#the sound of the marbles knocking about
Note
Hi, I would like to ask for a smut from Adam x fem Reader, his dear wife is going to pay him a visit at his work and in the end they almost get paid for lute
New Eve (Adam x Fem! Wife! Reader)
-SMUT AHEAD MINORS DNI-
Other warnings: Adam Being Adam
I hope I wrote this ask and understood it correctly! Adam is my guilty pleasure. I love men who are dumb as rocks and who are going to be absolutely leashed by even stronger women.
REQUESTS OPEN
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
There's a saying that all good things come in threes, Lilith, Eve, and you. Adam's final wife, who physically couldn't be swayed by Lucifer because Adam had met you in Heaven. When you passed through the pearly gates, you were greeted by none other than the first human himself. You were in awe for about two seconds until you quickly gathered the first man was a complete and utter dickhead. He seemed to falter when you walked past him to greet an angel named Lute, Adam's second in command. She tensed a little as you introduced yourself, ignoring Adam's protests that dubbed you a Queen Mega Bitch.
All this to say, it took about three months before Lute caught Adam sticking his tongue down your throat with you latched onto him like a koala. You made a distressed sound at being caught while listening to Adam laugh above you. You distinctly heard him call your mouth as good as a vagina while pressing a kiss to your hairline. "Adam!" You hissed, pulling on the horns of his mask as he let out a defiant sound, "Inappropriate."
"Ugh yeah, that's kind of my thing, sugar tits."
"You need to not make it your thing, or this thing doesn't happen." You drew your line in the metaphorical sand before marching out of the room, faintly hearing Lute argue about Adam's behavior behind you.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Two years later, you were Adam's new 'Eve' in heaven with two golden rings to prove the love that formed between the two of you...somehow. Did the both of you fight constantly? Yes. Did you want to wring his neck every time he opened the gaping hole he called a mouth? Also Yes. But did you love him...unfortunately. Even though he had a laundry list of bad habits, a vulgar mouth, and gross hobbies, he had his moments. He was protective, fiercely so, and despite his fuck boy personality, he only had his sights set on you. Lute often asked you what you saw in Adam, and you'd reluctantly sigh and give a tired grin, "He makes me laugh. Plus, with proper motivation, he's putty in my hand." Lute made a sound of understanding, nodding her head,
"Ah, yes. Use your feminine wiles to control those weaker than you, even if they may be physically stronger. We must use what we are given as women. Well, you must. I'm very strong without using that to my advantage."
"Yes, exactly," You snickered as Lute stopped outside Adam's office. "Which is exactly why Sera put me in charge of convincing Adam to meet with The Morningstar's daughter." You groaned, rubbing the bridge of your nose, "I'll see you back here later, then?"
"Yes, ma'am." Lute bowed, "I wish you luck...you'll need it. He's in one of his moods." before taking off into the sky and down the hall. You reached up with a stretch of your arms, fluffing up your wings to look extra pretty before knocking on Adam's door,
"Adam." You hummed, knocking on the grand marble door once before opening it. You leaned against the entranceway, wings brushing against the floor, as his head shot up.
"Sugartits!"
"Not my name!" You dodged Adam's hug with a flurry of your wings; he grinned, shoving the door closed with his hip. "Adam," you said in warning as he used his angelic magic to fly towards you and trap you within his arms.
"and what would you prefer I call you? My Bitch? Wifey?" He mused, peppering sloppy kisses against your cheek and down your neck.
"We could go with Queen or Goddess, preferably." You shot back, dragging Adam down to sit in his chair; you hummed gently, removing his mask from his face. He leaned back, kicking his legs up on the desk as you slid down into his chest, straddling his hips. You hummed, running your fingers through his brown hair, and he melted into your touch, "My name works, too."
"I guess we can settle on Queen. Does that make me your King?" Adam preened as you scratched under his chin,
"Without a doubt...but we must talk about the Young Morningstar."
"Who?" He made a faux confused face which you raised an eyebrow back at in response, "Ugh, Lucifer's cunt daughter. What about her?"
"She's been begging for a meeting. I suggest you meet with her." Your lips began to trail down his neck, nipping at his skin as his body flushed.
"But that's so much work, sugar." He groaned, running his clawed hands through your hair, "Can't I just say fuck off back to hell we're gonna exterminate all of you regardless."
"Sera wants you to at least meet with her one time; she's giving you a lot of trust to handle this on your own."
"And if I do what you ask, what'll you give me?" He mused, eyes sparkling. You huffed, hitting him with the back of your wing, and he laughed, "Come on, you gotta sweeten the deal for me, mama."
"You're such a bastard." You huffed, moving to pull your hair out of your face. He moved his legs to the ground, and you could slide between his knees. "Robe off unless you want dirty," you commanded as Adam fumbled out of it quickly.
"I love you~" He leaned back with a sly grin, hand reaching up to move your head closer to his lip. Your fingers spread across his thighs, and you huffed softly, looking up at him.
"I love you more. If I do this for you, you promise to meet with young Lady Morningstar?"
"You can't just fuck me because you love me?"
"Bite me." You sneered, but there wasn't any malice in your voice as he stood up, picking you up off the ground and pressing your back against his desk.
"Oh, it would be my pleasure. I can't say your robes will survive, though I might need to get you some new ones." Adam popped the buttons on your robe, allowing your body to be laid bare for his eyes. He watched your breathing hitch as his long claw trailed down your neck to your chest. "Fuck I love these puppies, you know that?" Adam grinned, grabbing fistfuls of your breasts, squeezing and kneading to his heart's content. Your husband was like an oversized golden retriever. When he sees something he likes, he obsesses over it like a man deranged. His favorite playthings of yours were your tits and ass. "Any meetings?"
"None. I'm yours for the rest of the day. You can mark me how you'd like; I'm yours, my husband. Well, until you meet with the Princess."
"Fuckkkkk yeah, baby, come 'ere." Adam dove between your breasts, and he felt you suck in air through your teeth. He began to bite and suck on the supple flesh of your chest; you keened, arching into his mouth, hands tangling in his brown hair. You could tell from the way his teeth would graze against your nipples and your flesh he was doing everything in his power to leave marks on the skin.
"Adam...ngh." You panted, feeling his hand move down from your breast to slide down your stomach and between your legs. "Shit," You squeaked, feeling him tease your clit with his thumb and forefinger with a dopey grin on his face.
"There's my favorite girl," He flicked your nub skillfully; for being a massive asshole, this prick sure knew where to find your clit. One finger slid between your folds, and you tossed your head against the cold marble desk. "Damn, only one finger has you acting up? I must not be treating you good enough," He purred as another finger entered you, stretching you out to be big enough for, 'the first ever man god created.' Adam watched with delight as your wings spread out and trembled, glowing with a soft golden glow. "That's it, you're being such a good girl for me. Are you ready?"
"Yes." You panted, "Adam, please."
"God, you beg so nicely, you little slut," His hand reached up to grip your throat, causing you to let out a desperate whine, hips bucking into his fingers. "Beg Harder," He demanded, moving your hand to palm him through his trousers, stiff and aching. "Look at how hard you make me. How desperate. I need you to worship your god."
"Yes, sir." You purred, "You're my God, Adam. I need you, I'd worship for your love, your touch, your dick." You dragged your hand up your chest, playing with the swell of your own breast, "Don't you want to make me happy, baby?"
"More than anything." Adam's eyes lit up in elation, "Stay with me. Don't go to Lucifer. You're mine." He snarled, hands around your throat, "Say it."
"I'm with you. Only you. Forever Adam." His entire body seemed to relax when you said that, pressing gentle kisses to your cheek and lips. "I love you, you annoying Dickweed."
"Love you more, Sugartits." He grinned cheekily before lowering himself to you with a hiss-like laugh. "Tight as ever, and that's why I love you,"
"If you keep talking nonsense while you're literally inside me, I'll cut off your dick,"
"Sounds kinky."
"Adam."
"Fine, Fine, you're so vanilla." He mused, albeit his tone was much softer, fonder than his earlier teasing. His hands grabbed under your knees and pressed you close with a snap of his hips. You both let out a moan, yours higher pitched and needier, bucking your hips, searching for more friction than he was currently providing. You always savored the way he was able to fill you up, he wasn't the longest but god was he thick filling you in all the right ways. Every time his hips snapped into you, you could feel just how deep he kissed your cervix. "Yeah, you like that?" He panted, "Like how deep I'm getting? From the way you're dripping, you're practically soaking through my table. Your vag is like a vice, babe, so tight for this big cock."
"Hm. Your words always know how to turn me o-ng-ff." You moaned out this end at a particularly sharp thrust of his hips. "Fuck you," You panted as he grinned down at you,
"Good news, wifey, that's exactly what we're doing-"
"Sir!" You let out a scream as Lute slammed the door of his office open, you climbed against Adam's body like an embarrassed Nun. He groaned, still inside you but having the decency to cover you with his wings.
"What do you need, Lute? I'm a little busy getting it on with my sexy ass wife." Adam complained, motioning to the top of your head, to which you made an embarrassed sound of mortification. "Can this be rescheduled or-"
"The Princess of Hell is here, Sir. She just showed up-"
"Are you for real telling me that the bitch Princess of Hell is seriously cucking me right now?!"
"...Yes."
"(Y/n) If I killed her for interrupting us, would you be pissed?"
"Beyond Adam."
"Fuck."
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel x y/n#x reader#fem reader#adam x reader#adam x you#hazbin hotel adam x reader#smut#requests open#reader insert#hazbin hotel smut
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·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you leave megumi with your husband so you can make them breakfast. you quickly realise that that might have backfired.
wc. around 1.3k
tags. dad!toji x wife!female reader. fluff. reader gets called ‘mama’ by both toji & megumi. half beta read.
“ow, careful there, brat.”
your husband’s deep voice echoes from within the bathroom. you’ve left megumi in his care this morning so you’d be able to make breakfast in peace. toji was all grumpy about it, since he had to wake up early when he had no work, but eventually agreed to your proposal.
you hum your favorite song while frying eggs. the sizzling in the pan did help avert your attention from toji’s grunts of annoyance somewhere in the distance, though only for a couple seconds. your hear your child’s laughter slip between the noises of aggravation. it piques your interest.
“one more time and i’m putting y’r ass in time out,” toji’s deep voice sounds muffled. he sounds rather serious about whatever is bothering him.
you turn the stove off and walk towards the hallway, standing at the doorframe as you look in the direction of the bathroom. you tilt your head and try your best to pick up on snippets of the conversation between your husband and son.
the sound of bottles dropping on the floor is the first thing that allows you to guess that megumi’s acting up. you know how mischievous your little toddler can get, especially at his age. toji isn’t one to gentle parent his kid—he tries to, of course, but sometimes he can’t help but be a bit rough.
“megumi fushiguro.”
you raise your eyebrows as toji uses your child’s full name. he rarely does, only when he’s really upset or about to lose his marbles. you decide to see what was going on for yourself. you walk towards the bathroom, cleaning your hands against the material of your apron. you knock once before pushing the door open.
you stick your head through the little gap, ready to identify the cause of the commotion. the first thing you notice is the chaos on the floor; bottles, tubes, toothbrushes, and all other kinds of products lay cluttered on the bathroom tiles.
your eyes then land on your husband’s broad and scarred back, “hey, honey. did something hap—”
your voice trails off once toji turns around, revealing the jaw dropping scene. nearly his entire face is covered in loads of shaving cream and even his black hair hasn’t escaped the soft foam.
the bathroom counter is completely wet, and the water runs down the edges in small drops. the culprit of this entire scene is sitting right on that same counter, clapping his dirty hands together that were smeared with toji’s shaving cream.
you blink and walk towards the two. you can’t possibly be mad at the sight, finding toji’s situation more funny than worrisome. You try to act serious and clear your throat, “uh, yeah. so what’s happened here?”
your husband rolls his eyes and nods his head at the little boy in front of him, who’s giggling and kicking his legs. toji tries to wipe the shaving cream from his nose, attempting to get it out of his hair as well, “i tried to be a good dad and include him in my morning routine, that’s what.”
the man clicks his tongue as he now realises how dumb of a mistake that was, “gave him the opportunity to put some shaving foam on my jaw ‘n the brat totally blew it. started attackin’ me with the stuff.”
toji grumbles. he wipes away the foam that got on the mirror afterwards. it’s nearly gotten everywhere. he lightly nudges megumi’s forehead with a scoff, “never again, y’hear? the little shit can’t sit still for even one second.”
that explains the stuff on the floor. you know that megumi could grow bored easily if he isn’t the centre of attention. he’d start doing anything to be the focus of his parents. toji probably didn’t pay him much mind, wanting to get his morning routine over with.
“language, honey.” you sigh and look down at megumi who’s still reaching his messy hands up to his dad.
toji huffs and leans back, not giving the little boy a chance to put more shaving cream on his face. he’s learnt his lesson; kids do not understand it when you tell them to ‘only put a little bit’.
megumi whines and threatens to throw a tantrum. you notice that immediately and try to keep his mind off things by picking him up. you turn on the faucet and try to wash his little hands, “c’mon. give mama your hands.”
the little boy shakes his head furiously, squirming in your embrace in attempt to get away. you sigh and grab his little wrists gently. you lower him to the sink, trying your best to wash away the shaving cream as the first step of solving this grande mess.
“no, mama!” megumi is stubborn as he voices his complains. toji watches from a distance whilst he struggles to clean the overload of shaving cream from his face.
you make the mistake of letting go of your child’s wrists to grab a washcloth. megumi takes his chance and pats his messy hands against your face, leaving you no space to process what he’s doing.
your mind takes a second before you realise what’s happening, “hey! quit it, ‘gumi.”
you try to grab ahold of megumi’s tiny hands again, but they move too fast for you. plus, he’s pretty skilled at avoiding yours. you can feel the foam slowly cover your entire face; from your jaw and cheeks, to your nose and forehead.
it was inevitable at this point.
“toji, do something,” you grunt and struggle to contain the energetic toddler in your arms. you take a peek at your husband and find him grinning at the predicament you’ve gotten yourself in.
toji simply shrugs and enjoys the fact that you’re experiencing exactly what he had experienced just moments ago. seeing you struggle to contain your disobedient child only proves that his parenting skills are not the problem in this situation, your toddler is.
“ye did that to y’rself, mama.” toji hums in amusement. he leans against the wall, the blue towel now loosely hanging off head after he’s given up on getting the foam out of his hair, “now y’know what i’m talkin’ about. he’s a lil’ monster.”
megumi squeals in victory after he’s gotten both his parents covered in shaving cream. you want to say something to your child, but you’re at a loss for words. even now, you cannot bring yourself to be mad at him. he’s just a kid who’s having fun with his parents.
“i made mama pretty! hehe.” megumi grins and encourages you to look in the mirror. he points at your reflection and awaits the words of confirmation. his blue eyes look up at you, nearly sparkling with joy, admiring how pretty he’s made you look with that white foam all over your face.
toji joins in on the fun. he comes to stand behind you, looking at you through the mirror. he snickers, already forgotten about his irritations that occurred in the first place. he nods in approval at megumi’s words, “gotta agree, son. y’r mama looks much prettier like this.”
your husband’s teasing comment adds fuel to the fire. though again, you cannot bring yourself to be upset at the situation.
you look at the reflection in the dirty mirror. you all may appear disheveled due to the foamy mess on your bodies—and yet even at that moment—the only thing you actually manage to see is a happy family of three.
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#toji x reader#jjk fluff#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x you#jjk x you#toji x y/n#jjk x y/n#female reader#divider by cafekitsune
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Of Oblivious Minds (4)
Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.
Word count: 3k
Warnings: Angst
a/n: Thank you for reading and sorry for the wait!! I hope you enjoy :) Let me know what you think ❤️
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
~~
You were leaving today, and suddenly—with your bags at your feet and the air around you filled with stagnant silence—a few days seemed so juvenile. So… inconsequential in the grand scheme.
You would leave, and when you returned everything would be the same. Azriel would still love another and you would still be left with the bleak realization that you had spent the last few centuries denying a love that you knew to be fruitless.
Nothing would change if you were to be gone only a few measly days.
But if you were to be gone a month? A year, even?
Much of your work for Rhysand could be done from afar, especially with the library in Day Court. Helion wouldn’t mind; he’d asked you to consider an extended stay in the past. And maybe there could even be something there, something to take your mind off of your true home.
The home that wasn’t Velaris.
You saw him every time you closed your eyes. His rare smiles, his even rarer laughs; you saw the way his watchful eyes skated across every room you entered and reminisced on each twitch of his hands—the way you could feel it against your fingers when you grabbed for him in the busy streets of Velaris.
Azriel was inescapable, even when you battled against your vision and attempted to drift to sleep.
He was everywhere, everything.
But he wouldn’t be in Day Court, and although that wouldn't stop your thoughts, it would be something. It would be distance.
With a flick of your wrist, you sent your bags away to Day Court and heaved in an uncomfortably large breath. You knew he would do little to deny you, but you still needed to ask Rhys. He was your High Lord and employer, above all your friend, and you knew it would take a little persuading.
Maybe tears. Yes, tears were very moving and equally as conjurable at the moment.
It only took one step before the knock on your door left you still. Your shoes made a dent in the carpet and you could hear him breathing on the other side of the ornately carved wood. You could always tell when it was Azriel.
You shifted your weight from one knee to the next, gripping your skirts at the thigh. Azriel knocked again, this time in a faster pattern—more rushed.
You bit into your lip. You hadn’t planned to see him again, not before you left. You would deal with the repercussions of such an act later on, but not now. Not when you had finally gotten your emotions under control for long enough to have a conversation with Rhys.
It made sense to you now why you had repressed this for so long.
The sound of your voice was startling. “Come in.”
The door creaked, but the sound was overpowered by Azriel’s boot clicking against shining marble. The shadowsinger entered before his shadows, but the wisps followed close behind, quickly abandoning their master in favor of darting toward you. They twisted up your legs and elbows, rolling into your hair and dancing along your fingertips.
Something like fear, love, crushing defeat tugged and tugged at your chest.
“Azriel,” you greeted, aiming for a surprised tone and failing. “Have you come to see me off?”
The spymaster didn’t smile. “Rhys sent me. He said you might have a message for him.”
That cauldron-damned meddler. Of course he somehow knew about your reservations. You doubted he knew exactly what you had to say, but you had been dragging your feet all morning and were currently about an hour late for your own departure.
And of course he had sent Azriel of all people.
“Oh! Well, I suppose I could go and—”
“Why is half of your vanity gone?”
You blinked, startled by the words. If Azriel was anything, he was polite and never one to cut someone off. You went to search Azriel’s expression but found him zeroed in on the table pushed into the corner of your room.
“What?” It was all you could think to formulate.
But Azriel was quick to respond. “Almost all of your things are gone. Your perfumes and the pots of cream you keep on the side. You’ve only left the items you don’t use anymore.”
“How do you know—” you cut yourself off this time, ignoring the glaring question that tried to blind you. “Azriel, I’m going away… to Day Court. You know this.”
But Azriel only shook his head, stalking over to the table and yanking the drawer open so harshly it shook the mirror. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he went to your closet, throwing open the door, shoulders rising and falling with more effort.
“Azriel—”
“You’ve packed too much.” He turned to you, some of his shadows returning to wind around his chest. “You’ve taken most of your clothes.”
“You know I always overpack,” you laughed, but the laugh sounded fake, painful.
You fought the urge to cower under Azriel’s scrutinizing gaze. It was as if he was on fire, as if he was aflame and filled with something that had been pent up for far too long. If someone, anyone, were to look inside of you, they would see the same thing.
Which is why you needed to get far, far away from this situation. Away from him.
But the longer you looked back at him—the longer you tried to slap that easygoing smile on your face—the longer he stared back with the same steady intensity.
“Is something the matter?” you tried.
Azriel’s hand twitched.
That feeling crept along the edges of your ribs once again.
“Is something the matter?” he parroted, jaw so impossibly tight the words came out pinched.
You finally looked away, playing with your fingers. “Yes?”
He started laughing. But it wasn’t the kind of laugh that made you feel light. It didn’t fill you with pride for eliciting such a sound from him, nor did it make you want to laugh in return. It made you feel dark; as Azriel laughed, you wanted to heave the sound back within the depths it flowed from.
“There are several things that are the matter, y/n, but I’d say the most pressing is that you have been avoiding me for weeks. That every moment I’ve tried to spend with you has been promptly evaded and now you’re leaving and you had no intention of saying goodbye.”
“I was going to—”
“Please,” he pleaded, eyes soft yet so achingly desperate. “Don’t lie to me. Not right now.”
The indent in the carpet was becoming permanent; you couldn’t seem to move.
“I’ve been… I’ve been going through a hard time. Leaving seemed like it was the best for me. Just for a little while. Just until I could sort a few things out.”
“For how long?” he asked, voice cracking along the precipice of the last word.
You paused then, staring hard into his eyes. “A while.”
A shaky breath left the shadowsinger, his chest reflecting the sound. He ran a hand into his hair and tugged at the roots, an action you hadn’t seen him do in years. A sickening sort of pity ran through you—a sort of responsibility.
Because Azriel was your friend, and he was going through something, too. You had no idea if his mate reciprocated his feelings. You found it hard to believe that anyone wouldn’t love Azriel, but the conversation you’d overheard last week gave nothing away.
Maybe Azriel hadn’t told her yet because she didn’t love him. And maybe you were being a bad friend by not being there for him.
Tossing your hurt to the side, you took a step forward. Azriel watched the movement, eyes flickering behind you to catch the previous imprint of your feet on the carpet.
“I’m sorry,” you began, resolute. “I’m sorry that you felt you couldn’t tell me. And that you’ve been… having a hard time. I know I’m not leaving at the most opportune time, but you can write to me and I can help you.”
Some of the brokenness on Azriel’s face morphed into confusion. “Help me?”
“With your mate.”
And it was as if Azriel had been shot. He physically recoiled, his right foot coming down to catch him as he fixed his imbalance.
“I know you wanted to keep it private, but I overheard. Azriel—” You swallowed. Hard. “—It’s so wonderful that you’ve found your mate.”
Something was set in motion, and Azriel was shaking his head. His gaze was fixed on you and his eyebrows were pushed together in a painful expression and he just kept shaking his head as your chest caved and it became hard to breathe. Something pulled from within and it felt like your heart was unraveling.
Couldn’t he see how hard this was? How much it took from you just to acknowledge that he was destined for someone else?
The shadowsinger seemed unaware of your inner turmoil, instead taking long steps across the room until he reached you. He leaned down, brought his hands up to your face, and he broke another piece of you as his forehead touched yours.
He was whispering something, words so low even your fae ears couldn’t catch them, but you knew they were fast. Fast and incoherent and you weren’t even able to find their meaning in his expression because his eyes were squeezed so tightly.
“Please, just notice. See it, angel, it’s there.”
Your jaw quivered. He was so close to you. The few words you were able to make out were confusing.
“My oblivious girl. Please.”
“Azriel—”
When he opened his eyes, the world fell off its axis. The fear in your chest—the feeling that had been unraveling you and leaving you weak—alighted. It pulled and pulled but this time it didn’t hurt. It no longer left splinters embedded in your ribs or took the breath from your lungs.
As you looked up at Azriel, it was only soothing and warm and—
Mate. Azriel was your mate.
You pushed back from him, stumbling and catching on the rug as you went toppling down to the floor. There was no pain from the fall; a numbness overtook your body where the warmth once flowed.
“You’re my—Azriel, you—”
There were no endings to the sentences you began. Azriel tried reaching a hand down, but when you wouldn’t take it he joined you on the floor. He sat with you between his legs, bringing you forward until your knees curled against his chest. And then he wrapped you in his arms and then his wings, taking calming breaths as yours ran rampant.
“I am your mate,” he finished for you, so much more soothing than you had ever heard him speak.
“But Elain,” you gasped out, finding solace against his chest. You leaned your forehead against him and relished in the heat.
“What of Elain?” Azriel asked, bringing a hand up against the back of your head.
“You love Elain.”
“I do not love Elain.”
“And Mor?”
“I do not love Mor, either.”
You nodded against him. This would take longer for you to come to terms with later, but only simple answers were getting through to you now. And the bond—the bond—sang as you touched Azriel. The bond didn’t care if you were confused or hurt or disbelieving.
Your mind swam as a new influx of emotions filled you, but there was a distinction to them and you knew they weren’t your own. At first, it was hard to pick through them all; there were so many that they all blended together. There was an obvious tender love, but also a crippling fear that mingled with a darkness you couldn’t place. There was adoration and hopefulness and a sense of peace that lay at the bottom of all else.
But you could tell this peace was new. It wasn’t as deeply ingrained as the others.
Azriel leaned back, craning his neck down to catch your gaze. “Do you feel that?” he asked. When you nodded, he continued. “Those feelings have always belonged to you. All of them. I know there is not a lot of proof of that, and I will spend the rest of my life making up for that, but they have always belonged to you.”
“Have you always felt mine?” you asked, voice sounding unused.
“Since I’ve felt the bond,” he nodded.
“How long have you…”
Azriel sighed, but it wasn’t out of irritation. The bond told you as much. “Months.”
Tears burned at the back of your eyes. “Then why did you never—”
Azriel shushed you as your voice cracked. He ran both hands behind your head and held you steady as his lips pressed to your forehead.
“I didn’t want to lose you.”
Throat still closed, words still choked, you replied, “That is idiotic.”
This time, when Azriel laughed, you felt that pride spark up in your chest. “I know, angel. Gods, do I know that.”
There was a brief pause, a respite to the revelations and emotions in the room. You counted your breaths as you pressed against Azriel, and he ran his hands up and down the length of your spine, chaste kisses pressed to your head as the minutes ticked by.
“Don’t leave.” Azriel broke the silence. “Stay. Please.”
When you didn’t answer, he kept talking.
“You don’t have to love me. I know that is a lot to ask and there are still so many questions left unanswered. But, y/n, I have loved you for a long, long time. I couldn’t bear it if you left. It has been difficult to even function this past week with you avoiding me. If you were to leave—”
“I only avoided you because I thought it wasn’t me,” you interrupted, pulling back once again to meet his gaze. “I thought you didn’t love me and I couldn’t stand it, so I wanted to leave.”
A grim line set into Azriel’s mouth. The desperation returned to his eyes. “We have wasted so much time.”
“I wouldn’t say wasted. Not when you were here. Not when I was still with you.”
“Angel.” The word came out like a plea, and then his lips were on yours. His hands pressed you closer and his mouth was hot against yours and it was everything you’d spent three centuries ignoring. You loved him, gods did you love him, and in this kiss was every proof that he loved you.
You tangled your fingers in his hair, musing the already displaced strands. His wings quivered as you kissed him more, the action sending little pools of light into the bubble he had created. They felt warm against your eyelids, and when you pulled away to see the cause, Azriel moved his attention to your jaw, your cheek, your neck.
“You are my mate,” he affirmed against your skin, low and gravelly. “Mine.”
You pulled his head away, leaning your forehead against his own. “And you are mine.”
“I love you,” he said.
And you couldn’t say it back, not yet. Azriel seemed unperturbed by this and accepted your small smile as a reply, reciprocating it tenfold. His smile shone in the pockets of light created by his wings and his eyes no longer looked sad. It made you want to say it back.
When that guilt flooded you and your mouth parted, there was a tug at the bond instead. You gasped at the feeling, blinking up at Azriel with owlish eyes.
“I’ve wanted to do that for months,” he admitted, smile softening as he ran scarred fingers along your cheeks. “Every time I felt your doubt or fear. I figured I could startle it out of you.”
You rubbed at your chest. “It feels warm. And…” You couldn’t find the words.
“It feels good, angel. This bond was cold and it hurt, but it—it feels good. Like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
A breathy, awestruck laugh escaped you. “You know, I still have to go to Day for the weekend. It’s court-appointed.”
Azriel groaned, burying his face in your neck. “Then I will come with you,” he grumbled, words muffled against your skin.
“You cannot. But you can wait for me to return and I will come right back here.”
#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#azriel fanfic#azriel spymaster#acotar fanfiction
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warnings -> 18+ CONTENT, MDNI. f!reader, lots of rich people talk, baby fever, petnames, baby trapping.
felix who genuinely thinks it’s okay if you two have a baby so young… because—no, no. hear me out, darling— you’re both loaded anyway. both from wealthy families with marble floors and enough maids to make up a small country in europe. you two can practically do whatever you want. you’re damn near invincible, as far as he’s concerned.
you’re pained to admit that when you think about it— about having a round belly courtesy of the one ‘n only felix catton to show off, about decorating the nursery in whatever million pound home his parents set you two up in, about the beautiful baby shower you’ll have in the garden. floral pots of fruity tea and pastries on tiers, pastel balloons and bouquets everywhere… it sounds so dreamy, doesn’t it?
finally, you crack one day. your breaking point being the love in felix’s cocoa irises as his larger hand engulfs yours, long fingers gently lacing with your own like the most delicate ribbons on a designer corset. your knees press into the bed on either side of his waist as you sit on him. your pretty skirt fans over the crotch of his jeans, his lower abdomen— all while your chest nearly heaves under the weight of what you’re about to say— “let’s have a baby.”
felix beams. smiles wider than you’ve ever seen before he kisses the back of your hand with exaggerated kissy sounds. and before you know it, you can barely hold yourself together. he has you pinned beneath him— smaller hands pinned to his sweaty chest while his eyes are fixed on your breasts that bounce with every meaningful thrust. each push and pull of his hips is driven by the pure need to knock you up, to be crass. sweet kisses are placed on your drooly lips.
“oh, bambi,” he’ll whisper, as if you’re even coherent enough to pay attention to any syllable that leaves his heated, dangerous mouth; “you’ve made me s’happy.”
you swear he’s never been this deep before, with the head of his cock brushing up on that little spot and surpassing it to nudge up on your cervix. it knocks the breath out of you, makes you babble nonsense and forget about the shotgun wedding you two will be forced to have on the vast but luxurious grounds of saltburn.
#⌨️.kit's writing#🤍.saltburn#felix catton smut#felix catton x reader#saltburn smut#okay. now it’s time to clean up my mlist
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Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of
Pairing: SingleDad!Rhys x Reader
Summary: After his mate and the mother of his son abandons them, The High Lord and Nyx are left alone and wanting.
Word Count: 3.9k
Warnings: allusions to sexual assault, allusions to depression, abandonment, broken homes (y'know keeping it light, in all seriousness this is not all angst it's quite sweet actually).
The sky is painted in hues of lavender and mauve and the flowering ivory clouds shade Velaris in a perpetual state of dusk. The silvery light of the waxing moon seems to cast you in a gentle opal light as you approach the opulent manor. The High Lord’s townhouse is nestled in the heart of the city of starlight and wreathed in the colors of twilight; a slate facade that looks as though it is crowned in green, climbing ivy and night-blooming jasmine frame the large bay windows on the ground floor. From here you can see the large stained-glass window on the top floor, light refracts and it casts a myriad of dancing light onto the stone below-- dappled pinks and roses that fracture and give way to amethyst and indigo.
You spare a look to your aged companion as she breaches the threshold of the High Lord’s residence and, on unsteady feet, approaches the ornate wooden door and knocks thrice.
You remain for a moment a solitary figure at the entryway of the property, contemplating the series of events that led you here. Mother above, you chastise yourself. The thought occurs to you then, that perhaps you had made a mistake in coming here; that you should have given yourself more time, that you should have remained in the quiet solitude of the library where the world seems like a bitter memory.
“Come, girl.” Madja’s voice is tired and impatient as she beckons you closer with the wave of a crooked finger. “Don’t just stand there.”
You swallow thickly, bowing your head in obedience and you notice how her eyes soften as you approach the door tentatively.
“Nervous?” the old woman asks, you feel her eyes on you-- examining and critical.
“A little,” You admit, eyes downcast as you loose a shaky breath, “I haven’t left the library besides for training in quite some time.”
You stare down at the sleeves of your faded pewter robes as they billow in the evening breeze; the silver embroidery around the cuffs has begun to fray and the layers of fabric gather about your waist, the pleats have been poorly ironed and the heavy fabric falls over the curve of your hip haphazardly and pools to the floor in a swathe of heavy cotton. Shame pools in your stomach at the sight of your slippers as they peek out from the skirts of your robe.
It’s about time you asked Clotho for a new set of robes you think.
“You’ve met him before, no?” Madja’s voice breaks the tenuous peace you have found in those moments. You look up at her and a deep set frown graces her weathered face, “when you first came to Velaris?”
The visions fall on you like night; the Moonstone Palace saturated in onyx and jade, the reflections of your face in the marble of the throne room floor, the sentries as they dragged you before the High Council. The sounds of your screams and a sea of rubies and pearls as the bodice of your dress is torn away from your heaving chest-- all that red. Terrible and red.
Hewn City had always been cruel to you. You, a useless daughter to an ambitious man. The dreams are less vivid now but the sound of footsteps on marble still haunts you.
“Yes, it was him who brought me to Velaris-- after-afterwards,” You acquiesce to her questioning, eyes set on the light beyond the frosted glass panes of the onyx doorway, “though I doubt he remembers.”
Your avenging angel.
Madja looks at you carefully, taking account of you before she nods to you in silent acknowledgement.
The door to the High Lords townhouse opens with a flourish to reveal Morrigan. She’s more beautiful than you remember, radiant even as the dark shadows of sleep cling to her. Her golden hair hangs in loose waves over the delicate curve of her shoulder and though the deep umber of her eyes meets yours in a warm inviting stare as she utters your name.
She knows your name.
“Come on in from the cold.” she beckons you with the curve of a slender hand. You smile politely as you cross the threshold of the house. The wards fall away as you pass through into the foyer and the smell of mandarin and night blooming jasmine flood your senses.
The foyer to the townhouse is truly beautiful; a testament to the fine artistry and craftsmanship that seemed to define Velaris’ art district. The walls are paneled wood, painted in a shade of twilight that can only be found here, in The Night Court, and the burgundy carpet so rich in color that it reminds you of a blood moon, the oil paintings that hang on the walls seem to exude an air of majesty unlike anything you’ve ever seen.
In this room night reigns triumphant and you behold it all with a sense of wonder and awe. A careful deference to the love and care contained between these walls. It is a home that has been truly cherished by the people that live here.
“Did Madja tell you why you had been summoned here?” Morrigan’s voice is soft and sweet and the feeling of her hand on your robed arm pulls you from your thoughts.
“Sorry - I - uh” I stutter, glancing between her hand on my arm and the unyielding warmth of her gaze. “No she didn’t, only that there was a position in the High Lord’s household that Clotho recommended me for.”
“It was my recommendation actually,” Morrigan smiles proudly, letting her hand drop to her side idly. “Clotho just happened to agree.” The words leave her lips with the ghost of a smirk as she recalls the conversation between her and the High Priestess.
The last time you had spoken to Morrigan would have been in Hewn City, all those years ago. You abandon yourself to those days; when you had been the cursed daughter of a capricious Lord. The girl you were died under that mountain. The woman that stands in her place had been forged of blood, and splintered bone-- made strong by violence and tempered by time.
You nod solemnly and cast a glance to Madja who watches on in quiet curiosity.
“Rhys is upstairs,” Morrigan says softly to you both, gesturing up the staircase to the upper level of the house, “I’ll fetch him down”.
You notice then how troubled Mor looks. The rings around her eyes are pale purple and blue and her skin, once radiant, has become pale and sallow. She begins her ascent up the stairs with a small wave of her hand signaling Madja to follow. From here you can see a singular light that pierces through the blanket of the dark that shrouds the upper levels of the house.
Mor regards you once more as Madja passes her on the stairs and points towards the ornate door that leads to the antechamber at the heart of the house. “Go on in, we won’t be a moment.” In a flourish of golden blonde hair and crimson Morrigan winnows away and leaves you to linger in the foyer for a quiet moment.
The smell of cherries and marigold shades the air in her absence.
Voices, disembodied and distant from the upper levels of the house draw you into the heart of the house.
The antechamber of the High Lords townhouse is a beautiful living room, plunged into near darkness spare the slivers of jade light that dapple the dark walls from the emerald chandelier, even in the darkness you can make out the dark marble of the hearth that is draped with moonflowers and ivy. The low backed chairs are elegant and worn from use and there are books strewn about the room and a small library contained neatly in the alcove.
Your eyes find the painting hung above the hearth; immortalized on oil and canvas the High Lord of Night and his Lady. The High Lord is painted in a deep navy tunic and the silver paint mimics the delicate embroidery favored by the Velarian tailors in The Rainbow. His violet eyes shine bright against the dark.
He is a thing of dark beauty, you think.
In this light, his High Lady looks as though she is wreathed in starlight as smiles down on the antechamber from her place above the hearth. You observe the pointed curve of her nose and the upturn of her cerulean eyes and something aching and jealous festers in you at the sight of her beauty.
Otherworldly and ethereal.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The low tenor of a man calls out from the darkness of the room, the voice is measured and devoid of any emotion as it permeates the dark. The male cuts an intimidating figure in the low light and all thought and sound eddies from your mind. You’re sure the sound of your heart like an echoing war drum is loud enough to shake the mountains as he takes a step towards you.
“High Lord?” you question. He steps further into the light and you regard him pensively; his skin is pallid and his eyes are ringed with dark circles of amethyst that trouble you. His onyx hair is left tousled and the ends have grown long enough to curl away from the harsh lines of his face. The sharp junction of his jaw has become obscured by the smatterings of coarse, black hair that grow there.
Even still, even in the unforgiving jade light, he is the most beautiful male you have ever seen. He smells of night blooming jasmine and violets undercut with something inherently masculine. Pine and whiskey perhaps.
His presence is something truly captivating; dark and intoxicating. When he looks at you there is only dark in those violet eyes.
The High Lord sinks into the worn armchair by the hearth with a deep sigh and for a moment he allows his eyes to flutter closed as he breathes deeply and all you can do is surrender yourself to that dark magnetism. The dying fire in the hearth warms him and in this light you notice the golden hues of his skin and the dark inky trails tattooed across the planes of his chest where his shirt opens.
“You’re staring--” The High Lord’s violet eyes falls onto you. In those liminal spaces between the seconds, when he is looking at you, all ceases to be. You tilt your chin downwards, hoping to avert his gaze, as you offer him a courteous bow.
“My apologies High L-” the apology is cut off by the High Lords gentle protests. None of that, Love.
You pray to the mother that he doesn’t notice the flush along the tops of your cheeks or the wild fluttering of your heart at the pet name.
“Sit down,” The High Lord gestures simply to the seat across from him by the hearth and his whole demeanor is somehow softer when you deign to look at him again. Wordlessly you comply with his request, a careful hand runs down the length of your robes to smooth out the lazy pleats in the skirt as they fan out around you in the low backed chair and while you don’t dare to meet his eyes directly you can feel him looking at you.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologizes though his voice is distant, despondent even and his eyes find the painting that looms over the hearth. “The portrait-- It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He muses, tipping the rim of his whiskey glass towards the portrait.
“Very beautiful, High Lord.” you agree, smoothing the heavy material of your robes again. He watches you then with a curious glint in his eyes and he takes a few moments to assess you.
“Just Rhysand will do,” He smiles lightly, though there's a sense of apprehension as he regards you playing with the threads of your sleeves for the third time in so many moments, “there’s no need for such formalities when it’s just the two of us.”
“No of course not,” You agree and look at him through thick lashes and offer him a small smile in return, “forgive me, I’m--” you extend a hand to him over the small end table between the arm chairs and he takes it in earnest shaking it lightly. A calloused pad of his thumb rubs an absentminded circle into the skin of your hand before he brings your hand, trembling and slender, to the sulk of his lips and places a chaste kiss against the knuckles.
“I know who you are, Priestess,” he says lightly-- playfully. You offer him a polite laugh in return and nod your head again.
Something dark burns in his eyes in those moments; silver and violet. Like the darkness between the stars. He smiles to himself then, a soft beautiful thing. A secret shared between him and the dying light in the hearth as he picks at an errant threat on the stitching of his shirt.
“Why am I here, Rhysand?” You ask, inhaling deeply, hoping that his answer might assuage the anxiety that has been coiling in your stomach all afternoon. The door to the antechamber opens then and light, golden and radiant spills into the room all at once. The radiant light reveals the room to you fully, you observe the emerald velvet chairs and the dark wood furnishings, the landscapes hung on the walls and the rare manuscripts and novels bound all in black that line the walls.
This house is something truly breathtaking.
It feels like a home you realize.
“There you are!” Morrigan's velvet voice smothers the morose tension in the room as she comes into view. She’s since shed the tiredness that plagued her before and you notice the way her hair frames her face like a halo of gold in the soft ochre light. In her arms, swaddled in sapphire spider silk, is the High Lord’s son.
“We were beginning to wonder where you had gone.” Mor coos at the bundle in her arms as she approaches Rhysand who takes the babe in his strong arms.
As if he could get any more beautiful-- the man looks as though he was carved by The Mother.
It’s wrong, you know. He is your High Lord and you are…
The cursed daughter of a capricious Lord, you remind yourself.
Rhysand glances at me hesitantly and I meet his eyes briefly before focusing on the babe in his arms. He’s since broken loose from the swaddling and his chubby fist clutches at his fathers shirt. I can just see the top of his little head, it's all tufts of curly blue-black hair and pointed pink ears. You smile fondly to yourself as he continues to wriggle in his father’s grasp.
Gods, it’s been so long since you had smiled that wide without the feeling of guilt that usually attends it.
“You used to be a governess, didn’t you?” Mor says by way of explanation for your summons. To her credit her smile never falters even as your demeanor hardens against her, “Clotho said you had talked about it a few times.”
“Yes. I was,” You admit swallowing thickly, your voice comes out strained like the words themselves pain you to speak, “that was a long time ago though.”
That had been long before him.
You must have only been a youngling yourself. You had been happy-- that much you remember. Those were the happy recollections of your old life; summers spent under the opal lights of The Moonstone place, children’s laughter like birdsong that breaks apart in the humid air as you danced and sang long into the nights. Of dark autumns and smoky air, a bonfire and a small hand that holds your own with such gentle reverence.
“Clotho said you wanted to leave the Library?” Rhysand questions you, his eyes are dark and filled with a thinly veiled darkness that draws you into their depths as you speak to him without pretense.
“I do,” You answer him honestly, your voice wavering only a little, “I don’t want to spend my days rotting in the depths of that House.”
Rhysand considers it carefully and his face twists into a pained expression that almost breaks your resolve. You hadn’t meant to hurt him-- never. But you’re done hiding in the dark.
The world is a cruel place and full of cruel men. It always had been and it always will be. There is nought you can do to change that. So why should you cower from the world any longer?
You want to live.
The whining of the restless babe in Rhys’ arms rouses your attention and something akin to longing gathers in your chest as you regard him. You pull a lip between your teeth as he fusses and Rhysand struggles to soothe him. The babe looses a cry that comes out as a pitiful howl and you can feel a small ripple of power permeate the air.
“May I hold him?” The words take everyone in the room by surprise and the High Lord only nods easily and stands to pass the babe into your arms.
“I’m grateful,” You continue as Rhysand stands before you and transfers his son’s weight into the crook of your arm, “To you and your court for providing me, and girls like me with somewhere to heal but--”
“But you weren’t meant to cower in the darkness of the library forever.” Rhysand’s words come out as little more than a whisper and the feeling of his warm breath on your skin is something entirely perverse.
You shake your head, mouthing an inaudible ‘no’ before lowering yourself back into the chair by the hearth, hoping to hide the rosy blush that spreads across your cheeks. Rhys doesn’t retreat back into his armchair like you had thought he might and instead sinks to his knees before you and allows one of his son's fists to wrap around his ring finger. The babe seems to quieten then in your arms as he nuzzles against your chest, one balled first clinging to his father and the other pulling at the neckline of your robes and he smiles sleepily in your arms.
Looking at him now you are overcome with the realization of the absence that had stained this family’s happiness. Rhysand had given himself completely to a woman who had changed her mind. And their son-- their son; all cherub cheeked and big blue eyes framed with dark lashes-- had been abandoned by the woman who was supposed to love him without condition. Before the ghost of her had been an abstract thing. Something intangible and errant, a whisper or a memory, but now, as you look between the babe in your arms and the woman immortalized about the hearth you feel nothing but biting fury. A dangerous wrath only tempered by the stilling of the High Lord beside you.
It is Morrigan’s movement at the side of the room that rouses you from thought. “Then perhaps we can come to an arrangement?” The smile that graces her lips is brilliant and calculating and the sparkle in those umber eyes tells you she is genuine in his intentions.
“An arrangement?” You ask hesitantly, raising one arched brow to her.
“Yes.” The High Lord nods in agreement as Morrigan approaches you all casually, sauntering over to snatch a glass of wine from the decanter, “you’re free to leave the Library at any time but--”
“Help me take care of Nyx,” The High Lord beats you to it, his voice is soft and gentle and one of his fingers runs along the curve of Nyx’s ear as he begins to doze in your arms.
“High Lor-” You start, and you’re torn between declining outright and trying to dissuade them altogether, “Mor, I haven’t cared for a babe in well over 60 years.”
“Listen to me,” Rhysand’s violet gaze is unyielding and when you can no longer avert his gaze he takes on of your hands in his own and all but pleads with you, “take care of Nyx, for one year-- just until I get used to doing it on my own-- just until he starts his pre-schooling.”
The thought of him raising his son all alone pains you, a physical, bone deep ache that settles over you. You mourn for him then, for the love he thought he had, for all that he lost and then you mourn for the babe in your arms. For the son who will grow up without knowing his mother’s love. The High Lord looks at you through dark lashes and you note the tiredness in his eyes and the desperate sadness that seems to radiate from him these days and yet, he smile softly at you. As one might smile at something lovely and precious.
“And in return?” You ask peering down at him with sympathetic eyes when his whole body goes lax.
“I’ll help you get set up somewhere-- anywhere you want.” The words come quickly and if you were a cruel woman you would see what more he would offer you. But when he’s looking at you like you might just be his last hope you can’t find it in you to do anything but allow yourself to be persuaded by him.
You see a home; a cottage maybe, made of ancient stone and covered with climing ivy and jasmine. On the outskirts of Velaris, away from the artisans and market stalls of the main square, but close enough that you never feel truly alone. A home and it smells of mandarin and moonflowers, the sound of children laughing, and a garden blooming with violets in the garden in the leonine yellow heat of high summer. You smile wistfully and you swear you feel the gentle caress of a hand in your mind's eye.
“You can live here with us in the meantime” Rhysand continues gesturing to the house around you.
It’s warm and inviting and your body sings in response to the prospect.
“I don’t think that's a good--”
“Just until you find somewhere of your own.” He assures you standing to his full height before you. He casts a morose glance to the portrait that hangs about the hearth and you can see the moment his violet eyes meet painted cerulean.
“Rhys--” You warn gently.
“Please,” He turns to you again and the desperation in his tone has you yielding to him further, a gentle sweep over your face before settling on the sleeping babe in your arms, “please.” He repeats it once more and you swear your heart breaks just a little bit for him.
He had saved you once, you think. You had only been a girl then but you remember looking at him in that light; he looked like the shadow of some dark winged God-- avenging and angelic.
Perhaps this time the girl can save the God.
“A bargain then.” You muse lightly holding out a pinky finger to him.
Rhysand huffs out a laugh and curls his finger around your own. Nyx’s hand seems to flex in response, his own tiny pinky finger outstretched in agreement.
“A bargain.” With the simple confirmation you feel the gentle burn of a promise as it kisses its way up your wrist, and you see Rhysand’s own inky sigil as it glows faintly on the skin of his outstretched arm.
#acotar#acotar x reader#rhysand x reader#rhys x reader#rhys x you#rhys x y/n#rhysand x you#rhysand x y/n#rhysand acotar#rhysand imagine#rhys acotar#rhys fanfic#rhysand headcanons
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busy thinkin' about!
gallagher whos so tired from the charmony festival, when he gets home, he lazily slumps over behind you. his large figure covering yours as his stubble gently pushes into the crook of your neck, his nose inhaling your calming scent. gallagher's voice is drowsy and almost croaky, as if he had to yell at his young bloodhounds for them to listen, "mm.. you smell so refreshing dove..."
his thick, calloused fingers softly trace all over your stomach, a low groan passing his lips when you jolt against him. the brunette continues his lazy teasing, his hands dance down to the hem of your bottoms, pushing them down to your plush thighs as he littered gentle kisses along your neck. gallagher who spins you around by your hips, using his knee to knock you up against the marble counter behind you.
your ears dust with a light pink at the sound of his enervated chuckle, staring down at his carmine pants. gallagher's hand bearing the finger-less glove cups your face, pushing your cheeks till your lips puckered up, "so cute. what a lucky man i am...", the brunette murmurs before releasing your face. with a single breath exiting your lungs, you feel your sensitive nipples being exposed to the chilly air of the night.
eyes wide you stare dumbfounded at gallagher as he wore a shit-eating smirk but rather than making eye contact with you, he seemed to be more captivated by your hardened nipples. a soft moan bubbles in your throat as his wet tongue latches onto the bud, his stubble pricking your areola. gallagher's muffled chuckle sends a delicious wave of vibrations against your breasts.
his thick hand dipped into your panties, the one adorned in pristine white pushed your thighs onto the counter till fat spilled between his fingers. almost instantly, gallagher cracked a small smile at your dripping slit, the ends of his finger-less glove dampening just the slightest from your arousal. with his palms softly grinding against your clit, gallagher's calloused fingertips sink into your hungry cunt, just his delicious fingers make you feel so full already.
its no surprise when you melt into gallagher's touch, allowing him to continue making you writhe beneath him. his thick fingers curl right up against your sensitive g-spot, lazily grinning when you let out a yelp. the brunette proceeds to bully his fingers into your drenched cunt, slowly speeding up his pumps whilst the sound of your sweet cunny swallowing his fingers filled the air.
gallagher is the type who cant have you cumming without him, sure he was tired but he wasnt going to end this so quickly. so he does the next best thing, ripping his fingers dripping in your juices from your aching pussy. he loves the way you whine, weakly bucking your hips against his hand desperate for any sort of an orgasm, tears pricking your eyes from how frustrated you are with losing your high.
gallagher laughs, pushing your thighs further apart till he could slip between them. your partner drops to his knees as his buff arms hook underneath your squishy thighs, pulling your sopping wet pussy closer to his face. his warm breath fans your already twitching cunny whilst youre helplessly running your fingers through his chocolate toned hair, "cmon princess, let me eat you out."
#☆.elys ramble#honkai star rail smut#honkai star rail gallagher#hsr smut#gallagher smut#gallagher x reader
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best friends dad part two
words: 500
warnings: 18+ only!, smut, extreme age gap, aged up!rafe, p in v sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink, kinda caught?
part one / part two / part three
“my wife is in the other room.” rafe grunts, his hands planted firmly on your waist, feeling how small you are under his large palms.
“you dragged me in here.” you remind rafe, poking him in the chest, propped up on the bathroom counter, legs spread wide as you balance right on the edge of the marble.
“fuck, this is so fucking wrong.” rafe groans, immediately regretting cursing in front of you, as if his naughty words are somehow worse than his current actions.
“just put it in.” you moan quietly, his cock pushing through your folds, head of his cock rubbing against your clit with every thrust.
“shouldn't i get a condom?” rafe is trying everything to not fuck you. every excuse he can think of, because he knows once he gets inside of you, there's no turning back. it's all been grinding and sucking and fingering until now, until you came over to tan outside by the pool with his own daughter, in the skimpiest bikini you own.
“no.” you shake your head. “im not your fucking wife you're worried about not knocking up again. get inside me. now.”
rafe holds back for another minute, but you're too warm, too wet for him to resist. he mumbles another curse before lining up with your entrance, sinking inside in one smooth motion.
“oh, yes daddy.” you moan out. “been thinking about how your cock would feel inside me for years.”
“this is so wrong.” rafe shakes his head, despite pushing his hips forward, as if he can get deeper inside your cunt.
“stop whining like a little bitch.” you roll your eyes. “fuck me.”
rafe can't help but listen to your command, sliding until his cock is almost all the way out before thrusting inside, building up a quick pace, the squelching wet sound every time he pushes inside your pussy like music to his ears.
“oh, fuck, yes daddy.” you moan, too loud as rafes eyes widen, leaning in to capture your mouth in a kiss.
“shh.” he warns, mumbling the shush against your lips. “can't let anyone hear.”
“mmm, can't let anyone find out you're cheating on your wife with your daughters best friend?” rafes hips move faster at your teasing, the exact effect your were hoping your words would have.
you wrap your arms around his shoulders as he continues to kiss you, allowing one hand to scratch at the back of his head, running your fingers through his hair with a smattering of gray throughout.
“god, you're so fucking tight.” rafe moans.
“that's what happens when you fuck young pussy, not old stretched out from kids.” you smirk. you've never liked rafes wife, the way she seemingly does whatever she pleases. you wonder briefly if there was once genuine love there.
“fuck, i love my wife. i love my wife. i love my wife.” rafe chants, as if the words can stop the fact that he's loving how good it feels to be cheating on her.
you let out a chuckle as rafes thrusts become more erratic, giggling when his eyes widen as he hears footsteps down the hallway, unable to stop his motions, knowing if someone listens too closely it'll be obvious what is happening behind the closed door.
the footsteps stop outside of the bathroom, a knock startling both of you.
“y/n, you in there?” it's your best friend, the daughter of the man currently about to cum inside of you.
“yes!” you answer, at the exact same time that rafe calls out “no!”
read part three here
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Personal Secretary -
Young President Snow x Secretary Reader
About: President Snow is someone that prides himself on being a loyal husband and amazing President to the country of Panem. However, he does have quite the sweet spot for his secretary.
word count: 2,300
Warnings: NSFW Content, MDNI, cheating (not on you), unprotected sex, p in v sex, praise, quickie, etc.
“Gem of Panem,
Mighty City,
Through the ages you shine anew.”
You stood at your desk with a hand on your heart as the sound of the Capitol’s anthem played over the speakers. It was eight o’clock in the morning, the time the President had arrived at his office. This was a routine that happened each and every morning, to show one’s respect for their country and the mighty city of the Capitol.
“We humbly kneel,
To your ideal,
And pledge our love to you!”
Everyone was facing the flag of Panem, speaking the words to the anthem in unison as it played across the building. A few years back, barely anyone knew the anthem. It was a song made during the dark ages and only recently had it been brought back when Coriolanus Snow came into power. Something about showing pride for one’s home.
“Gem of Panem,
Heart of Justice,
Wisdom Crowns your marble brow.
You give us light,
You reunite,
To you we make our vow.”
You had always felt prideful for your city. Having been born and raised in the Capitol, gone to the Academy, gone to the University, you had been a star pupil in the eyes of your educators. Your family had been quite prominent but it was your skill set that really made you become the right hand woman to the President of the whole nation of Panem.
“Gem of Panem,
Seat of power,
Strength in Peacetime, shield in strife,”
You had gone to school with Coriolanus Snow, though you were a year behind him. You worked hard to make something of yourself outside of your family’s affiliations. Your family was known for investing in high fashion items, owning many of the high end fashion stores in the Capitol itself. And while your father had wanted that life for you as well, you wanted to become something else. And you did.
“Protect our land,
With armored hand,
Our Capitol,
Our life.”
When the anthem ended, you all went back to your work. It wasn’t easy being the secretary of the President. His schedule was quite tiresome most days. And today most certainly was one of those days. You focused on the papers set in front of you, sorting through them and seeing which ones were important enough for President Snow to take a look at. By ten in the morning, you knocked on his office door to give him his schedule.
“Come in,” came the authoritative voice that was Coriolanus Snow. The President of Panem had been elected about a year ago when he was just twenty-four years old and recently married to Livia Cardew, a woman he simply married for convenience and nothing more. In fact, he hated Livia Cardew quite a bit. Though she doesn’t know that and the nation doesn’t need to know that. And now, here he was, twenty-five years old and working hard to ensure that the country is running smoothly. And you? You were very patriotic towards your President.
“I have your schedule for the rest of the day, sir,” You said as you walked into the office, closing the door gently behind you and walking over to his desk. President Snow was sat at his desk, dressed in a navy blue suit with a red rose in the pocket. His hair was slicked back, making him look even more handsome than usual. Your heels clicked with each step you took and Coriolanus was very obviously staring you up and down. “And a list of messages to give you,” You added.
Coriolanus licked his lips before looking at your face. “Go on,” he said, using a hand to signal you to speak.
“You have lunch today with the new Head Gamemaster to discuss ideas for eighteenth annual Hunger Games at twelve p.m, a meeting with the mayor of District One at one p.m, a phone call with the Head General at two p.m, and an address to the nation at three p.m about the sewage system,” You explained, looking down at your notes before looking back up at Coriolanus. “After that, you have a Gala to attend tonight at eight o’clock with your wife who is wondering if you will be coming home for dinner.”
Coriolanus sighed, running a hand over his face as he thought over everything. “That’s quite a lot for today,” He exclaimed. “Tell Livia I will not be having dinner with her tonight.”
You nodded your head. “Right away, sir,” you said, giving him a polite smile.
“You’ll be attending the Gala as well, correct?” Coriolanus asked.
You nodded your head in confirmation. “That’s correct, sir,” You replied. “My whole family will be attending.”
“Good,” Coriolanus smirked at you. “I’ll see you later then, Miss L/N.”
“I’ll see you later, President Snow,” And with that, you left his office to get back to work.
When you arrived at the Gala dressed in a ravishing black dress that accentuates your curves, you knew that you were officially the best dressed at the event. Your hair was down and styled to perfection. Your makeup was done elegantly with a red lip. You walked into the event, immediately greeted by other prominent families within the Capitol. You greeted each and every one of them with a smile and a kind greeting. Only the best from a high member of society.
You looked around the room, noticing President Snow across the room with his wife standing next to him. His eyes were immediately on you. You gave him a smirk as he did a slight tilt of his head, signaling to follow him. He excused himself from Livia before walking towards the bathrooms. After a moment, you followed.
Your relationship with Coriolanus Snow is a bit of a complicated one that had begun when he was voted in as President. Being a year below him during school, the two of you interacted only briefly. But he hired you based on your family’s name and your high grades from the University. After your hiring, it was safe to assume that there was more to it. He would always look you up and down, taking in your beautiful form. And you didn’t hate it one bit. Coriolanus was an attractive man. And you were very patriotic.
About two months into his presidency, the two of you stayed late to work on an address that was going to be given the next day. A late night with your boss with dinner had led to the two of you talking about anything and everything unrelated to work. And that night, he fucked you on his desk without any regrets. That was the start of an affair that neither of you wanted to end.
You made your way to the bathroom, knocking on the door. You heard the faint “come in” of Coriolanus’s voice. Before walking in, you looked around to ensure no one else was looking. You opened the door, walking into the room before quickly closing it behind you and locking the door. As soon as you did so, Coriolanus was pinning you to the wall, his lips immediately on yours.
You let out a soft sound, kissing Coriolanus back with the same hunger and passion he was giving you. You brought your arms up around his neck as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “You look so beautiful tonight,” he murmured softly, pulling away to look into your eyes.
You gave him a soft smile. “Thank you,” You said, kissing his lips. “You look quite handsome yourself,” You added, looking at Coriolanus’s dark green suit.
Coriolanus sighed. “Livia wanted me to wear it,” He said, slightly annoyed, “I think it looks horrendous. But I must be a supportive husband and follow through with my wife’s wishes.” Coriolanus dipped his head to kiss your neck, using his hands to explore your body.
You laughed, nodding your head. “What a wonderful husband you are,” you said a bit sarcastically.
Coriolanus hummed against your skin. “The best, really,” he said just as sarcastically. He lifted your dress over your hips. You chose not to wear anything underneath the dress which Coriolanus believed to be an excellent decision. “This is quite helpful,” he murmured softly. “Makes things easier.”
“Did it just for you,” You murmured back.
“You’re so good to me,” Coriolanus said. He pressed himself against you, letting you feel his hard on through his trousers. “We have to be quick,” he said a bit unhappily. Coriolanus didn’t like to do quickies as much as he loved taking his time with you. He adores making you feel just as good as you make him feel. “But I promise tomorrow evening will be ours,” he added.
“I’ll hold you to that promise,” You smiled. “How do you want me?”
Coriolanus unbuttoned his pants enough to reveal his hard cock. He too wasn’t wearing any underwear. He licked his lips as he thought about your cunt. “Turn around for me.”
You obliged, turning around with a hand on the door of the bathroom. Coriolanus wrapped an arm around you, dipping his head to kiss your neck as he guided his cock to your entrance. He eased himself inside of you, causing the both of you to let out shaky breaths. You put a hand over your mouth to avoid moaning. “You’re so wet for me,” Coriolanus whispered into your ear, moving his hips slowly at first. “Wish I could take my time with you.”
“Always ready for your cock,” You whispered back, licking your lips.
“Mmm, yes you are,” Coriolanus replied, snapping his hips faster.
You gasped, trying to keep yourself from moaning like a slut. There were people just outside the door and it would be an all-time scandal if the people of Panem found out that the President was having an affair with his secretary.
“Gotta stay quiet for me, baby,” Coriolanus said shakily, thrusting his cock in and out of you tight cunt at a relentless pace. “Ah—fuck, you feel so good,” he almost whined in your ear.
You didn’t reply, not trusting yourself to not moan loudly if you uncover your mouth. Instead you met his thrusts with your own movements, his cock hitting your g-spot perfectly. Coriolanus was moving hard and fast, burying his cock inside of you so good. You threw your head back, closing your eyes in the process.
Coriolanus began kissing your neck, sucking on your pulse point. “Gonna cum inside your tight pussy,” he whispered against your skin, thrusting his hips frantically. You could tell that Coriolanus was very close with how breathless he sounded and how he was holding back his own moans. You felt yourself getting closer, the repetitive thrusting into your g-spot sending you close to the edge.
“Gonna cum, oh my god—“ Coriolanus whispered harshly, close to just moaning out loud as he started spilling inside of you.
With a gasp, you clench around Coriolanus’s cock, gushing as you come. You felt the liquid dripping down your leg as you arched your back against Coriolanus. He fucked you through your orgasm, rocking his hips to milk the both of you. And when you both finished, he pulled out, immediately stuffing his cock back into his pants and zippering them. You were both breathing heavily as you took a moment to just lean your head against the bathroom door. Coriolanus, oh-so-kindly put your dress back down perfectly before turning you around and wrapped his arms around you.
“I needed that,” he murmured into your ear as he pulled you close to him, kissing the top of your head.
You smiled lazily, leaning against Coriolanus as you hugged him back. “Me too,” you replied. “They’re probably wondering where you are,” you sighed.
“Mmm,” Coriolanus made a noise of acknowledgment. “I wish I could just take you home,” he said, breathing in deeply.
It was always moments like this that made you wonder if Coriolanus Snow, the President of Panem, loved you. He always treated you like he had the utmost feelings for you. He would take you out for dinners, buy you gifts, care for you in such a way that only a lover would. But ultimately, you knew that wasn’t the case. Because Coriolanus Snow was incapable of loving another person. That’s what he told you, at least. Regardless, you didn’t mind it whatsoever. Because you’re his secretary, his true right hand woman. And that’s all that mattered, right?
After a few moments, the two of you pulled away and gathered yourselves. You cleaned yourself up, making sure nothing was on your legs while Coriolanus fixed his hair. He gave you one soft kiss. “I’ll see you,” he murmured against your lips.
You smiled, kissing him back. “See you, sir,” you replied.
Coriolanus smirked before walking out of the bathroom. You stayed back for a moment, fixing your lipstick and your hair in front of the mirror. And after a minute, you walked out and back into the party as though nothing happened. You glanced at Coriolanus, who was talking to some military official, and then looked at his wife, who was looking at you.
That’s when you knew Livia Cardew wasn’t as oblivious as she made herself out to be. And you? You simply winked at her and smirked before turning your attention to a random Capitol citizen.
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Sleeping Beauty
Summary: Your roommate Anakin will go to any lengths necessary to get close to you, even ones you don’t know about.
Content warnings: dead dove do not eat, somnophilia, dubcon/noncon, drugging, violence, oral sex, p in v sex
WC: 3.4k
Work had been wringing you dry lately- so much so that when you’d finally claw your way to bed in the evenings, not even a tornado could rouse you. Your roommate, Anakin Skywalker noticed this- as he noticed everything else. Your mannerisms, your daily schedule, and all your little habits and quirks were committed to memory.
His prolonged glances and lingering touches raised no alarm bells in your mind, putting it down to his affectionate and slightly odd disposition. Sure, he was a little peculiar but your Ani was one of your best friends- always thoughtful, always caring and always there.
On one particularly exhausting evening, you sighed heavily as you traipsed in through the front door of your shared apartment. You always wondered why Anakin had any use for a roommate considering his prestigious job and the doubtless wealth that came along with it- but you just assumed he had a proclivity for modesty.
“Tough day?” He called out as you dropped your bag by the door with a heavy thud and followed the sound of his voice.
“You don’t know the half of it.” You sighed, slumping down onto the kitchen chair as you observed Anakin cooking, dirtied apron clinging to his toned abdomen. “What’s on the menu?”
“Your favourite.” He replied calmly, tipping the pan over slightly to show you a thick steak swimming in herbal butter.
“Wow. That looks- but…I’ve never told you that steak is my favourite.” You furrow your eyebrows and peer up at him in confusion.
“Well of course you have, silly.” He chuckles dismissively.
“No, Ani, I’m sure I haven’t. Have I?” You question, trying to recall a conversation in which you revealed your favourite meal but nothing was coming to mind.
“What have they been doing to you in that office?” He shakes his head and tuts. “Around when we first moved in, you told me how your dad always made steak on special occasions and how you came to associate the meal with good news.”
“I did?” The story is true, though you can’t for the life of you remember saying it.
“How else could I possibly know?” He smiles calmly and you relax. This new workload must really be doing a number on you.
“It’s so nice of you to make dinner but I was kinda thinking of going straight to bed- the exhaustion is killing my appetite. I go to sleep early but I still don’t feel well-rested for some reason…” You ramble on as he puts the sizzling pan to the side and turns to face you, leaning on the kitchen counter with his usually intense glare.
“Why don’t you take a sleeping pill?” He cocks his head to the side and you contemplate his suggestion. “I’ve got some low-dose ones, they’ll knock you right out and you won’t even feel it- I’ll go get them for you.”
“Wait, Ani- I don’t know-“
“They won’t make you drowsy in the morning, I promise.” Before you can object, he’s returned with a shiny tab of small white pills and is pouring you a glass of water.
“Alright, I suppose I’ll do anything to get one good night’s sleep.” You sigh, popping one of the tablets out of their foil casing and swallowing. “They’re the low-dose ones, yeah?”
“That’s what I said.” He smiles, watching you knock back your last sip of water intently.
“Thank you. Oh, but the steak- I feel really bad-“
“Don’t even worry about it. I’ll put it in the fridge, it’ll still be good tomorrow. You just go straight to bed.” He rests his calloused knuckles against the marble worktop, angry veins snaking up his smooth forearms.
“Really? You’re the best, Ani.” You rub his arm gratefully before wading over to your room, yawning.
“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He whispers once you’re out of earshot.
Just like he said he would, Anakin neatly put your dinner away, scrubbed the stove clean and did the dishes. Upon completion, he glanced at the ticking clock on the kitchen wall before swiping the tab of pills sitting on the counter and stuffing them back into their original packaging. Taking the box out of his pocket, he read the front of the pack: Diazepam- full strength.
Satisfied that enough time had passed, he walked over to your room and pressed his ear against the wooden door, waiting to hear signs you were sound asleep. Once he was happy with your soft snores and hums, he treaded the shaggy carpet and crept in.
You were swaddled in your covers and lying on your back, the teddy bear he bought you for your last birthday tucked lazily under your arm.
He stood there and admired you for a moment, heart warmed at how you cuddled his plushie every night without fail.
Exhaling a shaky breath, he approached the foot of your bed and cautiously peeled off your frilly duvet, leaving you exposed in your pink pyjama shorts and bralette. He’d seen it several times but the sight of your bare skin never failed to drive him wild; his self-control and morals flew out the window as soon as you were together like this- the cloudy stillness and quiet of your placid bedroom insulating you both from the outside world and its restrictions.
He reached out to lift your bralette, raising it just enough for your nipple to pop out and harden in the cool night air. His mouth watered at the sight, wanting so badly to lock his lips around it that his cock grew painfully hard and strained against his trousers.
Tracing his fingers down your hips, he hooked them around your little shorts and pulled on them gently, your cotton panties coming off with them.
He has to cover his mouth with an open palm to stop the groan from slipping out when he sees the glistening wetness nestled between your plush thighs.
“What are you dreaming about, princess?” He mutters as he rubs his thumbs against your inner thighs before carefully spreading them, ensuring your legs are wide open but comfortably supported by the surrounding pillows. He lowers himself so that he’s only a few inches away from your heat, taking in the glorious view before him.
He’d fallen in love the very moment he laid eyes on you- but he instantly got the sinking feeling that his feelings weren’t reciprocated. You saw him at most as a friend, a convenient guy to have around, a perfectly suitable roommate. He was under no illusions that you would ever requite his love- how could you when his feelings were so intense?
Deciding he couldn’t take it any longer, he unzipped his trousers and lowered his boxers, letting his heavy cock spring out and slap against his abdomen. Try as he may, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your lips, which fell into a pretty o shape as you peacefully snoozed. Some dribble gathered in the corner of your mouth and he couldn’t help but kneel and hover above you, staring. He needed to feel your lips on his cock.
Wrapping a hand around his veiny shaft, he pumped it with a couple of rough strokes before resting his blushed tip against your pink lips. The precum oozed out and smeared against your plump bottom lip, moistening it just enough for Anakin to slide his cockhead smoothly past it. He let out a soft moan as your mouth enveloped his throbbing cock, languid wet tongue brushing past it as he slowly glided in and out- the sight of his cock on your lips too much to bear.
Gently pushing his hips forward, he guided the tip to the back of your mouth, the ridged roof sending shivers down his spine. You moaned dreamily, the vibrations from your hums making his cock twitch. When you began to toss and turn, he quickly pulled out and took a step back- the thrill turning him on beyond belief.
Setting his sights on your unfurled legs, he creeps onto the bed and positions himself between them.
“What a pretty little pussy.” He shakes his head in disbelief, knowing he has never before and would never again see anything so beautiful.
Pushing his swollen tip between your folds, he gathers your slick and coats his length in it as he glides along your slit- your thighs involuntarily contracting a little every time he brushes past your clit.
The pained expression on Anakin’s face was apparent- he had never gone this far before. His chest tightened at the thought of violating you in this new way, both out of guilt and excitement. He relieved himself of culpability by assuring himself it was okay- he loved you and was just taking care of you. It’d been a while since you’d been with anyone and your frustration had begun to show- what kind of friend would he be if he let you suffer like that?
Spreading your folds apart with his thumb and forefinger, he gathered a glob of spit and let it dribble from his lips to your entrance before smearing it messily with his cock.
Lining the leaky tip against your opening, he delicately pushes in, stretching you out inch by inch. Even though it feels like torture to deny himself, Anakin sets a meticulously slow pace, paranoia chasing him. His girthy cock plunged into your cunt, bullying it into submission with painfully laboured thrusts.
Anakin bit his lip and scrunched his eyebrows at the sight of your tiny hole being stretched to full capacity, clenching needily around his length. He took this as confirmation that you needed him just as much as he needed you, deluded into believing your desire was apparent with the way your pussy gripped him.
Your breathing sped up and your heart rate rose- your body’s attempt at rousing you- but still, you remained asleep.
Anakin couldn’t believe his luck- he had been dreaming about what it’d be like to be inside you and now that your warmth had finally enveloped him, it was better than he could’ve ever imagined. He often scolded you for how naive you were but it was his favourite thing about you- the trust you felt for him was palpable in the way you gazed at him adoringly. The warm, wet comfort of your heat made him feel electric and he couldn’t help but want more- he wanted to lay hold of everything you had to give. He lifted you by the hips and impaled you onto his cock, forcing it even deeper until you were flush against him, the imprint of his member bulging through your lower stomach.
“Oh, baby…fuck.” He whimpered, barely above a whisper. “I wonder if you could take me this well when you’re awake.”
The room heated up with Anakin’s heavy breathing and your stuffy, sleepy moans. As roughly as he thought he could get away with, he pounded into you little by little, using your pussy like it was his to ruin. Your shared arousal gleamed in the dim moonlight, illuminating how his thick shaft disappeared into you with ease.
He tried not to grip your hips too roughly but with the way your pussy moulded around his cock like it was made for him, he couldn’t help but dig his fingernails into your flesh. The sight enraptured him so much that he didn’t even notice when your pretty eyes fluttered open, widening in shock.
The second your gazes met, he leapt to cover your mouth with his heavy palm.
“Don’t.” He breathed, crazed eyes daring you to scream just to show you what would happen.
You shook your head frantically, eyebrows swooping in distress.
“Be a good girl and stay quiet for me. Can you do that?” He continued thrusting into you, maintaining eye contact as he sunk his cock into your used-up pussy. You nodded hectically, wondering if you were still dreaming.
“Good, ‘cus I really wouldn’t wanna hurt you, baby.” He whined.
Now that he didn’t have to worry about waking you up, he could take you as roughly as he wanted. Stooping down to your chest, he popped a nipple into his mouth and sucked it forcefully, red marks streaking your breasts as he bit and drooled all over them.
“A-ani…what are you doing?” You cry out in utter disbelief after he releases the hand silencing you to knead your breast.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I jus’ couldn’t hold back anymore.” He moans as he brutally stuffs your pussy, the sound of lewd smacking reverberating around your cosy bedroom. “I couldn’t wait any longer.” He pulls away from your chest, drool hanging off his swollen lips.
“But I’ll make it up to you, baby.” His voice falters as he slams his hips into you sharply. He’s so deep your entire body feels overwhelmingly full.
“Just let me use you.” His husky voice makes you break out into a flurry of goosebumps as you clench frightfully around his girthy cock.
“You understand, right?” He questions but his hand has already snaked its way back up to your mouth. All you can respond with are muffled cries and whimpers, hushed by his thick palm. “I know you do, you’re my good girl.”
You look down to observe the frenzied way in which Anakin shatters his cock into your tiny cunt, wetness dribbling down your thighs and making your eyes roll to the back of your head.
“I’m gonna stuff this pussy full of my cum.” He growls to himself as beads of sweat roll down his forehead, blonde curls dampened.
“Nmmh!” You squeak, shaking your head in disapproval as best you could with the way he was restraining you.
“Oh yes I am. And you’re gonna love it.” He rolls his hips and sinks into you impossibly deep before pulling all the way out. “Look at that, doll. How are you so wet?” He gestures for you to look down at the way gloopy strands of arousal hang off his throbbing cock, the base soaked with your slick.
You observe with shock, writhing in confusion over how your body had betrayed you. You whine and sob as he slides back in, dragging you impossibly close to him as you claw at the pink sheets.
“Shh…I know, baby. I know.” He whispers as he wraps his hands around your jaw, thumbs rubbing against your dampened cheeks comfortingly.
“I’m almost done, baby.” He rests his forehead against yours and you feel lightheaded from the sudden wave of body heat. His hands travel back down to your hips, raising your ass as he fucks up into you with dizzying speed.
“Come on, sweetheart. Cum all over my cock.” He mutters breathlessly. “I know you want to.”
You try to fight it but your back arches instinctively and your fingers dig into his shoulders as his cock stretches your aching pussy wide. He bottoms into you mercilessly and you feel as though you’re about to slip out of consciousness. With one last thrust, your body explodes into flames and the searingly pleasurable sensation travels to every last one of your nerves.
“That’s it, baby.” He speeds up, chasing his own high. “I knew you’d love my cock. Should’ve let me do this sooner.”
You pant as your heartbeat tries to regulate itself, sprawled and utterly fucked out. Anakin hovers above you, raising your thigh and pressing it against his chest as he ruts into you with feverish intensity. Just as you thought you couldn’t take any more, he comes undone in a loud climax, throwing his head back as he shoots ropes of hot cum into your sore pussy.
Catching his breath, he shoots you a grin as he combs the messy curls out of his face, pulling his cock out and allowing the gloopy mess to run.
“Sorry about this, doll.” He shrugs before reaching for the lamp on your bedside table.
“Wait, Ani-“ You put your arm out but he pins it down by your side before knocking the metal base against your temple, rendering your whole world black.
The blinding light shining out of your bedroom window finally wakes you. You shield yourself from the sunny glare with an arm draped over your eyes, scrunching your face up when the pain radiating from your head suddenly hits you. Glancing over to the alarm clock on your bedside table, your heart almost jumps out of your throat. You were supposed to be at work hours ago yet here you still were, in your pyjamas and cosily tucked in.
You crawl out of bed as you try to piece together the broken fragments of your memory; did you forget to set the alarm? It must’ve been those sleeping pills Anakin gave you- so much for his promise that they wouldn’t make you drowsy. Before you can even reach the door, there’s a knock.
“Hey, you awake?” Anakin pops his head through and gives you a look of concern.
“Just woke up now. Somehow managed to completely sleep through the work day.” You shake your head, confusedly tapping at your bruised temple. “Those pills of yours have given me a killer migraine.”
“What? No, it can’t be from them- I’ve taken them a million times and never had any side effects.” He steps into the room and holds a flat palm up to your forehead. “Oh, honey. You’re burning up.”
“Am I?” You go to feel but he swats your hand away.
“You must have a fever.” He tuts. “Why don’t you go back to bed and I’ll get you some painkillers for that poor head of yours?”
“I won’t be accepting any more drugs from you, thank you very much.” You laugh as you let him guide you back under your duvet.
“Completely understandable. My bad, doll.” He chuckles, folding in the edges of the blanket. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Get some rest.” He tries to take a step back but you instinctively grab onto his wrist.
“Wait.” You groan pathetically. “Can you stay with me for a little while?”
“Of course.” He flashes you that beaming smile of his and you’re struck by a sense of familiarity. He treads over to the other side of bed and joins you under the covers, wrapping his arms around you and letting your head rest on his chest.
“This is gonna sound strange, but…” Your mind races at a mile-a-minute as you come to grips with the sudden onset of images that have flooded your brain. “I think I might’ve dreamt about you.”
“Oh?” He raises his eyebrow and smirks. “What was it about?”
You struggle to put the pieces together; all you can see is a hazy vision of Anakin between your legs, bullying his cock into you as you lay there helpless.
“I can’t even say, it’s so messed up.” You shake the thoughts away, a shiver running through you.
“Sounds more like a nightmare, doll.” He tucks an unruly piece of hair behind your ear. “But it wasn’t real. Just a dream.”
“I know. You’d never do anything like that.” You scoff assuredly and he kisses the top of your head. His gentle touch seizes your chest and you have to focus on regulating your breathing. He’d never guess it but you’d had a fervid crush on Anakin for as long as you’d known him.
“You’re safe here with me.” He brings you closer and you snuggle deeper into his chest, subtly inhaling his sweet, musky scent, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “Now get some rest, darling.” He strokes your hair comfortingly.
“Mmm…love you, Ani.” You unknowingly slip out in a quiet hum before drifting off to sleep.
Anakin seizes up in shock at your admission, total surprise consuming him. You loved him? He couldn’t stop the wide grin from unfurling across his blissful face nor the way his heart leapt with joy from the two simple words. He hadn’t ever allowed himself to treat this as a possibility- it was an undisputed fact that you were too good for him and he never let himself be deluded into thinking otherwise. The elation he felt in holding you in that moment, knowing you wanted to be held back was beyond words.
But just as quickly as the ecstasy flooded his veins, the solemn realisation of his sins hit him like a hammer. A nauseating sense of guilt and regret crept up on him like a maggot into a rose, casting a dark shadow on any future you could’ve had.
What had he done?
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#anakin skywalker#hayden christensen#star wars fanfiction#anakin skywalker smut#anakin x reader#anakin skywalker fanfiction#anakin x you#anakin fanfiction#star wars smut
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hi<333 can i do like a fluff and smut request for aaron hotchner? a virgin//very innocent reader (18+, ofc) who’s maybe spencer’s sister or something, and she meets aaron and he knows she has a crush on him? super flirty banter and lots of touching until it drives the reader crazy, but she won’t admit that it makes her horny? eventually aaron, who’s always so blunt, asks if she’s horny at that moment, and they have a talk about her wants and needs? maybe daddy issues! reader? obv eventual full smut
idk i’m a sucker for daddy! aaron taken innocent readers virginity
thank u <333
how you managed to land a job at the bau, the behavioural analysis unit, at the f-b-fucking-i is beyond you. you’d answered an ad, filled out a form, did a quick interview and boom. you’d been appointed to a team.
granted, it was only as an assistant, most likely running the team’s coffees, but still. that’s running coffees for the fbi. how many people can say they do that for a living?
you walked in on your first day a bundle of nerves. you’d chosen your cutest-but-still-work-appropriate outfit and genuinely tried to walk in with your head held high. but the whispers and mutters that followed you through the bullpen left you more nervous than you’d started. willing yourself not to run, you sped up your pace slightly and trotted up the stairs that lead you to your new boss’s office.
you knocked on the door quickly, trying to soothe your racing heart.
“come in.” a deep voice called you, commanding and loud. you cracked the door open and stood awkwardly at the threshold. your eyes widened as you took in the scene.
the man that sat before you was nothing you’d ever seen before. it was as if he’d been crafted from the purest marble sent by the gods, chiselled away at by the most experienced and meticulous hands. he was incredible, deep, black eyes that matched the neat hair on his head, the quirk of his questioning eyebrow as you gawked at him.
“m-mr- detective hotchner. I’m y/n y/l/n, your new assistant?” you squeaked out, trying not to cringe at how shaky and scared you sounded. his face cleared, like ripples calming on a pond, leaving it smooth and glassy. like a pond who’s lips you wanted to capture on yours and-
“ah, of course! come on in and take a seat,” he rose from his desk and held his hand out with a soft smile.
your feet moved of their own accord, moving you closer to the beautiful man as you placed your hand in his. his other hand came up to clasp yours as they shook, yours disappearing beneath his. once he released your hand, you both sat down at the same time. the guest chair situated at his desk was slightly uncomfortable and you tried not to squirm in the plastic.
“would you like a tea? coffee?” he asked you, closing the manila folder on his desk and tucking it away.
“I feel like I should be asking you that,” you joked with an airy laugh and you tried to fight the swoon that threatened you at the sound of his own chuckle.
“don’t worry about that just yet. let’s get you acquainted before we start rushing you off your feet,” he said with a quick smile.
the two of you then started discussing your boundaries. what you were willing to do, what you’re a little more less experienced in doing. he assured you multiple times that you would be kept well away from any unsubs, no matter who requested what of you.
“I don’t want you in any danger, y/n. it is my responsibility to keep you safe.” he’d said in a serious tone, making himself clear to you.
a week later, you found yourself in an nypd precinct, listening to the detectives spitball theories. you were perched on a spinny desk stool offered by mr hotchner - having not yet got past addressing him as his formal name, no matter how many times he insisted you call him hotch - as he perched on the desk behind you. his hands gripped the edges of the desk, knuckles ever so gently brushing your back each time you squirmed in your seat.
“…targeting women much like this young lady here,” you flushed as the captain of the precinct gestured a hand towards you. he chuckled and winked at mr hotchner above you. “better keep your assistant safe, detective hotchner.”
he went on to give more details of the case to his team, but you couldn’t listen. your breath was caught in your chest and anxiety curled itself into your chest.
“hey, hey, it’s ok.” mr hotchner mumbled from above you, leaning down slightly towards your ear. you felt his knuckles gently skimming up and down your back. the action calmed you slightly and you leaned into his touch. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
the words made you swoon… and strangely… made your core clench? a frown briefly furrowed your brow and you wondered what caused such a reaction down there. you had rarely felt anything down there apart from pain during your period, and you hadn’t felt such a… tingly feeling since your teenage years.
the captain dismissed his team and he and the rest of the bau came over to you and mr hotchner. their appearance made him sit back up and move his hand back to gripping the edge of the desk.
“so, what’s the move, hotch?” derek asked, folding his arms and adjusting his stance.
mr hotchner hummed and frowned, bringing a hand up to his mouth. you gently rolled your chair to the side a little so that you weren’t in the way, not liking how the attention on him made you feel out of place. mr hotchner began reeling off his plan, giving jobs out to the members of his team. his tone was commanding and firm, leaving no room for argument as the team started their investigation for the case.
“..and, y/n, could you collect some menus from restaurants in the area for us all to look over so we can decide on a place for dinner?” he asked you, his voice significantly softer and kinder with a gentle hand on your shoulder. you nodded and gathered your things, heading over to the briefing room where the team had set up.
throughout the day, you couldn’t shake that ache and tingle in your core. you lay back on the hotel bed, staring at the ceiling above you with your hands folded on your stomach. your core was throbbing by now, begging for… you didn’t know what for. but it throbbed. and ached.
you’d never… done anything down there. never touched it or had it touched. back in high school, your friends would always tell you about their sex lives and who they were sleeping with. but you were always too… shy. too nervous to do any of that. so you stuck to yourself, no matter how people teased you for being a virgin. and you had always had that in the back of your mind whenever anyone had tried to initiate anything with you. how inexperienced you were. how you didn’t know what you were doing. so you’d stop it all entirely. and that’s how you ended up here, 26 and not once touched.
maybe mr hotchner wouldn’t mind… you found yourself thinking. you often found yourself thinking of what mr hotchner thought of you. if he liked you at all. you were pretty sure he did, he was very nice to you and gentler with you than he was with everyone else. he was almost like a father to the group…
he was more of a father than your own was. your father came and went from your home as he pleased, leaving you to care for your sick mother yourself. and when he was home… it wasn’t very pretty. you cringed at the amount of times you had to pick your own bedroom lock after he’d left again so that you could tend to your mother. you were scared of your father, knowing he could find you whenever he wanted to find you. the thought made you sick to your stomach.
you huffed and shifted onto your side, pushing the duvet off of you. your eyes drifted to the digital clock you’d brought with you, 12:46. not great considering you had to be up at 6am the next day. but sleep seemed like a foreign mystery to you at that time, so you decided a cold shower would help shake this unusual feeling from your core. so that’s what you did, kicking the duvet away and padding over to the en-suite.
you sat in the briefing room of the precinct slightly dazed the next day. you’d slept in by accident, and the sound of derek banging on your door was what woke you up. at 6:57am.
mr hotchner sat beside you as he watched the captain at the front of the room, describing his theories. your tired gaze was fixed on the pot of pens in the middle of the table as you zoned everything out. the strange tingly feeling was back in your core, poking at your entrance. it had started when you were making coffees for everyone and mr hotchner had leaned over you from behind to grab you the pot of sugar you couldn’t reach, his hand placed gently on your waist. the interaction had left you breathless and… throbbing. you squirmed in your seat and pressed your thighs together, praying it would go away.
you screwed your eyes tight shut and opened them again, your eyes flitting to the movement you saw in the corner of them. mr hotchner had his hands folded on the table, wringing them together. his knuckles and fingers flexed, the veins in the back of his hands popping. his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his pale forearms and the large vein that struck out there. you blinked your eyes hard again, not understanding why this only increased the ache in your core and made your hole clench up tight.
your attention was drawn back to the room as everybody began rising from the table, heading to do their tasks for the day. you followed, grabbing leftover books and folders. a hand encircled your upper arm and you came face to face with jj giving you a soft smile. the door clicked behind derek, leaving you and jj alone in the room.
you liked jj. she was a lovely girl. the two of you had quickly become close and she was the first one - besides mr hotchner - to ask you to run an errand that wasn’t coffee. the two of you often gossiped with penelope garcia and sometimes elle greenaway too, the girls more of them than not sharing their ‘sex-capades’ as penelope likes to call it. jj was one of the first to really trust you.
“hey, sit down for me,” she said, sitting in the seat beside you and retracting her hand. you sat down too, following her actions mutely. “you ok? you’ve been a little… out of it. hotch asked me to talk to you.”
you cringed a little at that, not liking how mr hotchner had acknowledged your not-all-there-ness.
“I-I’m fine. I just… dunno. things have been a bit… different lately.” you said, folding your legs and pressing your hands together.
“different?”
“yeah. I just… you know you were telling me about that guy you met. the one who… slept over at your house.” jj chuckled a little at your euphemism but nodded.
“yes, I remember. why, has a guy slept over at your house recently?” excitement gleamed in her eye a little but you quickly shook your head.
“nono! no… but… you remember you said you felt… achey down there? the good achey.” you said and jj slowly nodded.
“well… i’ve just been… feeling that. and… I don’t know what to do about it.” you mumbled. “and… I don’t wanna… touch myself-“ your voice dropped to a whisper and you cleared your throat “-but… it needs to stop.”
jj chuckled a little.
“okaaay, well. do you know what caused it?”
you hesitated before nodding quickly but stayed mute.
“do you… wanna tell me?”
you shook your head quickly.
“right. well. whatever or whoever has turned you on-“ you cringed “-is most likely what will help to get rid of it. and yes, y/n, that means sex.” she chuckled fondly at the way you cringed again. she stood up, placed a hand on your shoulder and kissed your temple lightly. “you’ll be fine, y/n/n. I believe in you.”
and with that, she left the briefing room.
for the rest of the week, the tingle mostly stayed with you. on the jet back to quantico, you sat at the very back, thighs pressed firmly together and head fuzzy. your eyes stared straight ahead but were unseeing and your plush lips were parted but soundless.
your eyes flickered over to the movement in the corner of your eye, catching mr hotchner as he stepped out of the bathroom while shaking his hands to rid them of the lingering water droplets. his eyes met yours and he sent you a quick, fond wink with a smile. you swooned internally at his large presence, wanting nothing but for the older man to swoop you up and-
you stopped yourself and looked away before your thoughts could become any more explicit.
your eyes widened as you realised mr hotchner was walking towards you. he wore a kind smile as he took the seat beside you and placed a hand on your forearm. he gently unclasped your hands as you anxiously wrung them together and moved the one nearest to him to the armrest that separated his and your seats, his large fingers softly encircling your wrist.
“hey, did jj talk to you?” he asked you, voice politely low to keep your conversation private. you could only dumbly nod your head, eyes lost in his. “good, good. is everything ok?”
you actually swooned slightly this time at his protectiveness but managed to force your voice out of your throat.
“u-uh- yeah. I’m fine just… bit of a strange week,” you were glad mr hotchner took your words the way he did, assuming you meant ‘strange’ in regards to this being your first case.
“I agree,” he chuckled. “and an awful unsub to be your first, please understand that not everyone in the world is like that.”
you giggled in response.
“do you need me to grab you anything, sir?” you asked him, wondering why he was taking an interest in your well-being; no older male had ever done that for you. his brow furrowed.
“no, no, I was checking if you’re ok. the health of my team is important to me. you’re important to me, y/n.” his face was full of sincerity as he spoke and his eyes twinkled. your own eyes, on the other hand, threatened to fill with tears as a ball settled in your chest. your throat was suddenly raw and your head ached.
“oh…” was all you could force out.
“y/n, are you ok?” you nodded quickly and bolted to the bathroom, stumbling down the aisle of the jet.
in the toilet, you could feel your breath shortening rapidly. he cared about you. no man had ever said such words to you, and if they had, it was never to your face. but for some reason, you panties felt… sticky. and that familiar ache settled in your core. you tried to muffle your whine of desperation as the feeling returned, desperately trying to figure out just why you were feeling distraught and… turned on, as jj had called it.
once the jet landed, you grabbed your bag from the overhead locker and hurried inside of the bau building to dump everything at your desk. you sat in your desk chair and took a big sigh. mr hotchner had asked you to stay a while in case the team needed anything, so you did just that.
you checked the time on the big clock opposite your desk. 5:34pm. nice, not too late. mr hotchner said the team didn’t take long to debrief after a case, unless fbi time and civilian time worked differently.
which you assumed it did, because the team didn’t leave the briefing room until 6:15. you had pages and pages of notes that mr hotchner had asked you to take.
your distress had passed now, but that ache was refusing to leave. you sat back at your desk and huffed, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to shift the tension elsewhere.
from the desk near yours, derek shot you a quirked brow.
“you ok there, sweet girl?” he asked and you couldn’t help but flush at the nickname.
“I told you not to call me that.” was all you could mumble as you dumped your notepad in your drawer. derek grinned and pushed his chair over, leaning his beefy forearms on the desk.
“why? cuz it makes you all flustered?” he teased. you sat back in your chair and huffed.
“normally, it’s a compliment. but I’m not really in the mood for compliments right now.” you sighed, pushing a bouncy ball penelope had given you around your desk. you gently flicked it to him and he stopped it with his fingers before flicking it back. the two of you played the little game of rolling the ball between each other as you talked.
“why? cuz you all frustrated?” he smirked and you frowned, still not lifting your eyes to his.
“I’m not frustrated, I’m just… flat.” you said and he chuckled.
“no, no, I mean… sexually frustrated.” you blushed a deeper red at his words and sat up straight in your chair.
“I-I am not! shush!” you scooped the ball up in your fingers and bounced it against his forehead. he flinched slightly and chuckled with a grin.
“come on, the whole bau can see you got it bad for hotch. we’re behavioural analysts. and, if it helps, he’s got it bad for you too.” he winked at you and bounced the ball across the desk to you.
“no he doesn’t.” you grumbled as you swung your chair side-to-side slightly. derek chuckled again and rolled his eyes.
“whatever you say, sweet girl,” he grinned, winking again before he rolled his chair back to his desk. you frowned, easily seeing that he didn’t believe you.
eventually, people began drifting home. penelope was the first to leave, humming a tune and loudly calling goodbye as she went. then it was jj, and then derek. gideon left soon after, quickly followed by elle, leaving you and spencer in the bullpen.
mr hotchner was tucked away in his office working on some paperwork. he had come down a few times while the team were dispersing to refill his mug and grab a snack. his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his tie loosened. his forearms were on display, that one vein running down making your head foggy.
at one point, as the temperature in the bullpen dropped as the night went on, he had noticed your shivering and draped his blazer around you. he had stood over you with a fond smile as he helped you slip your arms into the blazer. your cheeks had flushed red and you were unable to tear your eyes from his. once he’d walked off, spencer had thrown you a look before quickly looking back to his folder.
the action had once again settled an ache in your core, your entrance clenching tight as his scent invaded your senses. you fought every urge tugging at your nerves to bring the blazer up to your nose and inhale.
“night, y/n,” spencer said with a quick open-handed wave before he clutched his satchel to his stomach and left.
“see ya later, spencer,” you smiled at him as he walked away. the elevator dinged, indicating his descent, leaving you and mr hotchner alone in the building.
you glanced over your shoulder to his office. the blinds were drawn and soft light spilled from beneath the crack of his door. you sighed, fiddling with the hem of his blazer. you sighed and turned back to your computer screen, looking at the game of solitaire you were playing to distract yourself from your throbbing and wet core. you glanced at the clock on the bottom of your screen, 9:54pm. damn… a few minutes later, mr hotchner’s door opened and his footsteps descended the stairs.
“spencer went home?” he asked. you hummed in response, tearing your eyes away from the cards automatically flitting up to their correct spaces and giving him a smile. mr hotchner smiled as he saw your screen. “nice game.”
“thanks, beat my record.” you suddenly blushed. “sorry, I shouldn’t be playing games on company time.”
“that’s quite alright.” mr hotchner said with a smile, leaning on the edge of your desk and folding his arms. “you don’t have any tasks to do.”
you would’ve nodded, if you weren’t too distracted by the sight of his arms almost right in front of your face. you shifted in your seat as your core throbbed with heat and your mouth suddenly filled with saliva.
“y/n?…” the sound of mr hotchner’s deep voice calling you back to reality snapped you from your trance.
“I-I’m sorry- I- I was distracted-“ “y/n, are you horny right now?”
your mind blanked. you stared at his face with a surprised expression, your brows raised and lips parted. you couldn’t think, only embarrassment coiling in your chest.
“I-…” you trailed off, not finding the words to answer your boss’s such blunt question. your core ached again, however, and you could feel wetness gush into your panties. his fingertips gently grasped your jaw and he leaned down to you a little.
“I asked you a question, y/n,” he commanded with a slight smirk, clearly enjoying the power imbalance between the two of you. you swallowed and tried to fight the feeling of your eyes glazing over. “are. you. horny?”
“I am.” your voice came out in a whisper.
“what was that? I’m gonna need you to speak up, sweetheart.”
“I am. I-I’m horny, sir,” mr hotchner’s smirk grew at your words and his fingers caressed your jaw.
“good girl! using her big girl words.” you lapped up the praise tumbling from his lips and subconsciously shuffled closer. he chuckled at this. “so eager. you want your big boss to help you?”
“please…” your hand came up to hold his wrist as he squished your cheeks in one big hand and gently tilted your head up a little further. he hummed in faux sympathy before chuckling.
“come to my office. i’m going to sit down and you’re going to lock the door and close the blinds.” his hand moved to cup your cheek before he went to sit behind his desk.
you scrambled to fulfill his order, hurrying quickly after him. you stood at the door, fingers fumbling around the lock before darting to pull at the blinds. the warmth between your legs was now hot and poking at your untouched hole.
“sit.” mr hotchner ordered, gesturing to the seat before his desk. you did so, pressing yourself into the plush cushions. “now. let’s talk about what you’re comfortable with before we start. what kind of things are you into?”
your mind blanked.
how did you know what you were into if you’ve never done anything?…
HERE YOU GO SORRY ITS SO LATE!!!
PART TWO WILL BE LINKED HERE 🩷🩷
#x reader#smut#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch x you#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner smut#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#criminal minds aaron hotchner
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DO I WANNA KNOW ? ~ LEON S. KENNEDY.
Summary: Leon just had to take the chance.
Word count: 3.814k / Warnings: stepcest, dddne, mild dubcon at first.
Contents 18+: unprotected sex, missionary, he eats your pussy thru the damn panties, he got a big dick (canon), praising, clit-slap (?), creampie, risky sex.
Pairing: Stepbrother! Leon S. Kennedy X Fem! Reader.
Author note: writing got a little rusty.... but!!! i had fun writing this （＾ν＾）stepbro leon is 2 die 4. kudos to the anon who sent the idea of stepbro leon into my inbox. ilyyyyy 🩷
🖥️ MAIN MENU
🎬 MDNI. DARK CONTENT.
DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR MODIFY ANY OF MY WORKS. ©️ KENNEDYBABY
have you no idea that you’re in deep? i dreamt about you nearly every night this week. how many secrets can you keep?
You drive him insane. Literally. And it’s not even your fault, you were nothing but a sweetheart and Leon was nothing but a complete, degenerate mess when it comes to you.
You were the forbidden fruit that Leon desperately wanted to devour.
There’s a time when he’s left alone in his room after a long, exhausted day at work and all he could think about was you. It doesn’t help how he always had to come home late due to his late-night patrols around the city and all he can hear within the thin walls was your muffled moans and the sound of your fingers squelching and pushing into your cunt. You didn’t know about two things; One, Leon coming back home late because he always makes sure not to make too much noise when he’s downstairs. Two, Leon pressing his ear against the wall with his cock in his fist, furiously stroking up and down to the sound of your mewls. By the time you were done, all he can hear is the water running and splashing in the marbled sink of your bathroom as you washed your hands clean while he was reaching for tissues to wipe his semen off his sheets and abs.
It sort of become a daily routine for Leon. It’s wrong, he knows, you’re his stepsister and the thoughts he had for you in mind were nowhere near appropriate for someone who he should consider as his little sister. But he can’t just suppress the thoughts and feelings he had, the more he pushed aside, the more it grows and torments him, basically eating him alive. The fact that he lives under the same roof as you alone makes things harder for him, but he wasn’t complaining. Not one bit.
Leon gets to see you, a lot. He’d see you laying on your stomach with your shirt slightly ridden up on your back and your shorts hugging the curve of your ass, baby pink panties peeking thru its hem without you noticing it. And sometimes, his eyes would linger on you longer than he anticipated, his teeth biting the inside of his cheeks as his feet nervously tapped on the wooden flooring. You’d bend down in front of him to pick up the spoon on the floor and his breath would hitch seeing the outline of your pussy strained against your shorts. You were none the wiser, oblivious to the way his eyes flittered on your body and your lips but never directly on your eyes.
Because if Leon did look you in the eyes, he would feel guilty for thinking about bending you over the kitchen counter and fuck you stupid when you genuinely wanted to know how his day went at work.
“Leon?” You softly call out his voice, knuckles knocking on the door of his bedroom before Leon rushed to answer you. The sweat on his forehead was quickly wiped with the back of his hand, and his breathing ragged as he adjusted himself. “Yeah?” His voice was strained, exhausted from his work. “Can I come in?” Your fingers toyed with the steel doorknob, leaning your forehead lightly against his door. You heard the small ‘yeah’ before he opened it to you. Lips curling into a small smile, you looked up at him before you stepped inside his room. “Were you sleeping? I didn’t mean to bother.” You said to him, sitting on the edge of his bed before you crossed your legs. “No, no, I was just... Resting.” He replied, his eyes following your every move. Pushing the strands off your face, you tilt your head to the picture of you and him on his bedside.
“Aw, you still kept this?” You hold up the photo frame at him, your thumb glided on the glass surface gently as you gaze at it. “Why wouldn’t I?” He shrugged before he takes a sit next to you on his bed, purposely grazing his fingers against your thighs as he bite back the urge to let out a content sigh.
“I was so cute back then,” Your lips slightly puckered out, pouting at the sight of your younger version in the picture. A warm spread throughout your chest, it’s nice to know Leon keeps this photo of you and him— it makes you feel special. “You’re still so cute now.” His compliment brings heat to your cheeks, your elbow finding their way to playfully nudge his ribs before a soft chuckle left past your lips when he nudged you back. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” You rolled your eyes, placing back the picture frame on the table before you leaned back and lay on his bed with a small thud.
“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.” He grinned at you, laying back next to you before he take a deep breath. He’d glanced at you, once, just one look on your face before he quickly avert his eyes away from you and glued them back on the ceiling. Leon knows he would end up staring at you, it’s a bad habit. He can’t help it, just the way your eyes drowsily looked up to the ceiling, your lips slightly parted as your fingers cling to his pillow. He wondered if your fingers would cling to the meat of his thighs if he was fucking your throat, filling every corner of your mouth with his cock until hot tears streamed down your wet cheeks— “They didn’t even tell me they were out of town.” The sound of your voice cutting thru the silence pause his thoughts before Leon tilts his head at you. “Why? You wanna go out or something? They’re just out attending my— our dad’s work party somewhere out of town in a hotel.” He stated.
‘Yeah, right, our dad. As if I wasn’t just thinking about fucking my stepsister.’ Leon thought to himself. God, he’s a sick, sick man.
“I know, I’m just really bored. That’s why I came here.” You said to him, completely oblivious to the fact that his eyes practically gleamed at your w. Leon sits up on his bed, his fingers pushing back the strands of hair on his face before he turned to look at you, a small smirk dawns on his lips. “So you come to me to have fun?” A small giggle left past your lips, the faint blush on your cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed. “Please, you make that sounds weird.” You shake your head, only to quickly shut down the fit of giggles you had when you feel his fingers brush against your thighs. Heat courses to your cheeks before a low hum emitted out of you, “Weird? I don’t know what you’re implying.” Leon does, he does. Fuck, this was probably the most he could do to you, just stroking your thighs as his fingers grow higher and higher as the warmth of your cunt radiates against his skin. He swallowed thickly, his fingers lightly squeezing the fat of your thighs before he leaned down to you. “Maybe you’re the weird one.”
Your eyes slightly widened, fingers quickly latching on his wrist before you stopped him from going further. “Leon,” You made a pathetic attempt to sound stern when you called his name when in reality, your voice sounded more like a whine as if you wanted him to keep going. “We can’t.” You didn’t say no, you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t want this too. You lose count of how many nights you spent, staying up watching taboo porn under your blanket with your fingers desperately stuffing your cunt and trying to relieve the ache between your legs while having Leon at the back of your head. You lose count of how many times you muffled out his name into your pillow every time you climaxes around your fingers during the darkest hour. And now that, Leon’s hand is practically inches away from grazing against your pussy, all you could do is looked away from his piercing gaze as you clench your thighs around his wrist. “It’s wrong.”
But it doesn’t mean neither he nor you wanted it less. Leon probably wanted it the most, his mind practically going haywire from how close your body is pressed to his.
“I can stop if you want, just say the word.” His voice was soft and you can’t help but look back into his eyes, before you lay there, contemplating if you should just go for it. Either you do it now, where no one’s home or never do it with him and to be honest, you would pick the first option in a heartbeat. “Keep going,” As soon as you let those words out, Leon leaned in to kiss you, his tongue pushing past your lips as explored every inch of your mouth. His hand resting on your cheek while the other is rubbing your clit thru your shorts with his index and middle fingers until there’s a damp spot forming on the fabric. Pulling away from the kiss with a string of saliva connected on the tip of each other tongues. “You’re so wet already,” He grinned, his face diving between the crook of your neck before he gently nibs your skin and sucked the fresh hickey he gives you on your neck.
“You love getting your pussy played by big brother?” When did that innocent nickname you used to call him make you so flustered? The way it smoothly rolled off to the tip of his tongue and the way his voice slightly dropped an octave made it sound lewd. You hated how much it turns you on, your cunt dripping with your arousal just from his little teasing. “Leon, stop embarrassing me.” You huffed in slight annoyance at his teasing before you hide your heated face with his pillow which Leon was not too happy with. He quickly takes the pillow off your grasp and throws it behind him, “No hiding, princess. D’you know how long I waited to do this?” Leon whispered to you, his lips kissing your jawline. “Too damn long.” He grumbled, pulling away from you before he kneels on the floor. His hands easily dragged you to the edge of his bed before he parted your thighs. “All I can think about is fucking you stupid, do you know how much that tortures me knowing I can’t?” He groans, his fingers were quick to slip the shorts off your legs and let them fall to the carpeted floor.
Leon couldn’t be bothered to take off your panties, instantly latching his lips on your clit thru your panties as he vigorously sucks on it with sheer fervour. The suddenness illicit a sharp gasp past your lips, your elbows and heels digging into his mattress as you watched his mouth clung to the bundle of nerves like no tomorrow with your thighs clamping around his head. “Shit, Leon...” You curse under your breath, head thrown back as he slurped every drop of you thru the thin undergarment. A soft moan croaks out of you as Leon finally pushed aside your panties, his tongue flattened before he dragged a long line on your pussy. “Taste so fucking good,” He can feel his cock straining in his pants, causing some discomfort but that was the last thing he care about, not when he was nose-deep into his stepsister’s sweet cunt. He could care less about anything when his mind is fixated on the way you rolled your hips and rides his tongue, smothering him before he pulled away for air.
“You’re so needy, baby.” Leon littered kisses on your inner thighs, the tip of his tongue flicking your clit causing your hips to jerk forward. His forearms push your hips down to the bed before he lightly slapped your clit and chuckles when you wince from the slight pain. “Don’t do that.” You whine, biting your lower lip back as you let yourself relish back into the pleasure when he kisses your clit, giving it a little suck and pulling away with a small pop. “I know, baby. Just wants you to stay still.” He said to you softly, his eyes shifting up to lock eyes with you. He loves the way your eyes tear up, your cheeks growing hot as your fingers cling to the bedsheets. He loves prodding his tongue into your warm hole while his thumb rubs your sensitive clit until you throw your head back into the pillow with your back arching into his tongue. “I’ll stay still,” It’s surprising how you can still talk properly despite being so high from the pleasure he’s giving you. A dribble of spit already starts dripping at the corner of your mouth, your eyes rolled to the back of your head each time Leon flattened his tongue and dragged it slowly on your dripping cunt until your body shuddered in pleasure.
Your fingers interlocked with his brown hair, tugging and pulling him closer as you slowly reached your climaxes. He didn’t mind, he like the feeling of your nails slightly digging into his scalp while you desperately chases your high. God, Leon probably won’t even mind if his head is bleeding from how hard you're tugging onto him if it meant having the chance to get a taste of your pussy and your soft thighs wrapped around his head. A strained scream sputtered out of your throat when you finally come undone in his mouth, your hips stuttering into his lips as Leon licks every drop of your juices and drank it down with a content grin. His hand reached down to his pants as he palmed his throbbing cock thru his pants, his fingers rubbing up and down on the outline of his shaft before he stands up from his knees. Leon pulled down his shorts until they slipped off his legs leaving him in his black boxer. The bed shifted as his knees digs into the cushion of his mattress.
“Want your cock,” Your words were slurred but you manage to whisper the words into his ears when he gets on top of you. You bring your fingers crawled up and cupped his face before you pulled him into a sloppy kiss, letting his teeth clashes against yours without a care in the world as his hands grip your waist. “Yeah? Beg for it.” He pulled away from the kiss, his blue eyes back into yours as you tucked your bottom lip under your teeth. It’s clear he won’t give you what you wanted until you actually say it to his face. A heavy sigh left your swollen lips, “Please, I need you inside of me. Fuck..." You paused, nuzzling your face to hide your warm cheeks into his neck before you continues, “Fuck your stepsister.” Leon grinned at your words, his lips leaving a small kiss on your collarbone before he pulled away to push down his boxer. “You got it, baby.”
Your eyes watered up as you mumbled a low curse when you feel the tip of his cock pushed into your cunt. It brings immediate weight to your chest as your breathing grows ragged, a part of you still refuses to believe this was happening— you’re fucking your stepbrother, allowing his fingers to gently pinch your hardened nipples while he buries his cock inch by inch. Your fingers quickly pressed against his chest, stopping him immediately as Leon shoot you a concerned look, his hand coming up to rest on your cheek.
“You okay?” He whispered to you when you let out a small wince, eyebrows knitted together before you looked down to where the two of you were connected. “It won’t fit, Leon.” You croak out a small cry, he’s stretching you apart and he’s not even all the way in. “It will, princess, just... I’ll take it slow, okay? It’s going to be okay.” Leon smiled after you weakly nodded your head to his assurance, your arms trails up to wrap around his neck before he slowly pushed himself inside of you. A low moan guttered out of his throat once he finally sheathed himself fully inside of your tight, sopping cunt. Cold sweats run down his forehead and body as he takes in every little noise you made underneath him.
He stayed in your arms for a few seconds before he retracts to prop up the back of your knee with his hand. Leon stared down at the way his cock formed a small bump on your pelvis before he moved his hips slowly, the pad of his thumb rubs your skin in a circular motion. “You’re taking me so well, baby,” Leon said to you in a hushed tone, his head slightly thrown back before he gulped down to the feeling of your inner walls pulsating around his cock. Leon averted his eyes from the ceiling back to your body, staring at the way your shirt pushed up over your chest, your fingers keeping your panties aside as he pushes himself in and out of your cunt at a slow, consistent pace. “Fuck, you feel so good.” He moaned eyes shutter tight before he exhaled a sharp breath. “God, you’re clinging to me,” Leon let out a soft chuckle, his lips finding their way to peck on your swollen ones. “Can’t help it... You’re too big. S’all your fault.” You mumbled, eyes dazedly looking up to him as drops of his sweat drips down to your body.
“I know, baby. It’s all my fault.” He cooed to you, his lips coming in contact with your forehead as he leaves a kiss. You didn’t even realise he had picked up his pace, his hips rocking back and forth faster than before as his balls slaps on your ass, filling the room with nothing but the sound of skin slapping and your wanton moans. “You’re taking it so well though, you love getting fucked by your big brother?” You hummed to his question, “Mhm, love gettin’ fucked by you.” You breathed out. Leon can feel his cock throb inside of you, the grip at the back of your knee tightening as his knuckles gradually whitened. The bedframe rocked back and forth, scratching the blue paint off his wall into straight, white lines as it squeaks under the weight of the two of you. You tried so hard not to glance at the picture of Leon and you on his bedside, almost staring back at the both of you with nothing but utter shame.
The two of you had crossed the line you knew you can’t back out from. Not that Leon cared, every logic in his head was thrown out of the window the second you told him to keep going.
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the way you digs your nails into his shoulders made his breath stagger. The friction between both yours and his body sends your mind into a frenzy that you almost, almost, made you miss the sound of the front door being unlocked and the sound of your parents happily chatting downstairs. “Fuck,” That was all Leon had to say to put a small pause on what he was doing, his forehead leaned against your shoulder as he bit his bottom lips back. He stayed silent for a few seconds before he rocks his hips back, taking you by surprise, “Leon, we should—" You parted your lips to speak only for his hand to go over your mouth, “Just be quiet. Be a good girl for me, yeah?" He says. You nodded, letting his hand press against your lips, your eyes shooting wide when his thrusts became more and more fervent as you wrapped your legs around his waist tightly.
Leaning your head back into his pillow, he took the advantage to leave marks all over your neck, nipping your soft skin until it turns into a slightly darker shade from your skin. Leon moves up to your face, giving you a small peck on the lips thru his hand before he let out a low chuckle. Removing his hand from the back of your knees to hold onto your waist while his other hand is over your lips, you can feel he’s getting faster and faster. Leon can feel it, he was getting so close and he can feel you were too with the way your inner walls tightened up around him, sucking him in deeper and deeper as the squelching sounds fills the room. “Can I cum in you, princess? Please, can I?” He begs, keeping his tone hushed as he whispered into your ear, sending the back of your hair stand up.
You frantically nodded, muffling out a small high-pitched ‘yeah’ to him before you glanced at the way his cock pushing in and out of you, glistening with your arousals under his bed lamp as Leon pushed his hips towards you, burying his cock deeper into a rougher pace. A choked scream left your lips when the orgasm comes washing over your body as you shut your eyes close, the grip around his shoulders tightening before your body falls limp under him. A sharp breath left his lips when he feels you finish around him before he quickly did the same, shooting his cum deep inside of you before he removed the hand over your mouth and pressed it against his bed to support himself. His muscles flexed as you watched his cock throb inside of you, spilling his warm seeds into your sensitive cunt before he pulls out from you with a groan. When he finally rides off his high, Leon looked down at the way your panties were scrunched up to the side as they pressed against your inner thigh— he was so eager to fuck you he didn’t even bother to take off your panties. Not that he’s complaining, it keeping his cum from spilling out of you.
“Fuck, baby..." Leon breathed out, a strained laugh falls past his lips before he leaned in to kiss you on the lips and pulled away afterwards. He stared back into your half-lidded stare, your chest heaved as you catches up with your breath. Your lips curled into a small smile when Leon brush the strand of hair off your face, “You should probably go back to your room, princess." He suggested, helping you sit up on his bed. His fingers played with the strap of your panties before he looked back at you, the corner of his lips curled into a playful smirk.
“Keep this on. I want you to go to bed with my cum inside of you. ”
#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader smut#leon s. kennedy#leon s. kennedy smut#resident evil smut#leon kennedy x female reader#tw. stepcest#stepbro!leon#stepbro! leon kennedy x reader#resident evil 4 x reader#resident evil 4 smut#stepbro leon smut#tw. dark content#tw. dubcon#leon s. kennedy fic#leon s. kennedy x you#leon kennedy x you
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back arched like a cat. (m.l)
PAIRING: mark lee x reader
GENRE: smut
WORD COUNT: 1k
SYNOPSIS: kitchen sex with mark lee
CONTENT WARNINGS: explicit content (18+), unprotected sex, kitchen sex, creampie, spanking, oral (female receiving), cum eating, dirty talk, cocky mark
AN| i'm not ok. i'll never recover from that mv. fuck (me) you mark lee. also, this is briefly based off the song 'stargirl interlude' by the weeknd and lana del rey. also, again, this is a quick piece because i was desperate.
You’re gasping for air, whiny moans fleeting past your lips as your fingernails scrape across the kitchen counter in search to grasp onto something to keep you stable, knowing you would’ve definitely crumbled to your knees if it wasn’t for Mark’s tight grip on your waist, his hips pistoning into yours at a speed that has your legs shaking from the force.
Tears spring in your eyes as Mark’s hand drags to the bottom of your spine, pushing down to arch your back further into him, allowing him to reach deeper places inside of you that have your toes curling as a cry rips from the back of your throat.
Mark’s chest rumbles with a grunt with each thrust of his hips, leaning over your body to mouth at the bare skin of your shoulder from where your tank top strap had slipped down during the fun, teeth nipping around the area.
Your cheek is pressed to the countertop, panting heavily against the marble tiles as Mark abuses your pussy, his other hand slipping down from your waist to dip between your legs, nimble fingers rubbing circles around your sensitive clit.
Your thighs squeeze around his hand with a wail and you hear Mark chuckle next to your ear, clearly enjoying how you’re reacting to him. He licks the shell of your ear as he feels your thighs quiver and your walls clamp around his cock, causing him to moan deeply.
“You like that? Hm?” Mark questions with a taunting hum. “I can feel your pussy squeezing around me. You really like getting fucked like this? In the kitchen where we eat?” He laughs as he sees you nod frantically. “Dirty girl𑁋fuck, I love it so much. Love it when you’re like this, taking my cock so well. That’s it, baby”
“Ma𑁋rk” You hiccup through salty tears, drool slipping past your lips as your body jolts with every movement, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the kitchen. He’s giggling behind you now, gripping your ass cheeks and sending a few playful slaps that has your mind whirling.
“So pretty bent over for me like this. So gorgeous. Fuck, you’re so wet” Mark rambles as he pounds his cock into your walls that spasm around him with each forceful thrust. You’re fully crying now, a blubbering mess at the pleasure and euphoria that buzzes through your veins, sending a thrill down your spine when Mark slaps your ass again.
“‘I𑁋shit𑁋I’m gonna𑁋” You cut yourself off with a gasp, knocking the dishes on the drying rack as you try to reach for something to keep yourself grounded as the pleasure in the pit of your belly tightens. “Fuck!”
“Yeah? You gonna cum?” Mark asks you and you pathetically nod your head. He grins, “Me too. Can I cum inside? Fill this pussy up? Do you want that, baby? Hm?”
“Please!” You plead, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Fill me up, Mark. Make me yours”
“Silly girl” Mark chuckles, leaning over your body once more to kiss the back of your neck. “You are mine”
Those simple words were enough to have you coming undone with a cry, coating his cock that fucks you through your orgasm, praising you as his hands stroke down your back but the sloppiness of his movements is enough for you to know what’s about to come next and you welcome it immediately, whining as he fills you up with his cum, shivering as you feel it leak out and drip down your thighs.
Your legs quiver as Mark pulls out of you, giving you no time to react as he spins you around to face him, crashing his mouth to yours in a heated kiss. His palms are flat against your cheeks, fingertips pressing into your skin to hold you to him as his tongue mingles with yours, grunting in your mouth as your teeth graze his tongue, chuckling between the kiss as he feels your hands desperately fist at his shirt.
But he takes a step back, smiling as he sees you chase his lips and hooks his arms beneath your thighs to lift you upwards, settling you down on the countertop behind yourself. You hiss as your base ass meets the cold tiles, wincing at the slight sting but you quieten when you watch Mark drops down to his knees in front of you, littering soft kisses around your inner thighs before he lurches forwards to shove his tongue between your folds, licking up at the mess he had created between your legs.
His name comes panting from your lips and you thread your fingers through his messy hair, grabbing needily at him to tug him even closer as he tastes you, lapping at your pussy with the most animalistic grunt you have ever heard rumble from his chest.
His tongue swirls around your sensitive clit and your thighs jerk around his head with a whine as you try to lean back from his touch but the grip he has on your legs forces you to remain still and a cry leaves you lips as he drags you closer to his face, not caring if he’s driving you into oversensitivity as he’s too busy lapping at you hungrily, your arousal and his cum lathering on his tongue.
“Taste so sweet” He moans between your folds, eyes lifting up to meet yours and his brows raises suggestively at you, “Always taste so sweet for me”
©𝗠𝗥𝗞𝗜𝗦
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DISCLAIMER: this version is different from the prev post on this au (vvv) in that this is the only incarnation of sj that ghost!yqy has encountered, and bingges dont keep popping up for a shizun. but yqy still goes down the simon petrikov route of self sacrifice for loved one(s)
ok so ghost!yqy in the modern world with reincarnated!sj
So. after pidw. yqy's physical body didnt survive, but his spirit Did. he failed sj so many times already, he's not going to fail him again, and through sheer determination and love and want he put himself back together (as hed always done)
him fixing himself wasnt really bc of his rational mind. if anything it was a glutteral, instinctual Need that really pushed him to mold himself into a being all over again. however bc his spirit is binded with xuansu's, on top of his spirit almost disappearing bc of how much scattered, bringing the pieces of himself together took a LOT of time
by the time he took form, sqq was long dead
not sure if he shouldve been the one to end lbg, but itd be kind of cool if that was the case
and so yqy, whose entire purpose is to protect sj, roams the world looking for his reincarnation
in the background apocalyptic shit happens that leads the world to abandon and/or forget about cultivation, which leads us to the modern world!!🥳
sj still has a hard-knock life on the streets and then with the qius--can u tell im a sucker for the history repeats itself trope. he doesnt remember anything, but he Does feel like someone is missing. like someone that Should be there Isnt. its a constant feeling in the back of his mind, but he always pushed it away to focus on the now.
like what happened in his first life, sj has enough of all the abuse and kills qjl. what Changes though is that yqy is finally--after thousands and hundreds of years--on time
yqy burns everything down.
sj isnt sure what to make of this malevolent being. no one else but him can see it, though people /can/ see when it moves things around. people have always mentioned to sj that they feel like someone's watching them, though when they look around no one is looking their way
it makes people leave him alone, which is honestly what sj prefers
its (he's?) his savior and he makes him feel safe, yes, but who knows when that wrath gets directed at himself. his head is screaming at the threat yqy poses while his instinct and soul tells him hes safest with yqy. for a long time sj walks on eggshells around yqy, sometimes trying to escape his presence
his attempts always fail, though. somehow.
he eventually starts to warm up to yqy. sj has a feeling that this...thing was always meant to be by his side (as illogical as that sounds). he no longer has that feeling of a missing presence, something he'd felt since he'd developed a consciousness as a very young child
sj even finds the ghost a bit endearing, in his infinite gentleness to contrast his terrifying, sharp form. he doesnt understand why the ghost is so protective over him (the ghost once almost flew into a destructive frenzy over everything except him when he and his team went to investigate a deep, unexplored ravine that appeared out of nowhere), but that was endearing too
— RAMBLES BC I FORGOT WHAT I WAS GONNA TYPE NEXT (ITS BEEN A FEW MONTHS SORRY) —
one day sj got tired of calling the ghost “the ghost”, so he decided to find him a name. the ghost seems to have an opinion on this, as his thick eyebrows turned downwards every time sj called/proposed to him a name to be referred to. the progress was non existent, so sj started spouting out random characters and then later on numbers. when sj gets to “qi”, the ghost very excitedly straightens up from its seemingly perpetual hunched posture.
“7?” sj snorts, finding it a little funny. who knows, perhaps spirits loose their marbles the longer they stay amongst the living. he watches “qi’s” eyes crease into happy crescents, the shadows seeping away from his form retreating back into himself. his form looks more solid: less blurry and more clearer at the edges.
“lao qi, you really are weird” sj says fondly, though is inwardly confused when lao qi seems to deflate a little. perhaps he didnt want to be reminded of his age?
"what, do you want to be called xiao qi?" qi's eyes twitch, as if weirded out. "thought so. qige?"
at this, qi's eyes widen into two happy suns, joyfully—on instinct—coming closer. but then stops himself a pace away, as if remembering himself
sj raises a brow, "youre far too old to be called qige; im many generations your junior, yknow? youre basically my grandfather's ancestor's ancestor"
qi's eyes droop into despondent half circles. sj carefully doesnt say any more, recognizing that it may be a more sensitive topic than he thought.
SORRY YUE QI </3333 BUT </333 ... ITS FOR THE GREATER GOOD
THAT I AM GOING TO EXPLAIN RIGHT NOW, BUT NOT VERY WELL DONE:
in canon, sqq and yqy are stuck in the past. it keeps them from growing as persons and as. brothers? friends? Potential Lovers. Yes.
in this au, it is especially so for yqy, who loses himself the more he clings to the past, his promise, and sj
when he first died, his soul was at risk of being destroyed, scattered pieces and all. but because he put himself back together, he Could reincarnate into his next life. its just that he refuses to.
had he allowed himself to move on and accept that things have passed, he would have been able to start over anew in the modern world; perhaps even changed the course fate seems to have set on them for the better Without his soul suffering for it
sj reminding him that hes from an era long gone serves as one of many instances that help him come to terms with. dying? moving on. Yes.
ON THE TOPIC OF YQY'S SOUL MOVING ON.
i was thinking just now How that would happen, esp when in this au yqy's soul is like. one wrong move away from self destruction, xuan su's still binded to him, yqy letting go of sj after roaming All Those Years? Very hard., its the modern world so supernatural cultuvation stuff is almost entirely out of the picture, sj is like 25 what would he know about these things, etcetc that sort of stuff
but then i was like. "WAIT A MINUTE. THIS IS AIRPLANES WORLD. TRUE LOVE IS TOTALLY A VIABLE SOLUTION"
so. True love is the solution. true love saves qige💗
and then in their next life its the ultra ultra modern futuristic au and theyre pilots of mega robots 💗 /hj
OH. AND. THIS IS THE SONG I GOT THE DIALOGUE (???) FROM
youtube
#qijiu#malevolent spirit!yqy#ghost!yqy#but he puts the love in malevolent#yue qingyuan#yue qi#original shen qingqiu#shen jiu#mxtx#svsss
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prologue
— tw include but are not limited to: typical hunger games violence, depictions of death & killing, references to alcohol. read at your own risk.
wc: 1k words
you're crowned the victor of the 69th games, the most ruthless tribute in panem history.
In.
Out.
Hold.
That's what Enobaria had taught you. Inhale until it stung. Exhale and let your lungs deflate all the way. Hold until you thought you'd pass out and do it all again.
You opened your eyes to the rewind of the tiny throwing knife getting lodged in the stomach of a girl from six — no, eight. She was from eight, you reminded yourself.
Thirteen out of twenty-four tributes in the 69th Hunger Games died at your hand. The most kills recorded in Panmen’s history. You could feel the thick, sticky blood still burning your hands. Hell, half the time you could see the blood coating your fingers dripping, dripping, dripping onto your marble countertops.
The loud ring of a cannon fire rang in your ears, pleading eyes from the girl slowly dimmed and slacked, her hands that had been in your hair dropped, and she slid from the throwing knife and crumpled to the ground. Lifeless.
The worst part was that you still didn't know her name, even after being out of the arena for weeks. You hadn't bothered enough to know the girl you selfishly killed and laughed about with your allies.
Bile rose in your throat and you sat up a little straighter. You swallowed it down and brushed non-existent wrinkles from your clothes. You pretended not to be affected by the scene. By any of the scenes, with each one leaving you more hollow than the last. You had only gone through six, you still had seven left to go.
In.
Out.
Hold.
Caesar Flickerman sat next to your throne, watching the recaps intently, curiously as if he hadn't watched them live. When he noticed your struggle, his brows sew together in worry, and he taps your arm. When you turn to look at him, he’s offering you his barely touched glass of champagne.
You can barely hear him when he leans in. “It’ll help. You trust me, right?”
You wanted to scream that you didn't trust him. That he found the Games just as amusing as any other Capitol vulture. But, you didn't. You bit your tongue and took the glass of champagne, offering a pretty smile as you downed it in one go.
The Capitol wasn't all bad. They had kept you fed, clothed, and happy for your whole life. Protected. They looked the other way when you were trained at the academy, which allowed you to win. They gave you a gorgeous house for free, enough riches to last a lifetime, the promise to never be reaped again. The Capitol wasn't all bad.
The champagne made you feel warm, staticay like the sound of your TV when the foil was moved the wrong way and the program went out. Caesar was right. It did help.
You had sobered back up by the last death. A district twelve boy that should have won, instead of you. He didn't plead for his life, not even when you started screaming at him too. You wanted — needed — something to lurch you towards him. Your hands clutched the throwing knife, your last one, eyes trained on his face. He just stared, breathing ragged, as he waited. Scoped you out.
You didn't expect him to throw the knife you had embedded from the girl in six. Even now, you could recall the cold shock hitting you as if it was happening all over again. You pulled the knife from your shoulder, screaming and groaning. You caught the number three scratched into the handle. You looked at him, realizing you killed his ally.
That you had the chance to kill him too but you failed. You didn't do what you were trained to do.
You ran towards him, knife number three sinking deep into his leg. His scream of pain hurt your ears, haunted your dreams. Twelve pulled you down with him, knocking the air from your lungs. He tried prying your other knife from your hand, but you threw it away from you. Instead, you headbutted him, rolling on top of him.
Twelve threw punches, skinny hands doing enough damage to fracture your nose. Wanting it to be over, your hands wrapped around his throat. You squeezed, and squeezed, and squeezed so hard you heard a crack and then the boom of the cannon.
Your hands slowly unfurled from the boy's neck, already bruised. Already tainted forever with your touch. You screamed, hot tears spilling past your lashes. You sobbed into the boy’s chest for a solid ten seconds before you heard the announcement made.
“Relishing in the glory of winning?” Caesar Flickerman mused cheekily, snapping you back to attention.
You stared at him for several seconds, before an arrogant smile twitched your lips. Caesar was right. You fought to win the Games. There was no reason to be ashamed or feel guilty. If the districts had listened in the first place, no one would've had to die. “Oh, well, you know,” you shrugged confidently. “I did work very hard to win.”
“How many was it in all?”
A frown tugged your lips, but instead chose a tight lipped smile instead. “Thirteen.”
You could name them all. You had killed the entire Career pack slowly through the entirety of the games. Besides you, there were six others. Then, you killed the girl from district six, the boy from three, girl from five, both district eleven tributes, the boy from nine, and finally, the boy from twelve.
“That's a record, I believe! That is just fantastic.” Caesar exclaimed, the Capitol elite and last victors scattered throughout began to clap. “See? Even they think it's fantastic.”
You looked out to the crowd, scanning the first few faces. You gave Caesar another tight-lipped smile, letting him continue.
“We learned you were smarter than you let on when you managed to kill all six careers. District one, two, four, and the girl from seven. Would you care to explain your thought process?”
“Of course.” You nodded, beginning to explain.
You started killing the careers sporadically through the games, always when a tribute was near that you could blame it on. None of them ever thought wiser. All too arrogant to assume one of their own allies were lying about killing them. It had to be the jealous and weak tributes. Not some career.
“Impressive, darling. I can see why you have the highest kill count in all of Panmen's history.” Caesar paused, holding a hand to his ear piece. A wide grin broke out on his face as he grabbed your hand, pulling you up. “I've just been told the crowing of the victor for the 69th annual hunger games will take place momentarily.”
You felt Caesar stepped away, leaving you standing in the middle of the stage alone. You felt goosebumps form on your exposed skin as you felt President Snow walk towards you. He smelt like roses and metal. He wore the smell of blood and death like a perfume.
He stands next to you, microphone in hand. He talks so slowly it starts to eat you from the inside out. It's like he did it on purpose, because he knew how uncomfortable being on that stage made you.
“In honor and celebration of the new, official game record set of Most Killed, there are thirteen connecting chains, each chain sitting below a jewel representing the district the fallen tribute came from.”
That was a joke. That had to have been a joke. The fact you killed thirteen children was being applauded and celebrated. Like it was something to cherish and remember when all you wanted to do was forget.
The crown was heavy when Snow placed it on your head. The chains fell in a swoop around your head, accentuating your new nose and blazing eyes. The freckles that dotted your cheeks and nose.
When Snow opened his mouth, you held your breath. “I'm expecting great things from you.”
With that, he held his hand out for you to shake. You did, listening to the crowd cheer for you when he finally stepped away.
You, with the gorgeous crown, bruised knuckles from hitting one two many walls. You with the surgically fixed nose. You who had done one too many sinful acts to ever be considered good again.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Caesar Flickerman’s voice rang in your ears; loud and grating. “The victor of the 69th annual Hunger Games!”
#catching fire#fanfic#mockingjay#the hunger games#finnick odair#thg fanfiction#thg finnick#annie cresta#finnick x reader#finnick x you#finnick odair x reader#finnick imagine
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sneaking around with academy!coryo
he's so cautious, so worried about jepordizing his future. and you of course, don't understand why. you're none the wiser to the truths about coriolanus snow's personal life, only seeing him as the star pupil and perfect student.
you consistently try to get him to rebel just a bit, enough to shake the tension out of his shoulders and have fun with you and your classmates. but it often doesn't work.
at least not until you're pouting up at him in the hallways of the academy, leaned against a wall and your arms crossed over your chest. "what're you going to do now?"
coriolanus shrugs, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he glances around the hall and then back at you.
PDA is frowned upon amongst the other stuffy academy rules, but you're a respectable distance from him, toeing his shoes with your loafers as it's impossible for you not to be touching coriolanus. your distance seems fine enough for coriolanus because he doesn't pull back.
"study a bit, maybe. you could join me if you'd like."
studying with coriolanus sounds nice, it's what you do often. but right now, you need to feel him in a more intimate way than just the occasional brush of his arm against yours.
your pout deepens into a frown and you drop your eyes, instantly forcing coriolanus to ask what's wrong.
"it's like you never have time for me anymore."
the air is tense with your (truthfully, exaggerated) admission. then, coriolanus steps closer to you, his hand hooks under your chin, he lifts your head, and then he presses his lips against yours in a soft kiss.
you can't help but feel triumphant, hands instantly locking in coriolanus' hair as you melt into his kiss. his hands are hesitant to find the middle of your back like they usually do, but once you hum and press your chest against his, it's like he loses any inhibitions.
he turns you and presses you against the wall. he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. he fists your shirt beneath your blazer, pulling it out from the neat tuck you've done this morning, all to press his palm against the warm skin of your back.
it's everything you've been wanting and more; the hungry way coriolanus presses his tongue against yours as your noses knock against each other. gratefully, you tug the shorter hairs at the back of his head with just enough pressure. and predictably, coriolanus' lips part with a gasp.
you feel his face scrunch against yours with determination and you teasingly nip at his bottom lip.
you've leaned more up into him to further the kiss, but then you hear the familiar clack of shoes against the marble floors and you're reluctantly pulling away from coriolanus. your lips stick together for just a second longer, surely due to your lipgloss and the combination of your saliva.
coriolanus lingers, you see him contemplating going back for more, but the footsteps are getting closer and you can't hide behind this pillar for much longer so you take the initiative, stepping away from your boyfriend and doing your best to fix your shirt.
by the time the blue fabric is tucked once more, coriolanus has wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and the glaze from his eyes has mostly cleared up.
"see you in the library?" you ask him almost teasingly.
when he nods, there's a flustered and knowing smile on his lips. the person comes and goes, you straggle for just a second, and then hurry off with a chaste press to coriolanus' lips.
#coryosworld!#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow fluff#coriolanus snow x you#celeste writes thg
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Tea and Music
Pairing: Marquis de Gramont x fem! Reader
Warnings: smut!, language, mild begging, choking, unprotected sex, use of “good girl”
Summary: Part two of Poetry in Motion! These are the events that happen after Marquis meets our ballerina reader.
Word Count: 6.7k
Read Part one HERE!!!
Taglist: @jiawalker
The limo crushed the small stones under its tires as it drove along the white gravel path. The entire estate was completely covered in trees and green once we passed through the golden gates. I couldn't see the sides of the gate from the car, so I assumed his estate extended for miles.
Not a blade of grass was out of place.
I would have flirted with Vincent sooner if I had known he was concealing a mansion.
Our conversation two nights ago was extremely straightforward. He introduced himself, and I asked him one question before he insisted on speaking with me in person.
His address was on a street I'd never heard of before. I thought that perhaps it was in the Paris slums. His fancy suits and elegant demeanor were just a ruse to convince people he was wealthy.
But, alas, he lives in a mansion. Who would’ve guessed?
As the car approached the large front doors, I tried to hide my surprise. His house was something out of a movie. To take it all in, I had to turn my head completely left and right. It possessed at least three levels. It was made of lovely white vintage brick and black shingles. Two poles supported an enormous balcony on opposite sides of the large double front doors.There were dozens of tall arched windows. The architecture was inspired by the French countryside, but it was elevated to the highest level.
It appeared vintage and loved, but not worn.
“Alright madame, we are here.”
My trance was broken by the posh driver.
“Oh, yes.”
He opened the door for me, offering his hand to ensure that I would not be inconvenienced in the slightest.
I could grow accustomed to this type of treatment.
I hoisted myself up by grasping his smooth palm.
“Have a pleasant visit, madame.”
He spoke with a classy accent. His elegance, however, couldn't compete with Vincent's. The elderly driver jumped back into the driver's seat and began bustling away, rocks crunching beneath the tires.
I cocked my head upwards, hesitant. I could feel nerves brewing within my stomach. The butterflies were flying free. I took a deep breath, steadying my mind.
I honed in on the rustling of the trees, waiting until the butterflies had completely dissipated.
I couldn’t believe I was about to enter the home of a man I had just met.
I knew his name.
I knew he liked ballet.
I knew where he lived.
And, that’s it.
I climbed the few steps leading to the glass double doors.
Should I knock?
No, he was expecting me.
I gently pushed open the door. The hinges didn't creak in the least.
The doors opened to reveal a large room with white marble floors and a double staircase that swirled to the top floor. The banisters were made of gold, the dark wood walls were covered in expensive-looking paintings, and each room was separated by a large, open arch.
“Hello? I’m here!”
The waves of my voice echoed around the large, nearly empty room. I felt dwarfed by the high ceilings.
“Welcome.”
my heart skipped a beat. Vincent appeared out of nowhere, sauntering through the archway on my left, hands in pockets.
He remained silent, waiting for me to break the tension.
“Uh-Thank you for having me… your house is beautiful.”
As the gravity of the situation became clear, my tone became somewhat shaky. Vincent gave a small smile.
“Thank you very much. I have quite a few estates-“
Woah, woah, woah. A few estates? As in more than one?
“But this one is by far my favorite. It’s lavish, and quiet.”
The trees gently rustled. In the distance, birds chirped. My heart was pounding in my ears.
“See? Nothing. No sounds except those of nature.”
My knees shook. Those two previous statements felt like one big, blatant sexual innuendo. I hoped that sex wasn't the sole reason for having me in this lovely estate that just so happened to have no neighbors for miles.
He leaned against the wooden arch, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his dress pants. Vincent furrowed his brow as he observed my concern.
“Please, don’t be worried. I know I was just given the pleasure of becoming your acquaintance. But, I assure you, I possess a sophisticated character.”
The corners of his mouth turned upwards.
“Come.”
He said this as he stepped away from the arch, motioning for me to follow him into the next room.
“I have something I believe you will enjoy.”
I returned his stare. His beautiful eyes shone with warmth. He seemed to have changed slightly now that I was in his house. He appeared to be... more at ease. Neither his gaze nor his tone indicated any discomfort. He was no longer concerned with maintaining any sort of facade.
I couldn't bring myself to be afraid of him.
I smiled.
“Alright.”
My short heels clacked against the marble. As I strolled past him, I captured his familiar scent and was overcome with nostalgia.
The room I entered was significantly smaller than the one prior. Rather than being adorned in paintings, there was merely one green landscape above the unlit fireplace. One wall was entirely covered in wooden shelves, each of which was crammed to the brim. When I looked closer, I noticed that each section was filled with vinyl records. Some are still wrapped in plastic, while others have clearly been loved for years.
“Oh wow! You have quite the collection!”
I exclaimed as I ran my fingers along the spines of various records. Marquis laughed, amused by my intense interest.
“Oh wow!”
I had to use a surprising amount of force to pry one of the vinyls off the shelf as it was jammed into a completely full rack.
“You have the music from Giselle!”
Vincent strolled over to me, leaning over my shoulder to observe what had captured my attention. It was a record, with a lady and man engaged in dance. The lady wore a blouse and bodice, while the man donned tights and a decorated top.
“Do you enjoy this ballet?”
His hot breath cascaded across my face and neck as he inquired. A shiver ran down my spine as I realized he had placed his frame directly behind mine.
“Yes, I do. I was in it a long time ago. And, ever since it’s been one of my favorites.”
“Ah, you were in it?”
I flipped the vinyl to the back, reading each track and reminiscing.
“Yes, I was Giselle.”
“But of course you were.”
I scoffed, dismissing his high opinions of me.
“It really was not that impressive. It was a small community theater, and it was years ago before I decided to pursue ballet professionally.”
“It makes little difference where you do it. I'm sure you danced as well as someone from the Opéra National de Paris. Your talent is just as visible in a small theater as it is in the world's largest.”
I pushed my finger between two vinyls to create a gap so I could slip the record back into its original position.
“You flatter me.”
Vincent dragged his fingertips along the spines. As he did so, I fixed my attention along his veiny digits, my brain beginning to slip into places it hadn't been in a long time. I closed my eyes, forcing my mind to return to the present. Vincent drew his gaze across the records, studying them and searching for a specific item.
“Ah!”
He discovered what he was looking for.
“Swan Lake, another one of my favorites.”
He pulled it from the shelf and began to study it.
“Tchaikovsky's music is a work of art. He manipulates the instruments, allowing them to move in a poetic manner. It truly is unparalleled.”
He cocked his head to the side, meeting my eyes.
“Do you enjoy this ballet?”
He raised his brows, inviting me to respond. I shuffled towards his hot body, nodding.
“Yes, of course, it’s a classic.”
This cover depicted a woman bending over a lake, with a swan at her side. Beautiful blues were used to paint the entire cover.
“One of my dream roles is the swan queen.”
Vincent's lanky fingers pried the record's cover apart, and he slid the vinyl into his palm.
“One day, that role will be yours. I have no doubt about it.”
He handled the record with extreme grace and care. Despite being a large and rather intimidating man, his touch was featherlight. He opened a small cabinet located in the middle of the shelves with his opposite hand, revealing a beautiful maroon record player.
“And when you appear as the swan queen, it will be your role for the rest of your life. The audience will know instantaneously that no performance before or after yours will compare.”
Vincent placed the needle on the record's edge. The sound of a rich oboe filled the entire room. He placed his hands on his hips and viewed the black circle spin in a circle. The atmosphere became cozy and inviting. Despite being in a secluded mansion in the middle of the French countryside, I felt oddly at home. My heartbeat was regular.
Vincent glanced over his shoulder.
“Do you drink tea?”
He inquired.
I was so enthralled by Vincent's lovely figure that I had to shake myself awake when he spoke.
“Oh! Yes, of course. I love tea.”
Vincent unbuttoned the cuffs of his white dress shirt, rolling his sleeves up to reveal lovely veins dancing across his forearms. I gulped, my face growing hotter as butterflies began to hatch within my lower abdomen.
“Would you care to drink tea with me on the porch as we indulge in this lovely music?”
I nodded, unable to hide the grin playing on the corners of my mouth.
“I would like that very much.”
-
Vincent brought out a large silver tray, atop which was a lovely china set with pink flowers and gold stems.
“I would expect a wealthy man like you to have help. Rich men don’t make their own tea.”
I said, my tone slightly mocking. Vincent chuckled, plopping down onto the cream colored cushions.
“I don't usually make my own tea. But I specifically requested that we spend the day alone. The bustle of people detracts from the peaceful energy.”
I put a sugar cube in one of the adorable cups and poured tea on top, watching the sugar break and dissolve.
I picked up the saucer and leaned back, my body relaxing against the plush cushions. I had a fantastic view. My back was to the house, leaving the entire garden open for inspection. The green stretched as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by a few healthy trees. The property had a gray gravel path that twisted and turned. At the horizon, the gentle hill of the land met the flawless blue sky.
The scenery was lovely. I wish I knew how to paint.
My hair was tousled by a gentle breeze. The soothing music wafted through the house, reaching my ears as a mere whisper.
“Are you enjoying the view?”
I closed my eyes for a brief moment, savoring the cozy energy as I sipped my tea. The steaming liquid poured down my throat, warming me from within.
“Yes, it’s beautiful.”
I rested the cup in my lap.
“Why don’t you tell me about yourself? I feel like we talk so much about me.”
I said, chuckling slightly.
Vincent sipped his tea while crossing his legs and gazing out at the horizon. His gorgeous side profile was highlighted by the gentle glow of the sun.
“My life is… not very interesting.”
His demeanor had transformed. Instead of being charming, he had become aloof.
“Oh, I’m sure your life is plenty interesting. I mean, come on, this house is ginormous! What do you do?”
Vincent grit his teeth, avoiding the question.
“I made all of my money in real estate.”
He returned my gaze, his fondness restored.
“Oh! That sounds interesting.”
I took another sip of my delicious tea.
“You must’ve gotten extremely lucky.”
He flashed me a tight smile.
“Yes, absolutely. I consider myself extremely fortunate to be where I am now.”
The birds in the distance chirped peacefully, blending with the music to create a cohesive energy that flowed through my being.
“Please, tell me if I am crossing any boundaries with this question.”
I perked up. He had piqued my interest.
“However, you are a very attractive woman. And you are constantly expressing yourself through the arts. I find it difficult to believe you don't have suitors flocking to you at all times.”
I gulped, my gaze fixed on the tea in my lap.
“Well, honestly, it’s difficult to keep a relationship when you’re constantly either in the theater, or searching for your next opportunity. The little free time I have almost never lines up with the free time of others.”
He fixed his gaze on me, listening intently to every word I said. I'd never had a conversation with a man who was so enthralled by me.
“I’ve had relationships, but it's difficult to make them stick. Lately, I’ve kinda given up. It’s stressful, y’know?”
Vincent hummed.
“Yes, I can imagine.”
He sipped his tea one last time, leaning back completely to display his stunning neck. He leaned forward and placed the china cup atop its saucer before assuming his previous position.
"Well, with me, you never have to worry about that, ma chérie." My few important obligations rarely interfere with my personal life. And, if they do, I promise to commit to our relationship and not let it fall through the cracks."
His dedication surprised me. I raised my brows.
“Well, that is very kind of you. I appreciate the reassurance.”
“That is, if pursuing a relationship with me is something that entices you.”
His statement piqued my interest. I suppose I hadn't considered the question, "What are we?" I was definitely interested in pursuing a relationship with him, despite only having become acquainted a few days ago. I felt a genuine connection, and I'd be a fool to pass up this opportunity.
Also, the reality that he was filthy rich drew me to him.
I finished the sweet tea, placing it on the black wire coffee table.
“Yes, I believe I would be interested in that.”
I gave him a genuine smile, which he returned.
“Good, I am glad to hear that.”
He folded his hands and tucked them into his lap, his gaze following. He was deep in thought, as if caught between reality and his thoughts. Vincent came to after what seemed like an eternity. He returned his gaze to mine. His attention had been drawn to a new emotion. He was looking at me with calculating eyes, as if he was carefully pondering what to say next.
This was unusual for him, as he always seemed to know exactly what to say.
“I don’t mean to sound creepy when I say this, but I have been admiring you for a while.”
To be honest, I didn't mind. And I didn't think he was creepy at all for expressing his admiration for me.
“In all honesty, I’m flattered. The way I see it, I wouldn’t put myself on the stage if I was afraid of extreme admiration. I mean, that is kind of the goal of a performer. Y’know, to make people fall in love with the performance.”
Vincent nodded, his smile widening. He was pleased with my response.
“I recall seeing you perform for the first time. It was about two years ago, in Coppélia. You played a minor role, but your beauty captivated me, and the more I sought you out, the more I fell in love.”
There was something sensual about the thought of Vincent admiring me from afar for years. It all seemed so forbidden, him watching me from a box, carefully calculating the best time to ask me out.
“If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you ask me out sooner?”
Vincent shrugged.
“I assumed you were in a relationship. I tried to forget about you, but you were always on my mind. Then I didn't see you at the Opéra national de Paris for a year. My job was particularly demanding at that time. It was best if I concentrated solely on that. So I didn't go looking for you. I assumed that chapter of my life had come to an end. Then I notice you're performing in La Bayadère. And I knew that whatever force governs our universe had given me the opportunity to become your acquaintance.”
I couldn’t stop my face from breaking into a grin. I’ll admit, it felt insanely good to be admired by someone.
“Are you a nostalgic person?”
Yes, extremely.
“Yes, I am.”
“Ah!”
He exclaimed, rising to his feet.
“In that case, I have one more thing I think you would like to see.”
I followed him through the house. If I didn’t have him, I would undoubtedly be lost. Each lavish hallway felt as if it extended for miles. I followed, and followed, and followed. Until eventually we reached a pair of black double doors. They were covered in beautiful flower designs. Vincent turned the golden knobs, pushing the doors open to reveal… a bedroom?
Wow.
It was a nice bedroom, to be sure. The floors were tan wood, and the walls were a dark brown color. A large, black chandelier hung from the ceiling with an expensive crystal thread. The bedframe, curtains, and dresser with a large mirror all looked like they were plucked from the queen's bedroom.
In fact, the whole place felt like it belonged to a king. The gold accents, intricate details, and visibly expensive fabrics all gave me the impression that I was in Buckingham Palace.
Vincent headed over to his dresser, which was located on the opposite side of the room as the bed. He began rummaging through various objects, searching for something.
“Ah! Here it is! I knew I kept it!”
He gave me... a leaflet? No, it's a program. It was the program from my first performance ever at the Opera Nacional de Paris, Coppélia. My eyes shot open.
“Oh my God! I can’t believe you kept this!”
I flipped through it, reading the names and contemplating all the wonderful people I'd had the pleasure of working with.
“Of course I kept it.”
I raised my eyes to him. He smiled, pleased that I had found enjoyment in this little bit of nostalgia.
“Um-”
I began.
“I-I don’t mean to take your memories from you.”
I said with a small laugh.
“But, would you mind if I kept this?”
“But of course! There is no need for me to keep a silly little booklet now that I have had the pleasure of meeting the object of my affection.”
We shared a moment of peaceful, happy silence.
“Besides, if it makes you happy, I'll gladly give it to you. We've decided to pursue a relationship. So, it is my responsibility to do everything in my power to please you.”
His gaze darted to my lips before returning to my eyes, implying something taboo.
His eyes grew dark. My posture became stiff. Vincent took a large step towards me, and I had to tilt my head almost completely backwards to look him in the eyes.
I was hit with a wave of déjà vu. I was no longer on the streets of Paris, but rather in Vincent's bedroom. This time, there was nothing preventing us from delving head first into our desires.
He cupped my cheek, running his calloused thumb over my cheekbone. My breath caught in my throat. My lower abdomen was in knots, more from anticipation than from nerves. There wasn't much that could happen on the dark streets of Paris. But suddenly everything was possible and within reach. All I had to do was reach out and grab them.
“The relationships you’ve been in… have any of them had the pleasure of…”
His voice trailed off, beckoning me to finish the thought.
I gulped, a lump forming in my throat.
“No.”
My voice quivered as I felt overpowered by his pressing gaze.
Vincent tutted crispy.
“Pity.”
He stated, his voice lowering to a sensuous whisper. I envisioned him whispering sweet nothings into my ear while thrusting mercilessly into my tight cunt.
My stomach flipped.
My knees shook.
All of the blood in my body rushed to my core.
Wetness began to pool in my panties.
I adjusted my weight uncomfortably, anticipating Vincent's next move.
He leaned forward, his lips inches away from mine. I desperately wanted to break the tension by pressing my mouth to his, thereby beginning the downward spiral of pleasure. However, my train of thought was derailed when I felt Vincent’s opposite hand glide up my thigh.
I squeezed my eyes shut, sighing in pleasure as his digits swiftly located my clothed clit. He tenderly massaged my sensitive bud. The subtle sensation was utterly euphoric. My head bowed forward, my hands anxiously clutching his white dress shirt.
Vincent jerked my head upwards, forcing my misty eyes to lock with his lust blown pupils.
“You’re already so wet, ma chérie. And I have barely even touched you.”
His velvety accent became 10 times more seductive now that it had fallen an octave.
“Oh, it will be so wonderful to watch you come undone.”
He pressed his plush lips to my jugular, applying gentle kisses to my neck as he continued to draw figure eights onto my clothed clit. I threw my arms around his neck, hanging onto his strong frame as my knees threatened to give out.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to bury my face between your thighs and taste your sweet little cunt.”
I couldn’t handle the erotic tone combined with the featherlight touches to my clit. It was far too much for my touch starved body to handle. needed something. I was ravenous for his mouth, his fingers, his cock. I wanted so badly to be destroyed by him, to be given such pleasure that I fear coming back to reality.
“Vincent.”
I said between heavy breaths.
“Yes ma chérie?”
My jaw hung upon, mouth unable to form coherent sentences.
“P-Please. I need you-I need you so bad.”
Vincent drew back, his lips slamming into mine. Our mouths matched like puzzle pieces. We were so glorious together that I swear I could hear angels singing in perfect harmony.
“What would you like me to do to you ma belle, hm?”
He said in between fiery kisses.
“Make me cum, Vincent, please.”
His tongue slid into my mouth, giving me a fleeting taste of his passion before he quickly yanked it back. I was flustered. Our connection had been severed, and I was unsure as to why.
Vincent grasped my chin, forcing me to keep my head still.
His hair was struggling to remain neat. The single, dangling strand was a great metaphor for his once well-kept demeanor now crumbling before my eyes.
“Beg. Beg me to fuck you. Beg me to make you cum.”
He demanded.
Mt jaw quivered. His hand had retreated from my core and now lay atop the swell of my hip.
“P-Please Vincent. I need you. I need you so bad.”
Vincent narrowed his eyes disapprovingly.
“Oh, ma chérie, I know you can do better than that.”
He placed his lips to mine, swiftly reigniting the flame before suffocating it once more.
“Be my good girl and beg.”
I locked gazes with Vincent, feeling his sexual energy course through my body in waves.
“Please-“
I began, my desire somewhat strangling the words within my throat.
“Please Vincent… Please, I need you to make me cum.”
I brought my palms to his chest, attempting to quickly unbutton his dress shirt. Unfortunately, my hands were far too jittery and the buttons were far too small for me to make any significant progress.
“What exactly do you want ma belle, hm? Tell me.”
His velvety accent wafted through me whenever he spoke, adding to the wetness that had begun to pool in my panties.
“Please, please. I need you.”
Thankfully, the sexual tension had subsided just enough for me to compose meaningful sentences.
“Please, please, I need you. I need your mouth between my legs. I need-I need you to fuck me. I need your cock so bad. Please, please make me cum it’s all I can think about.”
A devious smirk spread across Vincent’s face.
“Why didn’t you ask me sooner?”
He connected our lips, reigniting the raging fire of desire that burned between us. Vincent hoisted me off the floor, his large hands traveling up my short sundress and resting against my ass. He carried me with ease, his hands gentle but his lips aggressive.
Vincent tossed me onto the bed with little regard for tenderness. However, I was barely impacted by the blow, as the mattress quickly suppressed and conformed to my physique.
I lay, my gaze fixed upwards towards Vincent’s lanky frame. The dim yet sensual lights foregrounded the sharp curvatures of his face. His long digits located his top button and he began to leisurely undo his shirt without breaking eye contact.
Suddenly, I became aware that my dress had ridden up my thighs, exposing my evident desire. I grasped the hem, pushing it downwards in a futile attempt to conceal my yearning. Vincent ceased his movements, crawling over the end of the bedframe with haste.
His hand wrapped around my wrist, pinning my hand above my head.
My eyes darted upwards, the breath hitching in my throat as I perceived his close proximity. Vincent’s previously quintessential appearance was slowly dissolving. A few strands of hair had broken loose from their original location and were now dangling aimlessly above his brow. Furthermore, his shirt was halfway undone, exposing his prominent collarbone and somewhat highlighting his toned chest.
“Don’t cover up for me, ma belle.”
He murmured, his sultry accent sending a wave of desire to my lower abdomen. My cunt throbbed.
“I want nothing more than to see every inch of you.”
Vincent lodged his thigh between my legs, his clothed knee grazing against my hot core. I jolted, a wave of heat coursing through my body. My back arched instinctively, mouth falling open as I involuntarily ground my hips against his thigh in an effort to increase friction.
Unfortunately, he revoked his leg before I was able to procure further pleasure. His free hand followed the soft curve of my side, sending shivers down my spine. My body became cold with anticipation. Goosebumps rose along my skin.
Vincent’s calloused fingertips grazed against my clothed clit. Heat radiated from my wet core as I squeezed my eyes shut. My brow furrowed as he began to slowly draw figure eights onto my clit.
“Ah, you are so wet and I’ve barely even touched you.”
His soft lips connected to my jugular, peppering gentle kisses down my neck.
“I’ve thought about this moment for a long while.”
With his hands required to support his weight as he descended, his powerful clasp released my wrist. I entangled my fingers in his silky hair, further ruining his pristine image.
“Although I pride myself on maintaining a certain level of class, I can’t deny that I’ve often thought about how satisfying it would be to bring you immense pleasure.”
He continued to press his lips against my hot skin, his face now level with my clothed breasts.
Vincent leaned back on his knees. He dragged his eyes up and down my frame, running his tongue across his bottom lip. I suddenly felt small under his gaze.
His tender fingertips located the ball of my ankle, and he hastily removed both of my short heels, tossing them aimlessly to the floor. After he had discarded my shoes, he trailed his large palms upwards, caressing my calves, then my thighs. I watched intently as his veiny hands slipped under the hem of my dress. Vincent hooked a finger in the waistband of my panties, dragging them down my legs at a painfully slow pace.
Once I was fully exposed, he assumed a position between my legs. Thankfully, the bed was grand enough for him to lay comfortably.
All the blood in my body had rushed to my core, and I could feel my heartbeat throbbing vehemently within my lower abdomen.
Vincent trailed his moist lips along my inner thigh, gazing up at me devilishly through his lashes as he did so. He was well aware that his teasing behavior was propelling me into a state of lust filled desperation.
When he established that he had prolonged my suffering enough, he hastily buried his face between my thighs. I gasped, throwing my head back onto the opulent pillows. My thighs instinctively clenched around his head, but Vincent’s strong hands pulled my legs apart to free himself.
He flattened his tongue against my clit, taking his time to draw out his movements so as to not supply me with an orgasm too hastily. He was thoroughly enjoying the elongation of my pleasure.
After a brief moment of supplying delicate sensations to my clit, I felt the tip of his finger prod at my entrance. I threw my hands upwards, grasping onto the bed frame, my knuckles quickly turning white.
“Oh fuck!”
I exclaimed, grinding my hips against his gorgeous face.
“Vincent-Vincent your mouth feels so good, holy shit.”
I spoke in mangled cries, not caring to keep my voice down. After all, there was no one around for miles to be bothered by my proclamations.
His middle two fingers pushed into my entrance, thrusting upwards to stimulate my walls.
“You taste wonderful, ma belle.”
He uttered, continuing to fuck me with his fingers throguhout the duration of his praise. Vincent located my g spot. My nails dug into the bedframe, undoubtedly leaving prominent scratches. He took note of my non verbal cues.
Vincent increased the intensity of his fingers. Quickly, the coil of pleasure began to tighten within my lower abdomen. I bucked my hips against his face, but Vincent quickly stifled my movements by pressing my hips into the mattress.
“Are you close?”
He murmured against my clit. The gentle vibrations set my nerves ablaze with white hot desire.
“Yeah, yeah I’m so close.”
I mumbled, my arms beginning to tremble as I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt my orgasm begin to seep into the corners of my brain.
Vincent’s long digits expertly located my g spot with every thrust.
His warm mouth continued to duck and stimulate my swollen bundle of nerves.
The erotic sounds of his fingers fucking my cunt reverberated loudly throguhout the predominantly empty bedroom.
“Then cum for me, ma chérie.”
His endearing words proved to be the last necessary step in reaching my release. The tension that had built within my stomach exploded as I came gloriously all over his face. My back felt as though it had been rammed into a solid brick wall.
My chest heaved, and I found it arduous to supply my lungs with sufficient oxygen.
My eyelids began to flutter open as the movements of both his tongue and fingers slowed. When he removed his digits and mouth, I was overcome with a glorious sensation of complete satisfaction. Both my mind and body succumbed to bliss. I had never before experienced such an absence of disquiet.
Vincent climbed over me, his torso now bare.
I cracked a small grin, my palms flattening against the expanse of his soft chest. His lips shone with my arousal. I trailed my fingertips slowly downwards, halting when I reached his thick leather belt. I began to undo the buckle, however, Vincent caught wind of my intentions. With one hand, he engulfed both of my wrists, pinning them above my head. I gasped.
“Oh, no, not now.”
His gentle lips tenderly kissed the soft divot behind my ear. I took a deep breath, the scent of his pricey, heavy fragrance clouding my mind.
“I have waited far too long for this moment. It would be foolish of me to allow you to furnish pleasure when my desire has been consuming me for years.”
Vincent moved off of me and stood to remove the remainder of his clothes. With a pleasurable whoosh, he pulled his belt from the loops of his formal pants. Subsequently, he removed his shoes and allowed his trousers to gather about his ankles.
He met my stare, the mellow hue of the faint overhead lights collecting within his green irises.
“You look beautiful.”
Once again, the heat from my body began to travel downwards.
Vincent’s boxers were the final article of clothing to be removed. I gulped audibly, as his sizable cock was now standing fully erect.
Holy shit, I thought to myself.
He possessed one of the most winsome cock I had ever laid eyes on. I clenched my thighs together, my cunt eagerly clenching around nothing.
When he had finished undressing, he climbed back over me and our lips met once again. I melted into the kiss, exhaling sensually as I sunk into the plush mattress. Vincent’s hand grasped the hem of my dress, tugging it upwards until I was forced to raise my arms.
Thankfully, the supportive nature of the outfit allowed me to function in the absence of a bra. As a result, my entire body was now fully exposed for Vincent’s piercing gaze.
He discarded the dress and dropped his hips suggestively until his prominent erection pressed against my lower stomach.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, beckoning him to progress further. Vincent shuffled his hips, tip now dangerously close to my aching cunt. But, before he slipped inside of me, he raised a free hand and tenderly brushed a few unruly strands of hair from my damp forehead.
“If you wish to stop at any moment, merely apprise me and I shall cease.”
I gave him a nod, throwing my arms around his neck to provide an anchor. Vincent pressed his lips to my neck, applying a few gentle kisses before sliding his cock into my wet cunt.
My walls stretched, hastily conforming to his rather large girth. My back arched into his solid torso. I inhaled sharply as he buried the entirety of his length deep within me.
“Are you alright, ma chérie?”
His body stilled. I groaned in mild frustration.
“Y-yeah. I’m more than alright. P-please just fuck me already. I-I need you so bad.”
Vincent pulled back. His lips were plush. His hair was disheveled. His cheeks were a bright shade of pink.
His disarranged appearance was a stark contrast to the previously sophisticated man I had met at the start of this afternoon. However, I do consider the duality of man to be a topic of the utmost enticement. There is something captivating about the notion of commencing a relationship with someone who has a secret side that solely you have the pleasure of becoming acquainted with.
Without further words, Vincent began to roll his hips. The slight pain of his cock quickly dissipated to create room for immense pleasure.
My eyes rolled to the back of my head.
“Does that feel good? Hm?”
He spoke with a slight vocal fry. The raspiness of his tone elicited a visceral reaction. I dragged my nails along his smooth back, undoubtedly breaking skin.
He grumbled deep within his chest.
When I didn’t answer, Vincent pulled his face back, blown pupils meeting mine. I gazed at him through half lidded eyes. I found it difficult to ignite passionate eye contact when I was presented with the distraction of his cock expertly grazing against my g spot with every fervent jerk of his hips.
He wrapped a large hand around my neck. My pulse rose to the top of my skin as black spots began to cloud my vision.
“Come on, ma belle, be my good girl. Tell me how good I make you feel.”
I exhaled a shuddering breath.
“F-fuck… you feel so good inside me Vincent.”
I gulped.
“Y-your cock feels so good.”
Vincent’s skin began to sheen with a thin layer of perspiration. The unruly strands of brown hair deepened in color as they stuck to his forehead. I moaned pornographically as the grip on my neck constricted once more. My jaw dropped. The brief lack of oxygen only added to the flurry of incoherent thoughts bouncing around my skull.
“Oh, my, you’re such a good girl for me.”
He gulped, a soft sigh escaping his swollen lips.
“You’re taking me so well.”
The erotic words combined with his smooth accent contributed to the tightening of my lower abdomen.
I was close, dangerously close.
I could feel my body reaching the edge, and I would soon fall into a state of euphoria.
Vincent’s adjusted his hips ever so slightly, his tip now reaching deeper than before.
I instinctively turned my head away. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I buried my face into the bed. My brow furrowed. My eyes squeezed shut as I anticipated my release.
Vincent utilized his thumb to reposition my face.
“No, don’t look away. Be my good girl and look me in the eyes.”
I forced my eyelids open, meeting his piercing stare as ever so slightly increased the frequency of his thrusts. Every instinct beckoned me to throw my head back, but I fought the desire. And, I instead kept my eyes fixated on Vincent’s blown pupils that had almost entirely consumed his irises.
“I want to watch you. I want to see your face as you cum all over my cock.”
I gave him a slight nod, indicating that I could hear while trapped in my lustful stupor.
His hand traveled downwards, gently caressing my curves before reaching my swollen clit. Vincent applied gentle pressure, and, with that, I let go.
I kept my eyes fixated on him, allowing my face to contort as it pleased.
Vincent groaned loudly, his cum coating my walls.
He continued to fuck me throguh my orgasm. His movements gradually slowed as the fog of euphoria began to dissipate. My chest rose and collapsed with fervor.
When I deemed it safe to break eye contact, I allowed my eyelids to flutter shut. Suddenly, I became aware of the gravitational pull the bed exerted on my body.
Jesus, I was exhausted.
Vincent removed his cock from my core. However, he remained atop me, tenderly pushing my unkempt hair back to create mild uniformity.
“You may stay here, if you’d like, for however long you wish.”
His voice was as it had been prior to our physical encounter.
I giggled, my mouth breaking into a slight smile.
“Your house is magnificent.”
I met his gaze, his eyes now possessing a tender quality.
“I don’t know if I ever want to leave.”
I said with a scoff.
A smirk played on the corner of his lips.
“Then don’t, stay here for as long as your heart desires.”
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