to have you come undone on his tongue. He thought about it far more than he cared to admit even to himself.
Ever since that first night, months ago, when you made him come in his pants, he’d been insatiable. Knowing you wanted him as much as he wanted you and then some gave him a much needed confidence boost. Sure, this relationship was about more than just sex but no one could blame him for wanting to be intimate with his best friend girlfriend.
As he held your gaze, hoping you’d say yes to his proposal, you toyed with your fork, no doubt contemplating his words rather than if you wanted to continue eating. He hoped you’d say yes. He was about to beg (not like he wasn’t entirely above it. Not when he was dying to get a taste) when you smiled that lovely smile that always managed to give him butterflies, make his brain turn to mush, and his cock twitch in his pants. Fuck, he was down so bad.
Before you could respond, the server returned to the table and Jongho took the opportunity to end the night. “Could we get the check please?” he asked. The server nodded before looking between the two of you. “Were we thinking of any dessert?” he asked. You shook your head. “No,” you said softly, thanking him before he nodded and walked away to get your bill.
“We’ve got dessert at home.”
No sooner than you were back in your dorm did Jongho have your door shut, locked your back pressed against it, lips on yours as his hands wandered, grabbing the material of your dress and slowly bunching it up past your thighs. “Jjongie,” you murmured as his lips left yours to trail kisses down the side of your neck. “We should probably take these off,” you added, trying to undo the button on your jacket.
Jongho let out an animalistic growl, grabbing your hands and pinning them against the wall.
“I’m getting to it,” he mumbled, lips attaching to your neck once more but his hands keeping your wrists firmly against the wood of your door. “Well hurry up,” you teased as you tried to pull against his hold on your wrists. To your surprise, Jongho gave in easily, letting go of your wrists and opting instead to fumble with the buttons of your jacket.
Once he managed to undo them, the fabric just seemed to slide off you as your own hands worked quickly to unzip his own jacket and push it off him. You felt his hands trying to pull at your dress, a silent plea to remove it but you had other plans, instead taking a temporary lead and guiding him to your bed only for him to gently but firmly push you down onto it.
Before he could guide you further back, you grabbed him by the hips, holding him steady as you looked up at him through your lashes. “Let me take care of you first, baby,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper but more than loud enough in the silence of your dorm room for him to hear.
Wordlessly, Jongho’s hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin and down over your bottom lip. “A-are you sure?” he asked nervously. You smiled up at him, not breaking eye contact as you slowly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. “Yes,” you whispered again.
“I’m sure.”
It didn’t take you long to pull his pants down just enough to expose his hard cock, hidden in the confines of his underwear. You carefully pressed your palm against it, feeling the heat radiating through the fabric of his boxers. You heard him inhale sharply and fought the urge to smirk. You’ve barely touched him and yet he was so responsive. You felt a small surge of pride over being able to have such an effect on him merely by touching him over his underwear.
Not wanting to keep him, or yourself, waiting, you ran your hand up, tucking the tips of your fingers under the waistband of his underwear and slowly pulling the material down until his cock sprang free, standing proudly and waiting for you to touch.
Tearing your gaze away from Jongho’s temporarily, you wrapped your hand around the base and gave him a tentative stroke, enjoying the way he let out a whimper. As much as you wanted to tease him about it, you chose not to, wanting to make him feel good.
Parting your lips, you took him by surprise by taking him into your mouth without any warning, making him gasp, one of his hands moving to your head, fingers tightening slightly in your hair. “Shit,” he hissed, breath already coming out raggedly.
Oh how you wanted to tease him for it so badly. Falling apart so quickly. ‘Another time.’
You sank slowly, taking more and more of him in your mouth, the weight of his cock heavy on your tongue. He tried to focus on his breathing, trying to keep his composure no doubt but you knew his resolve would crumble the moment you started bobbing your head.
And crumble it did.
No sooner than you started moving, did he let out a loud moan. Almost too loud. If anyone had been walking by your room at that exact moment, there would be no doubt in their mind what was going on behind the door. Not that you’d mind. You really didn’t care what your dorm neighbors thought.
The only thing that mattered was that your boyfriend, your oh-so-sweet and innocent boyfriend, was in your room, cock in your mouth, and the eagerness to learn how to please you after you got him off. It seemed only fair to show him what you could do first before teaching him what to do.
A preemptive reward if you will.
Each bob of your head had Jongho choking back a moan, resisting the urge to bite his fist to muffle the sounds even more than he was. You pulled back, his cock falling from your tongue to look up at him. Your hand took over temporarily as you looked up at him and spoke.
“Don’t hold back,” you said, voice slightly hoarse. “I don’t care who hears you.”
Jongho shook his head. “I don’t want your neighbors to complain,” he whispered, stifling a groan as your hand worked him even more. “Fuck them” you retorted. “I want to hear how good I make you feel, baby,” you added. Jongho studied your face for a moment, contemplating whether he should just toss his inhibitions aside but the decision was made for him when you took him back in your mouth, letting out an unrestrained moan.
You felt a swell of pride in your chest as you moved, each unrestrained moan a dulcet melody to your ears. You continued to move, hollowing your cheeks as you pulled back. Glancing up, you met his heated gaze, and felt that distinct throb between your legs. “Babe,” he moaned, gently stroking your hair. “Let me—” whatever he was about to say faltered as he let out a whine, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat and making you gag.
You barely gave him a chance to recover as you sank further, taking his cock further until the head rested just in the back of your throat. Jongho let out a choked moan as you swallowed around him. “Fuck, baby, wait,” Jongho gasped, cock twitching in your mouth. You pulled back and looked up at him.
“I was about to cum,” he panted, making you smirk. “That’s the goal,” you said softly, licking your lips. “Just, give me a moment,” Jongho said breathlessly and you nodded, watching him regulate his breathing. The silence was punctuated only by his ragged breathing.
“Uhm, Y/N?” he finally spoke. You looked up at him. “Hmm?”
“Could I… try something?” His voice sounded so soft and full of curiosity. How could you deny his genuine curiosity? You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.
“Of course,” you replied sweetly. “What would you like to try?”
Of course, at that moment, your sweet boyfriend’s words failed him. “I-I… I w-wanted to…” You smiled up at him. “Take your time,” you cooed. “I’m not going anywhere. And don’t feel embarrassed for asking for anything. I’m happy to let you try anything you—”
“Could I fuck your face?”
You weren’t sure what you were expecting to come out of his mouth but it certainly wasn’t that.
“Oh,” you said softly, caught off guard. Jongho’s face flushed in the low light of your room. “S-sorry,” he muttered quickly. “F-forget I said anything!” He started to pull his underwear up but you stopped him. “I told you that you have nothing to be embarrassed about, babe,” you said softly.
“If you want to try that, we certainly can.”
Jongho stared at you, eyes widening as you tugged his pants and underwear back down. “R-really?” he asked, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. ‘Cute.’ You nodded, a smile ever present on your face.
“Of course,” you replied. “If I tap your thigh twice, that means stop, okay?” you asked. He nodded excitedly. You licked your lips before parting them and allowing him to guide the head of his cock into your mouth. You breathed in slowly and nodded, letting him know you were ready.
The first thrust was shallow, almost as if he was testing the waters. You nodded again. He gave you another shallow thrust. You pulled back quickly. “Don’t worry about me,” you said softly. “Just go for it. I’ll stop you if I need to.”
The moment his cock was back in your mouth, Jongho did as you said and went for it. One hand held your head in place, giving you a few tentative thrusts before just letting go. Each thrust had the tip hitting the back of your throat, making lewd sounds fill the room.
Jongho’s hand moved to the back of your head and you were taken by surprise as he pushed your head further, forcing the head of his cock into the back of your throat. You gagged, despite trying to fight it but he didn’t let up. Instead, he gave you another thrust, pushing further into your throat.
“Oh shit,” you heard him curse. You felt his cock twitch against your tongue and before he could pull you off him, you grabbed his hips, holding him firmly in place. “F-fuck, I’m gonna—”
His words were cut off by a moan as he came, load spilling down your throat. You held him still until you were sure he was done before pulling back, coughing slightly. “Oh shit, are you okay, angel?” Jongho asked quickly, taking your face in his hands and inspecting your face. You smiled at him.
“More than okay,” you answered, carefully pulling his underwear back up over his softening cock and zipping up his pants. Jongho pulled you into a kiss, tongue slipping into your mouth and tasting himself on your tongue.
“Lie back,” he muttered against your lips, leaning over you as he spoke. You scooted backwards on your bed as Jongho climbed over you, lips pressing against yours as his hand bunched your dress up against your hip. “Can I remove this?” he asked softly. You nodded, letting out a soft giggle as his fingers skimmed against your bare skin as he hiked your dress up.
“Wait,” you said softly, grabbing his hands. Jongho looked up, meeting your gaze. “What? What’s wrong?” he asked, searching your face. You cupped his cheek tenderly. “Take your time,” you muttered. “Don’t rush things.”
Jongho nodded, letting your dress fall against the bed, exposing only below your navel, giving him full view of your red lace panties. “Oh fuck,” he whispered. “You’re going to be the death of me, babe.” You drew your bottom lip between your teeth, holding back a smile as Jongho pressed a couple chaste kisses against your collar before glancing up at you, his hands slowly sliding down your chest, cupping your breasts briefly.
“I know I’m supposed to be learning to give oral,” he started, looking back up at you. “But could I please, take this off? Please, baby, please,” he murmured. “I really just wanna see your beautiful body.”
Hearing the compliment from him made your cheeks grow warm. “Another time, okay? Let’s focus on the lesson,” you replied. Jongho sighed and nodded, slowly kissing down your body over the material of your dress until he reached your stomach. He looked up to meet your gaze.
“Now what?” he asked. “Take your time,” you started. “Just do what you feel comfortable doing.”
Without another word, you stifled a giggle as his kisses tickled your skin. “Should I take these off?” he asked, fingers toying with the lace of your panties. You nodded. “Go ahead.”
You lifted your hips as Jongho pulled the fabric down, removing them and tossing them aside. “Do I just…” he trailed off. “Just do what you feel comfortable doing. You’ve touched me before, if you want to start with that, I’m fine with that. I just want you to be comfortable,” you said, propping yourself up on your elbows as Jongho looked up at you from between your thighs.
“Or I could just…” he trailed off, spreading your lips before giving you a light lick, tongue flat against your clit. “Yeah,” you said breathily as he dove back in. “You could do that, too.”
“Remember what I told you before. Focus on the cli— ah!” you gasped as you felt his tip of his tongue pass over your clit, already sensitive from not getting any attention earlier. “Like that?” he asked, peeking at you as you fell back against the bed. “Y-yeah, like that,” you answered.
Jongho gave you a cheeky smile which you didn’t see and went back to it, diving back in. Each pass of his tongue over your aching clit had you moaning, the backs of your thighs resting against his shoulders as he buried his face between your legs.
“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” you asked between moans, one hand moving down to tangle in his dark locks. “Cause it sure seems like you know what you’re doing.” Jongho hummed against you, the vibrations adding to the pleasure. “I’m sure,” he finally managed to get out, licking his lips. “If I had, I think we’d already be past this,” he added.
“Oh?” you asked, lifting your head. “Where would we be, then?”
Jongho pulled back, slowly caressing your thigh. “With you on your stomach, my cock buried in your pussy,” he replied nonchalantly. Your jaw fell slack, surprised at the sudden surge of confidence exuding from your boyfriend. “Should we skip oral and go straight to that or—?” you asked, resisting the urge to smirk when Jongho frowned at you.
“No,” he answered. “I want to learn this,” he continued. You reached to take his chin in your hand. “You seem to have a pretty good handle on it,” you complimented. “But by all means, keep going. Make me cum all over that handsome face.”
Jongho didn’t wait for another invitation, pulling you to meet his face, his tongue continuing its assault on your clit. You’d had partners go down on you before but none of them had ever been this eager. It was like once he’d gotten a taste, there was no stopping Jongho until you came, which you weren’t complaining about, not when you were being pushed to the edge every time he kissed, licked, or sucked. You wondered if he’d watched something or read something for pointers.
Maybe that’s what spurred this whole thing on. Had he been doing ‘homework’ so to speak? And he wanted to take this next step and prove himself to you? Whatever his motivation, you weren’t sure nor could you care when your thighs were threatening to squeeze around his head.
“That’s it,” you gasped, resisting the urge to grind against his tongue. “Just like that, baby. Fuck, you’re doing so good.”
The praise did wonders for Jongho’s ego and it showed as his actions became more confident, making your back arch off the mattress as he flicked his tongue against your clit. “Close,” you muttered. “I’m so close.” You heard him hum and felt two fingers toying with your slit before sinking into you.
Where the fuck did he learn that? No, when did he learn that? “Oh fuck, keep going, baby. You’re doing so good. How are you so good at this?” you hissed as his fingers curled inside you, pushing you over the edge and you gasped out a warning that you were about to cum.
You were grateful your boyfriend was so strong or you might have crushed his head. Instead, he held your thighs open as your orgasm washed over you, your hips moving to ride out your high until your body shook from overstimulation. “Okay, baby, that’s good,” you said breathlessly.
Jongho wiped his lips and chin on the back of his hand and grinned at you, clearly proud of his work. “How was that?” he asked, sounding just as proud as he looked. You lightly slapped his hand on your thigh and chuckled. “You passed. You got an A in fact.”
Jongho climbed over you, pressing a soft kiss against your lips. “An A, huh?” he asked softly. You hummed, nodding in response. “Hmm,” he murmured, giving you another kiss.
“How would I go about getting some extra credit then?”
Your eyes opened and looked up at him. “Extra credit?” you asked.
“Yeah,” Jongho said softly, kissing you again, one of his hands sneaking between your bodies.
“Gotta turn that A into an A plus somehow.”
ⓘ DISCLAIMER :: MONSTER/ALIEN FUCKER ENTHUSIAST ⓘ
©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me. Content and support banners made by me using cafekitsune's template.
#cultofdionysusnet#ksmutsociety#cromernet#wonderlandnet#ateez scenarios#ateez imagines#ateez fanfiction#ateez fanfic#ateez smut#ateez x reader#jongho scenarios#jongho imagines#jongho fanfiction#jongho fanfic#jongho smut#jongho x reader
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Lalisa Love Me
♥ pairing: lalisa manoban x fem!rb!driver
♥ smau
♥ content: fluff <3
♥ notes: I’m an f1 loving american lesbian blink so when lisa wove the checkered flag in miami I knew I had to write this. This is also my first posted fic :)
liked by lalalalisa_m, blackpinkofficial, and 706,435 more
Blackpink in your area - tagged blackpinkoffical
user12 SHE’S A BLINK?!
yourusername 🩷🖤
user4 the crossover we never knew we needed
landonorris where was my invite?
yourusername must’ve got lost in the mail :/
landonorris …
user5 my worlds are colliding
lilymhe bring me next
yourusername I WILL DW
alex_albon I see how it is
yourusername GIRLS NIGHT IDEA - us and the wags go to their LA concert
francisca.cgomes I’ll be there
roses_are_rosie hope we see you again!
yourusername <3
user7 already writing fanfiction
user3 new character unlocked
user5 she’s gonna show up at Jackson Wang’s party just wait
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 416,587
COACHELLA ☀️ - tagged lalalalisa_m
yourusername you guys killed it btw
*liked by lalalalisa_m*
user6 the amount of lisa pictures-
user10 its almost like she was there just for her
user6 she probably was ngl I'd be there just for Lisa too
user14 They are both MOTHER
user17 Lisa x y/n was NOT on my 2023 bingo card
landonorris I am once again asking for blackpink tickets
user10 PLEASE hsndnksjs
user7 he's so real for that
yourusername @ landonorris get your own tickets
user5 Lisa 🛐
yourusername i agree.
user5 wait what
user8 aaaand screenshoted
user7 my new wallpaper
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
liked by redbullracing, maxverstappen1, lalalalisa_m, and 827,942 more
Congrats World Champ <3 You drove one hell of a year.
maxverstappen1 you drove amazing yourself. p2 overall is great, especially in your second season
*liked by yourusername*
user1 lisa liked this post btw
user3 they're literally canon at this point
user7 WHEN WILL OUR MOTHERS GET TOGETHER?
yourusername looking forward to a (hopefully) next season win
user5 congrats girly
user7 literally crying at lisa liking this post
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
liked by yourusername, sooyaaa_, and 743,078
See You Soon <3
user17 ??? CONTEXT ???
user2 Don't be shy, tell us who
user7 the car pic...? liked by y/n....?
user1 I SEE THE VISION
user4 *me waiting for a lisa x y/n relationship megathread*
user8 unrelated but she looks stunning
user9 posted the DAY OF f1 winter break. not a coincidence.
user3 my otp
user12 I ship so hard
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
liked by yourusername, jennierubyjane, and 506,902 more
Waving the flag - tagged yourusername and redbullracing
yourusername so glad you're here
lalalalisa_m <3
user3 the picture in the middle hello???
landonorris so @ yourusername lied about being sick last week?
yourusername yes and I’d do it again
landonorris the betrayal
yourusername you’ll live
jennierubyjane good luck!
yourusername thanks jen <3
user2 NEED more lisa x y/n content
user7 on it 🫡
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
liked by redbullracing, yourusername, and 650,432 more
P3! That's my girl 🍾 - tagged yourusername
lilymhe love you both
*liked by lalalalisa_m and yourusername*
user16 lets goo p3
user7 "my girl" sorry- MY GIRL?
user4 hey siri, play we fell in love in october
user12 honorary wag
liked by roses_are_rosie, landonorris, and 1,034,607 more
Say Lalisa Love Me - tagged lalalalisa_m
landonorris FINALLY
yourusername love the enthusiasm
landonorris we've been waiting for over a year
alex_albon he's right
user5 OKAY PEOPLE IT'S HAPPENING. EVERYBODY STAY FUCKING CALM
user7 our fanfics came ture
user2 Jackson Wang's parties never disappoint.
user12 SCREAMING CRYING KICKING MY FEET
user3 "lisa I'm gay for you" same
user7 she's so real for that
user1 let's go lesbians let's go
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
(end notes: I literally skipped my eng essay just for this lmao. this is for a pretty niche audience but I hope ya'll enjoyed it <3 idk if I'ma post more fics here but I might! thanks for reading.
*NONE of the pictures are mine. All were found on Pinterest. Special shoutout to whoever had that "Lisa I'm gay for you" sign because that's so real*)
#fanfic#fanfiction#smau#crossover#crossover fanfiction#kpop smau#kpop fanfic#lisa x reader#lalisa manoban#f1#formula 1#formula one#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 smau#f1 social media au#wlw fiction#sapphic#wlw#miami gp 2024
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ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE | part 19
-meet cute? a cheesy musical number? forget it! love makes itself known to you through a minor car accident, a broken arm, and a treacherously charming temporary chauffeur
CHARACTERS: sukuna x you/reader | jjk characters
GENRE: full-length smau + prose | bad boy x good girl | college au | a lot of firsts | aged-up characters | strangers to lovers | smut | fluff | angst | ooc depictions - soft sukuna ftw
TW/CW: strong/mature language | adult content so mdni on some parts | mentions of alcohol and/or smoking | mentions of injury, promiscuity and bullying | pet names because they're cute with 2D men | toxic behavior | will add more if something arises
MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX
<<prev part 19 next>>
A/N: Contains prose with panels in between paragraphs.
Sukuna stayed rooted on the spot. The room went silent as all eyes shifted from Uraume to you, their look of concern morphing to that of horrified looks when they finally turned their line of vision to the pink-haired male. However, his attention was on you and the apologetic look you had as you regarded him.
“Ryomen told me how you kept telling everyone about that for his sake,” Uraume began, “You don’t have to do that here, Y/N. It’s not like we’ll like him any less or otherwise, so it’s okay.”
“Still…” Suguru glared at Sukuna. “The fuck were you thinking, man?”
You started waving your hands in front of you, your ears and cheeks feeling hot from embarrassment. “I-it was an accident. Please don’t fight.”
"We're not," Sukuna assured you, arching a brow at Suguru who had a protective arm in front of you.
Satoru, who had been silently listening to the conversation, also chimed in. “Bet he had a girl with him when that happened.”
Everyone burst out laughing and Sukuna could just roll his eyes as he carelessly bumped against everyone on purpose until he was seated next to you on the couch, swatting Suguru away. He heard your apology the moment he was close enough. “It’s fine, Y/N. It’s the truth after all. I don't have to hide anything from them now.” He handed you the strawberry milk. “I didn’t think you should be taking alcohol with your constant intake of painkillers.”
“I didn’t think that was a good idea either,” you agreed thoughtfully but you still looked at him anxiously. “Thank you.”
“So, how come you’re not chasing him to hell?” Nobara asked you. “Is there some bizarre love story we don’t know about here?”
“L-love story?” If you were blushing earlier, your face was beet red from your neck to your scalp as you shook your head, but you still smiled graciously, not missing a beat when you said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“That’s very convincing, Y/N.”
You just bit your lower lip.
“Hey, stop it!” Sukuna growled, causing everyone to shut up, but he didn’t miss the way you flinched, too. It was endearing, but he felt annoyed with himself at the same time. “Sorry.”
Your familiar mega-watt smile immediately made itself evident and he couldn’t help but return the gesture. As per usual, everyone liked you, watching as how you take every snack the boys were offering, engaging the other girls in the room in friendly conversation, being fast friends with them. Your attention may not have been solely on him like all those times he accompanied you to functions, but he still felt happy watching you interact with people he trusted. As always, you attracted them, and this time, he hoped you will be real friends with them, too.
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© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI’S “JUJUTSU KAISEN”. [20240520]
PHOTOS/IMAGES/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS GO TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.
#sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#sukuna x y/n#sukuna#ryomen sukuna#sukuna smau#sukuna smut#sukuna fluff#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#jjk#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen smau#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk smau#jjk smut#jjk fluff#social media au#smau#uraume
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Acting like a bird in heat, Hawks ends up fulfilling his mating cycles with you… but now that his mind isn’t a pool of hormones… why does he keep looking for you?
Hawks x Student! Reader (Part 2)
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Warning tag: obsessed! Hawks, possessive! Hawks, naive! student reader, violation of trust, dubious consent, mating cycles, rut response, obsessive behavior, uncontrollable thirst for reader, manipulation, forced, thigh riding, hormonal minds out of control, sexual content, first time, cock riding, teenage fuck, Dabi's toxically interested in you, Bakugo bestie yet secretly inlove with you, love confessions, cock-drunk, Hawks trying to be good but failing miserably, gaslighting, HEAVY plot, lots of smut.
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“May-may I give you a kiss?” You asked, timidly and noticing his bemused expression, corrected. “...As a way of thanking you.... for saving me....”
Your timid request took him by surprise momentarily, but soon his features regain his cool, and was quick to nod to then leant down. A kiss on the cheek, Keigo thought it to be innocent enough, not a usual request, nevertheless, a simple one. If this put you to rest, he'll humor you.
Keigo was cocking his head for you to place your sweet lips.... it's now or never, you breathed deeply.... if you were going to use your quirk, now was the moment.
Two slender hands perched in each side of the Hero´s face and in a firm, straight movement, you cocked his face in your direction, surprise registered in his face, and his golden orbs popped open at the feeling of your lips locking with his.
Bold, The Winged Hero thought pleasantly amused, this girl had a savage side to her… the timid, quivering student was gone for sure, and a determined one took its place. Hawks felt a light wave of energy spread inside him, as sudden as the kiss itself realized was taking him more than it should to hold himself back.
Doubtfully, snaking your arms around his neck, the hero closed the distance for your warm body to hang easily from him, when two strong arms help you by holding your waist, Keigo didn’t dare to break the kiss even when his mind screamed for him to do it. The commission is going to be pissed.
The little lip lock began to grow intimate and you were out in the open, not that he actually cared about those things, even so, a red alert fired up inside his head when you moaned into his eager lips, the exact moment his advantageous hand slipped just a thad under your UA school uniform skirt, as in trouble ahead.... you are fondling an underage school girl in a hidden alleyway like a common PERVERT.
Stop! his mind nagged at him, and you felt him disentangle his hand, but quickly, you prevented it.
Shocked, groaned at your refusal to then settle back into a cool demeanor. Hawks hummed softly with a hint of a smile; his good sense precariously bruised.
“...Let´s stop, little one...” Keigo chuckled in between kisses, unconsciously massaging your hips with his thumbs. “I’m gonna get...in so, so much trouble–” he huffed a laugh. You were so tiny compare to him, but, then again, most people were small compare to him.
“I´m- I'm trying to help.” You attempted to apologize, but he merely snorted. “–By taking off my hands my hero license?” He attempted a joke; your reply wasn’t what he expected.
“S-sorry about this-”
You mumbled, and groaned, remembering that the touch needed to be more intimate for your quirk to work properly, and let your lips devour his desperately, but the touch was so inexpert that your quirk seemed still ineffective, all your efforts only flushing your skin and cheeks making it burn bright like the setting sun. Or perhaps it was the embarrassing knowledge that you were going to have to basically sexually assault the hero number two for this to actually work...
Be brave and do it already! You chastised, and in an act that not even you thought would be capable of doing, you pushed your breast into his hand, easing his strong fingers around your own to help him have a nice handful, his hand instinctively squeezed the plump flesh, and then you felt the unmistakable pull he did trying to gently scramble away, but you refused to let him go.
His golden eyes opened wide, astonished by your unmeasured actions and the very welcoming way his body was reacting, this was not usual for him...he had control...except when...
“Surrender, Hawks–” You begged, reaching down a hand to without his permission, began to pull at his belt.
The power of your quirk started to take effect the closer you got, and for the first time Keigo began to feel disoriented, sickly warm and dangerously possessive.... fear enveloped the young Hero....this was too similar to his rut, but it was weeks away for that to happen.
"What are… what are you doing-...to me...." he stressed, biting down a moan, and finally finding enough strength, broke the sloppy kiss by taking a step away. A string of saliva the only thing left connecting each other.
“Helping you.” You promised, one hand searched for his arm, clawing, trying to pull him back to you. "The discomfort will vanish when you surrender...."
A painful throbbing inside his head began to blind him almost becoming numbing, the more he tried to stay away from you. “Surrender~” Your tender voice, suggested again and huskily groaning, the Hero ended up allowing you to draw him back into your welcome embrace.
Immediately, you shushed him, balancing on your tip toes to cradle his head to your neck despite the difference in heights. Hawks made himself comfortable in matter of seconds, curling against you, body suffering from incontrollable fits of goosebumps as he straightened again, for his eyes to lock on yours.
Those two pools of liquid honey shone like molten gold. Round orbs igniting at finding not an ounce of resistance from you, instead, you openly desired him–according to him.
The lack of control from your quirk can have adverse results on the wounded, especially on persons who have animal traits ... don't use it at that level until you are one hundred percent sure you can master it... You heard Recovery girl's warning in your mind once again, and soon your whole attention shifted to the feeling of Hawks splaying a hand on the middle of your back, perfect pressure, authoritative, the other gripping you tight and then, the hero hauled you into the darkest part of the alley.
You let him, leant against his chest, enjoying the sensation of being held so close by someone you admired so much. The thrill of feeling wanted by him was somehow intoxicating, not to mention, superbly new to you.
Golden locks fell over his eyes, jacket unbuttoned and disheveled. Light and shadow dancing across his face in a manner that made him look devilish. Not wasting another second, he aimed for your lips, yet his lips only brushed your temple since you cocked your head away. The Hero hesitated with a low chuckle, keeping his proximity.
It had been a moment of weakness on your part, nevertheless, you knew that once you had started the process, you must finish it. This was too new for you; you've never had a boyfriend before but that didn't mean you've never kissed or touched a guy, while enjoying of a drunken stupor. After all, you were already in second year at UA Academy, a year away from becoming a full-fledged professional.
You were the most belated in your entire class, since you had a complicated quirk, but the support of your friends was so unconditional that you had never felt judged. You had frozen against that Nomus but now it was different, this time, you would act accordingly and fulfill your mission. Hawks was going to leave that alley without a single injury to his body.
“Hawks–” You didn't have to tell him or even finish the request, when he rushed over you to diligently press his lips with yours, and holy shit! This must be how it feels to be with someone experienced. This was completely different from what you were doing minutes ago, this time you felt yourself melt into his warm and strong body while he softly brushed your lips against his, breathing reverence into your lungs like you were his person, his girl, his ultimate and most sacred individual in the entire universe. Now, his wandering touch seemed to be cupping your breast by his own will, tongue lapping at the trails of your cherry lipstick like a mad man.
Letting him do with you whatever the fuck he wanted and how he wanted, while you indiscriminately released more of your energy for his wounds to absorb like a dry sponge.
“That’s it. That’s a good girl.” The winged hero cooed, hearing you moan, and he grinned wickedly caressing your waist to pull you closer against him, no gaps this time. He wanted you to feel him above the clothes, his dick was hard. Painfully, fucking hard against you.
“I think you’re so pretty.” He blurted out, looking straight into your half-lidded orbs. Your eyes widened and you felt your throat dry.
How you hated this part... the ovations of your beauty, unsolicited declarations of love, the intensity in the victim's gaze while your quirk made them believe you were a real life, Angel. It was all very uncomfortable for you, not knowing if these words hid a bit of truth or were just a byproduct of the situation.
“I think-….I.....” Part of you wanted to swallow the plain lie coming out of his shiny lips, but you knew the nature of your quirk, all too well, and letting yourself be fooled would be stupid. “I think you’re being highly influenced by my quirk.” You quipped back, making emphasis in the word highly.
Clinging to his solid figure, your feet left the ground, and his feathers sharpened. Like a predator ready to attack its prey. A subconscious, trained part of him, kept resisting, stabbing himself in the back to gain some control back, but it was so fucking hard.
After a couple of groaning swears, and him smearing against you more like a cat than a Hawk, the blonde managed to unwrap himself from you a few centimeters, like he couldn't stand to be away for even a second and breathed his next words against the edge of your jaw.
“I’m not sure what’s going on... but I nee-d....I need–I need you to RUN...” Keigo swallowed hard, breathing through his nose to keep composed. Even your natural smell was affecting him, you could literally feel the shape and girth of his cock as it jumped in his pants, firmly pressed against your tummy.
“No need,” You breathed out, giving him a tight smile, “I can handle you.” You promised, leaning forward, only for him to lean back.
A condescending chuckle followed. “You have no idea how to handle a predator, kid... So, do as I fucking say...” The way his gaze sharpened, actually send goosebumps down your legs, even so, you knew you needed to finish the loop, or everything would be in vain.
So, instead of hearing his helpful advice, you draw near.
“God fucking damn it.” His voice sounded strain; lips set in a tight line. What the hell!? Didn't you see the danger you were in?! His wings were standing on end and menacing, shuddering with a rush of adrenaline from just imagining pushing you against the wall and having his way with you.
Tears would fall down your face, yet he would not care because would be driven by instinct, raw and basic, predatory instinct. He would tear your AU uniform with his sharp feathers and sully your soft skin with hickeys and bites, making sure you came at least twice to make you slippery and ready to sheath him, properly, he didn’t want to break you, not yet he liked to play with his prey before putting it on his knees and wreck its world apart. Hawks was sure you were a virgin, so it wouldn't be hard.
Once he had you trembling and begging, would fuck you with all his might and continue until you passed out, cumming inside you over and over again until you overflowed with his essence, and then would take you to his penthouse where he would keep you, marking you as his precious mate, for life.
“Kid, I won't be able to ask you again...” he said, flushed cheeks making him look almost feverish “but if you don't leave now... you will never be able to do so again...." He made a meaningful pause, “...that I swear."
Hawks' breathing came heavy, it felt awfully hot against your sweaty skin. The ragging spring wasn’t making any of this easier.
“Don´t worry...-it´s my...my quirk speaking....” You mewled, way too sure of your words, “we can-we can...continue until you are fully...fully healed–….” there was no response from him, only the sound of heavy breathing hitting against your warm cheek, “...Hawks?”
At what point did the hero stopped understanding what you were saying? He wasn’t sure, or maybe, just stop caring? At some level, Hawks just stopped fighting the nagging inside his brain and let his instinct take the wheel. Just for a minute, he wanted to let the animal out. Just a few seconds before taming it back into its cage. So, he let his rut take over him. You said you could handle him, right?
“Tell me,” Hawks’ voice sounded deeper, raspier almost feral, as it you were facing a darker self of the same man, and the next words that came out of his mouth made you realize how affected he was, for you have never EVER, had such a raw response. “...May I fuck you as your way of thanking me for saving you?”
COMING SOON PART 3....
⬇⬇ NSFW ART of this story and more MHA NSFW artwork: ⬇⬇
#boku no hero academia#hawks x reader#hawks x oc#bnha#keigo takami x reader#keigo x reader#keigo x you#mha fanfiction#fanfiction#my hero academia#mha x reader#mha hawks#bhna x reader#bnha keigo#bnha x reader#bnha imagines#mha imagines#creative writing#writers on tumblr#oc#oc artwork#oc rp#fanart#x reader#keigo takami#takami keigo#fanfic#my hero academia oc#my hero academia x reader#bnha oc
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Can't Sleep
Negan x F! Reader
summary Negan helps you out when you can't sleep
tags cockwarming, pet names, fluff, groping
just a little drabble (what is a drabble) born from my procrastination problem
*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *
i did not proofread this!
wc: 538
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆
She stood outside of Negan’s bedroom door, rocking anxiously on her heels as she waited for him to answer the door. She raised her fist to knock again, but before it could make contact, the door opened. Negan stood leaning against the doorway in his white t-shirt and boxers. He looked tired and slightly irritated, probably from just having been woken up. His thick brows raised upon seeing it was her standing at the door, in nothing but a tank top and panties. He grabbed her arm and pulled her inside before slamming the door.
“The hell you doin’ walkin’ around the Sanctuary like that?” He growled.
“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep,” she mumbled, looking down, “can I sleep in here…with you?” Negan sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.
“Fine, just this once. This will not become a regular thing,” he reluctantly agreed. She jumped into his arms and hugged him tight before pressing a quick peck to his lips. He set her down and she wasted no time in climbing into his bed. He climbed in beside her and she cozied up in his arms. His long eyelashes kissed his cheeks as his eyes fluttered shut, waiting for sleep to take him back. She wasn’t sleeping, and by the looks of it she wasn’t even trying. Her gaze was fixed on his pretty face as she doodled random details with her finger onto his strong chest.
“Doll, what the hell are you doin’?” He asked without even opening his eyes. She withdrew her finger and rested her head on his chest instead, facing him. He opened his eyes and glanced down at her. She was looking up at him with small smile and big doe eyes.
“It…it’s hard for me to sleep without…you…inside of me,” she admitted shyly before burying her face in his shirt. Negan couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his mouth corners. After their nights together, Negan would usually stay inside of her, keeping his seed inside of her abused cunt, even after he went soft. It wasn’t intentional, but the first time it happened, she had fallen asleep before he was ready to pull out and when he finally was, she whined for him to stay. So he did. And it became a thing
“Oh baby, hearin’ that just tightens my goddamn pants!” When she peeked up at him, a dimpled smile was upon his face. She sat up and moved to straddle his hips, Negan’s hands on either of hers guiding her. He freed his semi-hard dick from his boxers before moving her panties to the side and rubbed the tip along her slick slit before lining himself up with her dripping hole. She met him the rest of the way, sliding down his shaft. She felt each vein sliding along the velvety walls of her pussy.
“You fill me up so good, Negan,” she sighed contently before laying down against his chest. His large hands slipped beneath the waistband of her panties and groped her ass. She let a breathy moan out by his ear as he continued kneading the mounds.
“Neegaan, I’m trying to sleep,” she whined.
“Shhh, babydoll, go to sleep.”
thank you for reading!
#negan x reader#negan x you#negan smith#negan smith x reader#negan smut#negan x y/n#smut#twd negan#the walking dead smut#the walking dead#the walking dead negan#twd fanfiction#fanfic#negan fanfiction#negan#female reader#pwp#jeffrey dean morgan#jdm#jdmorgan#negan smith x you#negan smith x y/n#drabble#wtf is a drabble?!#fluff#cuddling and touching#affectionate cuddling#couple cuddling#not proofread#jdm smut
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Suki - Chimera Falin amv
I present before you: The Chimera Falin Edit.
#This took me like prolly 6 or so hours to do so feast well y'all and take ur meds and drink water#had to get in that “WOAH HEY” somehow#tiddies out for falin (and marcille she would love to see them)#anime watchers not finna get the uardlle joke but manga readers y'all BETTER LAUGH OR ITS BACK TO NO CONTENT.#if the manga readers dont laugh im never finna acknowledge them again and this will be their only acknowledgement from me good day /jjjj#if you caught the lesbian flag being in front of marcille at the end you are entitled to a kiss on the forehead and a membership to the +#farcille fanclub below#fun fact: I had to MAKE THAT FUCKING MARCILLE REACTION IMAGE MYSELF WHY WAS IT NOT ALREADY A THING#TOOK UP SO MUCH TIME.#also thank whoever reads the tags y'all are my favorite pookies#farcille#falin thorden#falin dungeon meshi#falin dunmeshi#falin touden#dungeon meshi#marcille donato#marcille dunmeshi#marcille dungeon meshi#marcille x falin#falin x marcille#chimera falin#falin chimera#faligon#dragon falin#delicious in dungeon amv#falin delicious in dungeon#marcille delicious in dungeon#oh also ig toshiro is here but i dont care about that man good night.#if you saw this last tag im literally giving you a kiss.
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I am so obsessed with the way the current lunar chronicles covers just... ooze style and vibes, so i tried my hand at them but featuring the reverse au i've been posting.
Thorne and Jacin to come, and if you haven't yet i recommend checking out the rest of my work for the reverse au <33 its all tagged as "reverse au" on my blog and oooooo you wanna check it out so bad
#lucy doodles#my art#fanart#lunar chronicles#marissa meyer#reverse au#how r we feeling! about the art <33#I worked hard on it. so you feel good about it#and you alllll are proud of me and you wanna reblog my content#i know this because i am the coolest and sexiest ever thanks#its 4 am#and i am going to bed#as soon as i finish my tags#digital art#digital artist#wolf lunar chronicles#tlc kai#tlc fanart#tlc wolf#lunar chronicles fanart#lunar chronicles wolf#the lunar chronicles#emperor kai#prince kai#emperor kaito#ze'ev kesley#lunar chronicles ze'ev#have i mentioned how i feel about the name wolf for him? because i could write a dissertation.#oh man it is LATE#and i gotta make more ze'ev fanart if i wanna yap about him bc the main blog gets no notes when i post there
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You ever get lulled into a false sense of security during the first two thirds of a kid's movie that's good with a serious plot but mostly a pretty fun time, only to have the entire final third tear your heart out, chew it up and spit it out, crush it into even finer paste beneath its heel, and add the fine powder your ribs have been turned into by the sledgehammer it whammed you with as a seasoning?
Anyway Nimona was great, 10/10 would recommend, I was crying on and off for what probably totaled 20 minutes of tears.
#hopeful rambling#nimona#cw graphic#i think that's probably the right tag for that description#anyway yes im a little late to the train but i was waiting until i could watch it with my dearest#my takeaway is that they should put a content warning on it for trans people especially bc you will feel punched in the face#that allegory sure can trans.#i think i related to it in a different way than most people#bc being genderqueer yeah nimona going im not a girl im just myself hit home but im not *trans*#so i think i actually ended up projecting onto balistar as someone who deeply loves a trans person (different ways obviously)#being told 'yes you can rejoin the society you betrayed you aren't like *her* you arent a monster everything can go back to what it was#you can be one of the good guys if you reject the freaks'#but they betrayed you first and the good guys aren't good and how things were is worse actually than saying i love you i see you im with you#to the freaks and the monsters who will accept who you are unlike the society that never will always keeping you to an impossible standard#of never being yourself#so yeah the religious/societal prejudice trauma was very felt at some points#and i grieved for nimona not because she was me but because she was my dearest and she was a friend#and she was a thousand people i will never know who decided it was better to die as yourself than be killed as someone you aren't#and didn't have a person to say im sorry. i see you.#anyway. yeah im still crying. altered my brain chemistry is mild i think it rearranged my organs punched a hole in my chest and i thanked it#nimona spoilers
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A Guiding Hand 3
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect, depression, inference of self harm, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: your online academics are affected by your personal struggles but your professor won’t let you give up so easy.
Characters: Raymond Smith, Lee Bodecker in the background
Note: happy sunday.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
You stop in the openness of the library. Just ahead is the long counter that arcs in front of the windows that look into an office space lined with desks. There are monitors facing away from you, those meant for the librarians and their assistants, and along the far edge, a sign denotes the stations meant for self-checkout.
You always thought of coming down but never found the energy. Besides, you wouldn’t want to borrow books that could be ruined at home. Beyond that, venturing into public has never been a simple task for you. You go for biweekly trips to spend the food credits on groceries and that’s about it.
Your eyes skitter around frantically. You hear the babble of children in the kids’ section with its bright colourful chairs and couches and a table of toys for the tots. You quickly surpass it and wander into the stretch of tables and chairs by the reference section. You put your bag down on a chair and sit next to it, folding your hands on the table then pulling them back into your lap.
You look over at the wall of tall windows that look out into a narrow strip of foliage. The brick walls are covered in thickly woven vines and birds flit in and out of the leaves. It’s pretty. You feel entirely out of place here.
You check the time on your digital watch. Almost ten. You can at least tick the early box, even though you might fall short of everything else.
You twiddle your fingers and keep your head down. Your toes tap in your sneakers and you fidget as the time ticks on. What if he doesn’t come? What if you’re not worth it? Should you check your email?
As you reach your bag, a figure approaches the table from the other side. You retract your arm and peer up at the man as he sets a leather briefcase on the wooden surface. Professor Smith nods at you and greets you by name. You feel like you should stand to greet him.
He offers his hand as you struggle to get to your feet. You tremble as you hesitantly accept the gesture. You don’t touch people and they certainly don’t touch you. It’s only a handshake. His grasp is firm and his skin slightly rough. Your hand feels weak and tiny in his confident grip.
He let you go as your fingers tingle, “good morning.”
“Morning, Professor, er, sir,” you stutter dumbly.
“Please,” he pulls out the chair on his side and you lower yourself back to the seat. “How are you today?”
“Mm, okay...” you swallow dryly, “er... you?”
You almost cringe. It must be rude to forget that. You’re not so use to interaction and you’re certain it shows.
You cross your arms over the table as his cheeks twitch and he smooths back his blond hair, “good, good,” he answers in his edged accent, “lovely sunshine today.”
“Erm, yeah, uh...” you don’t know what to say or do.
You close your eyes and reproach yourself. You must look totally lost. You drag your bag into your lap and unzip it. You take out your notebook and fish around for the chewed bic pen. You flip back the cover and flutter the pages, looking for a blank one. Your conscious of every single move you make as you feel his gaze on you.
“Right, so, I suppose you’re eager to be done with it,” he begins, “was their particular activities you found challenging? Maybe a formula in particular--”
“No, I... I think I got it but...” you twirl the pen and try to look at him. You get as far as the knot of his tie, the rest of it tucked beneath a sweater that seems rather much given the weather. “I just... fell behind. I’m s-sorry.”
“Well, that’s fine. It happens. So, if you can do the work, I can wait on it,” he assures you. “I’m not here to reprimands, that hardly fruitful for either of us. I want us to come to an accord. Let agree on a course of action.”
“Oh, alright,” you answer stuntedly, “well, I guess if I start Coursebook Four tonight I could have it done by—by Monday?”
“That’s a good first step,” he encourages as he pushes his glasses up his nose, drawing your eyes up to his. They are icy blue but not cold. “I like it. Setting your own goals. I find for some, it’s more effective than tossing a bunch of dates at them.”
“Thanks, professor, I... I really appreciate you... doing this,” you can’t help the shame that seeps into your voice. He pities you, you know it. You can see it in his face so you put your focus back to the table.
“Mm, given your...situation I think it’s understandable,” he says, “not easy to work in a racket.”
“Professor,” you put your hand to your forehead, dipping your head to hide behind it.
“Very concerning to hear,” he says, “and to think of a young woman in that environment.”
“Just my mom and her boyfriend. They don’t bother me.”
“Seems they do with all that yelling.”
“I-- I guess but—I—I need to use the bathroom,” you stand up and sway, “sorry.”
"As you will," he allows lightly, "I'll be here."
He sits back and checks his watch. It's much nicer than your plastic casio. You nod and sidle out from between the chair and the table. You shuffle away, only looking for a sign as you come out next to the front counter. You have to turn back to get to the bathrooms, your clueless meandering adding to the heat in your cheeks.
You lock yourself in a stall and try to muster the strength to come back out. Why did you come here? You feel so much worse sitting across from that man. Look at him. How could he not judge you?
You take and breath and try to shake away the anxiety. Someone else comes in and you make yourself leave. You wash your hands and steel yourself for another delve into the general public. You emerge and stop before the room of tables.
Professor Smith sits patiently across from your things. You round the table and close your notebook, sliding the pen back in the spiral. You chew your lip and slide it into your bag.
“I will have Assignment Four done like I said,” you speak barely above a whisper.
“Sounds great,” he stands as well, “I must thank you for going to the trouble of meeting me here today. I do find virtual appointments hardly have the same... effect. Might I buy you a coffee for the inconvenience?”
“A coffee? I... no, that’s--”
“Or a tea?” He suggests.
“Professor, um, no, that’s okay.”
“I insist,” he says, “I saw a cafe on my way in. Just on the corner.”
“I didn’t... bring my wallet.”
“As I said, my treat,” he intones, “don’t worry, we won’t be talking business.”
“Erm,” you sniff and slant your mouth one way then the other, “well, I...” you hate to keep saying no, it’s starting to feel rude. “Sure, er, okay, thanks.”
“My pleasure,” he gestures you ahead of him, “ladies first.”
You sling your bag on your shoulder and step past the table. You cross the library floor and tread by the curved counter. As you come to the doors, he quickly gets ahead of you and pushes the door open, holding it for you. He’s polite, almost to a stifling degree.
The sunshine you casts a yellow haze, warming the dark fabric of your hoodie. You descend the steps and he catches up to you, keeping pace as he stays at your side. He points you to the left, “this way.”
You obey and feel the brush of his sleeve against yours. Pedestrians across the street seem to stare at you. No doubt they can see how you don’t belong with that man. Him in his prim outfit; his sweater pulled over a tidy collared-shirt and tie, and his glasses denoting and air of professionality. But you, in your wrinkled hoodie and jeans, must make a paltry contrast to the man.
“Right ahead,” he nudges the back of your arm gently before you can veer in the wrong direction, “would you like to sit outside? It’s beautiful out and I see a free table.”
“Er, if you like,” you shrug and cross your arms, “you really don’t have to...”
“I want to,” he assures as you come up to the patio area before the corner cafe, “please, you find a table and I’ll go inside. What would you like?”
You stop just beside the short wooden fencing that block off the seating area. Tea is usually cheaper. You’d rather not stretch his pity past a few dollars.
“Black tea.”
“Milk?” He asks.
“No, thanks.”
“Sugar?” He arches a brow.
“Just tea.”
“Ah, got it,” he dips his chin, “I will return. Please, have a seat.”
He turns on his heel and as he struts up to the front door, you search the patio. You find a table for two near the wall. You won’t be centre stage there. You put your bag under the chair and sit with your back to the street.
What are you doing? You could leave now. You could just go home. You came to talk about your schoolwork. So why are you here getting tea with this man? You need to go home and get started on it. You hang your head and lean back in the chair, arms folded as you gnaw your chapped lip.
The voices of the patrons around you buzz in the air. You catch snippets of conversations; excitement over a date they just had, or complaints about their work life, and even the low murmurs of intimate partners cooing at each other. Life is all around you, happening to other people but you remain in your corner.
You wince as Professor Smith returns. He places a porcelain cup before you. One you can’t just run off with. He sits across from you as you look up.
“Thank you, sir,” you utter as you sit up.
“Not at all,” he blows over his mug, a dark coffee with a thin layer of foam around the sides. You can smell it. “I do get curious,” he sets the steaming cup own, “about my students. Teaching from a screen can be rather disconnecting. I meet all sorts in my work but you... I didn’t see your name in the introductory forum.”
You look evasively at the brick wall. You untangle your arms and pinch the tag of the tea bag dangling over the brim. You shrug.
“I must’ve forgot to post.”
“Ah, never to worry, I won’t dock marks for it,” he kids, “so, you live with your mother.”
You nod and your eyes drop to the table.
“She must be proud.”
You tear the tag from the string and it recoils and falls into the tea.
“Proud?”
“Yes, well, you’re going to school. It’s not nothing.”
“Yeah, but...” it goes without saying; you’re not doing very well.
“Like I said, you’ve shown you can do the work, so do it,” he intones.
“I know.”
“What made you choose this program?”
“I don’t... know.”
“Well, you seem to have a natural affinity for numbers. Did anyone ever mention it?”
“I guess,” you lift the cup by the handle and blow over the top. You cautiously taste it and burn yourself nonetheless. You put it back down and cover your singed lip, the tip of your tongue pulsing.
“You alright?” He asks.
You nod furiously.
“Mm, well, I must admit, I am rather bad at subterfuge. This is a bad ploy,” he sits back, one hand on the table as he taps his index against his thumb, “I’d rather you take your time with the tea and not only for the sake of your tongue. I... hoped to keep you busy so that you needn’t return home so quickly. To that.”
“That?”
“What I overheard,” he says.
“Oh, I told you--”
“It may be usual for you but it doesn’t make it any safer,” he interjects. “I don’t know if you saw the email but I sent some resource you might look into. Grants. Some for housing. You could extricate yourself. You should.”
You’re breathless. It’s humiliating. How pathetic you must be in his eyes.
“I didn’t come to embarrass you,” he leans forward and slides his hand across the table.
You turn your head and gulp, the lump in your throat suffocating. Your nose tingles as your face scalds. You shudder and push your shoulders up.
“You’re a bright young woman, I only thought I might...” he struggles to find words, “well, I did not begin as a professor. I did not even start as some high and above pupil. No, I was a miserable lad. Barely made it through my first year but... all I’m saying is I might not have been where you are, but I get it.”
Your lashes flutter as you fight back tears. You’re so tired of crying. You’re exhausted of feeling this way. No matter what you do or where you are, you just feel like you don’t belong.
You look at your watch, “I’ll have to go soon.” You won’t even come up with a lie. You need to go before you break down completely.
He sighs, “right.”
#raymond smith#dark raymond smith#dark!raymond smith#raymond smith x reader#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#a guiding hand#series#the gentlemen
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its been awhile since ive done any art ! allow me to get myself back in the swing of things with a warriors from @socialc1imb's au :)
#tw&wb#socialc1imb#linkeduniverse#lu au#2022 art tag#surprise !! i didnt draw legend upon coming back like everyone probably thought i would !!#instead you get some warriors content !! everyone say thank you to social for getting me to draw wars !!#i surprised myself with not drawing legend as well but i wound up running amok in that warriors tag of hers and just opened clip and#went to town so#ykno#socials au do be lookin kinda edible tho . the designs are all so neat i think yall should take a look#legends is a favourite (i am indeed biased though )#anyway i hope this brings you some good vibes social
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What's your absolute favourite Iliaster moment in Tag Force?
do you have any or is it hard to decide?
THERE REALLY ARE SO MANY GOOD ONES but i must go with my heart. my absolute favorite Tag Force Iliaster Moment is when you wake up and Aporia is just eating shit out of your fridge FOR NO REASON OTHER THAN JUST FOR FUN I GUESS. LOVE OF MY LIFE.
EVERYTHING ABOUT HIS TF6 ROUTE MAKES ME INSANE BUT THIS ESPECIALLY JUST SENDS ME INTO HYSTERICS. it feels like this tweet
AND THEN HE FIXES YOUR FRIDGE FOR YOU LATER??!??! FUNNIEST POSSIBLE PAYOFF
HE'S GOOFY!! HE'S SO SWEET AND SO GOOFY AND NOBODY KNOWS. but i know. tag force 6 and i know. video game of all time
#second favorite iliaster tag force moment is the literal coffee date you go on with aporia in his second heart route#content for me only a decade after the game released#ygo posting#tag force madness#asks#skiel-infinity#THANK U there really just. so many good little character moments in both tf5 and tf6 with them. makes me crayayayzzayy#iliasterliker9000
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